Management of Archaeological Sites and the Public in Argentina 9781407301525, 9781407331898

Table of contents :
Front Cover
Title Page
Copyright
List of Contents
Preface
List of Abbreviations
Acknowledgements
INTRODUCTION
CHAPTER 1: ARCHAEOLOGY, HERITAGE AND ‘THE OTHERS’: TOWARDS A THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK
CHAPTER 2: THE SOCIAL AND POLITICAL CONTEXT OF ARCHAEOLOGICAL HERITAGE MANAGEMENT IN ARGENTINA
CHAPTER 3: THE ‘“PUCARA” OF TILCARA’
CHAPTER 4: THE “QUILMES’ RUINS”
CHAPTER 5: THE ‘MENHIRES’ PARK’
CHAPTER 6: ARCHAEOLOGICAL HERITAGE IN THE PRESS
CHAPTER 7: CONCLUSIONS
Glossary
APPENDIX A: VISITOR SURVEY
APPENDIX B: NATIONAL NEWSPAPER SURVEY
References

Citation preview

BAR S1708 2007  ENDERE  MANAGEMENT OF ARCHAEOLOGICAL SITES AND THE PUBLIC IN ARGENTINA

Management of Archaeological Sites and the Public in Argentina María Luz Endere

BAR International Series 1708 B A R

2007

Management of Archaeological Sites and the Public in Argentina

María Luz Endere

BAR International Series 1708 2007

Published in 2016 by BAR Publishing, Oxford BAR International Series 1708 Management of Archaeological Sites and the Public in Argentina The author's moral rights under the 1988 UK Copyright, Designs and Patents Act are hereby expressly asserted. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be copied, reproduced, stored, sold, distributed, scanned, saved in any form of digital format or transmitted in any form digitally, without the written permission of the Publisher.

ISBN 9781407301525 paperback ISBN 9781407331898 e-format DOI https://doi.org/10.30861/9781407301525 A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library BAR Publishing is the trading name of British Archaeological Reports (Oxford) Ltd. British Archaeological Reports was first incorporated in 1974 to publish the BAR Series, International and British. In 1992 Hadrian Books Ltd became part of the BAR group. This volume was originally published by Archaeopress in conjunction with British Archaeological Reports (Oxford) Ltd / Hadrian Books Ltd, the Series principal publisher, in 2007. This present volume is published by BAR Publishing, 2016.

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List of Contents Preface .................................................................................................................................................. 9 List of Abbreviations ............................................................................................................................ 11 Acknowledgements ............................................................................................................................. 13 INTRODUCTION ............................................................................................................................ 15 Research Aims and Strategies ..................................................................................................... 15 Research Methodology and Rationale ......................................................................................... 16 CHAPTER 1: ARCHAEOLOGY, HERITAGE AND ‘THE OTHERS’: TOWARDS A THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK ................................................................................................... 19 1.1. Archaeology and ‘the Others’ .......................................................................................... 19 1.1.1. Acknowledging ‘Otherness’ and Challenging Professional Principles ......................... 20 1.1.2. Multivocality and Self-Reflection ............................................................................. 21 1.1.3. A Moral Dilemma.................................................................................................... 22 1.2. Archaeological Heritage Management in Context ......................................................... 22 1.2.1. Non-renewable Resources ...................................................................................... 23 1.2.2. Legislation and Assessment of Cultural Significance .................................................. 24 1.2.2.1. World, National and Indigenous Heritages................................................... 25 1.2.3. Is Cultural Heritage a Matter of Public Concern? ..................................................... 26 1.2.3.1. Heritage and the Media .............................................................................. 26 1.2.4. Should Archaeological Heritage be Managed? ......................................................... 26 1.3. Heritage, Globalisation and the Third World .................................................................. 28 1.3.1. Globalisation and Heritage....................................................................................... 28 1.3.2. Global Tourism in the Third World ........................................................................... 29 1.3.2.1. The Tourist Experience ............................................................................... 29 1.4. Final Comments ................................................................................................................ 30 CHAPTER 2: THE SOCIAL AND POLITICAL CONTEXT OF ARCHAEOLOGICAL HERITAGE MANAGEMENT IN ARGENTINA ......................................................................... 31 2.1. The Configuration of National Heritage and the Development of Archaeology ........... 31 2.2. The Current Situation in Argentina ................................................................................. 33 2.2.1. Legislative Framework ............................................................................................ 33 2.2.2. Administrative Framework ...................................................................................... 33 2.2.3. Archaeological Heritage Research and Conservation ................................................ 33 2.2.4. Who is in Charge of the Preservation and Management of Cultural Heritage?............ 34 2.2.5. The Impact of the World Heritage Convention ......................................................... 34 2.2.6. Illegal Trafficking ..................................................................................................... 35 2.2.7. Tourism .................................................................................................................. 35 2.3. In Search of a Place in the Past: Indigenous Peoples in Argentina ............................... 36 2.3.1. Indigenous Claims ................................................................................................... 37 2.3.2. Archaeologists and Indigenous Peoples.................................................................... 37 2.3.3. The Case of Llullaillaco’s Mummies ......................................................................... 38 2.4. The New Scenario ............................................................................................................ 39 2.5. Archaeology and the Public: Previous Research carried out in Argentina .................... 39

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2.5.1. Indigenous Past, Archaeology and Education ........................................................... 40 2.5.2. Visitor Opinions ...................................................................................................... 41 2.5.3. The View of Local Peoples ..................................................................................... 42 2.5.4. Final Comments ................................................................................................... 42 Notes ........................................................................................................................................ 42 CHAPTER 3: THE ‘“PUCARA” OF TILCARA ............................................................................ 43 3.1. The History of the ‘Pucará’ and the Town of Tilcara ..................................................... 43 3.2. The ‘Pucará’ as an Archaeological Entity ....................................................................... 46 3.3. Tilcara Today .................................................................................................................... 50 3.3.1. ‘Tilcareño’ Identity .................................................................................................. 51 3.3.2. The Issue of Indigenous Identity .............................................................................. 51 3.3.3. The Impact of Textbooks ........................................................................................ 53 3.4. Traditional Rituals and Beliefs ........................................................................................ 54 3.4.1. The Pachamama ..................................................................................................... 54 3.4.2. Apus and Apachetas ............................................................................................... 54 3.4.3. The Worship of the Dead ........................................................................................ 55 3.4.3.1. Mummies on Display at Dr. Eduardo Casanova’s Museum .......................... 55 3.4.4. The Antigales .......................................................................................................... 56 3.5. The Site and the Museum Today .................................................................................... 56 3.5.1. Legal and Administrative Framework....................................................................... 56 3.5.2. A Visit to the Site .................................................................................................... 57 3.5.3. A Visit to the Museum ............................................................................................. 58 3.6. One Site, Many Voices .................................................................................................... 60 3.6.1. The ‘Pucará’ as an Antigal ....................................................................................... 60 3.6.2. The ‘Pucará’ as an Energetic Centre ........................................................................ 61 3.7. Performing Rituals at Tilcara .......................................................................................... 61 3.7.1. The May Revolution................................................................................................ 62 3.7.2. A Flechada at the ‘Pucará’ ...................................................................................... 63 3.7.3. An Indigenous Ceremonial Meeting at the ‘Pucará’ .................................................. 64 3.8. Archaeologists and the Local Community ....................................................................... 66 3.8.1. The Myth of Casanova............................................................................................ 67 3.8.2. After Casanova ....................................................................................................... 68 3.8.3. Archaeologists and the Local Community Today ...................................................... 68 3.8.3.1. The Current Problem from the Perspective of the Archaeologists ................. 68 3.8.3.2. Local People’ Views about Archaeologists .................................................. 69 3.9. A Future for Tilcara and its ‘Pucará’ ............................................................................... 69 3.10. Visitors’ Opinions about the ‘Pucará’ of Tilcara ........................................................... 70 3.10.1. Information about the Site ..................................................................................... 70 3.10.2. Views about the Present-Day Town of Tilcara........................................................ 70 3.10.3. Attitudes Towards Different Aspects of the Site...................................................... 71 3.10.4. Attitudes Towards the Reconstruction .................................................................... 72 3.10.5. Opinions Concerning Site Presentation .................................................................. 72 3.10.6. Attitudes Towards Archaeological Heritage ............................................................ 72

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3.11. Final Comments .............................................................................................................. 73 Notes ........................................................................................................................................ 74 CHAPTER 4: THE “QUILMES’ RUINS” ..................................................................................... 77 4.1. The History of the Quilmes, Calchaquí and Santa María Valleys ................................. 77 4.1.1. The Quilmes before the Conquest............................................................................ 77 4.1.2. The ‘Calchaquí’ Wars ............................................................................................. 78 4.1.3. After the Conquest .................................................................................................. 79 4.2. The ‘Old City of the Quilmes’ ......................................................................................... 79 4.2.1. The Reconstruction of the Site ................................................................................. 80 4.2.1.1. Deconstructing the Reconstruction .............................................................. 81 4.2.2. The Quilmes’ Ruins Collections ............................................................................... 82 4.2.3. Public Property, Private Business: The Legal and Administrative Framework ............ 83 4.2.4. A Visit to the Site .................................................................................................... 83 4.3. The Modern Population ................................................................................................... 85 4.3.1. The Amaichas and the Quilmes ................................................................................ 85 4.3.2. The Issue of Indigenous Identity at Santa María Valley ............................................. 87 4.3.2.1. Descendants of the ‘False Inka’ .................................................................. 88 4.3.3. Local People’s Beliefs ............................................................................................. 88 4.3.3.1. ‘Encantos’, Lights and Gases ...................................................................... 88 4.3.3.2. The Pachamama .................................................................................................. 89 4.3.4. Contested Views about the Past .............................................................................. 89 4.3.4.1. Building a History: The Quilmes’ History after 1666 according to CIQ Members ................................................................................................................ 89 4.3.4.2. Visiting the Site with the Quilmes’ Chief ....................................................... 90 4.3.4.3. Indigenous Communities and the Control over Archaeological Sites ............. 92 4.4. Visitors’ Opinions about the Quilmes’ Ruins .................................................................. 93 4.4.1. Information about the Site ....................................................................................... 93 4.4.2. Views about the Population of the Quilmes’ Ruins .................................................... 94 4.4.3. Attitudes Towards Different Aspects of the Site........................................................ 94 4.4.4. Attitudes Towards the Reconstruction ...................................................................... 95 4.4.5. Opinions Concerning Site Presentation .................................................................... 95 4.4.6. Attitudes Towards Archaeological Heritage .............................................................. 95 4.5. Final Comments ................................................................................................................ 96 Notes ........................................................................................................................................ 96 CHAPTER 5: THE ‘MENHIRES’ PARK’ ...................................................................................... 99 5.1. The History of Tafí Valley and its Menhires ................................................................... 99 5.1.1. The Tafí Culture ...................................................................................................... 99 5.1.2. After the Tafí Culture ............................................................................................. 100 5.1.3. Discovexring Menhires .......................................................................................... 101 5.1.4. Interpreting Menhires............................................................................................ 101 5.2. Uses and Values of the Menhires (1900 - 1997) ........................................................... 102 5.2.1. Menhires in Domestic Settings .............................................................................. 103 5.2.2. Commemorating the Republic................................................................................ 103 5.2.3. Creating the Menhires’ Park ................................................................................. 104

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5.2.3.1. Hiding the Menhires: Stories of the Resistance .......................................... 105 5.2.4. Recovering the Menhires ...................................................................................... 106 5.3. The Tafí Valley at Present ............................................................................................. 107 5.3.1. Social Framework ................................................................................................ 107 5.3.2. The Valley as a Tourist Resort ............................................................................... 108 5.3.3. Menhires under Dispute ........................................................................................ 108 5.3.3.1. A Contested Return of Two Menhires ....................................................... 109 5.3.4. A Visit to the Menhires’ Park, La Angostura Lake ................................................. 113 5.3.5. Archaeologists in the Tafí Valley ............................................................................. 116 5.4. Alternative Interpretations of the Menhires ................................................................. 117 5.4.1. A Solar Calendar .................................................................................................. 117 5.4.2. Carving Menhires ................................................................................................. 117 5.4.3. New Age People’s Views...................................................................................... 118 5.5. Visitors’ Opinions about the Menhires’ Park ............................................................... 118 5.5.1. Information about the Park .................................................................................... 119 5.5.2. Views about the Menhires ..................................................................................... 119 5.5.3. Attitudes Towards Different Aspects of the Park .................................................... 120 5.5.4. Attitudes Towards the Relocation of the Menhires ................................................. 120 5.5.5. Opinions Concerning Site Presentation .................................................................. 121 5.5.6. Attitudes Towards Archaeological Heritage ............................................................ 121 5.6. Final Comments .............................................................................................................. 121 Notes ...................................................................................................................................... 122 CHAPTER 6: ARCHAEOLOGICAL HERITAGE IN THE PRESS ........................................... 125 6.1. Reporting Heritage in the National Press .................................................................... 125 6.1.1. Qualitative Analysis of Newspaper Articles about Archaeological Heritage.............. 125 6.1.1.1. International Articles ................................................................................. 125 6.1.1.2. National Articles ....................................................................................... 125 6.1.2. Reviewing Archaeological Heritage: Contrasting Views on Heritage in Newspaper Articles ........................................................................................................................... 127 6.1.2.1. Challenging Scientific Values ..................................................................... 127 6.1.2.2. Indigenous People’s Claims ...................................................................... 128 6.1.2.3. Tourist Impact and Vandalism ................................................................... 128 6.1.2.4. Heritage and the Public ............................................................................. 129 6.1.2.5. Restitution of Cultural Heritage.................................................................. 130 6.1.2.6. Archaeologists, Dealers and Private Collectors .......................................... 130 6.1.2.7. Privatising Submerged Treasures ............................................................... 131 6.1.3. Discussion ............................................................................................................ 131 6.2. National Press Coverage of Case Study Sites .............................................................. 133 6.2.1. Pucará of Tilcara Site ............................................................................................ 133 6.2.2. The Quilmes’ Ruins ............................................................................................... 134 6.2.3. The Menhires’ Park .............................................................................................. 134 6.3. Local Press Coverage of Case Study Sites ................................................................... 134 6.3.1. Archaeology in Tilcara ........................................................................................... 134 6.3.1.1. The ‘Pucará’ of Tilcara Site....................................................................... 134 6.3.1.2. Controversial Excavations at Tilcara .......................................................... 135

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6.3.2. The Quilmes’ Ruins ............................................................................................... 135 6.3.3. The Menhires’ Park .............................................................................................. 136 6.3.4. Discussion ............................................................................................................ 137 6.4. Final Comments .............................................................................................................. 137 Notes ...................................................................................................................................... 138 CHAPTER 7: CONCLUSIONS .................................................................................................... 139 Alliances, Discourses and Intended Audiences ................................................................... 139 Valuing Heritage ................................................................................................................... 141 Scientific Value............................................................................................................... 141 Historic Value ................................................................................................................. 141 Sacred Value .................................................................................................................. 141 Contemporary Symbolic and Socio-political Values ......................................................... 141 Aesthetic Value ............................................................................................................... 142 Tourist and Economic Value ............................................................................................ 142 Heritage Ownership .............................................................................................................. 142 Intellectual Ownership ..................................................................................................... 143 Legal Ownership............................................................................................................. 143 Archaeological Heritage Management: Principles and Practice ........................................ 143 People’s Views on Archaeological Authenticity and Reconstruction................................... 143 Visitors’ Views on Site Presentation ................................................................................. 144 Interpreting Sites: Setting a New Agenda ......................................................................... 144 Is Archaeological Heritage a Matter of Public Concern in Argentina? .............................. 145 Is Archaeological Heritage Protected by Legislation in Argentina? .................................. 147 Heritage and the Public: Towards a New Model ................................................................. 148 GLOSSARY .................................................................................................................................... 151 APPENDIX A:VISITORS’ SURVEY: REQUIREMENTS AND CONSTRAINTS. RESULTS. QUESTIONNAIRES ...................................................................................................................... 153 APPENDIX B: SURVEY ON NEWSPAPER ARTICLES: ORGANISATION OF THE DATABASE. RESULTS ................................................................................................................. 167 REFERENCES ............................................................................................................................... 173

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PREFACE menhires were relocated to a plot of land in El Mollar. The Menhires’ Park itself no longer exists, yet the monoliths remain unprotected. The Northwest region of Argentina –where the three sites are located– has become an important tourist destination for national and international visitors thanks to the devaluation of the national currency and the improvement of the economic conditions among the local population. Consequently, changing winds are bringing new challenges for each of these sites, although much of their fate remains in the same hands. Nevertheless, their future –as well as that of the entire archaeological heritage in Argentina– is heavily dependent on a deeper understanding of the past and present circumstances of such sites.

This book is the result of my doctoral research carried out between 1998 and 2002. It also brings together part of my previous research on legal issues concerning archaeological heritage and indigenous rights in Argentina. Since this research was conducted several changes have taken place in Argentina. The country has overcome the political unrest of the early years of the new millennium and has partially recovered from its economic collapse. The old fashioned heritage law 9080 was finally modified in 2003, although the terms of the new legislation are still a matter of debate and have produced a great deal of criticism. In the course of this period, a new chapter in the story of the three case studies included in the book - the ‘Pucará of Tilcara’, the ‘Quilmes’ Ruins’ and ‘Menhires’ Park’ – has opened. The Humahuaca ravine, where the ‘Pucará of Tilcara’ is located, was included on the World Heritage List in 2003; the concession of the Quilmes’ Ruins has expired and the members of the Indigenous Quilmes community are campaigning to be recognised as partners in the management of the site; and all the

Finally, the goal of this book is to analyse the state of archaeological heritage management in Argentina, although many of the conclusions reached also provide clues to understanding contested heritage issues in many other countries, particularly those belonging to the Third World.

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List of Abbreviations AAPRA AIRA APN CAUBA CEMPAT CERPACU CIDH

Asociación de Arqueólogos Profesionales de Argentina Asociación Indígena de la República Argentina Administración de Parques Nacionales Centro de Arqueología Urbana de la Ciudad de Buenos Aires Centro de Estudios Patagónicos Centro de Rescate y Revalorización del Patrimonio Cultural Comisión Interamericana de Derechos Humanos

CIQ

Comunidad India Quilmes

CSQ

Consejo del Saber Q’olla

CMN CNMMyLH CONICET

Confederación Mapuche Neuquina Comisión Nacional de Museos, Monumentos y Lugares Históricos Comisión Nacional de Investigaciones Científicas y Técnicas

DNP

Dirección Nacional de Patrimonio

ICOM

International Council of Museums

ICOMOS INAI

International Council of Monuments Instituto Nacional de Asuntos Indígenas

INAPL

Instituto Nacional de Antropología y Pensamiento Latinoamericano

INDEC

Instituto Nacional de Estadísticas y Censos

IIT

Instituto Interdiscipliario Tilcara

MNBA

Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes

PREP- CONICET

Programa de Estudios Prehistóricos

UBA

Universidad Nacional de Buenos Aires

UNC

Universidad Nacional de Córdoba

UNCO UNCPBA

Universidad Nacional del Comague Universidad Nacional del Centro del Provincia de Buenos Aires

UNJU

Universidad Nacional de Jujuy

UNLP

Universidad Nacional de La Plata

UNM

Universidad Nacional de Misiones

UNR

Universidad Nacional de Rosario

UNT

Universidad Nacional de Tucumán

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Acknowledgements collaboration. I also wish to thank Juan Carlos Yapura and Inés Peña.

This book derives from my PhD Thesis in Archaeology (Institute of Archaeology, University College London, 2002). I owe special thanks to my supervisors Professor Peter Ucko and Ms. Kathy Tubb for their inestimable advice and support. I am also very grateful to my examiners Dr. Colin McEwan and Dr. Peter Stone.

I am very grateful to my colleges in Argentina who have provided me with much valuable information, particularly Dr Isabel Hernández Llosas, Dr Irina Podgorny, Dr Verónica Williams, Lic. Roberto Molinari, Lic. Alicia Tapia, Dr Valeria Cortegosso and Lic. Horacio Chiavazza. I must also thank Lic. Ivi Radovich and Lic. Alberto Hernández for their advice.

I also wish to acknowledge the help and advice of Dr Nicholas Stanley Price, Dr Nick Merriman, Dr Tim SchadlaHall, Dr Jane Hubert, Dr Cressida Fforde, Prof. Henry Cleere, Dr Paulette McManus, Neal Ascherson, Dr Bill Sillar and Dr Gustavo Politis.

Special thanks are due to the members of the Department of Archaeology and authorities of the Facultad de Ciencias Sociales (UNCPBA), Argentina, particularly to Lic. José Luis Prado, MA Rafael Curtoni, Dr María Gutierrez, Dr Gustavo Gómez and Lic. Cristian Kaufmann.

I would like to thank to my interviewees who were so generous with their time. I am especially grateful to Dr Guillermo Madrazo, Dr Elena Belli, Dr María Esther Albeck, Lic. Clara Rivolta, Armando Mendoza and members of the Instituto Interdisciplinario Tilcara, as well as Lic. Marta Ruiz from the Universidad Nacional de Jujuy. Special thanks are due to Lic. Jorgelina García Azcarate, Lic. Patrina Arena, Dr Carlos Aschero, Lic. Alejandra Korstanje, Lic. Barbara Manasse and Lic. Andrea Mastrángelo (Instituto de Arqueología y Museo, UNT), as well as to Lic. Josefina Racedo (CERPACU) and Dr Orlando Bravo from the Universidad Nacional de Tucumán.

I also owe a particular debt to my sister Rosario Endere and to my friends Mariela Martins, Mónica Iturburu, Jorge Cantar, Carmen Redondo, Dr María Isabel Martínez Navarrete and Celeste Errobidart. Special thanks to Dr. Lawrence Stewart Owens, Rosalind Oswald, Dr Glenn Wharton, Dr Zaki Aslan, Isabel Medina, Dr Robert Symmons, Dr Daniel Antoine, Dr Claire Seymour, Dr Ben Alberti, Tomás Mendizabal and many others whose help, support and friendship have been invaluable to develop my research. I am greatly indebted to the Programa FOMEC from the Universidad Nacional del Centro de la Provincia de Buenos Aires, Argentina, as well as the Fundación Antorchas, the British Embassy and the British Council, for having provided me with funding and assistance to carry out my studies in the United Kingdom.

I must also thank Merardo Moné, René Machaca, Félix Pérez, Eduardo Escobar, Guillermo and Alicia Meyer, Dr América Alemán, the Caparrós Family, the Bohorquez family and the Indigenous Quilmes Community, particularly Francisco Chaile, Delfín Gerónimo and Gloria Yapura for their important

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INTRODUCTION Issues surrounding the protection and management of Argentina’s archaeological heritage have been discussed and analysed by many researchers over the last thirty years. Criticism has focused on the inefficiency of legislation regarding looting, the destruction of archaeological resources by developers, the lack of co-ordination between national and local authorities and the need for greater public awareness (Escobar Bonoli 1989; Sempé de Gómez Llanes 1989; González 1982; 1991; Pérez Gollán 1991; Berberián 1992; Aschero 1998; Ratto 1998). Yet these problems result from more fundamental issues which involve a range of conflicting social, legal, political, economic, scientific and ideological interests.

decisions are therefore reached using criteria laid down by professional academics and agencies. Moreover, heritage legislators seem unable to comprehend value systems that are unrelated to ‘science’ and ‘nationalism’. The fact that they are unwilling to acknowledge alternative voices may explain why the overall system has failed to involve people in heritage preservation. It is necessary to study the attitudes of the public in managing ‘public heritage’ in Argentina to challenge why it is assumed that people do not care about archaeological heritage. This research seeks to bring an innovative perspective to the study of relationships between heritage and the public in Argentina since it focuses on the views of the ‘others’ and on the historical, socio-political, ethnic and economic contexts of specific archaeological sites to discuss Argentinean archaeological heritage management in principles and practice.

In the early twentieth century, archaeologists and political elites constructed a legal structure for the management of the national archaeological heritage, which was intended to enlighten the public through educational programmes and museum exhibitions. However, this legal framework has proved itself to be inadequate in addressing current heritage management needs. Suggested solutions to perceived needs usually involve proposals for changes to the legislation or for increased funding. Unfortunately, such solutions will never be enough to reverse the process of cultural damage, since they tend to reinforce the early twentieth century heritage system model that is still operative, instead of questioning its basis. This legal framework for managing Argentinean cultural heritage is inadequate because it identifies specific features of material culture but isolates these from both the landscape and from living cultural traditions. However this definition and perception of heritage falls short of an integrated, holistic view of the relationship between living cultures, the landscape and cultural artefacts. There is therefore a very evident need for a new approach with a corresponding development of a new legal framework for implementing this.

This approach has not previously been employed in Argentina, where most studies concerning archaeology and the public aim to impart discrete educational experiences or to address specific site management needs (see Chapter 2), but not to focus on the public in a wider sense. Moreover, public opinions concerning archaeological heritage are not analysed here in terms of accuracy of their scientific content -as in much previous research- but in terms of the extent to which these views differ from legal norms and scientific orthodoxies and thus create a seedbed for potential contention. This work is partly based upon original information derived from interviews held with different interest groups, as well as from a wide range of secondary sources - early published research and historical information - to give a time dimension to these views.

Research Aims and Strategies

Argentina’s multicultural society was ‘officially’ acknowledged in the 1994 amendment to the National Constitution, as was the ethnic and cultural pre-existence of indigenous people (‘la pre-existencia étnica y cultural de los pueblos indígenas argentinos’, art. 75, clause 17). Contentious issues surrounding the ownership and administration of cultural heritage need to be addressed, not least as archaeological debate has consistently denied the significance of ‘other’ voices. The strength of feeling concerning ownership and administration of Argentinean archaeological heritage resonates with post-processualist principles (Chapter 1), and it is clear that this contested field has been insufficiently studied in Argentina (see Chapter 2). Furthermore, alternative views are not commonly recognised by researchers nor by site managers, and

This research assumes that perceptions of heritage are influenced by ethnic, social and cultural factors, and that a range of conflicting views regarding ‘common national heritage’ is therefore to be expected. Successful decoding of these perceptions and conflicts over heritage issues should provide the basis for helping to engineer heritage management in a multicultural society. It analyses the attitudes of the general public, local people -including indigenous communities- and visitors to archaeological sites, examining how perceptions of sites differ according to various value systems. These views are compared to those adopted by archaeologists and site managers, as well as legislators and cultural policy-makers.

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National legislation concerning the protection of archaeological heritage and indigenous communities is also studied. An examination of the genesis and development of these laws and their amendments permits the analysis of how official discourses and current debates on nationalism and ethnicity have influenced archaeological heritage management. The implications of national and provincial heritage policies are considered in the context of three archaeological sites - the Pucará of Tilcara, the Quilmes’ Ruins and the Menhires’ Park - which have been chosen as case studies. All of these are open to the public, have undergone some form of reconstruction or ‘recreation’ and are the subject of debate by local villagers and indigenous communities.

other media, such as radio and television have not as yet generated much real impact in forming public opinion on these issues in Argentina. While archaeological heritage is a subject almost totally absent from radio programmes, television coverage is almost exclusively restricted to disseminating the results of archaeological expeditions abroad, often by screening documentaries produced by international media networks such as The Discovery Channel, BBC or National Geographic Society, as ‘entertainment’. Coverage is invariably superficial. Conversely, newspaper articles demonstrate by the sheer volume of coverage and by their depth of analysis, an expectation of interest and awareness on the part of both the journalists and their readers. Radio and television do not commonly engage with specifically Argentinean heritage issues.

The Pucará of Tilcara Site was selected as the first case study because its development as a heritage site - i.e. reconstruction and site interpretation - predates that of the other two sites by several decades. The overview of traditional Andean beliefs presented in this case therefore serves as an introduction to the other study sites, as they are all located in a region where these beliefs are shared by most of the indigenous populations concerned.

The involvement and stances adopted by the general public are also evaluated by an examination of the content of newspaper articles. This survey not only provides an overview of the way in which different interest groups and heritage controversies are presented in the press but also reveals how ‘the public’, as an abstract entity, is perceived by authorities and journalists through official speeches and newspaper editorials. The press, and its intended audiences, form part of the wider discussion concerning meanings and values attached to archaeological heritage by different interest groups in Argentina.

The three sites also resemble each other in being governed by similar ideological and political agendas, which prompted site reconstructions and exploitation as tourist resources while depriving living descendants of indigenous people from access to these sites. Each case study highlights the particular aspects of its own conflicts. In Tilcara, for example, much of the narrative focuses on the relationship between archaeologists and the local community through time. In the case of the Quilmes’ Ruins, the history of its population - derived from a number of treatises on archaeological and ethnohistoric research - and its relationship with the Quilmes’ own oral history is considered essential to contextualise current debate over the ruins. The political importance of the monoliths is the core issue addressed in the case concerning the Tafí Valleys’ menhires. The narrative thus focused on the ‘scientific discovery’, appropriation and uses of the menhires throughout the twentieth century.

Research Methodology and Rationale In order to investigate public views on archaeological heritage a combination of methods including ethnography and visitor surveys are adopted. In addition, historical and archaeological background research about the case study sites allow conclusions to be drawn concerning the evolution of archaeological thought in Argentina comparing early researchers’ accounts of these sites with the perspectives of current researchers. Data were collected during fieldwork in order to record local peoples’ opinions and thoughts about the case study sites and the way in which such opinions have been studied and managed. The opinions were derived from semi-structured and in-depth interviews. In order to record the behaviour of visitors, local inhabitants and staff, non-participant observation was also employed. Interaction with local people included participation in ceremonies, casual conversation and discussion groups. Casual conversations were held with local villagers and visitors to the sites, in public places and during traditional festivities, in order to identify values and any conflicts concerning the case study sites.

A common thread of inquiry running through all three case studies is the examination of how the views of local people and indigenous communities in site management contrast with heritage discourses and management practice. Considered in relation to a number of issues, including the degree of participation in the decision-making process and the acceptance of alternative interpretation of archaeological sites, the relationship between researchers/managers and local communities is also compared between the three case study sites. The coverage of heritage issues in the Argentine media is analysed by means of a survey of newspaper articles. This study focuses on the role of the press due to the fact that

In order to record individual perceptions of the sites and the way in which they are presented to the public, interviews

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were also held with international and national tourists as well as local visitors. The main aim of these surveys was to record visitors’ previous knowledge about the sites (e.g. publicity sources), their experience of the sites - in terms of enjoyment or dislike - and the values they attached to them. Their opinions, together with those of local people, provide a wider overview of public attitudes, which could be used to develop future site management strategies.

of the archaeological heritage is taken not only to be a matter of expert opinion but also a matter of social involvement and ethnic identity. By so doing, additional and complex issues are brought into the usual debate about archaeological heritage management in Argentina. Consequently, it is to be hoped that the data produced in this research will be of significant use in dealing with the new challenges to archaeological heritage of the twentiethfirst century.

Finally, the following research seeks to address an old problem from a new and wider perspective, the management

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CHAPTER 1 ARCHAEOLOGY, HERITAGE AND ‘THE OTHERS’: TOWARDS A THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK 1.1. Archaeology and ‘the Others’

as from living traditions. Monuments which constitute national heritage were simply considered ‘material culture’, without acknowledging the memories, attitudes and social meanings associated with them. Processual archaeologists were adamant in their rejection of any interpretation not provided by archaeological discourse. Furthermore, processual archaeology provided the philosophical framework for a ‘conservation ethic’ and the notion of a ‘world heritage’ based on universally shared values. As stated by Trigger (1995, 277):

In recent decades archaeologists have become increasingly aware of the potential political implications of their work, and started to consider the relationships between nationalism, ethnicity, heritage and archaeological theory and practice. The theoretical debate over the subjectivity of interpretation and the question of ‘truth’ in archaeology raises the issue of considering the past as a construction performed in the present. This has opened up new concerns about the socio-political context in which archaeology is developed, and the ways in which this can influence archaeological interpretation (Ucko 1995, 1). Scholars have focused their attention on the relevance of the past as a political resource (Layton 1989a, 3; Gathercole and Lowenthal 1990, etc.), and the manipulation of archaeology for political purposes has been widely illustrated (e.g. Arnold and Hassmann 1995; Díaz Andreu 1995; Díaz Andreu and Champion 1996; Meskell 1998; Schmidt 1999). Archaeology’s claim for having scientific image was used to support the hegemony of Western nations as well as nationalism. The preservation and research of archaeological and historical sites have thus become recognised as part of the political agenda. Some monuments have been turned into powerful icons of national identity, depriving indigenous descendants of their rights to their own cultural heritage (e.g. Aymara people in Bolivia, Mamami Condori 1989), using them to legitimise territorial sovereignty (e.g. Masada in Israel), or even as a justification for ethnic rights (Kohl and Fawcett 1995, 7-11).

‘wittingly or unwittingly, processual archaeology, by denying the significance of culturally specific experiences, has played a role in devaluing local culture and promoting a universalistic outlook that has served the far from altruistic goals first of American and then of international capitalism’.

In this sense, processual archaeology maintained the exclusion of ethnic minorities from their cultural heritage which had started with ‘evolutionist archaeology’ in the nineteenth century. At that time, social Darwinism provided a justification not only for a model of science, but also for the political agenda of the new national states. As a result, indigenous peoples were separated from their past, their landscapes and monuments, in order to be assimilated into the national identity. Referring to the situation of the indigenous people of Bolivia, Mamami Condori (1989, 46) stated that ‘…we were “integrated” on condition that we renounced our cultural heritage, which was supposed to be relegated to the museums, alienated and converted into a mere souvenir of a dead past’.

The debate concerning the impossibility of recovering an objective ‘truth’ about the past was first broached in a number of symposia at the First World Archaeological Congress (Southampton, U.K.), in September 1986 (Ucko 1987; World Archaeological Bulletin 1, 1987) and was later developed in several post-congress publications, including the volume edited by Hodder (1989). Challenging the idea of objectivity in archaeology has been one aim of a number of approaches described collectively as post-processual archaeology (Hodder 1999, 5). Embedded within the context of post-modernist critique (Foucault 1972; 1979; Baudrillard 1981; Derrida 1978, etc.), post-processualism emerged as a reaction against the positivism of Anglo-American processual approaches of the 1970s and 1980s.

The post-colonial and post-war political frameworks provided a more favourable atmosphere for the resurgence of indigenous peoples’ identities, and marked the beginning of a process of cultural reclamation by indigenous populations. Politically active indigenous groups started to criticise archaeology’s hegemony over the physical and intellectual ownership of their cultural heritage. The past thus became a matter of dispute between scholars and indigenous descendants, such as American Indians Against Desecration in the USA, and Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Communities in Australia (Hubert 1992, 107-108). But it was not only indigenous peoples who were excluded from their past. Regarding Stonehenge, Bender (1998) illustrates a situation of a contested past in western societies where some groups -such as free festivalers and Druidswere denied access to the site on the basis of a conservation

The so-called ‘new archaeology’ (Binford 1962; 1989), objectified the past and separated it from the present as well

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policy which was influenced by the opinion of archaeologists. This conflict emerged as a result of two mutually incompatible views about the past and the way that it should be experienced:

indigenous groups define and differentiate themselves from others is the result of a dynamic process, in which the social and political (national and international) context is not neutral. Favourable political and economic frameworks or discriminatory policies can both operate as driving forces behind the emergence of ethnic groups (Jones 1999, 224).

‘the designated custodians see it as something to be preserved, a museum piece, a vital part of our rooted, stable, national heritage. But for a small minority it is something quite different: a living site, a spiritual centre, an integral part of an alternative life-style’ (Bender 1998, 9).

1.1.1. Acknowledging ‘Otherness’ and Challenging Professional Principles

Post-processual perspectives have emphasised the specific cultural context of each society, and the way in which social and symbolic aspects of culture have influenced different ways of experiencing the past.

The idea of a subjective and changeable past (Merriman 2000, 302-303) and a free-floating material culture (Ucko 2000a, 83) implies questioning the intellectual authority over archaeological interpretation as well as over material culture. Core concepts such as archaeological research, conservation and heritage have become controversial, as have many other theoretical and methodological principles in archaeology and conservation.

‘Archaeologists are not the only people with a genuine interest in the past…’ They ‘are not alone in regarding knowledge of the past as a valuable commodity, nor are they immune to the politics which surround the control of any valued resource’ (Layton 1989a, 18).

Specialist literature discusses a number of heritage sites where the ethical and technical agendas of archaeologists and conservators were in conflict with social, political and religious values (e.g. the conservation of the Buddhist Temple of Tooth Relic in Sri Lanka, Wijesurija 2000) and local people’s traditions (e.g. the preservation of Domboshava national monument in Zimbabwe; Pwiti and Mvenge 1996). In western societies professional opinions do not always match those of the public. Differing views about reconstructions of archaeological sites provide good examples of this type of disagreement. Among researchers, it is recognised that site reconstructions and restorations present a number of methodological problems, often increasing the process of deterioration and hampering further studies of the remains. Furthermore, site reconstructions are undertaken according to interpretations of the archaeological record, which may change through time. For this reason, many site reconstructions have been severely criticised by a number of specialists (e.g. Feilden and Jokilehto 1993, 62-63; Stubb 1995, 77-78; Schmidt 1999, 61-68; Stone and Planel 1999) and decisions against in situ reconstructions are now more commonly recommended. However, there are cases in which local people support the reconstruction of a site, and later value this reconstruction as a significant part of their local heritage, despite the lack of archaeological accuracy (e.g. reconstructed Roman Fort Gateway at Arbeia, South Shield, Blockley 1999, 22-23). Furthermore, reconstructed sites can potentially attract high numbers of visitors. This makes them valuable from an economic point of view (Stone and Planel 1999, 4-5) in addition to the political and ideological purposes they can serve (Schmidt 1999).

Sensitive and contentious issues, such as repatriation, reburial of human remains, restitution of cultural properties and sacredness of landscapes gradually became part of the archaeological agenda. The ‘other’ has therefore become an important issue in archaeological discussion (e.g. Hodder 1986; Layton 1989a; 1989b; Preucer and Hodder 1996) not as part of an ‘object of study’ as in traditional anthropology, but as a conscious examination of the implication of archaeological work. The idea of the ‘other’ - as the opposite of the ‘self’ - implies archaeologists’ reflexive analysis of themselves and what differentiates them from others. In other words, ‘it refers to the idea that those in dominant western countries have tended to construct the past and culture of non-western countries as inverse images of themselves’ (Preucel and Hodder 1996, 601). Indigenous peoples and all ethnic, racial and religious minorities were included in this category of ‘others’, as the result of an opposition between western/ non-western and dominant/alternative approaches to the past. ‘Sub-cultures’ such as folk groups and free festivalers, as well as ‘the public’ in a wider sense, have also been considered ‘others’ in the sense of being socially excluded, as are non-academic groups whose views differ from those of professional archaeologists (Lowenthal 1990). The notion of ‘otherness’ -far from being an ontological category- is a social construction and a contingent concept. The emergence of ethnic groups in the post-colonial world has challenged the idea of static identities, and placed the issue of defining ethnicity in the spotlight of anthropological and archaeological debate (Barth 1969; Banks 1996; Shennan 1994; Jones 1997; 1999). Rather than being immutable, ethnicity is continuously transformed by cultural relations (Gosden 1999, 204). In this sense, the way in which

It seems clear that if heritage is a social construct, and archaeological research and conservation are, above all, social practices, professional decisions should take into

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account appropriate social and cultural contexts (Avrami et al. 2000, 3-4). The notion of ‘authenticity’ - traditionally the essential quality of conservation and restoration works (e.g. Charter of Venice, 1964) - is now considered highly controversial (e.g. Wei and Aass 1989; Larsen 1995; McBryde 1997; Ucko 2000a). Authenticity cannot be determined on the basis of fixed scientific criteria. It depends on values which differ from culture to culture, and even within the same culture (Nara Document on Authenticity, par. 11). In this sense, the character of ‘negotiable’ authenticity (Ucko 2000a) seems to suggest that the term ‘authentic’ now describes the process rather than the product. Since there is no possibility of establishing any objective basis for authenticity, it depends on the way diverse criteria are adopted, in terms of participation and dialogue with other interest groups. Accordingly, the concept of cultural heritage’s ‘intrinsic value’ is being replaced by the idea ‘that objects and places are not, in and of themselves, what is important about cultural heritage; they are important because of the meanings and uses that people attach to these material goods and the values they represent’ (Getty Conservation Institute, quoted by Avrami et al. 2000, 11).

already questioning the traditional boundaries of the discipline and were actively advocating that the role of the archaeologists as social scientists working within historical and political processes should be recognised. In the foreword to the revised edition of his 1974 revolutionary manuscript: ‘Arqueología como ciencia social’ (archaeology as social science), Lumbreras stated that. ‘As with other sciences, archaeology is not an ethereal academic activity isolated from the problems of the society in which it evolves. It is, and always has been, an active instrument of social struggle…It provides support and cohesion to the social class that it serves. Archaeology is a means of oppression when it is used to justify the exploitation of the indigenous peasants of our countries, through the development of “theories” which demonstrate both their historical inferiority compared to the European intruders and their inclination towards decadence. Archaeology is a means of oppression when it enhances the past in order to revile the present…when it transforms historical beings into objects. Archaeology, however, is a means of liberation when it discovers the historical roots of indigenous peoples, revealing their origins and their condition as victims of exploitation… Archaeology is a means for liberation when it works in co-ordination with other social sciences which deal with modern issues, and demonstrates the unity of history as well as its regional and local particularities’ (Lumbreras 1981, 6).

Decisions about conservation and management of sites are value-oriented and their implementation always introduces new meanings, thus modifying or creating new values. Thus, they affect indigenous and local people’s access to and understanding of their cultural heritage. In this sense, the definition of conservation adopted by Avrami et al. (2000, 7) -a ‘complex and continual process’ of recreating cultural heritage with the final aim of making ‘heritage meaningful to those whom it is intended to benefit’- would also be applicable to archaeology and heritage management.

So-called ‘Social Archaeology’, as a Marxist approach to Latin American archaeology (e.g. Bate 1977, 1978, 1981, 1993; Sanoja and Vargas 1978; Montané 1980; Lumbreras 1981; Vargas 1990; Vargas and Sanoja 1993, etc.) developed as an attempt to emphasise the need for archaeologists to commit their work to the recognition of ‘the others’ - i.e. the indigenous peoples - in this particularly complex social context (Benavides 2001, 356). ‘Social Archaeology’ is currently being valued for its originality as a theoretical construct (see McGuire 1991; Patterson 1994; McGuire and Navarrete 1999; Politis 2001), as well as for the influence that its ideas have had on the study of several Latin American archaeological sites - such as Coschasquí, Agua Blanca and Real Alto, in Ecuador - in which local communities were considered to be ‘the rightful heirs to the sites’, being actively involved in the sites’ management as a consequence (Benavides 2001, 361-363; also McGuire and Navarrete 1999).

1.1.2. Multivocality and Self-Reflection Archaeologists’ abandonment of cross-cultural metanarratives and an increasing concern about context and diversity of views were the most remarkable characteristics of postprocessual approaches in the 1990s (Hodder 1999). Among them, multivocality started to play a key role, opening up archaeological interpretation in order to admit alternative voices (Leone et al. 1995; Potter and Chabot 1997; Bender 1998; also Gnecco 1999). The importance of generating a dialogue between professionals and ‘others’ has been emphasised, as much as the need to maintain a continuous process of interpretation and reinterpretation of the past (Ucko 1995). This dialogue will encourage mutual feedback and learning. As explained by Hodder (1999, 19), ‘archaeology begins to look less like a well-defined discipline with clear boundaries and more like a fluid set of negotiable interactions. Less a thing than a process’.

In the context of the 1990s post-processual debate on archaeological interpretation, self-reflection, as a methodology to identify the motivation of archaeologists and to overcome biases (Potter 1991) has been considered essential to help interpreters ‘interact meaningfully and productively’ with their audiences (Potter 1997, 37). Furthermore, ethnographic methods and techniques have been used to study the contemporary social context of

In a Latin American context, in the 1970s, it is notable that archaeologists such as the Peruvian Luis Lumbreras were

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archaeological sites. As a result of these new commitments, the current challenge for archaeologists seems to be the need for increased self-criticism and continual re-examination of theoretical approaches and methodologies used to interpret and display the past (Ucko 1989, x). The long-term aim may therefore be to integrate the diversity of approaches to the past through dialogue, flexibility and negotiation.

first stage. Scholars are directing their efforts towards clarifying purposes and commitments (Avrami et al. 2000, 68-70). There is an urgent need to achieve new guidelines that are not reliant on proceedings, and which move more consciously towards ethical goals. However, determining which ultimate targets professionals should aim for is still a matter for debate.

The possibility of building such a dialogue is still a matter for debate. When radical positions against archaeology are adopted (e.g. Langford 1983), there is little chance of developing appropriate dialogue. Furthermore, communication between academics and indigenous groups is usually difficult, due both to linguistic barriers and differing concepts of time and space (Preucel and Hodder 1996, 108-109). Once dialogue is established, the matter of coping with multiple and contested versions of the past and their validity arises. Are all versions of the past equally valid? Preucel and Hodder emphasised that ‘there may be guidelines for arguing that some versions are better than others for specific purposes and in particular contexts’ (1996, 612). Accordingly, the possibility of establishing ‘a set of disciplinary standards’ was suggested in order to determine whether or not assessments of the past were ‘more than a mere support or opposition to current political interests’ (Ucko 1995, 18).

A number of commitments have been suggested for archaeologists, museum professionals, conservators and managers, such as playing a role in reflecting and mediating the demands of various groups (Lavine and Karp 1991, 8), making the profession more democratic so it may become a ‘source of important benefits to society, including stability, understanding, tolerance, recognition of and respect for cultural differences, and economic development’ (Avrami et al. 2000, 68). It has also been suggested that a major professional goal should consist of integrating heritage into a broader conservation ethical framework - for sustainable development - which ‘reflect the complexity of the natural and human system that it seeks to conserve’ (Hall and McArthur 1996, 181, 299), as well as to preserve ‘what the present generation believes will be significant for future generations’ (Avrami et al. 2000, 10). However, the putative existence of moral values shared by all human beings may be objected to as being a product of the now dominant global discourse on human rights. Scholars must face a harsh reality: after demolishing the idea of an objective ‘truth’, there is little room left to build cross-cultural common moral commitments. Thus, much in the future of the discipline depends on how professionals tackle this ‘moral dilemma’ (Ucko 1990, xx).

Finally, the matter of how to build dialogue with ‘the others’ and deciding who takes control are key issues. Layton and Thomas (2001, 19) discuss how to proceed ‘in relation to those who deliberately misuse or misrepresent the past for political ends’, and suggest that archaeologists should refuse to enter into debate with them, although they recognise that ‘in the less clear-cut arena it is open to question whether anyone is in a position to decide which viewpoints are too extreme to be included in dialogue’.

1.2. Archaeological Heritage Management in Context

The manner in which this matter is resolved will show whether archaeologists have a real commitment to finding new ways of multicultural understanding, or whether they have been merely indulging in rhetorical exercises.

The notion of archaeological heritage management -or its equivalent in the USA ‘cultural resource management’- has evolved from its first use in the mid-1970s when it aimed to give more dynamism to heritage in contrast to the conventional and static concept of ancient monuments preservation (Cleere 1984, ix).

1.1.3. A Moral Dilemma Those who support the notion of multiple pasts and acknowledge indigenous communities’ right to search for their own history have been accused of post-modern relativism (Yoffre and Sherratt 1993) which in some ways encourages the resurgence of intolerance. This has been challenged by emphasising the difference between plurality and relativism. Pluralism is about acknowledging the rights and dignity of ‘others’, but it does not mean that judgements between the claims of different ethnic groups cannot be made (Hodder 1999, 161; Layton and Thomas 2001, 17).

Throughout the 1980s the development of archaeological heritage management studies was mainly dedicated to emphasising the need to protect not only what was already listed as a heritage site but also potential archaeological resources. Issues concerning rescue archaeology, archaeological impact studies and the need to state criteria for the selection of cultural resources for preservation were then the key problems (King et al. 1977; McGimsey and Davis 1977; Schiffer and Gummerman 1977; Wilson and Loyola 1982; Lipe 1984; Darvill et at. 1987; Davis 1989, etc.).

In the context of post-processual critique, the development of a new set of professional ethical standards is still in its

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Scholars also focused their attention on the efficacy of cultural resource management systems, studying both national and international legal frameworks (e.g. Cleere 1984; O’Keefe and Prott 1984; also Hunter and Ralston 1993, etc.), on the application of general management theory to cultural resources, as well as on practical aspects of site and museum conservation and management (e.g. Cleere 1989; Harrison 1994).

According to the 1990 ICOMOS Charter, archaeological heritage management is based upon four principles: a) it concerns non-renewable resources; b) it is governed by legislation; c) it is subject to significance assessment, and d) it is a matter of public concern. However, most of these principles have recently been called into question (Carman 1996; Holtorf 2001).

This first generation of heritage studies has been based on two main ideas and has contributed to their reinforcement. The first is that archaeological heritage management is essentially an activity that must be carried out by the national States and that its principles must be incorporated into their legal systems (e.g. Cleere 1984, 125). The second is the need to develop an international heritage system -based on the 1972 UNESCO Convention- emphasising the idea that heritage is above all the achievement of all mankind and its preservation for future generations is therefore an international responsibility requiring international commitment (e.g. Lipe 1984, 10).

1.2.1. Non-renewable Resources The term ‘resource’ suggests it is something that can be exploited to develop a profitable return (Darvill 1995, 43). Therefore, far from being neutral in meaning, the use of this term implies a model of heritage management based upon financial turnover. Furthermore, the idea that archaeological resources are non-renewable is based on the assumption that there are a fixed number of items which constitute cultural heritage. However, archaeological heritage is not perceived in the same way by all the people involved (Ucko 2001, 228), and many places and objects once seen as irrelevant are now considered to be culturally significant (e.g. Fowler 1992, 85). The meaning of cultural heritage is continuously changing as part of a ongoing process of creation and recreation. As explained by Pearce (2000, 63) ‘today’s lifestyle is being transmuted into tomorrow’s cultural heritage’. Thus, archaeological resources are neither fixed in number nor in meanings, but are the result of a dynamic, historically constructed, ever shifting and sometimes conflicting process in which material remains of the past are being identified as heritage (McBryde 1997, 96; also Lowenthal, 1992; Ucko 2000a; 2001).

These studies aimed to develop comparative analysis of the way each country protects its heritage and to compile papers in areas such as conservation, interpretation, strategic planning, marketing, etc., in order to produce guidelines for best practice (e.g. Cleere 1989; Harrison 1994). As a result of all these efforts, a number of recommendations were adopted in an international context, such as the 1990 ICOMOS Charter for the Protection and Management of the Archaeological Heritage, which has had a considerable legal and professional impact (e.g. the Council of Europe’s Recommendation on Cultural Landscape Areas, see Fairclough 1999, 126).

The notion of non-renewable resources is closely associated with the concept of authenticity. If archaeological remains are finite, once they are lost any attempt to reconstruct or recreate them is considered inauthentic, a fake copy of the original (Hortorf 2001, 286-287). However, it has been argued that authenticity is not an essence contained within sites or objects, but human constructs in particular contexts, reliant upon specific meanings and experiences of archaeological sites and objects (Larsen 1995; Holtorf and Schadla-Hall 1999), and also that ancient sites are not the origin but the product of cultural appreciation of the past (Hortorf 2001, 289). In other words, what makes an object or site authentic is the way in which people use it and relate to it (Layton and Thomas 2001, 18).

A second generation of papers aimed to discuss the theoretical implications that management as such can bring to the wider discussion regarding archaeological theory and practice. In this sense, Cooper et al. (1995) aim to reflect the diversity of perspectives on this issue, through so-called ‘processual’ and ‘post-processual’ cultural resource management (Carman et al. 1995, 236). The first tends to adopt the general management theory on heritage issues which assumes that a basic heritage management model can be effectively applied in any situation, while the latter criticises management’s basic principles and objectives. Much of the current debate on heritage management relies on issues of defining values and understanding the specific context in which a particular heritage site will be managed. Thus, putting archaeological heritage management in context means looking at some key topics, such as whose heritage is being protected, whose purposes are being served and who is involved in the decision-making process. The basic principles applied to heritage management must therefore be discussed.

Having challenged the idea of origin and authenticity, Hortorf (2001, 290) argues that there is no difference between what is reputed to be original and what seems to be a copy, and therefore heritage is not a non-renewable resource as ‘original’ artefacts and monuments are perfectly replaceable by all manner of reconstructions previously considered ‘fake’.

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However, acknowledging that the heritage is not static, and that it is subject to multiple interpretations does not necessarily challenge the notion of heritage as nonrenewable. Destruction of cultural objects - such as the Bamiyan Buddhas in Afghanistan - provokes international condemnation and a general feeling of irreparable loss, even when they can be recreated.

Thus, while legal and academic discourses have traditionally been concerned with determining what must be protected, by whom and with what purpose, the discourse of the ‘other’; for example the notions of sacred landscape and repatriation of human remains have been neglected until very recently. Academic recognition of the claims made by the ‘other’ has led to a divide within the legal/academic ‘camps’, and has given rise to a whole range of theoretical and practical problems. Acknowledging that the meaning of cultural heritage is continuously changing as part of a dynamic process of interpretation and reinterpretation of past and present makes it difficult to set legal criteria defining the cultural significance of sites and places. Furthermore, the assessment of significance is based on values which depend on cultural, intellectual, historical, and psychological frames of reference held by particular individuals or groups (Lipe 1984, 2). Therefore a variety of potentially conflicting ethnic, historical, aesthetic, social, symbolic, educational and even economic values can be involved in a site (Pearson and Sullivan 1995, 16-22; Lipe 1984; Stanley Price 1990; Carman 1996). So-called sacred sites (Carmichael et al. 1994), for example, cannot be defined and evaluated using the traditional legal categories. It should not be a surprise, then, that national legislation protecting only tangible material culture, classifiable by scientific criteria, is unable to deal with these types of sites which ‘are not evident per se through archaeological inquiry’ (Ucko 1994, xx). On the contrary, they are the result of a set of beliefs and cultural perceptions of the landscape.

The sense of loss is experienced when what is lost is considered to be irreplaceable. Furthermore, since it is not possible to be certain how things were made or used in the past, it cannot be assumed that present-day reconstructions, recreations or copies are entirely faithful to the original. However, even if they were demonstrated to be so, the majority of those educated in western societies would consider the notion of heritage to be inseparable from the idea of non-renewability. This does not necessarily mean that non-western cultures - which perceive and value heritage places in other ways - consider non-renewability to be relevant to their more dynamic understanding of ‘heritage’. Nevertheless, it seems reasonable to expect that remarkable sites and objects -even when subject to different interpretations- will attract public interest and therefore merit some kind of protection. However, it is also necessary to encourage more democratic interpretations of the past, and more dynamic and creative ways of defining archaeological heritage. Furthermore, the notion of ‘non-renewable resource’ has been widely used in management policies and in legislation to describe the different elements which constitute cultural heritage. Demolishing the idea that archaeological remains are non-renewable may have disastrous consequences, since it effectively destroys the main legal justification for archaeological heritage management systems and funding for archaeology. Authorities would refuse to invest in the protection of objects that, far from being finite and in danger, are viewed as abundant and renewable.

In recent years, international charters and scholars have concentrated their efforts on elaborating classifications of values that are claimed to define the multiple dimensions of cultural significance (Lipe 1984; Pearson and Sullivan 1995; Hall and McArthur, 1996). Significantly, the Australia ICOMOS Charter for the Conservation of Places of Cultural Significance (1979, revised 1988, known as the ‘Burra Charter’), defined cultural significance as the possession of ‘aesthetic, historic, scientific or social values for past, present or future generations’ (art. 1 ap. 1.2) (Marquis-Kyle and Walker 1996). This broad definition had a considerable impact on world-wide heritage management.

1.2.2. Legislation and Assessment of Cultural Significance

Legislation aims to provide a framework for long-term heritage management. But is it possible to establish any guidelines that strike a balance between the need for legal certainty and the changing nature of cultural heritage? People’s ever-shifting perceptions of and attitudes to heritage sites make it difficult to find a precise formula to assess significance. Classifications can only operate as orientation for further discussion among interest groups, and decisions should mainly rely on ad hoc negotiations. Because of this, the New Zealand ICOMOS Charter for the Conservation of Places of Cultural Heritage Value (1993) states that ‘conservation of places… is conditional on

There are at least three different discourses that archaeologists and heritage managers must take into account and deal with: the academic, the legal - according to the national and international legal and political systems, and the discourse of the ‘other’. Legal discourse has traditionally encouraged the protection of material culture remains that are considered suitable for preservation. This suitability is judged according to fixed and immutable criteria based almost exclusively upon perceived value - i.e. their uniqueness and national importance, in addition to aesthetic or scientific importance.

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decisions made in the indigenous community’ (art. 2; also Hall and McArthur 1996, 10). Is it possible to design mechanisms of negotiation (i.e. adopted by law) that can be equally applied to every community across a country? Can centralised legal systems really hope to address the vast complexity of others’ claims on such a scale?

emblematic role in the context of the multicultural global village, consolidating convergent actions for cultural heritage, which could be shared by people across cultural differences. Cleere (2000, 104) also remarked on the benefits that World Heritage inscription could bring to Third World countries, such as receiving technical assistance and training, attracting cultural tourism, and reinforcing local pride in some heritage places. New criteria to evaluate heritage nominations were introduced in the last decade by the World Heritage Committee as an attempt to overcome some ‘eurocentrist’ aspects of the text of the Convention. Core concepts, such as ‘living traditions’ and ‘cultural landscapes’, reflect a dramatic change towards the recognition of traditional styles of life associated with landscapes, most of them located in Third World countries (Cleere 2000, 100-101).

1.2.2.1. World, National and Indigenous Heritages In the postcolonial world, the right of national states or international governing bodies to deal with cultural heritage has been open to question. National States have assumed the role of custodians since heritage is considered an essential part of the national identity, even when this heritage significantly predates the creation of the States (e.g. Ptolemaic remains in modern Egypt - Hassan 1998). However, national histories are accused of being ‘invented traditions’ (Hobsbawm and Ranger 1983; Anderson 1983) in which historical facts are manipulated to legitimise the power of national states and to deny ethnic, religious or racial minorities access to their own past and material culture associated with it.

In recent years, landscapes of past cultures have not only been considered cultural resources to be protected (Newcombe, 1979, Lipe 1984) but have also instigated an interesting debate. Many authors have pointed out the ambiguity of landscape and the multiple ways in which it is used (Gosden and Head 1994; Layton and Ucko 1999, 1; Thomas 2001, 166). For some authors landscape is described as a result of human adaptation to natural conditions of the environment while others emphasise landscape as a cultural perception constructed through time and tradition (Bender 1993).

The notion that a number of remarkable cultural and natural sites should be considered to be ‘world heritage’ and a ‘common property of mankind as a whole’ (Simmonds 1997) has also been a matter of debate. From one point of view, this notion constitutes an essential principle to support the ‘conservation ethic’ as a universal movement:

Should landscape be considered as a palimpsest (Hoskins 1992), able to be studied as a result of the activities of past societies? Or should it be analysed as a continuous process, including the present (Bender 1998, 6) and the people currently related to it? Landscape seems to be more than a subject of scientific speculation, it has been defined as ‘a space for being in rather than looking at’ (Tilley 1994), and also a space for negotiation.

‘We cannot assign most cultural properties to present-day nations, ethnic groups or language groups if these properties are more than a few hundred to, at the outside, a few thousand years old... it means that few of the accomplishments of humanity, as documented and commemorated in the cultural resource record, can be assigned to the specific political entities in the world today. Consequently, they related equally to them all’ (Lipe 1984, 10).

Landscape has been considered as units to be protected, comprising natural and cultural components as well as local social values (e.g. English Heritage 1996; Countryside Commission 1996) (Layton and Ucko 1999, 17). However, adopting an operable definition is a current philosophical challenge. Landscapes - as much as heritage and the past - are subjective and contested. Management of landscape involves many groups of people whose interests may be conflicting (Layton and Ucko 1999, 16). The UNESCO Convention could therefore help to support ethnic minorities by providing an international legal and political framework to protect their natural and cultural environments. However, there is a key point that must be considered: heritage places are always under the control of National States, even when their governments are openly against the recognition of ethnic minorities’ rights to their cultural heritage.

However, this idea has been objected to on the grounds that it constitutes a new argument for the dispossession of indigenous properties -as happened with their lands- and a new justification for colonialism proposed by white-oriented science and scientists (Langford 1983, 2-4; Mamami Condori 1989). Legal and intellectual ownership and control over cultural heritage is part of a whole process, performed in the name of humanity and science, which is seen by indigenous peoples as a new kind of domination. Some indigenous complaints enter into a more general critique of western approaches to science, archaeology and heritage made by non-western scholars (Said 1978; Paranjpe 1990, Ucko 1995). On the contrary, Arizpe (2000, 37) considered that the UNESCO World Heritage Convention could play an

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1.2.3. Is Cultural Heritage a Matter of Public Concern?

1.2.3.1. Heritage and the Media Today professionals’ awareness of the need to reach the public eye in First World countries is the result of criticism that archaeologists have been unable to communicate effectively with a wider audience in general, and with media professionals in particular. In the late 1980s, Stone (1989, 203) argued that archaeologists’ academic isolation and their ‘apparent disregard for the opinion of the rest of the population was a near-suicidal stance’. Accordingly, Hills (1993, 222) stated that ‘in a democracy, for reasons of self interest, archaeologists cannot afford not to engage enough of the public’s interest for politicians to believe there could be votes in the subject, and therefore a need to fund it’. Thus, the use of print media by archaeologists as a way to increase public interest in archaeology has been encouraged in recent years (e.g. DeCicco 1988), as well as the need to understand people’s perceptions of the discipline. ‘It cannot be assumed that the public find archaeology valuable...We should know what the people know about the past, and how they use this knowledge’ (Potter 1990, 609-610).

In the last few years, physical and intellectual public access to archaeological sites has been widely studied in the international context (e.g. Fowler 1992; Walsh 1992; Jameson 1997; Stone and Planel 1999, McManus 2000a, etc.). Cultural heritage is preserved for the public and, therefore people’s access, education, engagement, enjoyment and use of archaeological sites has become an essential professional commitment. In order to communicate the past to wider audiences more effectively, different forms of site display including reconstructions of sites and dramatic performances, have been undertaken and subsequently widely discussed among specialists (Stone and Planel 1999; Macdonald 1997, etc.). In spite of the increasing professional concern about the need to work for the public, ordinary people’s views on archaeological heritage and its interpretation have seldom been analysed (Ucko 2000a, 69; Potter 1997, 38). Through well-conducted local studies, however, have demonstrated the importance and usefulness of opinion surveys and shown how misled archaeologists’ assumptions can be about public feelings and values about archaeological heritage. Pokotylo and Guppy (1999, 400-416), for example, remarked on the general negative public attitude towards Aboriginal stewardship of archaeological resources, based on an opinion survey carried out in British Columbia, Canada. And Lertrit (1997) has shown how indigenous people of Thailand considered themselves excluded by the Chian Saen Preservation Project, because they believed that heritage did not belong to them but to the National State.

In contrast, media professionals have been accused by archaeologists of trivialising archaeology in order to make it newsworthy and of allowing the public to maintain obsolete ideas about the subject. Bray (1981) argued that media have contributed to popularise stereotype images of archaeologists as explorers, collectors or antiquarian scholars. The idea of archaeology as a transgression of some ‘ancient unwritten law’ and the image of archaeologists as desecrators, is also popular, as is the belief that archaeological discoveries can provide evidence of national superiority - and therefore of national/local pride - in terms of antiquity or uniqueness (Ascherson 2004).

In Third World countries, the public for whom archaeologists are working seems to be very different to the kinds of audiences professionals in developed nations have in mind since archaeological information is typically only accessible to a small intellectual elite (Funari 1999). Furthermore, the idea of a remote past isolated from any living traditions -whose material evidence could only be interpreted by scientific inquiry- gives archaeologists a carte blanche for their own work, even though ‘it runs the risk of either leaving’ this knowledge ‘outside public consciousness’ or ‘disenfranchising the more distant past from living reality or contemporary relevance’ (Ucko 1994, 238). Both risks seem to be a reality in nations such as Argentina, where indigenous groups were neglected and excluded from the process of the construction of a national past, and where archaeological heritage became exclusively a matter for specialists. It can in some ways explain the lack of public awareness in these countries. As Lowenthal (2000, 23) noted, ‘heritage atrophies in the absence of public support’.

In the late 1990s, however, it must be recognised that the relationship between journalists and archaeologists has improved - at least in the UK, and that the media, particularly television, have made positive contributions to archaeology, making it accessible to wider audiences (Ascherson 2004). After acknowledging the importance of the media as a means of promoting the profession, scholars have advocated a better relationship with the media professionals, since both of them, as stressed by Finn (2001, 263) share a common goal: searching for evidence to construct a narrative about the past.

1.2.4. Should Archaeological Heritage be Managed? Museums and heritage places have been considered ‘white’ and ‘western institutions’ and subjected to critical analysis. As Merriman (2000, 301) has remarked, the question is whether or not they ‘can serve a valid function in a culturally diverse, post-modern, post-colonial world’. This issue is

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particularly relevant to those ‘still-colonised countries… which have a majority white population of colonist origin existing alongside strong, living indigenous traditions’ (Merriman 2000, 302), in to which category Argentina falls.

difficult to achieve in many heritage places located in developed countries, it is almost impossible for most of those located in the Third World, with the exception of some remarkable sites which have managed to attract international tourism.

The recognition of indigenous cultural heritage and the existence of sacred sites have important implications for management, since the sacredness of the place may often make it incompatible with other uses. It is thus necessary to analyse the problem from the very beginning, asking whether or not archaeological sites should be managed.

Ecological sustainability involves the protection of natural environments as well as the cultural sites located within them. Heritage management has sometimes been considered part of more comprehensive conservation strategies, based on the idea of the sustainability of the global environment (influenced by the Agendas of the Earth, in Rio, 1992 and Kyoto 1997, Baker 1999, 6; Hall and Mc Arthur 1996, 299). This approach aims to integrate present concerns about heritage with the protection of future generations’ rights. Even though it is hard to disagree with these objectives and goals, it must also be recognised that it is difficult to achieve them without enough staff, funding or political support. There have also been cases in which the preservation of archaeological sites and their natural environment were in conflict with local people’s way of life and where decisions were made to move people from the lands they traditionally occupied, in order to protect these areas as natural reserves. For example, the relocation of the Community of Agua Blanca in the Machalilla National Park, Ecuador, was considered necessary by the authorities for them to preserve the natural environment. In this case, relocation was avoided due to local people’s resistance and their later involvement in a joint archaeological project and the development of a community museum (Silva and McEwan 1989; McEwan et al. 1994; 2000). It would seem that ecological sustainability should not be such a priority so as to deprive local people of their lands and lifestyles.

First, it must be recognised that all preservation alters sites and artefacts (Lowenthal and Binney, 1981, 225) and that management is a contingent concept, and therefore cannot be universally applied irrespective of the context in which it has to operate. It has meaning only when interpreted in a specific situation, when it is contextualised. A conscious choice of not to manage a site is in itself a management decision. Thus, alternative models of heritage management should be considered valid (Byrne 1991). Second, heritage management is influenced by a range of practical considerations, such as a country’s legal and political framework, administrative system, institutional arrangements, and further socio-economic factors. A deep understanding of these conditions is essential to evaluate the feasibility of concepts commonly used in cultural management, such as economic and ecological sustainability of heritage places and sustainable tourism. Moreover, traditional approaches to heritage management have underestimated the role of local people, despite the fact that cultural places cannot be managed ‘in isolation of the people who are the owners of the heritage…’ (Hall and McArthur 1996, 3). The USA, however, has played a leading role in changing this, by exploring relationships between federal and state agencies, archaeologists and Native Americans based on the recognition of each other’s concerns (Dongoske et al. 2000). Because of this, many Indian tribes are now in charge of their own heritage management programme and take control of ethnographic and archaeological research carried out on their reservations (Anyon et al. 2000). Australia has also had a pioneering attitude in permitting the participation of Aboriginal communities in research and management projects carried out in their cultural heritage places. Examples such as the involvement of Aboriginal communities in archaeological projects in Cuddie Springs, Southeast Australia (Field et al. 2000), demonstrate the shared commitments of archaeologists, managers and Aborigines and the aim to collaborate and overcome their differences.

When managing sites open to the public, managers are asked to face the challenge of reconciling social and environmental sustainability with visitor satisfaction (Baker 1999, 14-15; Jacobs and Gale 1994). Hall and McArthur (1996, 298) proposed balancing tourist/local sentiments by making ‘visitation appropriate to the values attached to heritage by stakeholders’ and particularly in keeping their ‘sense of place’. According to these authors, if visitors have a satisfying experience, they will support the philosophy of the site’s management. They argued that by ‘providing high-quality experiences which satisfy the expectations, motivations and needs of visitors we can modify, encourage and develop behaviours which will ensure the maintenance of heritage values and assist in making traditional approaches to heritage management more effective’ (1996, 15).

Similarly, Lowenthal (2000, 22) emphasised that teaching visitors to respect local people’s sacred places may be an effective management strategy through ‘persuasive inclusion’. It must be recognised, however, that even in cases where this strategy has apparently been successful

Governments have sometimes considered cultural heritage management a non-essential expense, making the ‘user-pays’ philosophy (in terms of entrance fees and sponsorship) indispensable to the economic sustainability of these places (e.g. Hall and McArthur 1996, 8-9). However, if this goal is

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(e.g. Ayers Rock, Uluru National Park, Australia, see Lowenthal, 2000), there is always a tension remaining between visitors’ expectations and local people’s need for privacy or indigenous groups’ sense of sacredness. Management should therefore be an ongoing process which considers different interest groups and studies visitors in order to adapt its aims to changing values and interests (Hall and McArthur 1996, 299).

based migration, individual travel or mass tourism’ (Rojek and Urry 1997, 11). Contrary to the notion of hybridisation, which denies the existence of boundaries between cultures, Cohen’s (2000, 49-59) idea of cultural fusion as ‘a process of intercultural interaction’ emphasises that it ‘takes place between elements of recognisable bounded entities’. There are two ideas in his vision of culture in current societies, which are interesting. The former is that ‘culture and cultural identities are permanently emerging’ although they seldom disappear; the latter is that ‘cultures tend to preserve a greater degree of cohesiveness in the global periphery than they do in the world’s cosmopolitan centres’. Both ideas are more adequate to explain the effect of globalisation in non-western societies, where it has neither contributed to cultural homogeneity nor increased consumerism. Access to new technology and virtual networks is a phenomenon experienced only in developed countries and in some relatively small sectors of the Third World. Furthermore, globalisation has encouraged economic crisis, social fragmentation and exclusion to much of the Third World’s population (see in López 1998, an analysis about Latin America and Argentina). It can therefore be presumed that the cultural consequences of the tension between globalisation and localism in countries such as Argentina, will differ greatly from place to place. This generates a mosaic of diverse situations depending on proximity to large urban areas, social class, ethnic affiliation and degree of contact with western culture through tourism.

Once it has been acknowledged that management is a valueoriented process, there is one further argument to be considered. Should the concept of heritage management still be regarded as an imposition on non-western societies by the dominant discourse from the West (Byrne 1991, 272)? It seems clear that this question must be answered by those people whose heritage is involved. While their opinions concerning heritage management should not be presumed, it is the responsibility of heritage managers to make the past of ‘the others’ accessible and significant to their present life.

1.3. Heritage, Globalisation and the Third World If archaeology and heritage studies are to address the cultural, socio-political and economic context in which they are immersed, it is necessary to analyse critically the current phenomenon of globalisation and the challenges that this can bring to both disciplines. Globalisation involves economic integration on a world scale, although it also implies geographical reconfiguration and cultural transformation. Centrifugal and centripetal forces challenge the geography and the sovereignty of national states, reinforcing the role and participation of supra-national blocs and sub-national and local economies in the international global market. Increasing consumerism and cultural homogeneity are foreseeable consequences of technological advances and communication networks. Furthermore, it has been argued that the so-called ‘globallocal nexus’ will have considerable cultural consequences for national and western identities. It challenges traditional categories, such as western and non-western cultures, centre and periphery, and the idea of ‘the others’ as aliens distant from ‘us’ in time and space (Robins 1991, 24-25). At the same time, new senses of place, identity and heritage are being defined at community level by the driving forces of localism, a phenomenon which has arose with globalisation.

1.3.1. Globalisation and Heritage In recent decades, cultural heritage has been influenced by two different phenomena: the former is the emergence of the so-called ‘heritage industry’ as part of economic redevelopment, and the latter, is the feeling of nostalgia for the past experienced by societies in general and the middle class in particular. Both of these have been related to globalisation. It has been argued that in periods of uncertainty and disturbance, nostalgia for the past is employed in order to maintain some kind of social stability. But it is a construction, in which material culture and memories are highly selective. In this sense, nostalgia is considered to be a fantasy that only serves to heighten social decline (Hewison 1987; Urry 1990, 109). Robins, however, considers that heritage nostalgia is the result of tension between reinforcing traditions used to define local/national identity, while entering into a homogenous global forum. In this context, it strengthens a new form of patriotism, which aims to ‘salvage centred, bounded and coherent identities’ during ‘placeless times’ (Robins 1991, 41).

The cultural flux which characterises contemporary societies has been explained in terms of hybridisation and pastiche by the postmodernist discourse. Post-colonial societies have been described as those where ‘all cultures get remade as a result of the flows of peoples, objects and images across national borders, whether these involve colonialism, work-

From a more critical perspective, many scholars have argued that heritage has become a commodity which can be exploited

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et al. 2000, 133-134), or where inappropriate exploitation resulted in isolating local heritage places from local communities (e.g. Nuraghe Losa site in Sardinia; Odermatt 1996). Mamami Condori (1989, 48) reports on how the indigenous people of Bolivia were physically and intellectually dispossessed when their own heritage places were opened to visitors: ‘the Aymara people have to pay an entrance fee to visit the ruins as tourists, where they listen to invented accounts of the meaning of our history’.

through tourism (Lowenthal 1996; Rojek and Urry 1990, etc.). The negative consequences of converting heritage places and museums into businesses, as well as the crisis of values involved in adopting the ‘enterprise culture’ were noted by Hewison (1987; 1991) in his critique of the ‘heritage industry’. The new mission of heritage places is perceived to be ‘not to preserve, but to resurrect a more distant past’ (Corney and Harvey 1991, 55; Ucko 2000a). In this process, heritage has been accused of becoming ‘tourist kitsch’ (Samuel 1994, 259), a superficial and fake version of history (Lowenthal 1996), a spectacle. The notion of hyper-reality (Eco 1986) and simulation (Baudrillard 1983) have been widely used in specialised literature to describe the way in which the past has become a commodity in the so-called ‘heritage industry’.

Many scholars have analysed the complex relationships between tourists and host communities (e.g. Urry 1990; Boissevain 1996). Urry used a number of quantitative and qualitative determinants to analyse the magnitude of tourist impact on the host community. He took into account variables such as the number of visitors relative to local population size, the scale and type of visited place, the effect of tourism upon extant economic activities, socio-economic differences between visitors and hosts, the standard of accommodation required, and the attitudes of local people and authorities towards tourism (Urry 1990, 56-59).

While ‘heritage nostalgia’ - linked to the decline of empire, has been considered a particularly British phenomenon (Lumley 1994, 61), the heritage boom associated with cultural tourism, common in developed countries has been exported to the Third World to exploit sites of ‘outstanding universal value’ which are included on the World Heritage list. In the case of Argentina, the abrupt economic changes of the last decade have generated a rapid transformation of landscapes and a dramatic decrease in standards of living. Globalisation is perceived to be not only a threat to traditional economy and culture, but also a challenge to democracy (López 1998; Bayardo and Lacarrieu 1997). In this context, the emergence of ‘heritage nostalgia’, among middle class people may be understood as part of a more general sense of scepticism about the future. However, neither the heritage boom nor the heritage critique has yet been experienced in Argentina, where cultural tourism is being considered to be a potential source of income.

Tourism generates cultural change in host communities not only in everyday life, but also in the process of constructing and defining their own identities. When local communities become tourist attractions, it is difficult to maintain barriers between public and private places. Everything has come under the tourist gaze, redefining relationships between seeing and being seen, challenging boundaries between socio-economic, gender-based and ethnic groups (Urry 1990, 135-136).

1.3.2.1. The Tourist Experience The representation of the past of ‘the others’ for tourism and the way in which it is perceived by tourists has attracted the attention of scholars from many different academic fields. First, two important aspects should be noted: visitors may not have the same backgrounds and interests as heritage professionals, and second, there is a great range of interests, expectations and demands among visitors (Hudson 1991; Hooper-Greenhill, 1988). Tourist perceptions vary by society, by social group and by the historical period that they are seeing (Urry 1990, 1-2). This matter is much more complex when discussing cultural tourism in ‘exotic’ countries. This involves at least three different types of people’s perceptions and interests -local people, tourists and heritage managerseach holding different worldviews and value systems. It has been claimed that the difficulty lies in reflecting people’s sense of place and making it understandable for visitors, because this notion is built over time and is related to people’s history and memories (Upitis 1989, 154).

1.3.2. Global Tourism in the Third World Tourism at Third World countries’ heritage sites is also considered to be an aid to regional development by providing an alternative source of employment where traditional economic activities have disappeared. However, the growth of tourism in Third World countries was not generated to assist in internal development strategies but was instead generated by external market forces. These included technological and financial advances in the travel industry, worldwide expansion of tourist companies and the westerners’ increasing desire to visit exotic places and meet exotic people (Urry 1990, 64). The advantages of cultural tourism for local communities should not be assumed. Forced by strong political and economic pressure, archaeological sites are being opened to the public without considering preservation risks, or the potential impact on local communities. The literature provides cases in which tourism was incompatible with native cultures (e.g. the Navajo Reservation in USA, Anyon

The tourist experience is defined in terms ‘of prior knowledge, expectations, fantasies and mythologies generated in the tourist’s origin culture’ (Craik 1997, 118). This raises a question related to the nature of the tourist

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experience, and concerns about authenticity. The idea that tourists are presented with an artificial construct has been emphasised by researchers since the early 1960’s (Urry 1990, 7-15). Many scholars have reported the way that tour operators have induced indigenous peoples to produce extravagant performances, degrading themselves for satisfying visitors’ fantasies (Hudson, 1991, 463-464). But do tourists realise that what is presented to them is ‘bogus’? Does it make any difference? (Ucko 2000a, 84). How do performers perceive themselves? Are they concerned with the authenticity of their representations?

Listening to ‘others’ when managing archaeological sites involves a paradigmatic shift to an unexplored territory, where preservation and interpretation of the past is engineered through interaction and negotiation. It is vitally important that heritage managers ‘learn to listen to “others” and learn to speak to - rather than for or about - “others”’ (Robins 1991, 33). Otherwise, it runs the risk of becoming a new kind of domination. It is equally important that legislation acknowledges the views of ‘the others’, and conciliates scientific and national values with local people’s beliefs. To accomplish this more creative, flexible and participatory mechanisms to assess heritage places’ significance must be devised, and made relevant to people’s present and future lives. This is particularly important in Third World countries where heritage places have been isolated from local communities ostensibly for their protection, thus distancing them from local frameworks of meaning.

Having reviewed Small Nambas’ performance in Wala Island, Vanuatu, Tilley (1997, 82-84) concludes that despite being an ‘invented tradition marketed and sold to a gullible tourist public…’, the show is a ‘deliberate and conscious creation’ of the people of Wala. He therefore argues that in this process of adapting traditions to the requirements of the external market, they are not only recreating their own ethnicity, but doing this ‘as true followers of ancestral ways’.

The theoretical framework of this research is contextualised in the post-processual critique of archaeological interpretation’s objectivity (Hodder 1986; Ucko 1995; Preucel and Hodder 1996, etc.) and of the autocratic and ‘expert-based’ view of heritage management (Ucko 2000a). Heritage is understood as a social construction, the value of which relies upon the meanings and uses that people attach to it. The acknowledgement and incorporation of the view of ‘the others’ is therefore considered to be an essential part of archaeologists, conservators and heritage managers’ work.

Ucko (2000a, 75-76), however, is more sceptical about the contributions that commercialisation of the past through performance can offer to the reinforcement of native ethnicity. While recognising that authenticity is a shifting and negotiable quality, and that neither validity nor accuracy of interpretation can be judged, he warns against a new form of manipulation of the past of ‘the others’ by ‘those in control of the present’ in order to make it more suitable for tourists. Richards (2000) seeks to encourage visitors’ awareness of ‘heritage’ site presentation and cultural performances on offer. He argues that there has been a ‘shift towards more proactive forms of cultural consumption by tourists’, a process termed ‘creative tourism’ (Richards 2000, 9-10). This is a form of tourism which allows visitors to acquire knowledge and to choose between variable narratives and perspectives presented by different actors. It seems unrealistic, however, to make assumptions about the public’s ability to select between alternative explanations if tourists’ perceptions and understanding of the ‘heritage’ in question are not properly understood. Encouraging visitors’ intelligent discrimination (Ucko 2000b) may, however, be a valuable concept to be considered in heritage management development (Stone and Planel 1999).

In this sense, archaeological heritage management is conceived of as a value-oriented, dynamic and creative onsite process, based on participation and negotiation among different interest groups. In this context the role of archaeologists and heritage managers should be characterised by permanent feedback among those groups - particularly local people and indigenous communities, trying to strike a balance between their interests and values, the empowerment of local communities and the guarantee of their participation in all stages of the management process. Archaeological heritage has entered into the global market, rich in commercial aims and poor in ethical awareness. It is a short step between the commercialisation of cultural heritage and the appropriation of the past of ‘the others’. If there were a mission statement for archaeologists, heritage managers and museum professionals, it should be never again to ‘become socially or ethically neutral’ (Ucko 2000a, 83, 87). This is not a new message for Latin American archaeologists (e.g. Lumbreras 1981), even though the professional and personal implications of ‘taking a position’ in Third World countries are a far cry from those assumed by scholars in comfortable First World academic environments.

1.4. Final Comments Current discourse in cultural heritage studies emphasises the importance of listening to the public and to indigenous peoples in dealing with their past. One of the main challenges of archaeology today therefore consists in incorporating the views of ‘others’ into archaeological interpretation, and building dialogue about the past in egalitarian terms (Preucer and Hodder 1996, 601-614).

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CHAPTER 2 THE SOCIAL AND POLITICAL CONTEXT OF ARCHAEOLOGICAL HERITAGE MANAGEMENT IN ARGENTINA 2.1. The Configuration of National Heritage and the Development of Archaeology

important natural science museums were built at the end of the nineteenth century, and were based on the model of European museums and the Smithsonian Institution in the United States (e.g. the Bernardino Rivadavia Museum, in Buenos Aires city, the La Plata Museum in Buenos Aires province, and the National School Museum, in Tucumán province).

During the second half of the nineteenth century, the ruling elite treated national history as a means of breaking away from native traditions and the colonial past. Indigenous peoples were excluded from the new sense of nationhood, which was designed by -and composed of- European immigrants (Alberdi [1852] 1979).

Pre-Hispanic ruins and artefacts were considered to be the ‘relics of ancient cultures’ that should be collected before they disappeared. The first catalogue of ‘Indian antiquities’ of the Northwest was published in 1877 (Liberani and Hernandez 1877). National and foreign archaeologists focused their interest on these indigenous ‘ruins’ (e.g. Ambrosetti 1897, Boman 1908; Bruch 1911, etc.) which were also explored by several expeditions of the Ethnographic Museum of Buenos Aires, created in 1908.

At the time, the intellectual elite was strongly influenced by social Darwinism, which provided a scientific basis for research (e.g. Ameghino 1880), and also justified the political agendas of the new nation state (Politis 1995, 198-199). The publicly vaunted claim that the “barbarism” of native peoples was inferior to “civilised” European values (Sarmiento [1845] 1967, 59) was inspired by dominant political and scientific ideology which denied any value to native cultures. Indigenous people were considered to be ‘savages’ or a ‘sterile race’, thus relegated to the role of obstacles in the path of progress and civilisation (Zeballos [1878] 1986).

In the early twentieth century, patriotic emotion - boosted by the centennial independence celebrations - gave rise to the so-called ‘nationalist restoration’ (Rojas 1909), which dedicated part of its agenda to the protection of archaeological and palaeontological remains (Endere and Podgorny 1997). ‘Argentine culture’ was then conceived to be not entirely European -in spite of being strongly attached to Hispanic tradition and Catholicism- but also as having roots in the gaucho tradition, and in a stereotyped and remote indigenous past (Podgorny 1999).

Along with the conquest of lands still controlled by indigenous groups, material elements of indigenous heritage were appropriated by the State. The creation of a ‘national heritage’, academic institutions’ intellectual ownership over archaeological sites and collections, and the emphasis of national history in formal education and museums were all used to dispossess the indigenous people of their past. National States continued the process -started during the colonial period- of excluding indigenous peoples from their traditions, sacred landscapes and heritage, in order to assimilate them into the national identity. The model of cultural homogeneity or the ‘racial melting pot’ was commonly adopted by Nation States, in order to deny any ethnic differences which could challenge national consolidation or promote any socio-political fragmentation (Balazote and Radovich 1992, 17-18; Slavsky 1992, 72).

During this period, Argentina enacted its first heritage law to keep places, such as ‘the pucarás calchaquíes’, the ‘Quechuas tombs’ and the ‘landscapes of the Pampas Indians’ under the custody of the State to avoid their collections being ‘looted by private collectors and sold to European museums’ (Rojas 1909, 461-462). Federal Law 9080/ 13 was passed in order to protect archaeological and palaeontological sites of ‘scientific interest’, placing them under federal jurisdiction and giving three national museums (La Plata, Etnográfico and Bernardino Rivadavia) the authority to ensure that these rules were observed. This law, even though it was never put into practice, has become the basis of the legal system for archaeological heritage protection in Argentina (Berberián 1992).

The development of natural sciences, including archaeology, was encouraged in order to improve knowledge about the country. During the conquest of indigenousoccupied territories, scientific expeditions accompanied the troops in order to study the landscape, collect specimens of wildlife and also the skulls of indigenous peoples for bioarchaeological purposes (Politis 1995, 199). A number of

It was not until 1968 that the amended National Civil Code stated that ‘archaeological heritage of scientific value belonged in the public domain of the State’ (Civil Code, art. 2340 clause 9), no matter whether the resources were located in public or private lands. This implies that the State had assumed the legal authority and responsibility for

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archaeological heritage protection. At the same time, provincial legislation stated that provinces were to own the sites located within their territories, generating a legal dispute over the control of archaeological heritage. This conflict was resolved in 1994 when an amendment to the National Constitution recognised the provincial ownership of archaeological heritage and decreed that the National State should develop basic heritage policies to be implemented by the provincial governments (art. 41) (Endere 2000).

researchers (Politis 1992). These authoritarian regimes reinforced official ideology through the control of education and cultural activities. Reconstruction and interpretation of archaeological sites, however, were occasionally included in the political agenda, as a means of promoting tourism (e.g. the Quilmes’ Ruins and the Menhires’ Park, in Tucumán province). The return of democracy in 1983 marked the beginning of a period in which archaeology has flourished, characterised by theoretical innovation and academic development through the creation of specialist degrees, training courses and research projects. New Archaeology (Schiffer 1976; Binford 1977, 1978, 1981; Kirch 1980) became the most popular school of thought among the archaeologists. Research interests focused on hunter-gatherer groups and, to a lesser extent, the complex societies of the Northwest (Endere and Politis 2001). However, the role and importance of living indigenous communities continued to be ignored and considered irrelevant for the understanding of archaeological data.

Since law 9080 was passed, there has been enormous fluctuation in the State’s interest in archaeological research. From the 1930s onwards, the pre-Hispanic past lost importance in the construction of the ‘national history’, which glorified the Spanish Catholic tradition and highlighted national heroes. Formal education and textbooks contributed towards reinforcing European traditions, and the information they provided about the indigenous population and their ancient occupation of the territory was prejudiced against native people (Oliva 1994, 114; Podgorny 1990; 1994; 1999). As a consequence, archaeological heritage was virtually abandoned by the National State, and heritage protection focused predominantly on those monuments dating to the European colonial and national patriotic periods (e.g. Law 12.665/40 concerning museum, monuments and historic sites).

In recent decades, post-processual approaches have been introduced into university courses and publications on topics such as the use of the past and repatriation of indigenous remains. Furthermore, professional concern about the context of archaeological interpretation became a matter for debate at some academic meetings (e.g. Jornadas sobre los Usos del Pasado, La Plata, 1989). Even though post-processual approaches today play only a marginal role in the archaeological research produced in Argentina, the influence of these ideas is evident in some recent academic discussions, such as those held during the Second Meeting of Theoretical Archaeologists of South America (Olavarría, October 2000). Interpretative approaches to landscape, multivocality and gender archaeology are some of the topics that are now attracting the interests of researchers.

The decline of the evolutionist approach to archaeology was followed by a period of transition lasting several decades. Archaeological research focused on the historical chronicles of the Northwest, due to the belief that all these groups were contemporary with the Spanish conquest (González 1985). From the 1950s onwards, the ideas of the Vienna School became the dominant paradigm in Argentine archaeology (Politis 1988; Madrazo 1985). Austro-German diffusionism’s concepts of culture and society fitted with current political interest in rescuing regional traditions in order to create ‘national identity’ (Politis 1995, 208). The leading exponents of the Vienna School in Argentina gained public recognition and official support, even though some of them had once been Nazi collaborators in Eastern Europe (Boschin and Llamazares 1984).

The democratic process also marked a turning point in official ideology. Until then, the government aimed to unify national culture around historic heroes and the defence of Christian values (Podgorny 1994, 413). This made it impossible to admit the existence of a multicultural society. Thus, indigenous peoples, non-European immigrants, religious minorities, and ‘the disappeared people’ killed by the military governments in the late 1970s were absent from or misrepresented in official history and museums. Only since 1983 has the idea of a pluralist society been emphasised in arenas ranging from political speeches to educational curricula. However, the process of social recognition of ‘others’ takes time in nations such as Argentina, where many of the inhabitants grew up ‘indoctrinated’ by the ideas of the authoritarian regimes.

After 1958, a short period of democratic government generated a favourable atmosphere for the academic development of sciences, and particularly anthropology. The opening of the National Council of Scientific Research (CONICET) and several anthropological research centres in the provinces, the creation of a bachelor degree in anthropology in some universities, and the adoption of American neo-evolutionist approaches to archaeology were the most remarkable changes introduced in this period (Fernández 1982; Politis 1995). In the late 1960s and 1970s, the military government’s programme of political persecution and interference with the universities led to the closure of departments of anthropology and the exile of several

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2.2. The Current Situation in Argentina

those archaeological sites that have previously been declared national monuments. The Administración de Parques Nacionales (APN) - a dependant of the Secretariat of Tourism - is in charge of cultural resource management in national parks. As a result, natural and cultural heritage have been artificially divided in Argentina and ruled by different governing bodies, which each have their own objectives, policies, programmes and institutional practices.

2.2.1. Legislative Framework The responsibility of the National State concerning the preservation of natural and cultural heritage was stated by the National Constitution in 1994, although it is still necessary to bring in a new federal law concerning cultural heritage as a whole to put into practice the constitutional rule (Endere 2000; Endere and Politis 2001). While the oldfashioned law 9080 continues to be in force1, the new law 25.197/99 - passed to create the ‘Register of National Cultural Heritage’ - has a limited scope because it only improves the legal status of those archaeological sites that are included in the official record. Current legislation does not require rescue archaeology to be carried out, despite the extensive destruction of sites caused by large-scale exploitation of natural resources over recent decades (González 1982, 1991; Pérez Gollán 1991). Many dams have been constructed without any prior study of archaeological impact (e.g. Ameghino Dam in Chubut province, El Cadillal and Cabra Corral Dams, in the Northwest). In other cases, the archaeologists involved were unable to implement largescale preservation plans due to the lack of time and funding (e.g. Salto Grande and Yaciretá Dams, in the Northeast) (Endere 2000).

The same administrative scheme of dividing natural and cultural, archaeological and historical heritage is also reproduced at provincial and municipal levels. Furthermore, in spite of being a federal republic, the administrative system of Argentina is strongly centralised in the federal capital. National cultural agencies have their headquarters in Buenos Aires, with only understaffed and poorly funded branches in the rest of the country (e.g. CNMMyLH). Consequently, the co-ordination of national and local agencies which would be required to put into practice the constitutional clause about natural and cultural heritage preservation (art. 41), seems unlikely ever to be achieved in the current conditions. However, the guidelines for cultural heritage management recently adopted by the APN, which must be applied by all its regional delegations, constitute an exceptional case. These guidelines imply a significant change in APN policies because they recognise that natural and cultural heritage are indivisible, emphasising the historic value attached to landscapes and acknowledging the symbolic dimension of cultural resources. The principle of ‘public benefit’, in terms of public education and enjoyment of cultural resources, is also recognised (APN, Res. 115/01/2001; Molinari 1998).

Many provinces have updated their cultural heritage legislation to require that developers undertake archaeological impact studies before developing important infrastructure projects or large-scale exploitation of natural resources (e.g. Corrientes, Neuquén, Tierra del Fuego, Río Negro). However, as congressional legislation is powerless without a gubernatorial decree, most of these laws are not being enforced (e.g. Tierra del Fuego and Río Negro).

2.2.3. Archaeological Heritage Research and Conservation The early development of archaeology and the academic consolidation seen in recent decades placed the development of the discipline in Argentina in a leading position compared to other South American countries. There are many well-trained archaeologists with university degrees, although there are very few specialists in heritage management, and courses about management and conservation of sites and collections are still scarce in university curricula. Furthermore, site management and conservation are subjects that, until very recently, were ignored in research funding programmes and archaeological research projects.

Today, archaeological sites are no longer needed by the political powers to create a national history, but they are increasingly valued as tourist resources. Current legislation, however, has only a few guidelines for the preservation of sites and collections to prevent or limit the impact of mass tourism.

2.2.2. Administrative Framework The management of archaeological heritage at national level, is the responsibility of several agencies working in different areas, with no co-ordination between them. The National Secretary of Culture has delegated the custody, conservation and registration of the archaeological heritage to the National Institute of Anthropology (INAPL)2. The National Commission of Museums, Monuments and Historic Places (CNMMyLH), created by federal law 12.665/40, protects

Professional archaeologists have traditionally been concerned with academic research and teaching in public universities. The labour market for contract archaeologists and private consultants is still in its infancy, but the performance of some archaeologists has already generated some criticism and raised some awareness about the need

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to set professional guidelines (Aschero 1998; Ratto 1998). Even though there is no official register of archaeologists to govern the profession, the development of ethical standards is one of the main aims of a recently created Association of Professional Archaeologists (AAPRA) (Endere and Politis 2001).

demolished or badly refurbished by private investors. In some cases, the lack of regulation and inefficient controls meant that not only the buildings, but also the archaeological remains below, were destroyed without allowing the necessary archaeology to be carried out. Furthermore, archaeological heritage sites have been underrepresented on the official list of national monuments in the custody of the CNMMyLH, which has almost four hundred entries. Until very recently only eight archaeological sites had been included - most of them monumental ruins of the Northwest - and even though this number has grown in the last few years, the sites listed do not represent the richness and variety of national archaeological heritage. It should be noted that the designation of ‘national monument’ status does not usually mean improvements in the site preservation conditions, although it does enhance their legal status. Independently of CNMMyLH’s list of monuments, INAPL is organising a database of archaeological sites of Argentina, although this will operate solely for public information without changing the legal status of the sites recorded.

Archaeological collections held in museums, despite the fact that they are part of the national heritage usually suffer from lack of adequate support to ensure that they are responsibly managed (see Raphael 1989). Bad storage conditions, incomplete or out-of-date catalogues and inventories, difficulties in identifying provenance due to the absence of labels and records, and lack of public access to archives are common problems in many museum collections. In the last few years, some museums have received funding to improve their storage facilities and their staff has received some training in conservation and exhibition skills. These measures are part of a programme organised by the Centre for Museum Studies, Smithsonian Institution (USA) and supported by a local private foundation (Fundación Antorchas). The first workshops and exhibition were held in 1996 and 1997 at the Ethnographic Museum of Buenos Aires and were also supported by the Organisation of American States, the University of Buenos Aires and the Unites States Information Agency (Mieri, forthcoming).

2.2.5. The Impact of the World Heritage Convention In 1978 Argentina ratified the World Heritage Convention adopted by UNESCO in Paris, 1972 (federal law 21.836). At present, four natural reserves (‘Los Glaciares’ National Park, Iguazú National Park, Península Valdez Natural Reserve and Ischigualasto/Talampaya National Parks), and three cultural sites (the Jesuit Missions of the Guaraníes’ - jointly with Brazil -, the ‘Cueva de Las Manos’ Rock Art Site, and the ‘Jesuit Block and Estancias of Córdoba’) have been included in the World Heritage List. The fact that the sites were listed has generated high expectations in public authorities and local communities in terms of economic benefit through tourism. Last year’s UNESCO decision to include two new Argentinean sites in the World Heritage list (Report of the Twenty-fourth Session of the World Heritage Committee, Cairns, 2000; www.unesco.org) was celebrated by provincial and national authorities as recognition of their own successful political performance (Clarín and La Nación, 30.11.2000). There is also increasing interest in nominating other areas with remarkable cultural places for World Heritage status (e.g. the city of La Plata, the remains of Santa Fé La Vieja, the Humahuaca Ravine, the Calchaquí Valleys and the Welsh farms of Patagonia, La Nación, 30.11.2000).

2.2.4. Who is in Charge of the Preservation and Management of Cultural Heritage? Despite the number of authorities involved at national, provincial and local levels, the archaeological heritage is, in practical terms, almost completely unprotected. In addition to the fact that culture has always been an under-funded sector of the public administration, the recent policies of public expenditure rationalisation have hampered the implementation of management programmes that require extra injections of public funds. The 2000 ICOMOS report determined that the situation of the cultural heritage in Argentina is ‘the worst in Latin America’, and considered the performance of the national agencies involved in heritage management as ‘ineffective, unprofessional, political and corrupt’. The CNMMyLH is particularly criticised because it ‘hardly controls restoration works’ and adds buildings officially to the National List ‘only after they are seriously altered or partially demolished’. Lack of staff, funding, public hearings at any level to respond to citizens’ demands, and weak presence of nongovernmental organisations involved in conservation are other problems also noted in the document (http:// international.icomos.org/risk/argen_2000.htr). This report focuses almost exclusively on the condition of the architectural heritage, and especially on the nineteenth century buildings of Buenos Aires City that have been

The World Heritage Convention, however, did not have the impact that it was expected to have had in Argentina, in terms of adopting the necessary heritage preservation measures (arts. 4 and 5). Furthermore, the legal concept of ‘heritage’ and the bureaucracy in place in Argentina are not always compatible with the concepts and systems of the

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2.2.7. Tourism

World Heritage Commission and other documents produced within the framework of UNESCO, such as the Nara Conference and the Burra Charter. Argentine legislation identifies features of material culture as ‘heritage’, separating them from ‘natural landscapes’ and ‘living traditions’. Furthermore, scientific value is the only value taken into account to assess the significance of archaeological sites (Civil Code, art. 2340 inc. 9). It is therefore very difficult to recognise values, perceptions of the past, interest groups, goals and aims other than those held by archaeologists and public agencies. In this sense, the National State seems to have failed to fulfil the obligations it assumed when it became party to the World Heritage Convention and agreed to adopt ‘a general policy which aims to give the cultural and natural heritage a function in the life of the community’ (art. 5 a.).

Tourism is still under-developed as a source of regional economic growth. Even though international tourism has enjoyed significant growth in recent years according to official records, there are many aspects of these records that must be clarified. According to the National Secretary of Tourism the rate of international tourism increased by more than 25% in the period 1995-1999. In 1999, 2.9 million foreign tourists visited Argentina. The vast majority came from bordering countries (73%), the rest from other parts of America (13%), Europe (12%) and the rest of the world (2%), (Secretaría de Turismo de la Nación, Dirección de Competitividad Turística: www.gov.ar). However, the fact that the majority of the registered tourists come from neighbouring countries, such as Paraguay and Bolivia, raises some doubts about the accuracy of these records. It is not unlikely that many of these people are running their own small-scale, undeclared businesses, buying merchandise on one side of the border and selling it on the other. If they were considered tourists, this would cause serious distortion in official records of tourism. It would also be valuable to trace the movement of tourists within the country (since most of them remain in Buenos Aires City), and to discover how much they spend on visiting tourist attractions. Furthermore, the economic impact of international tourism in the last decade has not compensated for the sums of money spent by Argentines, who, due to the currency value, found it cheaper to go on holiday abroad rather than to traditional tourist destinations in the country. In 1999, for instance, Argentine tourists spent 5,400 million dollars abroad, while foreign tourists spent 3,400 million dollars in the country (source: Ministry of Economy, Magazine Nuestra, 02.07.2000). Recent changes to the currency system, however, have not generated the expected benefit for local tourism, due to the fact that most potential tourists from within the country were affected by the economic crisis.

2.2.6. Illegal Trafficking Looting and robbery, together with the increasing value of archaeological objects in international trade, have seriously threatened the preservation of cultural heritage in Argentina (Schávelzon 1993). In the province of Tucumán, for instance, the Institute of Archaeology (UNT) was robbed four times between 1984 and 1997 and lost unique and valuable specimens (Newspaper La Gaceta, 19.04.97 and 21.04.97). Despite the fact that the national government ratified the 1970 UNESCO Convention on the Means of Prohibiting and Preventing the Illicit Import, Export, and Transfer of Ownership of Cultural Property (federal law 19.943/72), there is little awareness of this issue among security forces, and almost no record of court proceedings in cases of illegal trafficking. In recent years, Argentina has not only developed an important internal trade network but has also become the place from which archaeological specimens acquired in other South American countries are taken out of the continent (Mayor Luis Fontana, Policía Aeronáutica, Clarín, 29.07.2001).

In economic terms, internal tourism is much more significant (e.g. it generated 20,000 million dollars of income in 1999). The regions which benefited most from this income were the Atlantic coast (45%), Córdoba (25%), the ski centres of Bariloche (9%) and San Martín de los Andes (6%), and Cataratas Falls in Iguazú National Park (6%), (source: Ministry of Economy, cited by Magazine Nuestra, 02.07.2000). It must be noted, however, that the great majority of the archaeological sites are not located in these areas, but in those regions which received only the remaining 9% of the income. All these circumstances make any assessment about the impact of tourism in cultural places difficult. It seems clear that more comprehensive studies about cultural tourism in Argentina are necessary in order to draw conclusions about its real impact on the regional economy.

The Unidroit Convention on Stolen and Illegally Exported Cultural Objects, drawn up in Rome, in 1995, was ratified by the Argentine National Congress in law 25.257, in July 2000. In November of the same year, two police raids on antique dealers’ offices were ordered by a Federal Judge, who based his decision on law 9080 and the Unidroit Convention. Several archaeologists working for INAPL collaborated with the police in identifying the fifteen thousand archaeological specimens confiscated, some of them brought from Peru (Case 10.187; Clarín, 03.11.2000). Even though the trial against the dealers has not concluded, this case constitutes an important legal precedent concerning illegal trafficking of archaeological heritage in Argentina. At present, Peru has decided to take legal action against the dealers and a new judge is in charge of the case due to the resignation of the first one (Clarín, 29.07.2001).

Some tourist development programmes set up by provincial governments have been criticised, due to the lack of

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transparency in the allocation of awards. In Tucumán province, for example, provincial awards for tourist investment are seized upon as a scam, and never really became a genuine source of regional development, because the government promised to return 90% of the funds invested to developers (law 6700, art. 4). A report commissioned by the provincial congress to investigate the allocation of these awards confirmed that the tourist projects presented to the Secretary of Tourism - not all them yet approved - involved a total investment of 240 million dollars, which would considerably increase provincial public debts (Informe Comisión Investigadora 1999-2000, 7-11). It was also found that some investors could not prove they had invested the awarded sum in tourist developments (newspaper La Gaceta, 23.07.2000).

no official census of indigenous populations in Argentina, although several non-governmental organisations estimated their number. According to AIRA (Asociación Indígena de la República Argentina) there are 342,445 indigenous inhabitants in Argentina. However, ENDEPA (Equipo Nacional de Pastoral Aborigen) estimated that the population still living in their communities is over 446,600, and when those living in urban and suburban areas are included the number rises to 952,730 inhabitants. They have suffered the disintegration and dispersion of their communities and loss of their traditions due to discriminatory policies which have stretched even so far as prohibiting rituals (e.g. Mapuche people were banned from performing ‘camarucos’ by the Gendarmería, a frontier army) and persecuting indigenous leaders during the last military government (Balazote and Radovich, 1992; Hernández 1992; Endere 2002). A gradual and erratic process of recognising indigenous peoples as ethnic minorities began in Argentina in the second half of the twentieth century (e.g. federal law 14.932/59 which recognised the 107 Agreement of the International Labour Organisation concerning the Protection and Integration of Indigenous Population). However, the arrival of the military government prevented the recognition of rights claimed by indigenous associations in the 1970s (Serbín 1981).

In this context, it is difficult to devise or implement a longterm planning policy for a sustainable tourism. Authorities usually give in to pressure from private investors, who after promising more employment for local people, get permission to build impressive hotels in natural reserves or cultural landscapes. It should not then be surprising that any motion in favour of preserving the environment or the cultural heritage would be considered a threat to economic development. In recent years, there have been several examples of serious damage to archaeological heritage caused by unchecked tourist developments (e.g. Los Difuntos site in the La Serranita Natural Resort, General Pueyrredon, Buenos Aires province, Mazzanti and Quintana 1999, 7-8).

The 1985 Federal Law 23.302, concerning ‘Indigenous Policy and Support to Indigenous Communities’ and the amendment to the National Constitution in 1994 constitute a complete change in the legal status of the indigenous communities. The new Constitution recognises the cultural and ethnic existence of native peoples before the formation of the Nation State, and their right to claim lands as well as to ‘participate in the management of their natural resources and other matters in their interest’ (art. 75, clause 17). The latter part of this clause may be interpreted as allowing indigenous people the chance to participate in cultural resource management when indigenous human remains, sacred objects and places or artefacts of their cultural heritage are involved. It may also include the right to rebury their ancestors (Endere 2002). However, Congress must pass a set of new laws to put into practice these constitutional rights and guarantees.

2.3. In Search of a Place in the Past: Indigenous Peoples in Argentina Argentina has been inhabited by human beings for over 11,000 years. Fifteen different ethnic groups were living in the country at the time of the Spanish conquest. Sedentary farmers had settled in the Northwest (e.g. Atacamas, Omaguacas, Calchaquíes, Lule-Vilelas and Tonocotes), the Central Range (Comechingones and Sanavirones) and Cuyo Region (Huarpes). Hunter-gatherers inhabited the Chaco Region (e.g Chiriguanos, Chanés, Wichis and Guaycurús), Mesopotamia (Guaraníes), Pampa and Patagonia (Tehuelches and later Mapuches) and Tierra del Fuego (Selk’nams) as well as the ‘canoe people’ on the south coast of Tierra del Fuego (Yamanas), (Aizen and Muro 1995). Indigenous peoples from the Northwest and Central regions were subjugated by the Spanish conquerors in the seventeenth century. Nomadic groups continued to live in the Northeast as well as in Pampa and Patagonia regions in the South, until they were defeated by the National Army between 1880 and 1910 (Balazote and Radovich 1992, 9; Hernández 1992; Endere 2002).

In spite of the legal improvements, the conditions faced by the indigenous peoples have not significantly changed in practice. There seems to be a disparity between the government’s will to draw up legislation and their will to implement these changes. For example, the 169 Agreement of the ILO concerning Indigenous Peoples and Tribal Peoples in Independent Countries was ratified by law 24.071 in 1992. However, it was not until 2000 that the newly elected government, listening to the indigenous associations’ claims, finally decided to deposit the instrument of ratification.

At present, the descendants of ethnic groups live in tiny portions of the lands they traditionally occupied. There is

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The American Convention on Human Rights, which put cases of human rights violation under the jurisdiction of the Human Rights Inter-American Commission (CIDH), was recognised by the National Constitution in 1994. In the last few years, some indigenous communities have presented appeals to the CIDH in cases of land claims (Derechos Humanos en la Argentina, Annual Report 1998). So far, there is little evidence about the effect of CIDH decisions on cultural heritage issues in the country, but in my opinion, the very possibility of appealing to the CIDH offers new hope for the recognition of the indigenous rights.

have already said that they will not agree to the burial of the chief in a monument for tourism (Endere 2002). The way in which this issue is resolved will demonstrate the extent to which the Ranquel people have gained control of their own heritage.

2.3.2. Archaeologists and Indigenous Peoples The national and provincial authorities are not the only ones who are reluctant to get involved in negotiations with indigenous peoples. Archaeologists do not customarily discuss their objectives, methods or activities with native people when researching or preserving ancestral human remains or sacred objects or places. Occasionally, archaeologists have recognised the indigenous people’s concerns and invited them to participate in research projects (e.g. Proyecto Arqueológico Quilmes, in Buenos Aires province, Quatrin de Rodriguez 1999).

2.3.1. Indigenous Claims At present, indigenous communities are focusing their efforts on claiming land and recovering control over their natural resources, although they are also starting to demand participation in decisions concerning cultural heritage. Many museums hold the physical remains of native people, and some of them are being claimed back for reburial by politically active indigenous groups (Podgorny and Miotti 1994; Podgorny and Politis 1992).

The Añelo site museum in Neuquén province, is a ‘textbook’ case of indigenous people’s participation in the management of an archaeological site. In 1988, a 500-yearold hunter-gatherer cemetery was found on land traditionally occupied by the Painemil Mapuche community. The site was partially excavated by a research team directed by archaeologist Ana Biset with the participation of several Mapuche families. Even though the human remains found were not their ancestors, the indigenous community asked to be in charge of their protection so that “children could learn about the history of the ancient people” (Font et al. 1997, 2). The site was covered by a shelter and opened as a museum in 1989 (Biset 1989). At present, it is under the guardianship of a member of the Mapuche Community and is visited by thousands of schoolchildren as part of an educational programme exploring regional history since the land was colonised (Cúneo and Rodríguez de Torcigliani 1993; Font et al. 1997, 2). This case is particularly important because even though there are other community museums in the same province (e.g. Museo Comunal de la Cuenca del Curi Leuvú), this is the only example of active involvement by the indigenous community.

Since the 1970s, indigenous associations have claimed the La Plata Museum collection of skulls of famous Mapuche and Tehuelche chiefs, who were defeated by the National Army in the late 1880s. However, due to the fact that indigenous human remains held in museums became part of the national heritage, these claims are not legally viable unless a specific law orders their exclusion from the public domain (Endere 2002). At present, only two specific laws of repatriation have been approved. The first in 1991, ordered that the remains of the Tehuelche chief Inakayal be returned to his homeland in Tecka, Chubut province (law 23.940). The restitution was not carried out until 1994, as many bureaucratic problems had to be overcome, along with political and academic resistance (Endere 2002). The second, passed in July 2000, authorised the return of the mortal remains of the Ranquel chief Panquitruz Güor - better known by his Christian name Mariano Rosas - from the La Plata Museum to the Ranquel Community in La Pampa Province (law 25.276). On June 2001 the remains of Mariano Rosas were delivered in an official ceremony of ‘reparation to the Ranquel people’, which was widely covered by the press (Clarín and La Nación, 23.06.2001).

Another landmark in the process of recognition of indigenous people’s rights to their cultural heritage in Argentina was the decision adopted by the Administración de Parques Nacionales (the national park service) in 2000 to give to the Ñorquinco Mapuche community the custody of their sacred site situated in the Lanín National Park, Neuquén province. The decision makes a substantial change in the APN’s attitude towards the indigenous people, and is part of the Department of Conservation and Management’s new policies. For the Mapuche communities, this meant the recovery of a ceremonial site called ‘Rehue’ (‘re’: genuine, exclusive; and ‘hue’: place) where they used to perform ‘camarucos’, before they were forced to abandon it more

However, the key issue of where to bury the remains of Mariano Rosas has not yet been settled. According to law 25.276, the provincial Secretary of Culture should have made the decision after consulting the Ranquel Community (art. 3). But while the provincial authorities consider the chief’s remains an icon of provincial identity, and have planned a mausoleum in which to deposit them, the Ranquel people

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than sixty years ago, when the park was created. In 1996 the Confederación Mapuche Neuquina (CMN) had asked the APN to return the ‘Mapuche philosophical-religious ceremonial centre’ at Ñorquinco. In May 2000, the APN and the CMN reached an agreement based on three principles: that the ‘cultural dimension of the land’, according to the Mapuche concept of ‘Waj Mapu’ must be recognised; that the CMN should participate in the management of the site; and the relationship between cultural heritage and natural landscape must be acknowledged (Molinari 2000). The representatives of the indigenous community were surprised by the decision of the APN authorities, ‘with whom, until very recently, they have been arguing about the removal of some Mapuche families from the park’ (Roberto Ñancucheo, Coordinación Mapuche, La Nación, 24.05.2000). At present APN has presented a draft legislation in order to return 341 hectares to the community, including a rock art site located in this area. A joint committee formed by representatives of APN and CNM will discuss future policies for the site.

The indigenous community did not challenge this decision (América Alemán, pers. comm., 23.09.2001). The importance of the find and the exceptional preservation of the mummies attracted the attention of the national and international press. Federal and provincial authorities, the University of Salta, the Catholic University, the members of the expedition and the indigenous community were involved in a dispute over whether the mummies should be studied, buried, preserved in storage or exhibited in a new museum. National newspapers complained that they had no access to the information or to the mummies to photograph them because the National Geographic Society had already acquired exclusive copyrights. They claimed that the researchers had no legal right to give anyone exclusive rights to archaeological remains because they are ‘a public heritage’ according to provincial law (Clarín, 26.04.1999). In November 1999, the University of Salta (CEPIHA, UNS) organised a ‘round table’ to discuss the ethical implications that this sort of discovery has for archaeologists. It consisted of Dr. Jorge Rodríguez (President of AAPRA), Dr. Rodolfo Raffino (La Plata Museum), Dr. Eduardo Berberián (UNC), Dr. María Isabel Hernández Llosas (UBA), Lic. Eleonora Mulvaney (UNSA) and myself (UNCPBA). América Alemán, the indigenous lawyer involved in the legal case, and Constanza Cerutti, the Argentine co-director of the archaeological expedition that found the mummies, participated in the meeting, along with a variety of professionals from all over the country. Even though the political authorities and many local archaeologists were absent, the recommendations adopted at this meeting are a landmark for archaeological recognition of indigenous peoples’ rights to their cultural heritage. The members of the round table, after analysing the situation of archaeological heritage management in Argentina, and particularly in Salta province, made several recommendations concerning its legal and administrative framework. They emphasised that legislation and political authorities should take into account local communities and indigenous peoples’ rights to participate in cultural heritage management (app.1. d). Regarding professional practices, they recommended the adoption of ethical standards for site and collection management and conservation. They have also endorsed the participation of local communities and indigenous people in heritage management. The contribution that archaeology can make to the knowledge of the past, particularly in relation to indigenous cultural heritage, was also noted (app. 2. b) (CEPIHA 1999).

Nevertheless, both the Añelo Museum and the Lanín National Park are exceptional cases in a profession characterised by ignorance of and disregard for indigenous people’s concern about their archaeological heritage.

2.3.3. The Case of Llullaillaco’s Mummies In 1999 the first attempt to get legal recognition for a sacred site was made by the Indigenous Association ‘Los Airampos’ on behalf of the Kolla Community. It alleged that the excavation of three Inka mummies from the Llullaillaco volcano, Salta Province, by an international archaeological team directed by Johan Reinhard and funded by the National Geographic Society (Reinhard 1999), was a violation of the community’s rights. According to the complaint, ‘the Kolla Community felt that 1) they are the living descendants of those who inhabited the Inka province Kollasuyo during the Inka period’. 2) The high peak sanctuary, where the mummies were found, is ‘a sacred site located within the boundaries of the Kollasuyu province’ and therefore ‘the mummies belong to the Kollasuyu’s indigenous people’. 4) The mummies constitute an indigenous shrine from which messages have been sent to the indigenous people before and after the Spanish conquest. 5) The ‘Kolla people should have been asked for authorisation before the mummies were exhumed’, according to art. 75, clause 17 of the National Constitution (Case 523/ 30.04.99, ‘Alemán, América c/ Autores a establecer s/ Denuncia’, Juzgado Federal, Primera Instancia Penal 2, Salta). The Federal attorney rejected the claim, stating that ‘the archaeological expedition had satisfied the legal requirements because it had been authorised by the provincial government’. On 03.05.99, the judge considered that there was no crime and ordered the closure of the case.

These recommendations, however, did not produce the expected impact on the local government’s policy about the mummies. At present, they are stored in a freezer at the Catholic University under the custody of a policeman, while an exhibition gallery is being prepared in the new museum, and is expected to attract a great number of visitors.

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2.4. The New Scenario

private sector, and another is the changing role of archaeologists in this new and challenging context.

Cultural heritage management in Argentina today is characterised by the inaction of the National State, in contrast to the increasing level of interest and involvement of supranational governing bodies, local authorities, and other interest groups.

It seems clear that some aspects of cultural heritage management can only be the responsibility of states, such as the duties placed upon States party to international conventions and those relating to illegal trafficking. Criminal legislation can provide a useful means of protecting sites, because if the destruction of archaeological sites was considered a crime against the environment, judges would have a variety of legal mechanisms available to stop the damage. Centralised information, such as inventories of sites and collections, as well as basic regulations for the preservation of archaeological sites are also services that should be provided on a national and provincial level.

At the beginning of the twentieth-first century, the inaction of the state is partially due to bureaucratic problems but is above all a result of the welfare state crisis, on which the National Constitution and the whole administrative system is based. The fulfilment of the constitutional rules about heritage preservation became incompatible with the strict policies of public expenditure rationing implemented by the government in its bid to lower external public debt (e.g. recommendations of the International Monetary Fund).

Transferring of the management of archaeological sites to the private sector risks economic profit becoming the prime goal, especially in countries like Argentina, where previous privatisation processes were suspected of corruption. Because of this, international organisations (e.g. UNESCO), international fora for discussion between archaeologists and indigenous groups (e.g. the World Archaeological Congress) and national professional associations (e.g. AAPRA) can play a key role in setting guidelines for good practice and in providing mechanisms for the control and monitoring of heritage management.

New decision-making bodies to discuss and adopt cultural policies are emerging at macro-regional levels. For instance, in 1995, the ‘MERCOSUR Cultural’ was created in order to unify the cultural policies of Argentina, Brazil, Paraguay and Uruguay (countries already joined in a common market agreement, known as MERCOSUR). Cultural heritage preservation guidelines are being produced by international organisations, such as the World Bank and the UNESCO’s World Heritage Committee. At the same time, municipal governments and communities are interested in preserving their local heritage, as a way of keeping their own distinctiveness and attracting tourism. Furthermore, the actions of international non-governmental organisations (e.g. Greenpeace, Survival International), the privatisation of the management of archaeological sites (e.g. Quilmes’ Ruins), the demands of the indigenous communities, and the media’s interest in archaeological information (e.g. Discovery Channel) mean that the heritage context can be very different to the one envisaged by legislators and national agencies.

2.5. Archaeology and the Public: Previous Research carried out in Argentina The relationship between archaeology and the public is a topic rarely examined in Argentina. There is no record of long-term systematic studies about public attitudes or opinions concerning archaeological sites and ethnographic museums. Most research that has been carried out on this subject are small-scale opinion surveys about temporary exhibitions or specific projects to disseminate archaeological information.

As a result of the tensions between different interest groups and the inertia of the national authorities, cultural policies are being carried out at local levels without unified criteria. Policies and site preservation strategies can differ from province to province and even within a province. While in some areas cultural heritage is completely unprotected, in others, with high tourist potential or more active communities, preservation and management actions are being carried out through local institutional arrangements. In other cases, archaeological sites are severely damaged as a result of disputes between interest groups and local authorities’ lack of commitment (or moral standards). This disunity among those responsible for Argentina’s heritage means that there are some key issues that need to be considered, such as the feasibility of heritage management without the presence of any organisation to regulate or control it. Another issue is the extent to which the duties of the National State can be transferred to civil society or the

In the last two decades, encouraged by the democratic political atmosphere, archaeologists have been keener to work with the public. However, they have concentrated on educational activities for schoolchildren rather than exploring public views about archaeology and archaeologists. Symposia dedicated to archaeological heritage management have become frequent in regional or national scientific meetings, although discussions have focused almost exclusively on legislation and site protection. Issues such as ownership and uses of the past have only rarely attracted the attention of researchers. One of these few occasions was the ‘Workshop about the Uses of the Past’ undertaken in the La Plata Museum in June 1989, where

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in classrooms demonstrated some resistance to the adoption of this model. Moreover, the continuity of the traditional model - which emphasised the idea of a nation based on cultural homogeneity and a ‘melting pot’ of races - was observed (Podgorny 1999, 100).

topics such as ‘archaeology and community’, ‘multiculturalism and education’ and ‘popular culture versus scientific knowledge’ were debated. The absence of the public from the archaeological agenda is not accidental. Working with the public has traditionally been considered an activity unsuited to academics (Acosta et al. 1996, 25). Many scholars who have carried out activities with local communities have done so as a mere moral duty, such work being neither funded nor considered valuable for their academic background.

- Indigenous peoples’ lifestyles were explained in classrooms in terms of adaptation to environmental conditions and regional geography. Chronology and historical events were therefore viewed as irrelevant to the understanding of cultural diversity. Indigenous peoples were presented as natural entities, whose existence and fate had no connection with the national history (Podgorny 1999, 100).

The educational role of museums was, however, emphasised at the end of the nineteenth and beginning of the twentieth centuries. Exhibitions and public conferences at the La Plata Museum were organised in conjunction with educational authorities to serve as complementary lessons for students and to make the collections accessible to the general public (García 2001; Podgorny 2000). From the 1940s onwards, however, both the national governments and the education system lost interest in archaeology and ethnographic museums, resulting in their gradual decay and a lack of incentive for these museums to encourage public interest in their collections.

- Textbooks commonly used in schools changed their contents after the adoption of the new curricula (19851986). The emphasis was put on cultural diversity in Argentina, separating the national modern society from the indigenous peoples, and analysing them as two parallel histories. However, even when the textbooks eliminated pejorative assessments of native cultures, they continued to explain cultural diversity in terms of ecological determinism (Podgorny 1999, 167). - The vast majority of the teachers interviewed favoured the inclusion of archaeology in the formal curricula, although they felt that there was not sufficient information available. When asked how they go about teaching, only 30% could mention some teaching materials (Podgorny 1999, 30-31). Only 5% of the teachers surveyed regarded the indigenous cultures as the object of archaeological study (Podgorny 1999, 48-49).

Today, archaeologists are once again becoming more aware of the importance of engaging public interest in their activities, and official agencies have included this topic in their preservation programmes (e.g. The Rock Art Site Preservation Programme, INAPL), although working with the public is understood almost exclusively in terms of education (e.g. Oliva 1994). Recent studies about public and archaeological heritage have mainly focused on three topics: teachers and students’ knowledge of and attitudes to the indigenous past; visitors’ opinion surveys and people’s views on their local archaeological sites.

- Articles and videos about indigenous peoples, produced by mass media, were not only used in classrooms but were also considered valid sources of knowledge without questioning the quality of the information provided (Podgorny 1999, 96-97). Furthermore, pupils continued using old-fashioned textbooks that no longer conformed to formal curricula (Podgorny 1999, 162-163).

lthough this research was carried out in urban schools of Buenos Aires province in the early 1990s, some of its conclusions still reflect the current situation in other schools of the country. Classroom reality is far more complex than might have been expected, because the changes in formal curricula and textbooks do not necessarily alter teachers’ preconceptions and schools’ practices.

2.5.1. Indigenous Past, Archaeology and Education The way that the indigenous past and archaeology are taught has been widely analysed through different types of experiences with schoolchildren, although most of them have never been published. Irina Podgorny (1999) carried out a comprehensive investigation into the way that the indigenous past was excluded from the education system in Buenos Aires province. She analysed the changes in the formal curricula and textbooks used in primary schools through time and she compared them with teachers and students’ perceptions about indigenous peoples. The main conclusions of this work can be summed up as follows:

The way that education deals with diversity, particularly when teaching indigenous peoples’ pasts, was the subject of more recent research carried out by Gabriela Novaro (1999) who compared the official curricula with observations of three schools in the city of Buenos Aires, Federal Capital. Not surprisingly she reaches similar conclusions to those of Podgorny for Buenos Aires province. Novaro (1999, 309311) emphasises that the tension between the now hegemonic discourse about diversity and the traditional model of social homogeneity is reflected in the ambiguity that characterises official documents and textbooks. These contradictions,

- Even though a new multicultural model of the Argentine Nation, with Latin American and Indigenous roots, was imposed by the official curricula following the return of democracy (1983), the concept and the way it was taught

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together with inadequate teaching, result in an oversimplification of cultural diversity and a reinforcement of the naturalistic view about indigenous peoples.

despite the fact that the book was published some years after the conclusion of some of these projects.

The experiences of archaeologists and museum researchers concerning the teaching of the indigenous past in the Southern Buenos Aires province was the subject of a recent book edited by the University of Mar del Plata (Quintana 1999). It presents the problems detected in the educational system in the 1980s with regard to the contradictions between the regional history taught in schools and the information recovered through archaeological inquiry, and proposes different strategies to cope with these issues.

2.5.2. Visitor Opinions The way that visitors perceive archaeological sites and exhibitions is a topic very rarely analysed by academic researchers in Argentina. Many opinion surveys in museums are carried out exclusively for internal use and therefore remain unpublished. A report about visitors’ attitudes was produced by a research team consisting of anthropologists and archaeologists involved in a temporary exhibition named ‘People of the Land’ held at the National Library of Buenos Aires City in 1992. This exhibition presented the history of indigenous peoples in Argentina since the first peopling to present times. It aimed to reflect the cultural diversity through time, emphasise the inter-ethnic conflicts during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries and ‘criticise the idea of indigenous people as “others”, replacing it with “us”, while respecting their cultural diversity’. Thus the researchers considered this exhibition, which coincided with the 500th anniversary of the ‘discovery of America’, as ‘an opportunity to promote understanding of both the indigenous past and the role of archaeology and anthropology’ (Acosta et al. 1996, 132).

Scholars noted that ‘the past presented by archaeology and ethnography is seen at schools as exotic, distant and alien to contemporary society’, which is considered the result of European immigration. The existence of indigenous descendants is almost ignored and past inter-ethnic relationships are not considered significant for the regional history, which is taught as the period since the settlement by the Jesuits (Mazzanti 1999, 13-14). The lack of knowledge about the indigenous past was also detected in upper levels of education, according to a survey carried out among first year students of the BA in History at two national universities of Buenos Aires province. The results were appalling: while 12% of them had only a simplistic, vague idea about pre-Columbian societies, the rest (88%) showed complete ignorance of this topic. Students could only provide some names of the ethnic groups more frequently mentioned in historic chronicles (Mazzanti 1999, 16).

The report on visitors’ attitudes detailed the most common reactions of the public during the guided visits led by students of archaeology and anthropology. Their attitudes varied considerably from period to period. They showed a great interest in the first peopling of the continent and surprise about the antiquity of the first occupations. Most visitors were shocked by the policy of genocide and acculturation during the Spanish conquest, and were surprised by the complexity and military power of the nineteenth century indigenous chiefdoms. Attitudes towards the current indigenous population were diverse. While some visitors asked if there were still ‘Indians’ in Argentina, others were astonished to learn that many of them were living in the Federal Capital. Many visitors were reluctant to accept as ‘indigenous’, self-defined groups who no longer maintain traditional lifestyles or do not live in community lands, and most of them were not keen to accept the cultural diversity of their own society (Acosta et al. 1996, 140-141). In general, the public was interested in receiving more information and analysing critically the national history. Scholars noted that visitors’ ability to understand complex concepts should not be underestimated and emphasised the importance of encouraging further participation (Acosta et al. 1996, 143-144).

Based on these results, three kinds of projects were designed in order to teach the indigenous past and disseminate archaeological information: workshops and didactic guides for teachers and students; travelling exhibitions in different neighbourhoods, and a permanent exhibition about the regional indigenous past in a local museum of Mar del Plata (Correa and Correa 1999, 19-38). By 1998, 1,400 students and 400 teachers had participated in these workshops (Mazzanti and Quintana 1999, 5). Scholars noted the need to adjust pedagogic strategies to deal with teachers’ and school children’s preconceptions about the indigenous past. According to their research, pupils consider native groups as peoples without history and have problems placing the peopling of La Pampa Region in time and space. Therefore, their attention is only focused on archaeological materials without considering the cultural context, and archaeology is seen as a leisure activity, mainly concerned with the search for fossils (Correa and Correa 1999, 40-54). The book edited by Quintana (1999) has the merit of presenting this educational research as part of an integral programme developed by the university. However, it is mainly dedicated to the diagnosis of problems in schools and does not assess the impact of the research activities,

In 1998 and 1999 a systematic visitors’ opinion survey was carried out in Alero Valle Pinturas Site, Lihué Calel National Park, La Pampa province. This survey was part of a more comprehensive site monitoring strategy implemented by

41

APN in order to assess the impact caused by visitors in one of the few archaeological sites in national parks which are open to the public. The aim of the survey was to measure the number and type of visitors as well as to take note of their suggestions about the interpretation of the site. The results of this research are not yet ready for publishing, but a brief summary has been presented at a scientific meeting (Ferraro 2000).

diversity, and a few cases of xenophobia (e.g. evident dislike of ‘non Argentinean races’ referring to people from Bolivia and Peru) were also pointed out in the report (Chiavazza et al. 1994). However, this article failed to detail the research methods employed in the survey.

2.5.4. Final Comments The public’s views and attitudes towards archaeological heritage, archaeologists and the indigenous past are rare topics of research in Argentina and, where they are dealt with they are often poorly studied. Most publications that mention these issues are short descriptions of particular experiences, and not the main research topic of these scholars. Furthermore, details about the quantitative and qualitative methodologies applied for data collection are scarce and results are presented in such a generalised way as to prevent any critical analysis of their interpretation. In some cases, there seems to be a gap between the results of the opinion survey and the scholar’s interpretation of these answers (e.g. Tapia), and further qualitative studies would be required to confirm these conclusions. In others, opinions are considered as correct or incorrect answers (e.g. Chiavazza, et al. 1994) without any regard for the subjectivity of interpretation.

2.5.3. The View of Local Peoples The opinion of local communities about archaeological sites in Argentina has only been tangentially considered in research projects. Small-scale opinion surveys, mainly dedicated to solving specific management problems, are the most common type of research undertaken by scholars. For example, Alicia Tapia (2003) carried out an opinion survey in the town of Baradero, Buenos Aires province, in order to decide what should be done with an indigenous cemetery, partially excavated at the beginning of the century. The results of this survey are interesting to explore: 82% of the people surveyed felt that the archaeological work should not continue, although 98% of them agreed the site should be declared a local cultural heritage site. Some were against further excavations at the site for fear of disturbing dead people, while others feared that the site would be destroyed and the land used for other purposes. Finally 72% of them agreed that the place should be used as a centre for education and tourism. Even though the number of people surveyed does not constitute a representative sample (2% of the total population of Baradero), the results are surprising because most of the population of Baradero does not have indigenous ancestors. This result raised the question of how people regard archaeology and archaeologists in a wider sense. Tapia explained local people’s reactions in terms of the failure of archaeologists to emphasise the social value of material culture in their research. She concluded that ‘archaeological heritage is being re-appraised by the local people of Baradero as part of their own identity, and the tourist exploitation of the site is seen as a means to make preservation economically sustainable’ (Tapia, 2003).

In general, scholars consider themselves to have the intellectual authority to judge what is right and wrong in history and can therefore choose to legitimise indigenous peoples’ past or assume paternalist attitudes towards the public (e.g. Acosta, et al. 1996). It is generally assumed that peoples’ knowledge and perceptions of the past have no significance for scholars and hence, the scientific value of archaeological sites is accepted without discussion. Exceptionally, Tapia suggested the existence of social meanings and values that differ from those considered significant by archaeologists, although she did not develop the idea. In conclusion, the public is conceived as being either an object of study or a passive receptor for educational efforts, but the idea that the public might be valuable contributors to the dialogue about the past and the future of cultural heritage is seldom, if ever, considered.

A more ambitious research project was carried out in the city of Mendoza, western Argentina, in 1994. The opinion survey aimed to determine local people’s knowledge of and attitudes to the archaeological past and cultural diversity. At present, only a preliminary report has been published. It noted a significant lack of knowledge about the preColumbian past and the predominance of an ethnocentric vision of the indigenous past among the people surveyed. The highest level of knowledge was registered among younger people with tertiary and university education. This is related to the changes in educational curricula after the returning of democracy. Significant intolerance to cultural

Notes 1. In 2003, a new law 25.743 concerning archaeological and palaeontological heritage was passed. The law 9080 is no longer in force. 2. The INAPL is the federal authority in charge of archaeological sites and collections acoording to law 25.743.

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CHAPTER 3 THE ‘“PUCARA” OF TILCARA’

The Pucará of Tilcara may be described as being a densely populated village - permanently occupied since the Late Regional Period - which is subdivided by a network of primary and secondary roads (Krapovickas 1959, 240; Madrazo and Ottonello 1966, 9-10; Madrazo 1969, 21; Tarragó and Albeck 1997). The main roads, which were up to four metres wide and 1600 m in length, were demarcated by two parallel stone walls. Large stones4 were used to indicate the course of these roads, which separate different sectors of the Pucará (Madrazo 1969, 21). Dwellings were rectangular rooms with small doors, built with dry masonry walls of boulders or stones set on edge. Roofs were made by placing log rafters across the walls, which were then covered by reeds and coated with a layer of a mix of mud and small stones (Casanova 1963, 620). This type of roofing (‘techo de torta’) is still used in the region. Some small buildings are sometimes attached to the main dwellings. They may have been used as kitchens, storerooms (Casanova 1963, 621) or workshops (Krapovickas 1959). Stone graves were placed at the corners of the domestic rooms. Remains of stone corrals (stockyards) for flocks of llamas were found at the southeastern side of the Pucará5. A cemetery with circular tombs made of stones and covered by big slabs was located towards the west, separated from the urban sector.

3.1. The History of the ‘Pucará’ and the Town of Tilcara This site is located on the eastern side of the central portion of a large ravine called ‘Quebrada de Humahuaca’, in the province of Jujuy. This is a narrow valley with slopes joining into the high plateau of the Puna with the valley of Jujuy. It was a key route into the current territory of Argentina for the different conquerors: the Tiwanaku, the Inka and later the Spanish. The first human occupation in the region pertains to hunter-gatherer groups around 10,000 B.P. (e.g. Huachichocana site, 9620+/- 130 B.P., Aguerre et al. 1975; Inca Cueva 4 site 9230 +/- 70 B.P., Aschero 1980). As later finds indicate, it was an ideal setting for the development of early farming as it is a transitional environment between the subtropical area in the east and La Puna in the north (e.g. evidence of early vegetable growing was found in Huachichocana and Inca Cueva sites).1 The lands of the Quebrada were suitable for agriculture with irrigation, and the maize grown in this ravine was the main foodstuff for the indigenous peoples of the region (Difrieri 1961, 22; Seca 1989, 31). The Pucará of Tilcara was built on a 70 m high hill situated at the confluence of the rivers Grande and Huasamayo and extends over 79,300 square metres. Tilcara is 2500 m above sea level, its climate is very dry and sunny with warm temperatures throughout the year. The current town of Tilcara is at the bottom of the valley, 1.5 km from the site. The town used to suffer from mudflows caused by the river Grande during the rainy season, although it has never affected the Pucará (Debenedetti 1930, 11; Seca 1989).

A two hundred square metre structure, showing features characteristic of Inka architecture6 (Lafón 1958, 46-48; also Raffino 1981; Nielsen 1997) is located in the central part of the Pucará. It has a big courtyard, two rectangular rooms and a large rectangular enclosure with an altar and a small niche in a wall. Ambrosetti called it ‘the church’ because the local people used to refer to it as ‘the Pucará’s church’. According to Casanova this place could have been used to worship the sun and the moon, because it is possible to see the rise of the sun and the moon through the hills at the east from the main altar, while the smaller altar offers a view of the sun and the moon setting in the west. Furthermore, a pot in the shape of a toad was found in situ. This animal has been associated with the worship of the Pachamama (Mariscotti de Görlitz 1978, 224). One of the structures adjoined to the large rectangular building was identified as a small corral for llamas that were likely to have been used in sacrificial rituals (Casanova 1958, 42-43).

Although archaeological remains found in the present day town of Tilcara have revealed that early farming settlements have existed in the area since 700 AD (e.g. Til.20 and Til. 22 sites, Mendonça et al. 1991; Rivolta and Albeck 1992; Rivolta 1996; Tarragó and Albeck 1997; Bordach and Mendonça 2001; Mendonça and Bordach 2001), the Pucará was permanently occupied from AD 900.2 According to the archaeological information available, the Pucará was inhabited by farming groups traditionally classified as belonging to the ‘Late Regional Period’3 (AD 1000 - AD 1480), later becoming part of the territories dominated by the Inkas (AD 1480 - AD 1535 - Pérez 1973; Otonello and Lorandi 1987; Nielsen 1997). There is also evidence that it continued to be occupied during the Spanish period (Debenedetti 1930, 104).

In the upper part of the Pucará, three structures used as marble workshops and storerooms were identified. Numerous high quality ornamental objects made in marble were found, including two llama figurines and Inka pottery

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(Krapovickas 1959, 150; Madrazo 1969). These findings have supported the hypothesis that a group of craftsmen settled the Pucará during the Inka period, and their wares were part of the local tribute paid to the Inka empire (Krapovickas 1982, 74). Based on the findings made during the reconstruction of the site, Nielsen (1996, 105) described the Pucará as a ‘multinuclear settlement’ composed of a central (communal) nucleus, placed in the upper part, surrounded by many secondary sectors.

There is no record about language or the way in which different ethnic groups were affected by the population movements during the Inka period. However, ethnographic sources indicate that the ‘Ocloyas’ from the eastern valley were dominated by the Omaguacas (Ottonello and Lorandi 1987, 85-86), and that the latter had also extended their influence as far north as the modern Bolivian border (Zanolli 1992 cited by Schaposchnik 1994, 60). It is, thus, believed that they controlled lands outside the limits of the Quebrada (fig. 1).

The intensive use of artificially irrigated farming terraces in the Quebrada de Humahuaca facilitated a high-scale production of maize and different varieties of tubers, including potatoes, quinoa and beans. A number of researchers believe there was a link between the Pucará of Tilcara and Alfarcito site. According to them the massive occupation of the Pucará coincided chronologically with the intensive farming of Alfarcito located nearby. Neither domestic chambers nor grain silos were found in the latter, and the Pucará did not have enough farming terraces to provide food for its population. Therefore they conclude that Alfarcito was the farming area of the indigenous settlements of the ravine, particularly the Pucará of Tilcara (Madrazo 1969, 62-63; Madrazo and Ottonello 1966, 48; Seca 1989, 38-39).

During the colonial period, the Indian population was forcibly divided and either resettled into reducciones, or granted as encomiendas to individual Spaniards for exploitation as forced labour. The foundation of San Salvador de Jujuy (1593) was a landmark in the Spanish occupation in the region, as all the previous attempts to settle had failed due to indigenous attacks. According to Father Lozano’s chronicles (Lozano 1873-75, quoted by Casanova 1963, 627), ‘the chief directed the war, with the advice of his council. Fighting was carried out by ambush and by surprise attacks, but when on the defensive, the Indians took refuge in the pucarás. Watchtowers were erected on all the strategic hills. They stationed sentinels and used spies to learn the movements of the enemy. Weapons consisted of bows and arrows, ...bolas and woven slings…’

Indigenous peoples, historically known as ‘Omaguacas’, were occupying the Pucará when the Spanish conquerors arrived in the area (Expedition of Almagro in 1535). The Omaguaca peoples were divided into different groups, including Tilcaras, Purmamarcas, Tumbayas and the Uquías, each of them ruled by its own kurakas. Andean societies were organised in ayllus (groups of families with land rights) and therefore it is believed that the different groups which inhabited the Quebrada de Humahuaca were the owners of the lands where they worked and lived (Madrazo 1970, 59). They were likely to have shared irrigation networks and communal grazing and farming lands, such as Alfarcito and Coctaca (Seca 1989, 41). Furthermore, the population of the Quebrada was involved in intensive exchange with people of high and low lands, as demonstrated by the presence of pottery specimens from these regions. It has also been argued that these chiefdoms were able to exploit different forms of production at different altitudes, through a system of spatial and political ‘vertical control’ (Murra 1975). Whether obtained through exchange or self-production, these groups could access resources from the La Puna (llama herds and salt) and from the southern and eastern valleys (wood and metal objects - Ottonello and Lorandi 1987, 85).

Figure 1: Geographical location of ‘Omaguaca Culture’ groups (900-1480 AD).

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In 1593, Viltipoco, the chief of the Tilcaras who ruled the whole Quebrada, organised a rebellion of 10,000 indigenous people, including Omaguacas, Ocloyas, Churumatas and Lules (Informe de Francisco Argañaraz, quoted by Leviller 1920, 512). It was, however, put down when the Spaniards commanded by Argañaraz captured Viltipoco in Purmamarca during the harvest of maize. The indigenous people were unable to proceed with the uprising, not only because of losing their leader, but also due to the lack of supplies since the harvest of Purmamarca was the earliest of the region (Vergara 1961). Viltipoco was taken to San Salvador de Jujuy and christened ‘Diego’, although he never accepted the new religion and died in prison (Ottonello and Lorandi 1987, 179).

Madrazo (1970) estimated the pre-Hispanic population of Quebrada de Humahuaca and Puna at 20,000 to 25,000 people. According to the number of dwellings identified at the Pucará of Tilcara, Casanova (1971, 86) considered that it could have housed as many as 2000 inhabitants at that time. Two centuries later, the general census carried out by the Spanish authorities stated that the village of Tilcara was inhabited by 181 persons (General Census of the Virreinato del Río de La Plata7, 1778-1779, Difrieri 1980). Moreover, analysis of this census indicates that Tilcara was suffering a severe population decrease due to the high infant mortality rate and the emigration of young men (Difrieri 1980, 6). Local people, Indians brought from La Puna and ‘mixed blood’ groups from Alto Perú formed the population of Tilcara. Among the local descendants, Difrieri identified three old men, whose surnames were Viltipoco and Tilco, ‘as the last descendants of the indigenous warriors who inhabited the Pucará…’ (Difrieri 1980, 18). Only one Spanish family Alvarez Prado - was settled in the town at that time.

After the Tilcaras were defeated, the Pucará was abandoned and the remaining population was relocated at the bottom of the valley where the modern town of Tilcara now stands. The valley and its people were part of the encomienda of Francisco de Argañaraz and his descendants, and later of Diego Ortíz de Zárate. Tilcara was considered an Indian village (pueblo de indios) according to the colonial legal system and therefore it was run by its own traditional authorities who were responsible for the payment of tributes and for providing men by rotation for the mita (Seca 1989, 47). In 1606 the Tilcaras received a merced from King Felipe II, which gave them the right to farm their own lands. The lineage of Viltipoco, including his son Felipe and his grandson Francisco, became chiefs of the Tilcaras while they were subjugated by Argañaraz. Recent studies of historical documents have reconstructed the sequence of indigenous chiefs of Tilcara from 1606 to 1833. The surname Viltipoco as well as Vilti, Catacata and Canchi were included in this list (Sánchez 1996, quoted by Albeck and González 1999, 85).

The indigenous people of Jujuy and Salta participated in the 1780 uprising led by Tupac Amaru II. This rebellion started by demanding the abolition of indigenous forced labour in mines, and ended up claiming independence. Although it was put down, it presaged the liberation movements, which emerged during the nineteenth century. The independence war strongly affected the Quebrada de Humahuaca since it became the main battlefront between the national troops and the Spanish Army based in Alto Perú (current Perú and Bolivia). From 1810 to 1825 the Quebrada was lost and recovered eleven times. The closure of commercial trade with Alto Peru generated a crisis in the regional economy, intensified by the military’s destruction of properties during their incursions into the territories. The people of Quebrada witnessed many key episodes of national history. In 1812 the whole population of the high lands of Jujuy province abandoned their houses, burned their harvests and emigrated to Tucumán in order to leave no supplies for the Spanish troops. This episode, known as the ‘exodus of Jujuy’, enabled the victories of the national troops led by General Belgrano in Tucumán and Salta. From 1815 the gauchos, led by General Güemes repelled Spanish invasions along the Northwest frontier. The “gaucho war” was fought in order to hold back the Spanish troops from the main battlefront. Meanwhile the National Army prepared to invade Chile through the Andes, thereby consolidating the independence of Argentina (Romero 1996). During this period, Tilcara was attacked twice, in 1817 and 1819. Many criollos also participated in these actions, such as Colonel Manuel Alvarez Prado, born in Tilcara, who played a leading role in the ‘first squadron of gauchos of Quebrada de Humahuaca’, and became the first local patriotic hero. The success of these military actions was partly due to the support given by the local people to the revolution against

In spite of the royal grant, the indigenous people were dispossessed from most of their lands and they became gradually unable to live off their own produce. Furthermore, the obligation to pay tribute compelled many men to leave their homeland and work in mines or in Spanish villages. The best lands were in the hands of Spanish landlords who exploited most of the labour forces of the region. The colonial system separated indigenous people from their ayllus, thus threatening the strong relationship between them and the lands upon which their ancestors were buried. From this point, Indians were no longer related to an ayllu but to a more general ethnic category, and above all to a condition of social exclusion and marginality (Ottonello and Lorandi 1987, 176). The destruction of the indigenous socio-economic organisation, the abandonment of the farming terrace system and people’s relocation triggered a demographic crisis among indigenous groups of the region. Heavy labour, lack of food and regular epidemics worsened the situation.

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Spain. However, there are almost no references to their role in the historical sources. A complaint made by the kuraka of the Tilcaras in 1833 expresses his frustration at the lack of recognition given to his people for their efforts during the war of independence. He said, ‘the revolution came…the Quebrada was depopulated…and we, the people of the Quebrada, have been continuously vigilant, depriving the enemy of resources and we have seen Humaguaca, Huquía, Guacalera and Tilcara in flames’ (Albeck and González 1999, 92).

growing. They were the so-called vallistos (people from the valley); they observed most of the local traditions and beliefs, and only occasionally descended to the town to participate in festivals such as the procession of the Virgin of Punta Corral. In the 1950s and 1960s many painters, writers and musicians found in Tilcara a suitable atmosphere for artistic creativity, thus becoming the ‘Athens of Northwest Argentina’. Mine workers suffering from bronchial disorders came from other parts of the province to settle in Tilcara, followed by hippies, New Age people and, more recently, young professionals from urban areas.

After independence, both the economy and the land right system changed. The lands which were still in the hands of indigenous people were considered to be ‘lands without owners’8 by the Argentine government, and the State could therefore sell them through a long-term instalment system. While the ‘right of preference’ given to indigenous local people in Jujuy enabled many native families to acquire their own lands, it also encouraged the emergence of big landowning families, such as the Alvarez Prados of Tilcara (Seca 1989, 57).

3.2. The ‘Pucará’ as an Archaeological Entity The site was first explored by archaeologist Juan Bautista Ambrosetti and the ‘IV Archaeological Expedition’ to Northwest Argentina (Ethnographic Museum, University of Buenos Aires) in 1908 (Ambrosetti 1912). By the time of the first reconstruction, carried out in 1910, the ruins of the south, west and north sections of the Pucará had already been excavated. The reconstruction was done in one month with the help of local workers who were specialists in building stone walls without adobe. The area reconstructed was around 2000 square metres, in which 400 metres of walls were rebuilt using the original materials. Roads, domestic chambers and tombs were also reconstructed (Debenedetti 1930, 138).

By 1869, the population of Tilcara and adjacent rural areas was 2157 people (Difrieri 1980, 27). The growth was due to the migration of families from Bolivia and the gauchos from the south who settled in the region after the independence war. While kolla descendants (from Argentina and Bolivia) formed the ‘working’ class, the emerging land-owning class consisted of the descendants of the Spanish traditional families. At the end of the nineteenth century the Quebrada economy experienced a short period of revival due to the extensive raising of mules used for transporting merchandise across the frontier. However, the development of railway lines in Jujuy province at the beginning of the twentieth century was a fatal blow to the already failing economy of the Quebrada. The railway not only replaced the mules in transporting cargo, but also changed the direction of trade, which started to be sent to Buenos Aires. Many archaeological sites were destroyed in order to build the lines, and later the roads, through the Quebrada, while many of its towns that were not situated on transport networks fell into decay.

A full reconstruction of the site was considered by Ambrosetti and his assistant Salvador Debenedetti as a new approach to analysing the site in its entirety. Until then only some features had been ‘explored’, such as cylindrical tombs, funerary chambers placed at the corners of dwellings and the best preserved buildings, ‘in order to collect the major possible number of artefacts’ (Debenedetti 1930, 136). Furthermore, reconstruction was seen as a ‘unique opportunity’ to publicise the ruins to the members of the XVII International Congress of Americanists who were to visit the Pucará en route to Bolivia in May 1910. Although this visit did not occur, ‘famous Americanists such as Max Uhle and Cecil Breton supported the reconstruction and encouraged us to continue with the works’ (Debenedetti 1930, 137). However, progress was halted due to the lack of funds and the expeditions of the Ethnographic Museum did not return to this area until 1928. Meanwhile, the site was subject to looting, leading to the destruction of some reconstructed walls (Debenedetti 1930, 108-109; Casanova 1968, 20). Carlos Schuel, an Austrian private collector, carried out several ‘unofficial’ excavations on the site from 1914. He accumulated one of the most important collections of artefacts from the Pucará of Tilcara, which was later broken up and sent to various European museums, the ‘Museo Arqueológico Provincial’ (created by him in San Salvador

In the 1920s and 1930s, thanks to its impressive landscape and exceptional climate, Tilcara became a tourist village for the emerging upper classes of the Northwest (Seca 1989, 61). Most of them were the families of sugar cane producers in Tucumán, who used to move during the summer to avoid being infected by malaria. From this point, Tilcara’s population included members from all the social classes. The upper class was represented by the so-called ‘veraniantes’, rich families who spent the summer holidays in their smart houses. The emerging local middle class was represented by Bolivian immigrants who ran the few stores of the town. The rural population, mostly the descendants of Kolla people, was dedicated to fruit and vegetable

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de Jujuy) and La Plata Museum - as part of the collection acquired by Benjamín Muñiz Barreto. Schuel’s collections and field notes were further dispersed when the provincial museum was closed after his death (Krapovickas 1959, 137; 1961, 250-251; Fernández Distel 1997).

Jujuy, through the commemoration to Ambrosetti and Debenedetti, declared the death of pre-Hispanic culture, rejecting any link between it and the contemporary descendants of indigenous people. In 1948, the government of Jujuy province donated the site to the University of Buenos Aires (law 1903/48). The new project included the restoration of the old Pucará settlements, the creation of a regional museum and a residence for scholars. In this phase a series of remarkable structures - representing different uses of the site - were reconstructed, such as houses, roads, the ceremonial centre, the necropolis and some stockyards (Casanova 1950, 43). With the support of the University of Buenos Aires, the government of Jujuy and the collaboration of the National Army, this project continued from 1950 to 1955 (Casanova 1958, 33-34; 1968, 20).

In 1930, Debenedetti published ‘Las Ruinas del Pucará’, which included a brief report of approximately 250 discoveries, mostly domestic chambers and tombs. During the excavation many human remains with their funerary objects were recovered. Some human remains were ‘abandoned’ in situ due to their bad preservation (Debenedetti 1930, 59, 70, 75, 95), and excavation was very hastily carried out. The second reconstruction project was postponed due to the death of Debenedetti in 1930, and was later continued by his disciple, Eduardo Casanova, in the 1950s. Research and reconstruction at the Pucará site had always received the support of the national and provincial government, as well as the local elite. At the beginning of the twentieth century, the upper classes and the intelligentsia created an idyllic and romantic image of the indigenous people of the Quebrada, who were seen as pacific and ‘docile’ farmers. At that time the dominant class of the Northwest of the country defended the idea that the people from the North, both indigenous descendants and criollos were the keepers of local traditions, in opposition to the main political power held in the ethnically rootless Buenos Aires. This argument was in fact designed to cover up the perpetuation of the colonial system in which wealthy landowners exploited the local population who were used as the labour forces of the big landholdings and industries (Rutledge 1987, 249). In this context, the archaeologists played a central role in providing knowledge about the Pre-Hispanic past, and, therefore enjoyed a privileged social position and considerable political power. The heroes of indigenous culture were not the indigenous people themselves, but the archaeologists who were determined to rescue it. In 1935 the government of Jujuy decided to build a monument at the Pucará to pay tribute to Ambrosetti and Debenedetti. The raised area - archaeologically identified as the residence of craftsmen and the main square was flattened in order to build a pyramid to contain the remains of both archaeologists, and the ashes of the researcher Eric Boman (fig. 2). The committee that organised the ceremony placed a bronze plaque at the entrance of the pyramid, which says: ‘From the ashes of a dead population they exhumed aboriginal cultures, carving an echo from the silence’. As was explained by Karasik (1994, Figure 2: View 47-49), the Commission formed by the elite of of Tilcara Site.

With the exception of the sector previously reconstructed, the structures on the rest of the site were in a bad state of preservation. According to Casanova (1958, 38) the general appearance of the site was chaotic since most of the walls had fallen down and were covered by xerophytic plants. Once again local workers rebuilt the stone walls. Casanova estimated that whereas the site had around four hundred dwellings, only a quarter had been mapped, only thirty were fully reconstructed and another thirty-four were left without roofing (due to the high cost of the logs used in the roofs) (fig. 3). When the original foundations of the rooms were found, they were used to rebuild the structure. The walls were rebuilt to be wider than they had been originally, in order to resist the vibration caused by the trains passing a short distance from the site (Casanova 1958, 39). According to Casanova (1958, 38-39) the height of the walls was based on observation of original walls standing in this and other sites of the region. However, their low height is one of the most controversial aspects of the reconstruction. The use of stones from the Pucará by local villagers to build their own houses and fences had already been noted by

of the 1935 Ambrosetti and Debenedetti memorial monument, Pucará

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one of the ancient main roads was destroyed in order to allow modern vehicular access to the top of the Pucará. Two domestic areas of the settlement were rebuilt: the ‘entrance area’ and the ‘monument (pyramid) area’ at the top of the Pucará. The ceremonial centre (‘church’) was also fully reconstructed. The ‘monument area’, in spite of having been partly destroyed in 1935 during the building of the pyramid, still had dwellings which showed a distinctive structural organisation and features of Inka architecture. ‘Houses are closely packed together and linked by a common courtyard instead of by secondary roads’ (Casanova Figure 3: Reconstructed houses at the entrance of the Pucará of Tilcara Site. 1958, 49) (fig. 6). It is in this ‘monument area’ that the marble workshops were found, and Debendetti (1930, 31). He also stated that the original walls two of these common courtyards have paved floors. One of of the Pucará’s church still stood to a height of 3.10 m the largest chambers has a niche in the wall where trophy (Debenedetti 1930, 45). skulls9 were discovered. It also has steps, and a large door opening onto the plaza where the pyramid is situated Restoration work was carried out on ten stone corrals, (Casanova 1968, 49). several tombs situated in dwellings, one hundred tombs in the necropolis and 3,500 m of roads (figs. 4 and 5). However, On the other side of the square a big stone, which according to Casanova ‘would have had a special significance for the inhabitants of the Pucará’, was used as a signpost for visitors. To accompany the car parking area built in the monument sector (fig. 7), a 14 m high flagpole was situated at the highest point of the Pucará in order ‘to make the patriotic (Argentine) flag visible from a great distance’ (Casanova 1958, 44). The remains of dwellings that, according to Casanova (1958, 44) were ‘impossible to rebuild due to their bad conditions of preservation’ were covered with a large stone and cement foundation. On this it was intended to erect ‘a statue of an Indian looking to the horizon’, although this plan was never carried Figure 4: Reconstructed stockyards. out. When asked about the reconstruction, the archaeologist Albeck commented that ‘there are many issues to discuss, such as the use of dry masonry (without mud mix). Furthermore, while some structures were not originally made from piedra canteada (worked stones), they completed the wall with this type of stone. I am also sure that ‘the church’ should have apex roofs, like many Inka structures found in Southern Andes’ (María Esther Albeck, pers. comm., 01.06.2000). A residence for scholars, workshops and storerooms was built at the bottom of the Pucará hill. A long wall was built to run alongside part of the access road, and many

Figure 5: Reconstructed necropolis.

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University of Buenos Aires, which had been donated to open there the projected museum of the Pucará. In 1967 the house was restored using funds awarded by the wife of Fernando Márquez Miranda, an archaeologist who had collaborated in the excavation of the Pucará (Casanova 1968, 27). The ‘Dr. Eduardo Casanova’ Museum was opened in 1968, and a selection of some 3,000 archaeological pieces from the Pucará collection were transferred from the Ethnographic Museum to be exhibited and stored in this museum, also run by the University of Buenos Aires. In 1970 a high-altitude botanical garden was opened on the Northwest side of the Pucará. Its construction required land movement and the installation of hydraulic networks inside the archaeological site. A research institute named ‘Instituto Interdisciplinario Tilcara’ (IIT), was created in 1972. Its Director was also in charge of the management of the site and the museum. This stage in the development of infrastructure at the site complex was interrupted by Casanova’s death in 1977.

Figure 6: Reconstructed dwellings in the Monument Area.

The late 1970s marked the beginning of a dark period in the history of the Institute. During that time, while political persecution forced the emigration of many researchers working in the

Figure 7: The Park Area.

works were also carried out to improve access to the site and to protect the new building from floods (Casanova 1958, 45; 1968, 25). The original idea of incorporating ‘sculptures of indigenous peoples involved in domestic activities’ (Casanova 1950, 43) was later dismissed owing to prohibitive expenses. However, Casanova persuaded sculptor Joaquín Luque and a private cement company to collaborate in the production of a full-size (cement) statue of a flautist, which was placed in one of the houses of the ‘monument sector’. The statue has since suffered several small-scale damages and repairs (Casanova 1958, 43-44), which are highly visible (fig. 8). A few replicas of funerary packages placed in some tombs of the necropolis were also seriously damaged (the funerary objects were broken and the ‘bodies’ were slashed) and it was later decided to remove them (Casanova 1968, 25). Casanova (1958, 45) considered the Pucará to be a major ‘monument of Argentine archaeology’, an idea shared by provincial and national governments. In 1967, the government of Jujuy named Tilcara ‘the archaeological capital’. In the same year, the national president General Onganía, whose presidency was a result of the military coup of 1966, visited the Pucará expressing an interest in the completion of the restoration project (Casanova 1968, 26). The national government also transferred a house to the

Figure 8: Statue of the flautist.

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region, the authorities of the Institute enjoyed good relations with the military government, and received President General Videla during his visit to the Pucará. The return of democracy in 1983 led to significant changes of authorities at the Institute and an attempt, later frustrated, to investigate some possible unethical behaviour of researchers and managers during the last period. Since the middle 1980s, the Pucará has seen a radical change in management style. However, the tradition of paying honour to archaeologists at the Pucará was not abandoned. In 1986 the government of Entre Ríos province paid tribute ‘to our honourable son’ Juan Bautista Ambrosetti with a bronze plaque on the pyramid which describes him as a ‘tenacious researcher of our American roots… He devoted his life to his work, science and mankind’. In 1991, the daughter of Debenedetti donated a plaque in honour of Casanova. It said ‘to the archaeologist Eduardo Casanova, for his honesty, loyalty and tireless commitment to this work, to which he devoted his life. I dedicate this memorial as an acknowledgement and to pay him tribute’.

many people from the south of the province and other parts of the country have settled in the area. The current population of the town is estimated by its Mayor, Félix Pérez, to be 4,000 inhabitants, 1,000 of which are not local. While hippies and young professionals moved to Tilcara, many local workers went to Buenos Aires with the hope of changing their lives. ‘In previous decades, 30% of the local population moved to Buenos Aires looking for better jobs, but most of them ended up in shantytowns. Some of them are now returning’, explained the Mayor (Félix Pérez, pers. comm., 22.05.2000). In spite of the fact that Jujuy is one of the provinces most affected by economic recession, out-ofwork people can still live off their own farming produce in the valleys of the Quebrada. The history of Tilcara is also reflected in its streets and squares, and there are many objects characterising patriotic devotion and local pride. For example, the algarrobo tree where Manuel Alvarez Prado was lying when he was captured in 1813 is now a ‘historic tree of Argentina’ (Armanini 1958, 64-65), and the house where the dead body of the prominent national leader General Lavalle was kept in

The Pucará has been sporadically investigated since the 1950s. During its reconstruction, several excavations were carried out mainly in the central sector (Casanova 1950, 1958; Lafón 1958; Krapovickas 1959). Madrazo (1966; 1969) carried out some surveys in the 1960s, while a refuse deposit located on the south side of the Pucará was excavated by Casanova et al. (1976) and later by Pellisero et al. (1997). Since 1986 a new research team directed by Tarragó excavated a domestic area located in the corrals sector, which had not been disturbed by previous excavations or reconstruction work (Tarragó 1992; Tarragó and Albeck 1997). Furthermore, thirty skeletons from the Pucará (excavated by Ambrosetti in 1908) which are now part of the Ethnographic Museum collection, have been studied by physical anthropologists in order to investigate biological affinities, pathology and health (Mendoca et al. 1992).

3.3. Tilcara Today According to the last national census, the town of Tilcara and its rural areas - which extends over 1,845 square km - has 8,463 inhabitants, 90% of them born in Jujuy province (INDEC - Censo Nacional de Población 1991) (fig. 9). In recent years, however, the population of the town of Tilcara has grown considerably because

Figure 9: Geographical location of case study sites, in addition to surrounding towns and cities.

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1841, is now a national monument. Some of the local heroes are the researchers who converted Tilcara into the ‘archaeological capital’ of the province. Nowadays, ‘Ambrosetti’, ‘Debenedetti’ and ‘Casanova’ are the names of three important streets. Recently, a modest statue of Viltipoco was placed in the square, according him high status in the town.

transformed the image of indigenous people in the eyes of the elite. From 1945 onwards they were perceived as a dangerous element which threatened the social and economic order. Furthermore, the negative stigma of ‘being kolla’ was intensified by the immigration of people from Bolivia, since it was also associated with an ‘alien’ status (Karasik 1994, 52-53). Andean people’s attitudes to their past were analysed by Manasse and Rabey (1989, 10-13) who classified them in four groups. The first, distance themselves from their indigenous past and traditions and identify with the history taught at schools. The second group, in spite of not having indigenous roots, adopts or appropriates aspects of indigenous culture to exploit its socio-economic value - i.e. for political pressure or as a tourist resource. The third group recognises their indigenous ancestors and respects their traditions and beliefs. The fourth group consists of those who not only strongly identify with their indigenous past but also aim to promote it as an ‘alternative history’.

3.3.1. ‘Tilcareño’ Identity In the last few decades a number of political and religious conflicts10 have revealed a tension between the ‘tilcareños’ (people from Tilcara) and the non-local people. This topic was exhaustively analysed by Karasic (1994), who argued that Tilcara is a mixed blood society where ethnicity, social class and political power are closely related. She divided the population into three different kinds of local people: the ‘true tilcareño’, the ‘poor tilcareño’ and the ‘vallisto’. She argued that the so-called ‘true tilcareños’ are descendants of criollo families, who consider themselves to be the ‘original people of Tilcara’ on the basis of their colonial ancestors’ social status. Their legitimacy is based on power because these families occupied political positions and were sufficiently privileged to obtain lands from the government. They built their reputation during the war of independence, and appropriated the ideology and culture of the kolla people (Karasik 1994, 41-42). Some regular ‘veraneantes’ (holidaymakers) have, through time also acquired the ‘true tilcareño’ status.

Albeck, however, states that ‘the stigma of being an Indian is a phenomenon which is characteristic of the Quebrada, since people from La Puna have no problems recognising their ethnic identity’. She adds ‘We carried out a survey of opinion in Casabindo (La Puna) and 30% of the people said they are descendants of the people who lived in the antigales’ (María Esther Albeck, pers. comm., 01.06.2000). Moreover, Madrazo believes that ‘Tilcara is a very special case - compared to other towns of the Quebrada - due to specific aspects of its unusual historic background. It has a strong authoritarian and paternalistic tradition, which was increased by the tourist phenomenon of the first half of the century. The sugar cane elite appropriated the town each summer and generated an exclusive circle beyond the local authorities and traders. Archaeologists became another factor of disturbance’ (Guillermo Madrazo, pers. comm., 19.04.2001).

A ‘true tilcareño’ is therefore anybody who was born and raised in Tilcara, although not necessarily the offspring of local people or even having indigenous antecedents. The category of ‘non tilcareños’ includes diverse groups, such as the ‘people from the South’ - i.e. the rest of the country mainly from big urban centres of Buenos Aires and Córdoba. The descendants of Bolivian immigrants continue to be ‘foreigners’ for the people of Tilcara, in spite of them being legal Argentine citizens. Finally, the condition of ‘true tilcareño’ not only implies a social distinction from the ‘poor tilcareños’ and the ‘vallistos’ (most of them descendants of indigenous groups), but it also operates as a mechanism of exclusion to non-‘tilcareños’ in pursuit of political representation. However, Tilcara has experienced many changes that have affected its social structure and political practices. As a result of the last decade’s political scandals, a new generation of politicians now holds power in Tilcara. Félix Pérez, a young agronomy technician born in the upper valleys, is the first ‘vallisto’ to become mayor of the town.

In recent decades, a positive recognition of indigenous ancestry has increased, encouraged by a changing national and international political context. Albeck notes that ‘ten years ago nobody recognised themselves as indigenous descendants and the people living at the Pucará had no relation with them. They have changed this attitude in the last few years’, adding that, ‘we used to give courses for teachers about regional archaeology, and they used to ask when the indigenous people had disappeared. So we tried to join the pre-Hispanic past with the current culture. Once we showed the teachers the list of surnames of the indigenous peoples listed in the Census of 1778 and the results were catastrophic. Some teachers found their surnames on the list and felt shocked. We were really worried, we thought that we had gone too far. But another teacher was an indigenista (indigenous rights activist) and she acknowledged her surname. Then, another woman said, “I

3.3.2. The Issue of Indigenous Identity The development of ‘working class consciousness’ among the Kolla people under the populist government of Perón

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have a Spanish surname, but I am an Indian. I used to ask my pupils if they had ever seen an Indian. And then I added, ‘you are seeing an Indian now’. I see an Indian every morning when I look at myself in the mirror”. After that the whole course was involved in a huge debate’ (María Esther Albeck, pers. comm., 01.16.2000).

rights activists. While the former are still reluctant to recognise themselves as indigenous descendants, the latter define themselves as ‘Indians’ and make continuous references to their ancestral condition. At present, Tilcara has many indigenous associations, some of which are involved in disputes concerning leadership. It is therefore commonly said that ‘there are more chiefs than Indians’ in Tilcara.

The movement of reaction of indigenous groups against the official commemoration of the ‘discovery of America’ in 1992 received the support of different sectors of the population of the whole country, particularly from left wing intellectual groups and artists. 1992 was a landmark year in the recognition of indigenous rights, as this reaction by indigenous organisations made politicians aware of the resurgence of indigenous movements. ‘Since 1992, the provincial government has started to promote and encourage indigenous festivals’, says anthropologist Mercedes Costa. ‘It is part of a change in the international context and in the national legislation…The change is evident. In 1982 it was impossible to worship Pachamama in public. The people did not dare to talk about their traditional beliefs. They said, “we are Catholic”, and nothing else. After you gained their confidence they would start to talk. The ‘All Saints Day’ was celebrated in secret in La Puna until 1966 or 1967. If a priest found an offering to the dead he would throw it away. The government changed their attitude when they realised that these traditions would attract tourism - the more exotic they are the more attractive they become to visitors’ (Mercedes Costa, pers. comm., 26.05.2001).

Among these various groups the most prominent leader is Gerónimo Alvarez Prado, who is the president of the local association EDEPUIN, a member of the ‘Comunidad Kolla Los Airampos’, and the general secretary of CISA (The Indian Council of South America). He explained that, in spite of his surname, in his adulthood he started to feel identified with his mother’s indigenous roots. ‘My mother told me that she never thought that I would acknowledge my grandparents. When I tried to become a member of the Kolla Centre I was not accepted due to my surname, so I created a new organisation. Several years later, the AIRA invited us to become members. In 1992 I marched to Buenos Aires as the president of the Kolla Centre’ (Gerónimo Alvarez Prado, pers. comm., 30.05.2000). When asked about the ideas of his group he used to reply, ‘We support the indigenous system in its ideological, philosophical and cosmological dimensions’. He also explained that ‘the indigenous philosophy is neither capitalist nor Marxist, although the ideological debate among indigenous organisations is huge. We believe that we are part of an energetic cycle, which is formed by all human beings as elements of cosmic harmony. He also recognised that, ‘in Tilcara participation in our organisations is still very limited, although more people are showing interest at present’ (Gerónimo Alvarez Prado, pers. comm., 30.05.2000).

At a local level, these changes started earlier, thanks to the encouragement given by the now legendary figure of the Catholic priest Father Eloy Roy. ‘Many things changed here since 1979 when a new priest came to Tilcara. He accepted traditional rituals and welcomed the worship of the Pachamama even inside the church. The devil - a person who dramatised him during carnival - also was allowed to enter the church…’ (Félix Pérez, pers. comm., 22.05.2000).

A new group of young descendants has joined ‘Wiñai Marka’, an indigenous association from Jujuy, which is part of a South American organisation identified as CSQ (Consejo del Saber Q’olla) with headquarters in La Paz, Bolivia. The CSQ is a movement that has political, philosophical and spiritual aims. The first aim concerns land claims; the second is to recover Andean ways of thinking, while the third addresses ritual and symbolic phenomena. Its members are viewed with suspicion by the other organisations, mainly because their rituals are secret and performed by amautas (religious leaders) from Bolivia.

However, policies recognising indigenous land rights established by national legislation from 1985 - see Chapter 2, section 2.3. - did not affect land property structure in Jujuy Province until very recently. As explained by Mercedes Costa, ‘there are forty-three new communities in Quebrada de Humahuaca and La Puna which have already been recognised by the INAI. They are receiving lands and property, thus elevating the ‘value’ of being indigenous people. But there are still many conflicts between the INAI and the provincial government11. Another problem is caused by the fact that when people join a community, they lose their own private property because everything is communally owned’ (Mercedes Costa, pers. comm., 26.05.2000).

Juan Torrejón is a member of CSQ and Tilcara’s Secretary of Culture. When asked how he could co-ordinate his roles as both a member of local government, and an indigenous member of an organisation considered ‘anti-systemic’ (i.e. viewed as being incompatible with current legal, political and economic systems), he answered ‘we are occupying a transitional position at present, we are “bridge beings”. We

When speaking about local people, researchers used to state a difference between the local people and the indigenous

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are starting to learn. We have no right to make decisions or discuss issues, just to listen to the council of ancient men’ (Juan Torrejón, pers. comm., 01.06.2000).

people what they thought that schools should teach, and most of the people said “regional history and geography”. Then we decided to write a textbook for children. We also gave additional courses for teachers, and carried out regular visits to check how it was used in classrooms’ (María Esther Albeck, pers. comm., 01.06.2000).

René Machaca studies anthropology and is working on a compilation of oral tradition. ‘My surname is Aymara from the Titicaca region’, he explained, ‘although my mother’s family name - Toconás - is a local surname from the Quebrada’. He recently joined the CSQ group. ‘The issue of the indigenous identity implies a struggle’, he explained, ‘an “Utopia” to recover things that we have lost. We question why we have these socio-economic problems now, when in the past local people could solve them. At least hunger was not a problem in indigenous societies. I think that it is in great part due to the unfair treatment that indigenous people received. Although poverty is not just a matter concerning indigenous descendants, but for society as a whole. However, we are trying to find a solution through spiritual means’ (René Machaca, pers. comm., 02.06.2000). When asked why it was deemed necessary to keep their ceremonies secret, he stated that ‘because we are trying to start this new way among us, and we are not ready yet to show our contradictions, as there are many issues yet to be resolved. We think that we need to reinforce our spirituality before opening up our ideas to the rest of the people’. He recognised that this attitude has generated some conflicts with other indigenous organisations. ‘They said that we are a closed group. For me it would be a huge contradiction to deny access in the future to other people who can help us. Many indigenous organisations have started claiming legal rights or trying to achieve economic goals. We think that recovering our spirituality is the best way to solve the division and disputes that have emerged among different organisations, because it helps us to find equilibrium with natural forces’ (René Machaca, pers. comm., 02.06.2000).

Local history and traditions have always been ignored or even attacked by schools. These books aim to rescue the indigenous traditions and help schoolchildren to value their own cultural heritage, although they also include contested topics such as land claims. The teaching strategies employed in the preparation of these texts were based on experience gained through many years of giving workshops on preHispanic history in the region, and every child received a free copy of the book. It has therefore made a considerable impact not only in classrooms but also in the wider community. The textbook dedicated to language generated more reaction, as many teachers did not accept the use of regional expressions in schools. René Machaca, who collaborated in the preparation of the textbooks, commented on his own experience. ‘Once when I was a pupil I conjugated a verb in a wrong way, but it was the way I used to speak. The teacher scolded me and I did not dare to speak again in class. This stigma is so strong here that he used to say “children enter school speaking and go out mute”. The local people are extremely shy and that it is due to the backwardness of the school. Because of this, the book about language generated a conflict among teachers, because we validated the regional way of speaking that they have been rejecting in classrooms for years’ (René Machaca, pers. comm., 02.06.2000). But the most significant impact was at the family level. ‘We are not accustomed to having books in our houses. For the first time the parents could give an opinion about what children were learning. Some of them went to the school to tell stories, and sometimes discussed various cultural traditions. The teachers thus started to feel the pressure of the community. Unfortunately, while educational law demanded bilingual education it was not often put into practice because there were not enough teachers who could speak Quechua or Aymara’ (René Machaca, pers. comm., 02.06.2000).

The movement for the promulgation of indigenous rights and traditions cannot be considered as a phenomenon exclusively related to indigenistas groups - as thought by the most of the researchers interviewed - but should be viewed as a stronger and more complex issue. The indigenous discourse, at least in Tilcara, is becoming dominant among many young politicians, local radio speakers and above all in the schools, with the introduction of new textbooks.

Both archaeologists and indigenous people in neighbouring parts of the country have called for the introduction of this type of teaching material, and the experiences of Tilcara are those of a pioneer in this field. It is still too soon to evaluate the real impact of these books on the new generations. It is certain, however, that attitudes towards the indigenous past and present will change, whether helping indigenous people to improve their situation or increasing their sense of bitterness and cultural differences with the rest of the society.

3.3.3. The Impact of Textbooks A group of archaeologists and education specialists from Tilcara have produced three textbooks - on regional geography, history and language - to be used in local schools (see Albeck and Gonzalez 1999; Albeck et al. 1999). ‘In 1994 and 1995 we carried out an opinion survey asking local

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The Pachamama is also worshipped to ask for permission to continue a journey when passing by an antigal, an apacheta or other places. ‘Once a cortadera (a bush) pricked me and I told her “I will burn you”. The following day I woke up with my head covered in spots like a toad’s back. I went to see Don Candelario (the curer), but I did not recover. When I went to graze my sheep I met Aunt Carmina. I told her what I had said to the cortadera and she warned me “bushes must be respected, no matter if they are big or small. Don’t you know that the land grows us and eats us? Everything goes to the land and everything - even a stone - is useful”. What should I do, I asked her, and she told me “the cortadera has blown you down. Tomorrow, early in the morning, go there with coca leaves and wine and ask to be forgiven”. So I went there in the silence of the night and the morning, I got down on my knees and I said, “Pachamama, blessed land, forgive me that I may be healed”. When I had said this three times I recovered’ (Eufrasina Viltes, pers. comm., 28.05.2000).

3.4. Traditional Rituals and Beliefs 3.4.1. The Pachamama The worship of the Pachamama is the most popular ancestral ritual. This goddess is worshipped during the month of August, which is said to be ‘a hard and dangerous month because the land is hungry. If we do not give food to the land she will deny us her products’ (Esteban Sajarma, pers. comm., 23.05.2000). Eufrasina Viltes, (fig. 10) an old woman who lives in the Quebrada de Huichaira, close to Tilcara, said, ‘When I was a child my mother gave food to the Pachamama. We prepare guiso de quinoa, picante, empanadas, tamales, tistiña (traditional dishes). We give food to the land and speak to her. When people open the hole where they left food for the Pachamama the year before, they note the appearance of the bones: if they are clean and white, they become happy, but if they are dark, the people say that everything will be bad. They cry because somebody will die. In Buenos Aires who gives food to the Pachamama? The people who live in the cities do not believe in anything…’ (Eufrasina Viltes, pers. comm., 28.05.2000).

Traditionally, worship of the Pachamama was a private or family ceremony, but has now become a public event. ‘They (the local government) brought forward the Pachamama celebrations to February, during the summer holidays. But then the local people said that the ravine of Purmamarca ‘came down’ (it was a landslide) because they had worshipped the Pachamama too early. The same happened in Huichairas, and people believed that it happened because they had played the sanatas (traditional ritual music) before time. This year the government wanted to celebrate the carnival during the tourist season, but the people organised a meeting and decided not to bring it forward because they were afraid to provoke the same phenomenon at Humahuaca (Maria Albeck, pers. comm., 01.06.2000). People say that they need ‘to pay the Pacha’. This payment or offering is called the ‘chayada’. Nowadays people ‘chaya’ not only houses and apachetas but also cars, computers and all kinds of working tools (Albeck et al. 1999, 103).

3.4.2. Apus and Apachetas The worship of stones, whether natural formations such as hills (apus), mounds of stones built by men (apachetas), or carved rectangular stones (menhires), is also an ancient ritual in Northwest Argentina, and throughout the central Andean region. Mountains and volcanoes, especially those which have permanent snow, springs and metals, all have sacred meaning for the Andean indigenous people (Mariscotti de Görlitz 1978, 75). Ethnographic sources, such as the chronicles of Father Techo ([1673] 1897, quoted by Ottonello and Lorandi 1987, 162) mentioned the worship of the hills and the sun by the indigenous people of Northwest Argentina. Although the Inkas introduced the adoration of the sun, the belief in the apus is considered a more ancient and local tradition.

Figure 10: Mrs. Eufrasina Viltes, Quebrada de Huichairas, Tilcara (28.05.2000).

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Apachetas have been found at strategic points, showing the links between different places or indicating ceremonial spaces for indigenous travellers (Mariscotti de Görlitz 1978, 66, 224). They are closely related to the worship of the Pachamama (Mariscotti de Görlitz 1978, 59-72; Quiroga 1958, 96), and are sometimes placed in domestic courtyards where offerings are made to her in August. Apachetas may also be found in stockyards, where they are worshipped during ‘señalada’.

illustrates the continuance of this cult of the dead among these people and their fear of disturbing the antiguos. In 1973, commented Madrazo, the oldest inhabitants of Rachaite could still remember, with great sorrow, the desecration of the tombs of their grandparents. ‘They told me that Casanova arrived with Army trucks and soldiers and hired some local people to climb up to almost inaccessible places to open the “chullpas”. The local people also told me where I could find the remains of a naturally mummified “grandfather” whose protective stone wall had fallen down’. After a meeting with the local people, Madrazo and his assistant, David Raskovsky, agreed with them to excavate the body in order to carry it to a place where it would be better preserved and ‘serve to explain to the people from the city about their ancestors. I was at that time in charge of the Dirección de Antropología of Jujuy’, explained Madrazo, ‘and we were thinking of moving the body to the ‘Posta de los Hornillos’ Museum, in the Quebrada. In short, it took us half an hour to climb up to the burial, and one and a half hours to descend because the local people stopped several times to explain to the dead why they were moving him, and to cover the body with clothes to keep him warm so as not to be disturbed by the wind’. The religious ceremony continued throughout the whole night, ‘an old man led the rituals and the whole population passed in front of the body crying and making offerings to the land. It was both interesting and moving’ (Guillermo Madrazo, pers. comm., 19.04.2001).

3.4.3. The Worship of the Dead The worship of the dead is also a deeply rooted tradition in the Andean region. According to Mercedes Costa, ‘there are three different levels in their cosmological system. The land, which is the world of living people; the upper world, the home of “known” dead people, and the underworld, for the “unknown” dead people (antiguos). As it is all part of a dynamic process, the antiguos will live again, and therefore the excavations interrupt the historical continuity of the communities’. Different rituals are carried out to communicate with other worlds. During ‘All Saints Day’ it is possible to make contact with the upper world, and during carnival with the underworld (Costa and Karasik 1996, 290293). However, there are other ways of entering the world of the dead which are considered a transgression. ‘When they make a hole in the soil they are always afraid of changing the underworld. You cannot touch the underworld without a ritual to ask for permission, the Pachamama will blow you down, will cause you a harm’ (Mercedes Costa, pers. comm., 26.05.2000).

When asked about what happened to the mummy after that, he explained, ‘this mummy is for me an unpaid debt. Due to political problems I lost my job soon after and I had to abandon the province. I was able to keep it in the storeroom of the Historic Museum of Jujuy. I heard that it was later exhibited at the Hornillos Museum, but I do not have any recent news about it. I do not know if the people of Rachaite knew about this exhibition. Both museums and the Dirección de Antropología suffered many changes of authority and policies during the years following my departure’ (Guillermo Madrazo, pers. comm., 19.04.2001).

Boman (1908, 508) referred to a story often told in La Puna. It concerns an Indian who became ill after having seen an antiguo, and died some days later. A similar experience concerned one of his excavation workers, an Indian named Pedro, in Rinconada. The night after exhuming a body, this man ‘saw an antiguo’ in his house. He was sitting close to the fire pit. At the time the researcher left Rinconada, the Indian was ‘seriously ill and near to death’. Boman (1908, 509-510) could not explain why indigenous people were so afraid of disturbing the antiguos, for they felt little fear and had few superstitions about the recently dead people. He also stated that, ‘this superstition has contributed towards the preservation of ancient tombs, although it makes archaeological enquiry very difficult, since it is almost impossible to get any information about sepulchres’ from the indigenous people (Boman 1908, 508).

3.4.3.1. Mummies on Display at Dr. Eduardo Casanova’s Museum When asked about the mummies on display in the museum, many local people confessed they had not visited the museum, while others did not make any particular observation. None of the employees of the museum recalled any public disapproval of their exhibition until very recently, when an amauta visited the museum. Juan Torrejón referred to this event. ‘When Mariano Pachaguaya from Tiwanaku visited the museum he prayed and cried when he saw the mummy, and then he carried out a ritual at the Pucará’ (Juan Torrejón, pers. comm., 01.06.2000).

During the interview, Madrazo recalled a traumatic event suffered by the people of Rachaite, La Puna, during the expedition carried out by Casanova (1941-1943) when the naturally mummified bodies of the ‘Doncellas Collection’ (Ethnographic Museum) were excavated. This case

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antigal is a sacred place. Our “apus” (hills) are sacred too. There are internal forces in sacred places called “achachilas”. There are many problems that currently affect the climate and the land. The old people believe that it is our fault because we have touched the “antiguos” (the remains of ancient peoples located in the antigales). I think that one day the grandfathers will punish us for not respecting the Pucará. The old people said the “antiguos” are angry with us. When we damage nature we start to suffer a spiritual illness. Through western medicine it is possible to identify the illness, but the only way to recover the health is to go to sacred places with the ancient people and perform a healing ceremony. They read (interpret the meaning of) the coca leaves and the fire ashes’ (Juan Torrejón, pers. comm., 01.06.2000). But these ancient people are not local but amautas, spiritual leaders brought from Bolivia or Perú, who worshipped in Quechua, Aymara or Uro language. ‘The amautas believe that illnesses happen because we have forgotten the originarios (ancestral people). It is necessary to remember, to worship the ancestors. They say that we are lost because we do not worship our sacred places’ (René Machaca, pers. comm., 02.06.2000).

Madrazo, however, remembered another episode. ‘On one occasion, the exhibition of a mummy caused a strong impact on rural people who were invited to visit an exhibition about spiritual life and mortuary rituals. It happened in 1986 when I invited some peasants from El Duranzo - western high valleys - for a guided visit. One of them had been working with me in that region, and it was he who reacted most strongly when he saw a mummy from La Puna. He was paralysed, and he said something to the others in a low voice. This only lasted a few seconds but his shock was very evident’. Apart from that, he never heard comments about the mummies. ‘Many visitors display a special interest in seeing the mummies’, commented Madrazo, ‘but personally, I am not in favour of exhibiting them, at least without a good explanation in order to avoid converting them into a matter of pure curiosity’. He also noted that ‘they are the remains of the old inhabitants of this region and many people have at present a feeling of veneration for them and perhaps also a distant family link’ (Guillermo Madrazo, pers. comm., 19.04.2001).

3.4.4. The Antigales Local people, especially the aged, refer to the archaeological sites as ‘antigales’. That is to say, a place where the physical remains and the spirits of the ‘antiguos’ or ‘the grandparents’ live. Eufrasina Viltes stated that ‘the Black guy went to graze his goat and came back limping. An antigal had blown him down while he was descending (a hill), and knocked him to the ground. He returned unable to walk, limping. So he had to go to be forgiven. An antigal’, she said, ‘is like a person, a scrubland, a peach tree, an old house. If you are tired and pass by without saying a word…Wherever I go I never sit down in the road, I try to find a stone and I say: “Pachamama forgive me but I am tired and I need to sit down here”. If you do not do that it will blow you down’. When asked whether people respect the antigales, she answered, ‘Of course they do. People say that you cannot even excavate pottery because the antigal will blow you down’ (Eufrasina Viltes, pers. comm., 28.05.2000).

3.5. The Site and the Museum Today 3.5.1. Legal and Administrative Framework At present the Instituto Interdisciplinario Tilcara is administered by the University of Buenos Aires, although it has some degree of financial autonomy. It has thirty-two employees and four full-time researchers. Its Director, Elena Belli, stated, ‘salaries are paid by the University but everything else is supported by entrance fees. For the last two years, the Institute has had the autonomy to administrate its own funds, which means that the money obtained is invested in the site and the museum’. Since its creation, the IIT has managed the site and the museum, and has become the operative centre for researchers working in the region. It has one of the best archaeological libraries in the country, and offers postgraduate courses. However, the fact that the role of museum/site manager and collection curator is part of the Director of the Instituto’s duties - who is also involved in research management activities - constitutes one of the main administrative weaknesses. The problem lies in that the position of ‘director’ is not that of a full-time manager, but a researcher who continues with his/her own research activities. In addition, the rest of the staff involved in management and conservation are non-professional.

Her explanation about the antigales was later confirmed by most of the people interviewed. For instance, the Mayor of Tilcara commented that, ‘People say that archaeological sites are sacred places. People see skeletons but they do not touch them because they believe that if they do it the land will catch them’ (Félix Pérez, pers. comm., 29.05.2000). Juan Torrejón explained that ‘every antigal is a sacred place. Most of them are completely unprotected but local people do not loot them. When a person enters a sacred site he/she must ask for permission to the “Pacha” (Pachamama) with alcohol and coca leaves. We give her alcohol to drink and this (ritual) is called “chayada” or “corpachada”’. ‘An

From the legal perspective, even when the land where the site is located was donated to the National University of Buenos Aires, the provincial government has not lost jurisdiction over the site. The archaeological heritage of Jujuy is protected by Law 3866/82, which states that

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archaeological sites of scientific interest belong to the province and will be controlled by a provincial governing body called ‘Dirección de Archivo Histórico y Antropología’. In practice, however, the authorities of the Institute make decisions about the site with complete autonomy. On one of the big stones placed at the entrance to the Pucará, onlookers are warned that ‘excavations are prohibited by law 9080’, a national law which contradicts provincial legislation (see Chapter 2, section 2.2.1.).

practice, the management organisation of the site, although it may generate a new opportunity for receiving financial or technical support from national authorities.

3.5.2. A Visit to the Site The site can be visited daily and the entrance is free for local people and school children. It can be accessed by car and parking is available on the top of the Pucará in front of the monument. The visit can commence from there, or alternatively the site may be accessed on foot from the entrance. A map is provided for visitors, showing the main reconstructed sectors (fig. 11), while a large sign provides general information about the site. It is divided into sectors such as the domestic area at the entrance, the necropolis at the west side, the ‘church’ at the centre, the monument sector at the top of the Pucará and the corrals in the south east. It is not easy to follow the paths that lead to each of these sectors, as signs are not clear and there are many crossroads. The maintenance of reconstructed areas is good, although the growth of xerophytic vegetation between them and in secondary roads makes walking difficult. The socalled ‘basural’ - a refuse deposit excavated in the 1970s - is a huge pit surrounded by neglected and unsafe wire fences. It is not only badly presented to the public, but is also potentially dangerous.

In 1993, Deputy Alvarez García presented a draft proposal for a national law to transfer the site and museum to the National University of Jujuy. According to him, this law would ‘enable the people of Jujuy to enjoy and exploit this important cultural complex through our own university’ (newspaper Pregón, 02.07.93). It must be noted that although the proposal was dismissed, the return of the site to the province remains on the local political agenda. In November 2000, the Pucará of Tilcara, and three other archaeological sites of the Quebrada, were declared national historical monuments (National Decree 1012/2000). The reasons provided for declaring the Pucará a national monument are outlined below. Firstly, it is one of the most impressive prehistoric villages of the Quebrada. It has a ceremonial centre and a marble workshop that provided products to the Inka State and local elite. It was inhabited by the Tilcaras, who were led by Viltipoco and resisted the European invasion. Another reason is that Tilcara was at the epicentre of the uprising and thus became a true emblem of identity for the indigenous people of Northwest Argentina, and finally, the Pucará is the best known archaeological site of the country, having been investigated by pioneers of Argentine archaeology - Ambrosetti and Debenedetti - and reconstructed by Casanova. In consequence, this new status recognises not only the archaeological and historical value of the site, but also the significance that it has for the indigenous people. In this sense, it reflects the changes in the official attitude regarding the indigenous past. As a consequence of being declared a national monument, the Pucará came under the protection of the CNMMyLH. Thus three different governmental organisations - the IIT, the provincial Dirección de Antropología and the CNMMyLH are legally involved in the protection of the Pucará. The status of national monument will not challenge, in

Today the site is the result of a mixture of original and newly created structures, such as the monument (pyramid), which

Figure 11: Map of the Pucará of Tilcara Site provided to tourists.

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are difficult to distinguish for a non-expert visitor. Other than a map painted on a large stone and a brief comment in a leaflet recently prepared for tourists, there is no further explanation about reconstructed areas and new structures. The site is surrounded by fences, and is therefore separated from its context. There is no reference in the map about the relation of this Pucará to the occupation of the lower part of the valley, to other pucarás of the region, or to the ‘apus’ (‘sacred’ peaks that surrounds the site). Furthermore, the lands situated to the west of the Pucará - also donated to the University of Buenos Aires by the province - have been used for farming even though it was known that they could have contained archaeological remains (Casanova 1968, 52).

consequently phrased using a great deal of technical jargon. Furthermore, the archaeologists seem to be as important as their findings, since every sign refers to the archaeologist who supervised the excavation of the area. Arrows have been painted on big stones placed at the beginning of each of the main roads to indicate the way. Large stones have often been used as signposts, either to display maps on (fig. 14) or to warn against carrying out unauthorised excavations in the area.

3.5.3. A Visit to the Museum The entrance fee to the site includes the visit to the museum. It has a permanent exhibition about the archaeology of Northwest Argentina as well as some materials from Peru, Bolivia and Chile, including a mummy from San Pedro de Atacama. Gallery VI has a permanent collection of materials from the Pucará excavated by Ambrosetti, Debenedetti and Casanova. Most of the permanent exhibition has not been changed since the opening of the museum, although special displays have been added, such as the reconstruction of the tombs found in the urban area of Tilcara in the 1980s.

The sign system is quite basic and old-fashioned. The information board at the entrance explains the whole history of the Pucará, its research and reconstruction, and provides maps of the site and the botanical garden (fig. 12) Each sector has only one explanatory sign (e.g. ‘necropolis’, ‘monument’, ‘refuse area’, ‘church’) (fig. 13). These are generally long texts written in a small font, as they are extracts from the guidebook written by Casanova. They are

Small signs placed over each case provide a general explanation of the exhibits. The signs have long texts printed in small letters that are difficult to read. Furthermore, each sign has the name of the region at the top, which is open to misinterpretation. For example, the sign above the collections of the Pucará reads ‘Humahuaca’, and the text refers to ‘the Pucará’ but makes no mention of the word ‘Tilcara’ (fig. 15). This can be easily misunderstood by visitors, who may assume that it concerns a fort in Humahuaca, since Figure 12: Information board at the entrance to the Pucará of Tilcara Site.

Figure 13: Signpost located in the ceremonial centre, Pucará of Tilcara Site.

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Figure 14: Large stone - found in situ - used as a signpost to the reconstructed area of the Pucará of Tilcara Site.

Figure 16: Drawings of the skull trophies, Eduardo Casanova Museum, Tilcara.

Figure 15: Printed information accompanying the Pucará of Tilcara Site collection, Eduardo Casanova Museum, Tilcara.

this is not only the name of the region but also of a resort town of the Quebrada. Most of the pieces on display have no reference to provenance and no explanatory label. The exhibition about the Pucará includes metal, bone and wooden objects, ceramics, and a showcase containing trophy skulls and some drawings explaining this practice (fig.16). The Pucará’s collection includes such items as the Inka pottery found at the ceremonial centre, bells and ornamental objects, the most notable piece being a perfectly preserved stone flute. However, the famous bronze piece that is the logo of the museum is not on display, nor is it in storage at the museum. This is one of the five plaques collected by Schuel, which are now stored at the La Plata Museum, though it is printed on T-shirts for sale in front of the museum (fig. 17).

The museum is very clean and tidy. The presence of guards in the galleries creates an atmosphere of silence, respect and tension. Visitors usually walk around without stopping to examine showcases or labels. They typically speak in a low voice and spend more time looking at the mummy and the drawings of trophy skulls. In general, a museum visit is over in fifteen minutes. The museum has adequate facilities for visitors, including a bookshop and a café. Despite the fact that there is a marked drop in temperature during the night, there is no mechanism for monitoring the environmental conditions in the galleries. In recent years, the staff in charge of the collections received specialist training and the museum obtained a grant to improve the storage rooms. As part of the new conservation policies the

The galleries were named after each of the archaeologists who had worked in the area, such as Ambrosetti, Debenedetti and Márquez Miranda, and contain their portraits or bronze busts. A model of an archaeological excavation at the Pucará is exhibited in the courtyard of the museum. Ironically, while dwellings are presented fully reconstructed on the site, the model shows the houses before any such work had commenced (fig. 18). Figure 17: T-shirts on sale in Tilcara’s main square.

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without fear. And do not understand why the antigal did not blow him down. I am too afraid of them, I did not dare to enter. I was the first cook of the Pucarás’ residence. I worked there for eight years, but I became very ill. I had a pain in my arms. I almost died. I decided to stop working there…’ (Eufrasina Viltes, pers. comm., 28.05.2000).

Figure 18: Model of the excavation of a Pucará dwelling, Eduardo Tilcara.

textiles were removed from the exhibition, due to the impossibility of guaranteeing their preservation in the current conditions. Temporary exhibitions, such as one which compares archaeological pottery with recent examples made in the region, give dynamism to a museum which otherwise seems to be somewhat dated. Furthermore, the activities carried out with teachers and schoolchildren are probably the museum’s biggest achievement in promoting the importance of indigenous identity. A temporary exhibition of drawings and models about ‘recreating our identity’ made by children in one of the workshops given by the museum was on display during our visit.

The legend about ‘the golden bell of the Pucará’ is still very popular. Local people say that a golden bell sounds in the ‘church’ at full moon and that it can be heard from a great distance. Ironically, Casanova (1968, 35) noted that he never could hear this ‘in spite of having lived in Casanova Museum, the Pucará residence for several field seasons. Perhaps only some privileged people are able to hear to it’. It must be noted, however, that a little bell made of gold had been found at the southern end of the ‘monument’ area (Casanova 1958, 41). Presentación Aramayo, one of the oldest employees of the museum, remembered that when he was a child, people said that ‘at midnight a golden bell sounded at the Pucará and a golden woman went out from the Pucará to the hills. We were afraid of entering antigales. People also said that a light shone from this Pucará to that of Huichaira during the “bad hours” (late evening/dusk)’ (Presentación Aramayo, pers. comm., 26.05.2000). Many archaeologists have reservations about recognising the site’s sacred meaning. Guillermo Madrazo, however, acknowledges that the Pucará is an antigal for local people. ‘The people of Tilcara have contradictory feelings about the Pucará’, he explains. ‘The site and the museum were seen as a source of employment, but the Pucará is above all an “antigal”, a place were a golden bell may be heard at nights. He tells the following story: ‘once I was invited to participate in a ceremony to celebrate the building of the roofing of a house. The guardian of the Pucará, Santos Rivero, had invited me. While worshipping the Pachamama I was surprised to note that the people called Rivero “el cacique” (the chief); he gained this title because he was guardian of the Pucará and lived there’ (Guillermo Madrazo, pers. comm., 19.04.2000).

3.6. One Site, Many Voices 3.6.1. The ‘Pucará’ as an Antigal The idea that the site is an antigal was the most frequently mentioned. ‘My parents referred to the Pucará as an antigal, explained Armando Mendoza. ‘If an antigal blows you down you become ill and can die. But if we go and ask to be forgiven and make a “chayada”, we will be saved’ (Armando Mendoza, pers. comm., 28.05.2000). Accordingly, Machaca commented that ‘my grandmother says that the Pucará is the place where the remains of the ancient people lie. They are from the time before the Flood; they are the “Chullpis”12. This place is very powerful and has a great wealth but it cannot be touched or something bad may happen, you can suffer from an illness’ (René Machaca, pers. comm., 02.06.2000).

The archaeologist Clara Rivolta has incorporated the worship of the Pachamama into the process of site excavation, out of respect to the local people working with her. ‘Before excavating I ask to be forgiven by the antiguos. We chayamos, using coca leaves and cigarettes, and then we bury the offering. In August we worship the Pachamama in the museum galleries and storage rooms’ (Clara Rivolta, pers. comm., 02.06.2000).

The aged people talked about the antigales with respect and fear. ‘I used to see Dr Casanova enter the antigales

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the South) with all these different visions about the problem, and then return to ask the master again. If he says that I have found the right answer I have succeeded in circling the cosmic spiral, which will gradually take me to the centre, to perfection, to true harmony’ (Mario Agostini, pers. comm., 27.05.2000).

3.6.2. The ‘Pucará’ as an Energetic Centre ‘New Age’ people, who have recently moved to Tilcara, refer to the energetic properties of the Pucará and the surrounding area. Norma Fonzalida explains, ‘we form part of a community of people, from different parts of Argentina who are trying to establish a common frequency and combine our energy. Through meditation we try to recall the essence of ancient traditional ceremonies, and learn to touch the world with respect. This is a method of “self knowledge”’. She also describes the way she feels about the site: ‘The Pucará gives me the same energy that I can feel in the hills. There is a special energy here. I came to live in this town because there is less interference. The Pucará is a ritual site where many people have been performing ceremonies for ages. When you realise this, your own perspective of the world changes. It is like a source of energy emerging from the womb of motherland’ (Norma Fonzalida, pers. comm., 29.05.2000).

3.7. Performing Rituals at Tilcara The people of Tilcara have a multitude of traditional, catholic and patriotic celebrations throughout the year. The so called ‘enero tilcareño’ (a folklore music festival that emerged in the 1960s), the carnival in February and the pilgrimage to the Virgin of Punta Corral are the most important celebrations, although there is something to celebrate almost every week in the Quebrada. The patriotic celebrations include national and local festivals, such as the May Revolution and ‘the exodus of Jujuy’.

‘While talking with the people, I came to realise that the Pucará has a powerful religious significance. But the value is in the place, not in the reconstruction, which was made according to the view of those who rebuilt it’, comments Mario. He defines himself as an artist, although he has studied theology, medicine and psychoanalysis. For many years he lived in Japan, but settled in Tilcara some years ago. For him, the Pucará and Cono hill ‘are the most energetic places of Tilcara. The Pucará, with its impressive scenery, is a perfect place for meditation, especially in the mornings and evenings, while the Cono hill is like a volcano, sending out a flow of energy’ (Mario Agostini, pers. comm., 27.05.2000).

Both invader and invaded took pains to link the traditional ritual calendar of Andean societies - which is related to the main farming and ecological phases - to the Catholic liturgy. During the sowing (dry) season, in August, the Pachamama is worshipped. The rainy period starts in November when ‘All Saints Day’ is celebrated, and this concludes with the carnival in February. At Easter the massive pilgrimage to the ‘Virgen del Abra de Punta Corral’14 takes place. During June and July, at the moment of the winter solstice, a number of Saints are remembered, such as Saint John on June 24th and Saint James (represented as a Gaucho) on July, 25th (Costa and Karasik 1996, 278-280). The similarities between the currently held image of the Pachamama and the Virgin Mary - which is considered to be the result of the missionaries’ efforts to replace worship of the former - is a good example of Andean syncretism. Many shrines to the Virgin were built in places where the Pachamama had previously been worshipped (such as Copacabana in Lake Titicaca). It is also common to find Pachamama offering pits placed next to the images of the Virgin and therefore the current devotion to her is considered to be a continuity of ancestral traditional worship of the motherland (Mariscotti de Görlitz 1978, 191, 227).

‘I got involved with archaeology due to an esoteric issue’, he noted. ‘I am interested in how the signs and symbols of ancient cultures are interpreted’. He has a replica of the bronze plaque that is the logo of the site, which he uses as a brooch in his robe. ‘This a reproduction of a jewel found on a mummy in the Pucará’, he said proudly. ‘It is the cross of harmony which indicates the four points of the compass’. He continues ‘four months ago, I asked an old Toba shaman woman about it and she explained that this is a very old “shaman’s healing circle”. She explained that their ancestors had taught them how to meditate with this circle when they have a problem’. He explains the meaning of the plaque according to that old woman, which is completely different from González’s (1992) interpretation13, and happens to fit very well with New Age philosophy. ‘The head that points towards the North represents wisdom, the powerful internal master. The South head is the disciple, the internal self. The head at the East is an inner child, and towards the west is the old person that we will become, followed by our death. So when I have a problem I start to meditate, asking my internal master, the child and the ancient man about the problem. After doing that I come back to myself (the head at

Catholic festivities in the Quebrada are accompanied by other rituals that are not typically associated with Catholic worship. For example, during the celebration of Saint John, men used to wear feathers. They are called suris (American ostriches) and they perform the cuarteadas, a ritual dance where performers carry animal parts as offerings, asking for the protection of their herds. Saint John’s Day is celebrated in the Huichairas home of Esteban Sajarma, who is the guardian of an old image of Saint John, a role he inherited from his grandfather. ‘People from Tilcara, Maimará, Juella and La Puna come home’, he explained. ‘We stay the whole

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night cuarteando and praying. I used to play the erke (a wind instrument), which is played during religious ceremonies. They bring the animals and chicha and other alcoholic drinks prepared with local herbs’ (Esteban Sajarma, pers. comm., 23.05.2000).

ceremony organised by the Town Council. ‘We carry out the ceremony in a private place’, says Torrejón. He also explained that before the intiraimi, ‘the moon is worshipped on the night of June the 20th (Juan Torrejón, pers. comm., 01.06.2000).

The night of Saint Bartholomew, 24th August, used to be the occasion for an extraordinary event. It is said that during that night a white light shows where a tapado (a treasure, usually gold or silver objects) is placed. ‘People believed that on the night of San Bartolomé the tapados burn, so you have to leave a marker and go back on the following day to excavate’ (Armando Mendoza, pers. comm., 28.05.2000). Some of them are even able to tell their own experience, ‘I have seen it, but I was too afraid to go. I tried to find the place on the following day, but I failed’ (Esteban Sajarma, pers. comm., 23.05.2000).

The increasing number of requests for authorisation to perform ceremonies at the Pucará has created a complex issue for managers. Elena Belli, current director of the IIT, explained the procedure. ‘Each time somebody asks permission to perform a ritual at the Pucará, all the staff meet to decide whether we will allow it or not. Recently the Amautas group (CSQ) asked permission to perform a ritual at the Pucará to protect the employees against the illnesses they could contract from working there. But we decided not to give authorisation because the ritual was closed to the public’ (Elena Belli, pers. comm., 29.05.2000).

In 1992 a ceremony was performed at the Pucará of Tilcara to celebrate the ‘last days of freedom’ before the Spanish Conquest - in reaction to the 500th anniversary of the ‘discovery of América’. ‘In September 1992, we organised a ritual meeting at the ceremonial centre of the Pucará’, relates Gerónimo Alvarez Prado. ‘From there we started a march up to Buenos Aires. But due to the influence of the Catholic Church we were left alone in the city of Jujuy so we had to go on by car. We met at Mayo Square with the “Mothers of Plaza de Mayo” (human right activists) and carried out a hunger strike...’ He remembers this event in the Pucará with a great emotion: ‘When I was at the Pucará in 1992, my mother appeared there with her niece. I had not told her about the ceremony because she was very old and ill, but she knew about it and went. I was moved when I saw her. For this reason this place has a special significance for me, it is a true ceremonial centre’ (Gerónimo Alvarez Prado, pers. comm., 30.05.2000).

During our fieldwork in Tilcara in May 2000, several civic and traditional rituals were performed. These offered an opportunity to assess to what extent national and local traditions are linked with tourism and political agendas in Tilcara.

3.7.1. The May Revolution The ‘May Week’, which concludes with a popular parade on May 25th, commemorates the 1810 Revolution against Spain. The traditional festivals are now encouraged by the Town Council, which tries to exploit them as tourist attractions. On Saturday 20th of May 2000, local people dressed in nineteenth-century clothes and participated in a competition to choose the best empanada (traditional pastry) made in Tilcara. The employees of the Casanova Museum not only competed, but also received the second prize for their empanadas. This competition took place for the first time in many years, although an old employee of the museum remembered that ‘when Casanova was alive, we used to do this and Dr. Casanova used to give a little silver empanada to the winner’. The whole population of the town congregated in the main square - ‘Coronel Alvarez Prado’ - to try traditional dishes and participate in the musical festival.

Since then ritual ceremonies at the Pucará have become more frequent. ‘In August, for the anniversary of Lavalle’s death, the gauchos entered here on horseback. And in 1998 the Pachamama was publicly worshipped in the ceremonial centre’, commented Florencio Pérez, an old employee of the Pucará. ‘We use to worship the Pachamama in the residence of the Pucará. Now, we have our own place to present offerings’ (Florencio Pérez, pers. comm., 03.06.2000).

The main celebration of the May week occurs on the 25th, the day of the declaration of the May Revolution. Early in the morning a band of sikuris (musicians who play a traditional Andean wind instrument normally used for religious ceremonies) played in the main square in order ‘to greet the sun of May’, i.e. ‘the sun’ of the national flag. Later, the Argentine flag was raised jointly with the wiphala (Andean Indigenous people’s flag). At midday the whole population of Tilcara assembled to participate in or to watch the parade. Everyone turned out for the event, from the officials to the schoolchildren who marched around the

In recent years the Intiraimi, a sun worship traditionally carried out on the 21st of June, has taken place in the Pucará. This ceremony is not as popular as local traditional festivals, since it brings together the members of indigenous associations who are interested in rescuing the worship of the Inka god. It has also been supported by the Town Council, which is interested in promoting activities that attract tourism. However, not all indigenous groups agree with transforming the intiraimi into an ‘event for tourists’. For example, the CSQ members did not participate in the

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square wearing their best clothes. Gauchos riding on horseback were an additional attraction (fig. 19). The people of the Instituto Interdisciplinario Tilcara also participated in the march (fig. 20). The celebration with traditional food, drinks and music lasted the whole day and night.

3.7.2. A Flechada at the ‘Pucará’ On the first day of fieldwork in Tilcara I attended an unusual ceremony at the Pucará. The opening of a new building to be used as a visitor centre was celebrated with a flechada, a traditional ritual performed before inhabiting a house. The men took turns to shoot at an egg tied to a ceiling beam using a bow and arrow (fig. 21). Below the egg a hole was previously excavated, so that when the egg broke its yolk was absorbed by the soil. A measure of alcohol was later poured into the hole and covered with coca leaves. The man who broke the egg became the ‘godfather’ of the house and his head was covered with flour and confetti to celebrate his achievement. He and Zita (the ceremonial leader) carried out the ritual, throwing different alcoholic drinks onto the external walls of the building (fig. 22).

A precedent was set on 25th May 2000. For the first time, the wiphala was not only flying on the flagpole of the main square, but was also carried by school children during the procession. During patriotic festivities the gauchos’ cultural traditions are usually promoted while indigenous heritage is ignored. Tilcara’s local government, however, aims to commemorate both traditions equally, in spite of recognising the difficulty of reconciling historic and ideological conflicts. ‘These May Week celebrations are a mixture of patriotic rituals and popular performances, such as the sikuris band’, explained the local Secretary of Tourism. ‘We are trying to rescue the spirit of the revolution, which had a message of freedom, although there are many contradictions. What was the role of the native people, and what was the role of ‘the others’ in this revolution?’ (Eduardo Escobar, pers. comm., 25.05.2000).

This ritual was performed by the employees of the Pucará and their families. Gerónimo Alvarez Prado was also invited. The Director of the Institute also attended, in addition to several anthropologists and archaeologists visiting Tilcara. After finishing the rituals a traditional asado (barbecue) with roasted potatoes was served to the participants. A flechada is performed in order to expel the bad spirits which could be in the house before it is inhabited and to give thanks to the Pachamama with whose materials the house was made (Paleari 1992, 153-156). It is said that houses ‘are alive and can eat’ their inhabitants unless they are ‘killed’ before being occupied. The rituals have three parts: purification, sacrifice and a ceremonial lunch. The first two rituals require the supervision of a ‘paqo’ (ceremonial leader). The meal is prepared with the meat of the slaughtered animal and alcoholic drinks.

Figure 19: Gauchos carrying the Catholic flag during the parade on May 25, 2000, Tilcara.

Figure 20: The staff of the Eduardo Casanova Museum participating in the parade (May 25, 2000).

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Figure 21: Employees of the Pucará of Tilcara Site attempting to ‘shoot the egg’ during the ‘flechada’.

of the environment’ (Newspaper Tribuno, 31/03/2000). During their stay in Argentina they were sponsored by the National Secretary of Tourism. Runners from local communities accompanied them on some stages of their race. In May 2000 they arrived at Tilcara to a reception of local authorities and some local indigenous leaders. The following morning they ran up to the Pucará carrying flags and ceremonial staffs to perform a ritual at the ceremonial centre (fig. 23). It was open to the public, but I was not allowed to take photographs during the ceremony. We formed a circle, each of us holding a flag. The local mayor and some local officials participated in this, notably Juan Torrejón who was dressed in traditional clothes. Gerónimo Alvarez Prado, his sister and some non-local people who are living in Tilcara were also involved. The ritual was performed by the leader of the marathon group, a Nahuatl descendant called Francisco who, assisted by his wife, ensured that everything was done correctly. They created an atmosphere of expectation and tension for those who were not members of the group. During the ceremony, an indigenous representative from Humahuaca gave a speech in Quechua. Gerónimo Alvarez Prado spoke about the cosmic energy of the location and later (assisted by his sister Indalecia and Juan Torrejón) gave some pottery and herbs as gifts to the indigenous visitors. A certain degree of tension developed when Isabel - a blonde woman who has lived for several years in Tilcara and is involved in rescuing traditional farming practices - offered some seeds of Kolla maize, quinoa and quiguicha to the visitors. Francisco did not let her speak until Gerónimo explained her positive relationship with local people. She then stated that ‘we do not use genetically modified seeds in the Quebrada and we want to ask you to carry these seeds to Mexico in order to farm again the natural maize’. Without paying any attention to her message, Francisco asked her not to touch the pottery where the other people had put their gifts, and told Gerónimo

Figure 22: Zita and the ‘godfather of the house’ making offerings to the Pachamama during the ‘flechada’ rituals.

Roasted potatoes also have a ritual meaning since they are related to the worship of the Pachamama (Mariscotti de Görlitz 1978, 184-186). Rather than describing the flechada in detail, it is perhaps more interesting to assess the reasons for its performance at the Pucará (instead of an official inauguration of a new building). While this may be explained as a new kind of political correctness towards local traditions, and by the fact that the current director is not an archaeologist but a social anthropologist, there may be another underlying reason. The notion that some employees are suffering from illnesses because of working at the Pucará, could have made the whole staff more aware of the need to ‘pay the Pachamama’.

3.7.3. An Indigenous Ceremonial Meeting at the ‘Pucará’ Fifteen young people from different indigenous communities of South America organised a race called ‘Jornadas por la Paz y Dignidad 2000’. They ran from Ushuaia (extreme south of Argentina) to Teotihuacan, Mexico, following an itinerary that passed by key indigenous cultural places. Their aim was ‘to fight for the dignity of our people and the protection

Figure 23: Marathon runners and local villagers at the ceremonial centre of the Pucará of Tilcara, before the commencement of the rituals.

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who had participated in the ritual. The people who were still in the ceremonial centre were then permitted to pass by the apacheta, leaving three leaves of coca to the Pachamama, while Indalecia and Juan were singing coplas. Afterwards everybody entered to the courtyard again and formed a circle. Francisco performed a Nahuatl ritual, lighting and smoking a pipe. He then wafted the smoke across his breast and head, and passed it to the rest of the people. He asked the women ‘who were in their moon’ (menstruating) not to participate ‘because they would have their own ceremony’. He then gave a speech, saying that women should recover their own role in the land, and warned the female marathon participants that ‘in the next ceremonies I want to see you wearing traditional skirts’. When the ceremony was over, they prepared a guiso de quinoa (a traditional dish) outside the ceremonial centre, and made a fire to heat the meal (fig. 24). An employee of the Pucará watched the ceremony to safeguard the site, although he did not intervene.

to do it for her. The mayor of Tilcara, wearing a headband of indigenous design, received fifteen seeds of maize representing the different communities of the group, which were to be offered to the Pachamama in August. The main members of the visitor group and the local indigenous descendants were then invited to leave the courtyard of the ceremonial centre and to make an offering to the Pachamama at a pile of stones (which is currently used as sign) but which they identified as an apacheta. The rest of the people waited in the circle and offered coca, lit cigarettes and alcohol to the Pachamama in small holes in front of each of them. During this stage different people made speeches. The most significant was the message provided by Santos Mamaní, a Quilmes descendant, who said, ‘it does not matter if we are indigenous, white, red or blonde; what really matters is that all of us fight for what belongs to us’, thus showing his displeasure at the way Francisco chose who were worthy to worship the Pachamama at the apacheta. Then he spoke for a long time about the need to ‘return to our lands, use our seeds and to the things that the land provides’. At the end he played a copla, singing repeatedly, ‘Soy de Quilmes y siento al irme (I am from Quilmes and I feel sorry to leave)’. This referred to the history of the Quilmes people from Tucumán who were obliged to abandon their lands in 1666.

Discussing the ceremony, Gerónimo Alvarez Prado stressed that ‘we do not exclude anybody’, in a clear reference to the incident concerning Isabel. He also explained that ‘we did not do a proper worship of the Pachamama; it was just a greeting’ (Gerónimo Alvarez Prado, pers. comm., 30.05.2000). During the meal I could hear some complaints about the ceremony. Alicia, a recent arrival to Tilcara was annoyed at the way that Isabel had been treated and decided to leave. Eduardo Escobar, the local Secretary of Tourism, also told me ‘these people (referring to Francisco) are fundamentalists, but the saddest thing is that the local people are not here’. Then he told me that, despite being given support by the local and national governments, ‘the

Meanwhile, in front of the apacheta, a young man from Humahuaca gave a speech lamenting their failure to prepare their own chicha (fermented beverage made of corn) for this ritual and having to use ‘alcoholic drinks bought in a supermarket instead’. Indalecia burnt coca leaves, other herbs and alcohol in a pan and threw it on to the stones. She then threw confetti at the stones and at the heads of those

Figure 24: A meal after the ceremony. The Mayor of Tilcara talking to Gerónimo Alvarez Prado.

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visiting group refused to carry the Argentine flag during the ceremony’ (Eduardo Escobar, pers. comm., 29.05.2000).

The employee of the Pucará was annoyed: ‘Who gave them authorisation to make a fire? Never before has anything like this happened. These are not indigenous people’, he added, ‘these are “indios truchos” (false indians)’. However, some assistants felt happy with the ceremony because it was ‘really powerful’. Norma commented, ‘Francisco was really good; you rarely see such a high quality of ceremony as that performed here. Did you realise that the local indigenous representatives walked inside the circle - thus interrupting the flow of energy - while Francisco always took care to walk outside it?’ (Norma Fonzalida, pers. comm., 29.05.2000).

After the lunch the visiting groups took their ceremonial staff and ran on to Huacalera, the next stop of the race (figs. 25 and 26). Some local people - including the mayor of Tilcara - joined the marathon. As he was leaving, I asked Francisco about the meaning of the ceremonial staffs, but he refused to tell me. When everybody had left I stayed to watch how the ceremonial centre was left after the ritual. Then Francisco came up to me and asked me, ‘why do white people not study themselves instead of studying us? Are they so totally lacking in identity that they need to study us?’ I told him that I was not only studying ‘the Indians’, but also the archaeologists. He was surprised and gave me a card with his address in Buenos Aires. ‘Come to one of my meetings’, he told me, ‘I do everything except divorces’, he added, as he and his wife left the place in a Toyota four-wheel drive.

3.8. Archaeologists and the Local Community According to Manasse and Rabey (1989, 9), archaeologists have always seen people’s traditional interpretation of the past as an obstacle to the development of scientific knowledge. They illustrated their argument with this quotation from Ambrosetti (1907):

Figure 25: Ceremonial staffs used at the ceremonial centre, Pucará of Tilcara Site.

‘This paper was the result of a prodigious task carried out during two extremely uncomfortable expeditions in which we had to deal with the elements, exhaustion and the concern of local people. The latter issue is the most serious problem that we have to face in this type of work. Due to ancient superstitions, these people are loath to excavate tombs, because they think - often with good reason - that they belong to their ancestors. They are afraid that their anger would cause serious illness or even death to the looters, as well as weather phenomena such as drought or frost that could destroy their harvests. The obstinacy of these people is irritating, and it is necessary to persuade them, buying their pride with good wages as well as additional gifts such as coca, alcohol, cigars, bread and other small gifts in order to make their avarice and vice stronger than their superstition… However, this may be so strong that when a man who has been working very hard excavating a tomb reaches the bones he begins to flag, and does not dare to touch them…’ (Ambrosetti 1907, 7-9).

Although nowadays his attitude may provoke criticism and condemnation, this quotation constitutes a powerful testimony to the strength of local feelings towards their dead. Furthermore, Ambrosetti made explicit a Figure 26: Sign used as an apacheta during the ritual at the ceremonial centre.

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situation that many other subsequent archaeologists may also have experienced, but did not dare to comment upon in their ‘scientific work’.

memory when they want to criticise the subsequent authorities in charge of the IIT. ‘Archaeology has had its own ups and downs as in every other science. Ambrosetti’s archaeology was not the archaeology of nowadays. Casanova was a kind of landlord who used to put on his britches and his English riding hat and go to La Puna with some peasants carrying his things. No current archaeologists would dare to put a plaque on the pyramid saying that these are the remains of an extinct people. But when he died he was commemorated as a hero. There is a kind of plot among archaeologists: nobody wants to touch the “sacred cows” of archaeology. The Institute is run so as to be completely separated from the people. Scientists have no link with these “ignorant” people. After Casanova died nothing else was done here…In the times of Casanova when people found something they used to tell the museum, but now the people do not say anything’ (Armando Alvarez, pers. comm., 31.05.2000).

3.8.1. The Myth of Casanova Whereas Ambrosetti became an idol for the local and provincial elite, Casanova - who worked and lived in Tilcara from the 1950s until his death - became a prominent figure at all levels of Tilcara society. Madrazo explained, ‘Dr. Casanova carried out most of the archaeological investigations in Jujuy until the late 1950s. He was closely related to the sugar cane elite and the political class who ruled the province at that time. In Tilcara he is remembered as a ‘master who knew how to order’ and it must be noted that this is a quality very much appreciated in this place’ (Guillermo Madrazo, pers. comm., 19.04.2001). Esteban Sajarma worked for Casanova at the Pucará Residence until his retirement. He remembers that, ‘when I was working in the museum I accompanied the archaeologists, carrying their equipment. They were looking for things of the antiguos that still remained. The archaeologists who came from Buenos Aires were all good people, those (employees) who said they were bad, did so because they were themselves lazy and disobedient. Some people said that Casanova was a bad person, but he just wanted everything to be done perfectly. I have not gone to the Pucará in recent years. The last time I went I saw that it was not as well cared for as it had been. I had no work timetable. When I was living in the residence I used to get up at five to clean the corridor before the doctor got there. I used to prepare him a mate drink and then saddle up his horse. Around thirty-five students used to come during the summer. My wife cooked for all of them’. (Esteban Sajarma, pers.comm., 23.05.2000).

Archaeologists share common concerns about the reconstruction of the Pucará (fig. 27); namely, that it does not fit the principles of the Venice Charter and that the pyramid is the most regrettable aspect of the site. However, very few were able to voice these criticisms openly. A prominent exception is archaeologist Alberto Rex González (2000, 260), who made a radical critique of this reconstruction in his autobiography. He labelled it ‘a dreadful work’ which destroyed part of the upper sector in order to provide a car park and a funeral monument to the archaeologists. He considered it to be ‘a real dishonour to the pioneer archaeologists buried there’. He also stated that ‘the “reconstructed” structures and the horrible mannequin (the flautist), which aim to illustrate the activities of the Pucará, constitute an affront to archaeology as well as to good taste, responsibility for which must be assumed by those in charge of the works’.

In spite of having died almost three decades ago, the spectre of Dr. Casanova can be felt not only on the site and in the museum but also throughout Tilcara. Elena Belli explains that ‘the myth of Casanova is very important here, and there is a great resistance among employees to change what he has done. The old employees had a romantic idea of that time, when the museum was founded, which is inescapably associated with “Dr. Casanova”. For example, they called the residence for scholars “the house of the doctor”’ (Elena Belli, pers. comm., 29.05.2000). However, whereas the legend of Casanova is positive for those who worked with and admired him, detractors have reviled his

Figure 27: General view of the reconstruction of the Pucará of Tilcara Site.



%$ archaeological heritage of the Quebrada de Humahuaca was in danger’ (AAPRA, Letter to all members and the general public, 02.09.2000). Even though conflicts between local people and archaeologists are not a new phenomenon in Tilcara (see Chapter 6, section 6.3.1.2.), people’s attitudes have changed and they are keener to make public their disapproval.

3.8.2. After Casanova After the return of democracy in 1983, the new policy of dialogue and participation encountered several obstacles in the traditional environment, both with the local people and at the institute. However, Madrazo notes that ‘this authoritarian style which had underestimated “the other” had created a deep sense of unease among local people, especially due to the insensitive way that burials were removed. As a director of the museum I tried to learn, but also to establish a friendly and reciprocal relationship with local people’. From 1983 onwards ‘we tried to develop activities to return to the indigenous people that which belongs to them. We tried integrating the Pucará into local society through different festivals. We also started to organise services for the community to generate a climate of increased communication and to encourage their pride and self-confidence. We invited people to carry out practical activities in the courtyard of the museum, such as selling traditional food during festivals; in that way, many local people entered the museum for the first time’ (Guillermo Madrazo, pers. comm., 19.04.2001).

3.8.3.1. The Current Problem from the Perspective of the Archaeologists As a consequence of its history, the ‘stigma’ of being an archaeologist in Tilcara is probably stronger than in any other place in the country. Madrazo states that in Tilcara ‘every outsider is seen as a stranger’, although he recognised that archaeologists are looked upon with particular distrust. ‘The popular vision of archaeologists is of somebody who knows many things about the past of the place and who has the resources to hire people. Both qualities give them power. But at the same time there is an inherent suspicion that archaeologists go off with things that are linked with the dead. All these ideas are tinged with the traditional way of thinking which is stronger in rural areas. In my opinion, archaeologists do not pay much attention to these aspects, which must be analysed anthropologically. Local people must feel respected, and if they do not - although it is not generally made explicit - it may be noticeable in a lack of warmth towards archaeologists.’ However, he acknowledges that the way that archaeologists get involved with local people depends entirely on each individual professional. He recognised that ‘some archaeologists do have a good relationship with local people’, and he states ‘that this is for me the right attitude from both a human and an anthropological perspective. I am referring to the respect for “the other”, which in the highlands of the Northwest is a “cultural other”’ (Guillermo Madrazo, pers. comm., 19.04.2001).

3.8.3. Archaeologists and the Local Community Today In May 2000 I perceived an unfriendly attitude towards archaeologists as soon as I tried to interview some local politicians and journalists. They were aware of the serious environmental damage caused by the building of two pipelines across the province, which not only destroyed many archaeological sites, but was also of no benefit to local people. The criticisms levelled against the archaeologists who had been involved in the environmental impact assessment prior to the laying of the pipelines prompted the production of a document by a congress of specialists at the University of Jujuy. It asked the authorities ‘to invite an international committee of specialists to assess the impact caused to natural and cultural heritage by the Atacama and Norandino Gaslines’ (Declaración de Jujuy 2000). However, this was not enough to calm the animosity of those who argued in some local pubs that ‘archaeologists became rich while our antigales were destroyed’, or to stop the circulation of pamphlets saying ‘a new science was born: the “arqueohuaquerismo” (archeo-looting)’.

For Mercedes Costa, relationship with researchers depends on the situation and the groups. ‘The indigenistas were against us, although they are changing their attitude. They recognised that thanks to the work of archaeologists, Tilcara is promoted as the “capital of archaeology”, but, from time to time “the Indian emerged in them”’, commented Costa. She considered that these groups are becoming ‘more politicised’, although ‘local people are accustomed to this place always being full of researchers; it becomes part of their everyday life, it is neither good nor bad’. She also noted that ‘most of the problems happened with archaeologists who are not living here and come to do research. The school children go to the site and they are very interested, but the rest of the local people go neither to site nor to the museum’ (Mercedes Costa, pers. comm., 26.05.2000).

In August 2000 the local community of Tilcara and some environmental organisations were concerned about the power lines which would affect the Quebrada de Humahuaca. They signed a document urging the authorities to protect the natural and cultural landscape of the Quebrada (Declaración de Florida, 12.08.2000). For the first time, an association of archaeologists took a position. The AAPRA gave its express support to this claim, stating that ‘the

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Elena Belli noted that ‘archaeologists do not realise that their work interferes with social practices’. She says that there are different attitudes among local people ‘from acceptance, to indifference, to open rejection. Three years ago, we set up a workshop among children to ask their opinion about archaeologists, and we observed a strong negative reaction towards them’ (Elena Belli, pers. comm., 29.05.2000).

those who can understand abstract ideas, or the common people’ (Eduardo Escobar, local Secretary of Tourism, pers. comm., 22.05.2000) ‘I do not like the fact that the Pucará is managed by the University of Buenos Aires, but to be honest if it were managed from here it would be a disaster, because there is no consistency in the local policies’, comments Mario Agostini. He adds, ‘we participated with forty other people in a project to perform a sort of light and sound spectacle at the Pucará, but we could not get financial support’ (Mario Agostini, pers. comm., 27.05.2000).

3.8.3.2. Local People’ Views about Archaeologists ‘Local people do not like sites being excavated, and like it even less when things are taken out from here. It is out of respect for the antiguos. It is in part due to the beliefs, but also because archaeological pieces are taken out without an inventory. Archaeologists are seen as strangers. People are also reacting because they destroy the environment. Some archaeologists covered the sites with plastic bags after each field season excavation, but this material started to deteriorate and fly away in little pieces and mixed with plants, then the animals ate this plastic and died’ (Felix Pérez, Mayor of Tilcara, pers. comm., 22.05.2000).

3.9. A Future for Tilcara and its ‘Pucará’ Some of the people interviewed talked about their own projects and dreams for the future, in which tourism and indigenous traditions are top of the agenda. In both cases the Pucará was involved. Even though tourism is considered to be the main source of income for Tilcara in the future, almost nothing has been done to develop an appropriate infrastructure. Since 2000, a group of people interested in the tourist promotion of Tilcara has started to meet regularly at the museum. They are trying to form an NGO to provide training for local people to work in hotels and as guides, and to construct a tourism package, which is compatible with cultural and natural protection. Furthermore, some hotel entrepreneurs recently moved to Tilcara and the position of a local Secretary of Tourism was created. ‘We support all kinds of cultural traditional activities which can promote tourism’, states the new Secretary. ‘One of the main problems is that tourist companies which operate here are not local but from Salta. We are trying to train people and to create more awareness about providing services for tourists’ (Eduardo Escobar, pers. comm., 25.05.2000).

‘There are archaeologists who have identified with the indigenous struggle’, recognised Gerónimo Alvarez Prado. ‘We respect science and knowledge, but what makes me feel angry about the museum is that we (the indigenous people) are not treated as human beings. The aim of the museum was to keep us as far as possible from our past and heritage. We are not against knowledge, but we do not agree with this procedure’ (Gerónimo Alvarez Prado, pers. comm., 30.05.2000). ‘Archaeological heritage is vital for us; it is the history of our own world. It is one thing to look to archaeology as a research science, and another to look at it from our view. We interact with our past and therefore we have conflict with archaeologists. The conflict with the archaeologists started three years ago when some skeletons were found in the centre of Tilcara. They took their time to excavate the mummies; the bodies were exposed for days and then they took them out. What was the purpose of excavation? To know what they had eaten? We organised a ceremony to apologise to the dead’ (Armando Alvarez, pers. comm., 31.05.2000).

Members of the CSQ dream of an Andean university that can teach Andean knowledge and thought (Juan Torrejón, pers. comm., 01.06.2000). ‘As descendants we are trying to reinforce our roots in a spiritual way’, explained René Machaca. ‘This means returning to our beliefs and being held by the ‘Pachamama’; to feel the spirits of the ancestors that live in the ‘antigales’, the spirits of the hills; to consider these lands as part of us, as our mother, and to respect everything that is in her, even the stones, because they live, have gender and feel. The most important thing is to listen to our grandparents and recover what we can of our spirituality from their memories’ (René Machaca, pers. comm., 02.06.2000).

Linked to the issue of archaeologists in Tilcara is the question of the site’s reliance on the University of Buenos Aires, which is generally considered undesirable by local people. ‘The site is supported by the prestige of this university and their interdisciplinary research group, but they were always socially isolated. Now they are trying to get more involved with the community. But they do not offer anything really popular, at least nothing that can be understood by “doña Jacinta” (a local old woman). It is necessary to rethink who is going to be the public; only

PIRCA is a non-governmental organisation dedicated to rescuing indigenous Andean culture, and owns an FM radio station run by Armando Alvarez. When asked about the Pucará, he argues that ‘the setting of the Pucará - surrounded

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by apus - demonstrates that it was a ritual centre, but it has been emptied of significance and run as a commercial activity’. Referring to the reconstruction, he commented, ‘We can accept neither the pyramid nor the flagpole. The reconstructed houses are so small because they did not have enough stones to build them: these were the stones for the foundations. Houses should be built with stones up to the height of one metre, the upper levels being built with adobe bricks. The adobe walls take time to change temperature so they keep cool during the day and are warm during the night, while stones are exactly the opposite. (Axel) Nielsen found archaeological adobe in Jacoraite, and I am sure that adobe was also used at the Pucará. We should take the reconstruction down and re-do it according to current knowledge and through listening to the local people; if we make a mistake at least it will be “our fault”’ (Armando Alvarez, pers. comm., 31.05.2000).

of the survey was to record a range of observations made by visitors which - together with the local people’s perceptions about the site presentation - provides an overview about ‘public views’ which can be used to design future site management plans (see Appendix A).

Adopting a less radical position, Alvarez Prado states, ‘we want to preserve the Pucará, to avoid it becoming socially exclusive. It must be used to reinforce our identity, not just to exploit as a business. The challenge for the future is to place the Pucará in our context. Our genesis is there. For us the Tilcaras are our people. We should ask to put Viltipoco in the place of the monument. The name “Pucará” (fort) is not reasonable. They chose this place because of the climate and the altitude, because of its energy. We asked that the name “the church” was removed from the ceremonial centre, and the current director passed our request to the authorities of the university’ (Gerónimo Alvarez Prado, pers. comm., 30.05.2000). He refers to the letter sent by EDEPUIN to the museum in 1997 - which was never answered - in which a number of issues relating to the Pucará were raised. Firstly, they asked for the term ‘Pucará’ to be replaced by ‘Original village of the Tilcaras’. Secondly, they requested the improvement of the sign-posting which leads to the ceremonial centre. Thirdly, they suggested that a pit be dug in the ‘temple of the Tilcaras’ so that offerings to the Pachamama could be made there, and that a sundial be installed to identify precisely the hour of Andean new year. Finally, they asked the Director ‘to take care of the cultural heritage of our people and to return it to us insofar as is possible’ (letter sent by EDEPUIN to the Director of the Casanova Museum on 16/07/1997).

Most foreign visitors cited ‘guide book’ followed by ‘word of mouth’ and ‘part of our tour itinerary’. Among local people, ‘at school’ was the option most commonly selected. National visitors gave the greatest variety of answers. Nevertheless, ‘word of mouth’ was the option most often mentioned, followed by ‘at school’, ‘tour itinerary and ‘history/archaeology books’ (table 1).

3.10. Visitors’ Opinions about the ‘Pucará’ of Tilcara Sixty visitors were asked a series of questions about the site, the town of Tilcara and its population. It should be noted that this survey does not claim to provide a fully representative or statistically significant profile of all visitor ‘types’. The main aim

3.10.1. Information about the Site When asked how they had heard about the site, there was a great variety of answers. 16 out of the 60 respondents (27%) indicated that they had learned about the site by ‘word of mouth’. ‘It was part of our tour itinerary’ and ‘at school’ were also frequently mentioned, followed by ‘history/ archaeology books’ and ‘guide book’. Only four visitors stated that they had learnt of the site through a tourist information office.

3.10.2. Views about the Present-Day Town of Tilcara Visitors were asked to select the option ‘which you feel best describes the present-day town of Tilcara’ (fig. 28). Their answers varied widely, as can be seen in table 2. The most commonly selected (35%) was that the population of the town of Tilcara is ‘a continuity from the ancient population of the Pucará’, followed by the options that define the town as a ‘rural community’ (18%), and a ‘colonial village’ (17%). A few considered it a ‘tourist village’, and even a ‘modern community’. A quarter of interviewees considered the town a mixture of the three first options, and therefore selected the option ‘other’ to denote this mixture.

All n=60

Guide Book Tour Itinerary Newspapers Tourist Office Word of Mouth History/Archaeology Books At School Road sign Other

7 12 2 4 16 8 11 0 0

National Visitors n=39 1 8 2 3 11 6 8 0 0

Local Visitors n=4 0 0 0 0 0 1 3 0 0

International Visitors n=17 6 4 0 1 5 1 0 0 0

Table 1. Sources of publicity concerning the Pucará of Tilcara, by visitor type.

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(3.5), the stockyards (3.5) and the necropolis (3) (table 3). The monument (pyramid) and the statue of the flautist received the lowest average score (2.8), as ‘they looked artificial’. The average of the seven previous scores (3.4) was lower than the “overall” score allocated by visitors (3.9). This is mainly due to the relatively low scores allocated to some reconstructed features. Considering the responses by visitor type, national tourists were the most critical. Local visitors only objected to the monument, but not to the flautist, while foreign visitors focused their criticisms mainly on the latter (tables A.3.2. to A.3.9). When asked what aspects of the site they had most enjoyed, the visitors frequently mentioned scenery and the setting, followed by the houses. A tenth of the interviewees expressed their approval of the site in its entirety, while others chose the unreconstructed areas, and different rebuilt structures -including the ceremonial centre, the stockyards and the cemetery. The historic value of the site and its state of preservation were also mentioned (Table A.3.10).

Figure 28: The town of Tilcara.

This order of preference changes considerably if the results are analysed by visitor type. For example, 7 out of 17 foreign visitors selected the option ‘rural community’ and most local visitors considered that it was a ‘colonial village’. Although the option ‘a continuity from the ancient population’ was in second place in both cases, it was sufficiently popular with Argentinean national visitors to change the overall picture. It must be noted that many national and international tourists stated that their answers were tentative, owing to the short time spent in the area and the little attention paid to the town.

When asked to name the most disappointing aspects of the site, a fifth of the visitors answered ‘do not know’, and 10 out of 60 said that there was no aspect of the site that merited such a description. Among the disappointing aspects reported, the monument (pyramid) was most often selected (20%), followed by the statue of the flautist (12%), the lack of information, the reconstruction works, the necropolis and the souvenir shops at the entrance to the site. To a lesser extent, visitors expressed disappointment about the lack of time they were allocated to visit the site, the lack of sign-posts, the dearth of facilities for visitors, the ‘refuse pit’ area, the stockyards, and the children begging - aggressively - at the entrance to the site (table A.3.11, fig. A.3.1).

3.10.3. Attitudes Towards Different Aspects of the Site When visitors were asked how much they enjoyed different aspects of the Pucará of Tilcara Site, the option ‘a lot’ (when averaged across the eight aspects offered) received the majority of answers in all cases (60% for all 8 aspects). However, a third of the visitors said that they did not visit the ‘cemetery’ and a few others answered that they did not notice the flautist (see table A.3.1).

The monument was identified as the most disappointing aspect by a quarter of the local people, a fifth of the national visitors, and almost as many foreigners. National and international tourists also chose the flautist. The highest rate of ‘do not know’ answers came from foreign visitors, followed by national tourists. A quarter of local people and a fifth of the national visitors were unwilling to say anything negative about the site.

Visitors’ answers concerning their attitudes towards different aspects of the site were ranked from 4 to 1 in table 3; 4 being ‘a lot’ and 1 ‘not at all’. The scenery received the highest average score (4), followed by the houses (3.8), the paths

A continuity from the indigenous population which inhabited the Pucará A colonial village A rural community A tourist village A modern community Other

All n=60

National Visitors n=39

Local Visitors n=4

International Visitors n=17

21 [35]

15

1

5

10 [17] 11 [18] 4 2 12 [20]

6 4 2 2 10

2 0 1 0 0

2 7 1 0 2

Rank 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Table 2. Description of the modern town of Tilcara, by visitor type (n [%]).

Aspect of the site Scenery Houses Paths Stockyards Cemetery Monument The Flautist

Average Score 4 3.8 3.5 3.5 3 2.8 2.8

Table 3. Average score for different aspects of the Pucará of Tilcara.

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International and Argentinean national tourists - and some local visitors - felt the need for more information. Almost half of the foreigners and a quarter of local visitors (who were accompanying foreign visitors) noted the lack of information in other languages. An improvement in the signposting was requested by some national visitors. It must be noted that while independent tourists demanded more information and guides, the majority of visitors who came with guided tours made no suggestions, but regretted the lack of time they had been allowed to visit the site in its entirety. One suggestion for changing the site’s presentation was to make the reconstruction of ancient lifestyles ‘more real’, by including actors and improving the interpretative panels. They also suggested that more publicity for the site is needed, and that the souvenir shops around the site should be removed.

3.10.4. Attitudes Towards the Reconstruction Visitors to the Pucará were asked their opinion about the site’s reconstruction. 37 out of 60 (61%) felt that ‘the reconstruction adds enjoyment to the site’, while less than a third would prefer to have seen the site ‘as it was originally’. A few others said that they could not decide on the best option, or gave other answers (usually a combination of the first two options, stating - for example - that they had enjoyed the reconstruction, but they would also have liked to see the site as it was originally) (table 4). It is interesting to note that while the reconstruction was widely criticised by international visitors, all the locals were in favour of it. National tourists were less unanimous in their opinions: while the majority was in favour of the reconstruction, a tenth could not decide which was best for the site, and the others gave alternative answers.

When asked about the visit to the Pucará it was unanimously deemed to be ‘interesting’, while a few visitors considered it ‘interesting, but exhausting’. It should be noted that those who found the visit exhausting were local people who had had sufficient time to visit the whole site.

3.10.5. Opinions Concerning Site Presentation When questioned about on-site visitor information and its presentation to the public, half of visitors interviewed felt these were ‘good’, while fewer considered it ‘reasonable’ and ‘very good’. Local visitors were least critical of the site presentation. Most of those who thought it ‘poor’ were national and international visitors (table 5).

3.10.6. Attitudes Towards Archaeological Heritage When asked why archaeological sites should be protected, 19 out of 60 (32%) visitors considered them to be part of ‘our history’, ‘our past’ or ‘our memory’. A fifth of them believed the sites to be part of the history of ‘others culture’; almost the same proportion mentioned ‘historic value’, without specifying whose history. To a lesser extent visitors referred to ‘the right of future generations’, sites were part of national heritage or national identity, a heritage of the mankind in general, or a non-renewable resource that must be preserved (table 6).

When asked how they would improve or change the presentation of the site, most visitors felt that more information and explanation were needed, while some expressed a desire for leaflets in other languages. To a lesser extent visitors mentioned guides and sign-posting. Almost a quarter of interviewees considered that nothing needed to be changed, while several others said they did not know how the site could be improved.

The reconstruction adds enjoyment to the site I would rather have seen the site as it was originally I could not decide which one is the best option Other

All n=60

National Visitors n=39

Local Visitors n=4

International Visitors n=17

37 [61]

24

4

9

16 [27]

8

0

8

4

4

0

0

3

3

0

0

Foreign visitors mostly considered Argentina’s archaeological sites to be part of ‘others’ cultures’, followed by ‘a right for future generations’, and ‘historic value’. Half of local visitors considered them to be part of ‘our past’, while the rest divided their opinions between “others’ past” and ‘historic value’. Almost half the national visitors identified the archaeological sites as being part of their ‘own

Table 4. Attitudes towards the Pucará of Tilcara’s reconstruction, by visitor type (n [%]).

International Visitors (n=17) National Visitors (n=39) Local Visitors (n=3) All (n=60)

Very Good 2 8 1 11

Good

Reasonable

Poor

10 18 2 30 [50]

4 12 1 17

1 1 0 2

All n=60 Our history/ past Others' history/past Historic value Future generations National heritage Non-renewable resources Heritage of Mankind

Table 5. Attitudes towards the explanation and presentation of the Pucará of Tilcara, by visitor type (n[%]).

19 [32] 12 [20] 11 [18] 6 5 4 3

National Visitors n=39 17 6 6 2 3 4 1

Local Visitors n=4 2 1 1 0 0 0 0

International Visitors n=17 0 5 4 4 2 0 2

Table 6. Meanings and values of archaeological sites (Pucará of Tilcara survey), by visitor type (n [%]).

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past’, also mentioning ‘others’ past’, historic value, nonrenewable resources, national heritage, the right of future generations and the heritage of mankind.

The Quebrada of Humahuaca has many pucarás, but the fact that the one at Tilcara is accessible, reconstructed and has a ‘ready to use’ ceremonial centre has turned it into a highly desirable place of worship. This situation has posed some difficult issues for site management. A good example of this was the celebration of the ‘Jornadas de Paz and Dignidad’ at the Pucará, where discrimination, intolerance and site-damage threatened to mar the ceremony. Whether or not national and local authorities were sufficiently aware of the ‘real message’ carried by this group - or at least by its leader - before supporting them is a debatable issue. However, it is more constructive to go beyond this particular set of circumstances and to consider the challenge faced by authorities when they received this type of request.

On the basis of this survey, it seems that the governmental tourist information network had not contributed substantially to site publicity. Most of the visitors interviewed learnt about the site by informal means or through formal education. The visitors claimed to have enjoyed the visit to the Pucará of Tilcara Site. Although most of their criticism was focused upon two reconstructed features (the monument and the flautist), negative opinions were not as common as might have been expected, and visitors generally supported the reconstruction of the site. While the majority considered that the presentation of the site was ‘good’, requests for more information and improved sign-posting were common.

It is evident that the reconstruction has added ‘tourist value’ to the Pucará of Tilcara - the only archaeological site of Argentina which has been open to the public and relatively well-maintained for almost fifty years. Visitors are generally happy to visit the site, even though there is little on offer that was not available in Casanova’s period. It is also clear that if site managers wish to attract tourism, tourist value should be increased by improving both site presentation (such as guides, sign-posting and leaflets, as suggested by visitors) and preservation (e.g. monitoring visitors’ impact).

When asked to define the modern population of the town of Tilcara, most visitors suggested it to be a continuity of those who inhabited the Pucará, thus challenging the notion of the ‘cultural extinction’ of the Tilcaras (as stated on the monument’s bronze plaque). However, when asked why heritage places - in general - should be protected, visitors frequently claimed that such protection was justified because archaeological sites are relevant to ‘our past/ history’.

While Tilcara - like the Humahuaca ravine as a whole - has enormous potential for tourism, it runs a high risk of being appropriated by a new breed of modern encomenderos called ‘tourist entrepreneurs’. The resurgence of ‘Andean identity’ may or may not come into potential conflict with archaeological research. The future of Tilcara and its Pucará will therefore depend upon how tourism, ethnicity and archaeology are balanced. Researchers are to be given a new opportunity to establish a dialogue with local people, supporting them (as the AAPRA has already done) and helping to preserve both the landscapes and traditions of the ravine and its people.

3.11. Final Comments The development of archaeology at Tilcara can be divided into four different periods: the pioneers (Ambrosetti and Debenedetti); the consolidation (Casanova); the transition (from the death of Casanova to the return of democracy); and incorporation (into the community). Two well-defined site management styles can be identified: the authoritarian (represented by Casanova), and the democratic (which started with Madrazo).

Some decades ago, researchers believed that Northwest ancestral traditions would be completely extinct in a few years. For example, Lafón (1961, 76) comments that - in spite of efforts made by Catholic missionaries - ancestral religions continued to be practised by indigenous groups in the Quebrada de Humahuaca ‘until twenty or thirty years ago, when they started an accelerated and definitive adoption of western culture’. However, few modern observers would doubt that local traditions are still very much alive. Furthermore, after watching the astonishing skills and enthusiasm of the local people for handicrafts and traditional music, ancestral culture might be said to be enjoying good health.

In the 1930s, the site was appropriated by a cultural and political elite, which ‘took over’ the site from local people and marked their ownership with an elaborate process of tribute-paying, homage and monumental selfaggrandisement which continued long after the death of Casanova. Even when the Pucará was opened to different popular events, the Instituto Interdisciplinario Tilcara was unable to involve local people, or to emphasise the very real link between the site and dispossessed local groups. The 1992 ceremony heralded the beginning of a new era, in which some local people have started to revere the Pucará and to recognise the ceremonial centre -even though reconstructed, as a place of worship.

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and the rectangular enclosure compound found in the ceremonial centre (Raffino 1978; 1981). Furthermore, a substantial number of typically Inka pottery specimens, manufactured locally or in other parts of the Empire were found at the site (Debedenetti 1930; Krapovickas 1982; Nielsen 1997).

Notes 1. Chilli (Capsicum chacoense) and bean (Phaseolus vulgaris) were recovered from Huachichocana (level E 3 dating to 9670 - 8720 B.P.) while the Inka Cueva site yielded pumpkin seeds (Lagenaria siceraria) dating to 4080+/- 80 B.P. (Aguerre et al. 1975). However, specialists have some reservations about the dates of Huachichocana, since they seem to be too early for the region.

7. The Northwest region of Argentina (Jujuy, Salta, Tucumán, Santiago del Estero, Catamarca and La Rioja provinces) became part of the ‘Gobernación del Tucumán’ during the colonial period, which depended on the ‘Virreinato del Alto Perú’, administered remotely by Lima. In 1776 the region came under the direct control of the newly created ‘Virreinato del Río de la Plata’, the capital of which was Buenos Aires.

2. The analysis of several C14 samples taken in the last few years confirm the main occupation of the Pucará between AD 900 and 1400 as well as a probable early occupation between AD 700-900 (Tarragó and Albeck 1997). An early occupation of the site (AD 650 and 890) has also been proposed by Casanova et al. (1976), based on the evidence found in a refuse deposit. At this early date, the site is likely to have been temporarily occupied by caravans of llamas carrying goods to La Puna (Difrieri et al. 1997), although the early dates have been questioned on stratigraphic grounds (Tarragó 1992, 73).

8. The right of the State to acquire ‘terra nullius’ is based on the idea that the State inherited the rights given to the Spanish Crown by colonial legislation. In 1493, Pope Alexander VI gave the dominion of the lands discovered in America to the Crowns of Spain and Portugal, through the Inter Caetera Bull. Therefore at the time of Independence, all those lands which did not belong to ‘official’ private owners were considered to be property of the National or Provincial States (Borda 1970, 55), even when those lands were occupied by indigenous peoples. 9. The practice of taking skulls as trophies of war has been stressed by Casanova who explains that the enemy skulls were carried on a cord, and that the wearer thereby assumed the dead man’s magic power (Casanova 1963, 628). However, as these skulls were also found carefully stored in ceramic receptacles buried in dwellings, Canals Frau (1958, 56) considered that this kind of inhumation represented a special honour for the dead person. This idea is also supported by Lafón (1961, 75) who stated that skull inhumations were a form of ancestor worship. More recent authors (e.g. Ottonello and Lorandi 1987; González 1992) support Casanova’s interpretation of the skulls as war trophies. Moreover, Mariscotti de Görlitz (1978, 162) comments on the ethnographically attested headhunting tradition in the Lake Titicaca region and central Peru.

3. The ‘Late Regional Period’ is archaeologically characterised by particular pottery styles - such as ‘Tilcara black on red’ -, and urbanised densely populated settlements with central open areas. The widespread practice of hallucinogen inhalation, the taking of trophy heads, burial of adults in tombs built inside houses and babies in urns, are also characteristic. Gold, silver and copper alloy objects suggest extensive development of metallurgy during this period (Nielsen 1997, 27; Ottonello and Lorandi 1987, 87-88; Olsen Bruhns 1994, 313-314). 4. Debenedetti (1930, 23-24) noted that big stones, such as menhires, were used to demarcate large roads. In other archaeological sites - such as La Huerta and Yacoraite he found these stones always placed in pairs, but at the Pucará of Tilcara only one was found. A local villager later explained to him that some big stones had been removed from the Pucará to build the foundations of the current town of Tilcara’s church. 5. The latest research carried out at the Pucará of Tilcara has cast doubt on some of the previous explanations about the use of the site. They have demonstrated that the Southeast side of the Pucará was not only occupied by corrals, but also by dwellings and craft workshops. Furthermore, the notion that burials in dwellings were contemporary with the dwelling occupation has been challenged by new evidence indicating that the domestic chambers and the burials refer to different episodes of occupation. This implies a change in the uses and function of this area over time (Tarragó 1992, 72; Tarragó and Albeck 1997).

10.The discourse of legitimacy of the ‘true tilcareños’ emerged in two different conflicts. The first (in 1988) was in response to Eloy Roy, a priest who advocated social rights and the recognition of indigenous traditions. The success of the priest in mobilising lower-class sectors of Tilcara’s population was seen as a threat for the so called ‘true tilcareños’. After the Easter of 1988, when the priest put a white kerchief on the head of the image of Christ (the symbol of human rights’ activists against the last military government), the upper class of Tilcara reacted violently. The main arguments were that he was a foreigner and had broken the local harmony (Karasik 1994, 37). The priest was eventually transferred. The second conflict occurred in 1990 between a group of employees of the Town Council and the members of

6. The presence of the Inkas at the Pucará of Tilcara Site was indicated through several diagnostic architectural features. These include the use of particular techniques of stonework in the construction of walls, the presence of niches and slab floors, the building of grandstands,

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the Concejo Deliberante (local parliament). Once again society was divided into two factions. The members of the Concejo challenged the legitimacy of the workers’ salary claims, due to the fact that their leaders were not local people and had disturbed the harmony of the place (Karasik 1994, 37).

the fact that the sun was represented in the manner in which it would have been drawn by chroniclers. Metal plaques have been found in archaeological contexts dating from AD 700 onwards, becoming more common during the Late and Inka periods. Debenedetti (1930) found many examples made in gold, silver, copper and bronze at the Pucará. These plaques - referred to by the Spanish chronicles as cailles - appear to have had a sacred meaning, which is extensively analysed by González (1992, 201-202), and probably related to the worship of the sun and the rituals to protect the fertility of farming lands.

11.At present 70% of the provincial lands belong to the provincial government, which is responsible for allocating lands to the communities. Some of this land was originally huge private landholdings, which were expropriated during the presidency of Perón in the 1950s. In other cases they became ‘lands without owners’ due to the fact that the heirs could not afford the inheritance tax.

14.The image of the Virgin of Punta Corral was found at a crossroad towards the end of the nineteenth century, and the site has become a place of devotion for people from large areas of Jujuy. Each Holy Wednesday, the Virgin was taken in procession to Tilcara. The man who took care of the image used to organise the whole ceremony, but in 1971, due to a conflict with the bishop, he decided to process to Tumbaya instead of Tilcara. This triggered a fierce conflict between the people of Tilcara and Tumbaya, in which a whole range of religious, political and economic interests were involved. As a result, a new sanctuary was built by the tilcareños. It was named ‘Virgen del Abra de Punta Corral’, and this new image is the one which has since been taken to Tilcara during Easter week (Albeck and González 1999, 109).

12.Mariscotti de Görlitz (1978, 151) referred to the Aymara version of the Flood myth, which says that mankind survived thanks to only one survivor who planted tubers and therefore the growing of tubers is considered a very ancient activity. Boman (1908, 507) noted that indigenous people from La Puna said that they were not descendants from the antiguos due to their belief in the legend stating that ‘the antiguos had lived before the sun started to exist’. The word Chullpi may refer to those buried in Chullpas. 13. According to González (1992, 78), the central figure represents a sun with twelve rays, and the four heads are most likely to be trophy skulls offered as a tribute to the sun, a deity worshipped at the Pucará since the Imperial Inka period. However, González (1992, 78-80) believed it was made during the Spanish period due to

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CHAPTER 4 THE “QUILMES’ RUINS”

Quilmes accepted the Cafayates, who had come from the south of Catamarca). Regardless of cultural affiliation all the local groups in the valleys went on to participate, to different extents, in the great uprisings against the Spanish.

4.1. The History of the Quilmes, Calchaquí and Santa María Valleys At the end of the sixteenth century, the Calchaquí and Santa María Valleys (central Northwest Argentina) were populated by different groups, all of whom spoke the ‘Kakan’ language. The valley area extends from the south of Salta to the east of Tucumán and north of Catamarca provinces. It is characterised by a complex system of ravines divided by the Calchaquí and Santa María rivers, providing an ideal environment for agriculture (D’Altroy et al. 2000, 4). Furthermore, due to the layout of the valley system - a depression surrounded by mountains - the area is difficult to access and easy to protect. Native inhabitants took advantage of the environmental conditions and created an irrigation system to supply farming terraces and settlements in the mountains (Cigliano and Raffino 1975). These groups, organised as relatively autonomous chiefdoms, occupied the valleys from the Late Regional Period (AD 1000 - 1480). They inhabited densely populated villages with defensive features as well as secondary settlements in farming areas. Their economy was based on the exploitation of the diverse resources within and outside the valley. They farmed crops in lower lands, grazed herds in high lands and controlled zones as far away as the eastern forest in order to obtain wood (Ottonello and Lorandi 1987, 85) (fig. 29). Local inhabitants of the Calchaquí and Santa María Valley did not peacefully accept Inka domination. As a result, the valleys were partially depopulated, and even when they were free from paying taxes to the Inka empire, they were forced to accept the settlement of mitmaqkunas who came from southern Cusco to control the area (Lorandi 1992, 100; Lorandi and Boixados 1988, 280). Consequently, when the Spanish conquistadors first arrived, the populations of the valleys were a multi-ethnic mosaic formed by local groups, mitmaqkunas and groups who had escaped from Inka domination elsewhere (Lorandi 1997, 234). In general local groups were in conflict with new settlers although in some cases non-locals were accepted through matrimonial alliances (e.g. the

4.1.1. The Quilmes before the Conquest The Quilmes, who occupied the southern portion of the valleys, have been described as ‘the most fearsome, most populous nation, whose chiefs had the most important entourage’ (Father Torreblanca, quoted by Piossek Prebisch 1984). They inhabited their main settlement (known as ‘the city of the Quilmes’), and eleven other sites in the immediate area. They had ‘very fertile lands surrounded by inaccessible hills’ which were ‘steep and covered with snow’ (Governor Luca de Figueroa y Mendoza, 1664, quoted by Lorandi and

Figure 29: Geographical location of ‘Santa María Culture’ groups (1000-1480 AD).

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Boixados 1988, 342). According to the report written by Pedro Bohorquez to the Spanish authorities, the Quilmes were ‘four hundred warriors and two thousand people’ (Lorandi and Boixados 1988, 344). However, this estimate of population differs from the estimate made by Difrieri (1981, 68), who states that up to 4,000 individuals could have lived in the Quilmes’ ruins, and a similar number in the surrounding settlements. It is possible that by the time of Bohorquez’s report (1657) they had already lost several thousand people in battle.

mines and treasures, spurred interest in its conquest (Ottonello and Lorandi 1987, 165). Moreover, control over the valleys would ensure access to the Atlantic coast, thus effectively consolidating the conquest of the territory (Lorandi and Boixados 1988, 266). This campaign, however, was not an easy venture. The indigenous groups of the valleys not only resisted for one hundred and thirty years, but also seriously endangered the integrity of the Spanish-owned territories through three great uprisings. Their flexible political organisation enabled the formation of alliances between groups in order to resist the Spanish forces (Ottonello and Lorandi 1987, 143), and the rapid election of new leaders after an uprising was quelled, prevented Spaniards from controlling the situation through the execution of chiefs.

The origin of the Quilmes is still uncertain. Archaeological and ethnographic information is both insufficient and sometimes contradictory. Father Losano (1875) stated that they had come from Chile, escaping from Inka domination. Thus, their original location could have been in Catamarca or La Rioja provinces because these regions formed part of colonial Chile. However, archaeological evidence found at Quilmes has been dated to several centuries before the Inka period. Furthermore, other ethnographic sources do not refer to the Quilmes as being alien to the area (Lorandi and Boixados 1988, 345). As they were a rebel group, information about them in Spanish chronicles is scarce. Most of the documents related to the Quilmes - whether official reports or chronicles written by missionaries - were written in order to justify their conquest, focusing on the threat they posed or their resistance to conversion.

The first great uprising took place between 1560 and 1563, and involved the whole of Northwest Argentina and Southern Bolivia. It was led by Juan Calchaquí, the chief of the Pacciocas and the Tolombones and the main kuraka of the valley. Even though the rebellion was put down in other regions, resistance in the valley persisted until 1593. The second uprising took place between 1630 and 1635. It had its epicentre in the southern part of Santa María Valley, and was led by Juan Chalemín, chief of the Malfines. The third rebellion of 1657 was headed by Pedro Bohorquez, a Spanish traveller, who - presenting himself as a Spanish born descendant of the last Inka king - came to be recognised as ‘the Inka’ by the local chiefs (Lorandi 1997, 237). The socalled ‘false Inka’ promised treasures1 and indigenous submission to the Spanish, while offering freedom to indigenous leaders (Lorandi 1997; Piossek de Prebich 1976). In 1657 the Spanish Governor in Pomán received Bohorquez, in his role as Inka king. He was accompanied by local chiefs, including Martín Iquím, the kuraka of the Quilmes. Bohorquez returned to the valleys invested as an Spanish official but instead of fulfilling his obligations to the Governor, he prepared the Indians for war, teaching military strategy and providing weapons. He planned the exodus of all the indigenous peoples to the free sections of the Calchaquí Valleys in order to start another great rebellion (Piossek de Prebich 1976; Lorandi 1997). The Quilmes, who had participated in the three uprisings, played an important role in the third by inflicting one of the worst defeats on the Spanish troops at Luracatao (Lorandi an Boixados 1988, 346). In 1659, however, the rebellion was put down and Bohorquez was taken prisoner. In spite of having received a pardon from the Governor, he was sentenced and executed in Lima in 1667 (Lorandi 1997).

The Quilmes worshipped the hills, the sun and the moon in ceremonies performed through dances and songs. The use of alcoholic drinks and hallucinogenic plants during these rituals scandalised chroniclers, who denounced them as ‘barbarian orgies’ (Márquez Miranda 1963, 654). They were described as having been ‘obstinately rebellious in their territory, and simulating submission when they were outside trying to gather fruits and harvests or when their chief was captured. But then, without any reason, they would recommence hostilities, infesting every city, site or jurisdiction around their hills; robbing, burning and killing whatever and whomever they found, whether Spanish or Indian. Neither priests nor churches escaped their anger’ (letter of Governor Luca de Figueroa y Mendoza, 1664, quoted by Lorandi and Boixados 1988, 343).

4.1.2. The ‘Calchaquí’ Wars The first Spanish expedition into the Calchaquí Valleys took place in 1535, and was followed some years later by the foundation of several towns (e.g. Barco, Cañete, Ibatín, etc.). However, the coexistence of Spanish colonisers and indigenous peoples in the region was not peaceful. The location of Spanish cities blocked indigenous routes between the valleys and the eastern forest. Additionally, the large population of the valleys and its potential as a labour force, as well as the Spanish belief in the existence of

It took the Governor, however, another seven years to subjugate the Quilmes, who were assembled in their fortified city. They were finally defeated by hunger because the Spanish took them by surprise, burnt their harvest and destroyed their dam. According to Torreblanca, they

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escaped to the mountains leaving behind all their possessions, herds and grains (Lorandi and Boixados 1988, 400-401). The kuraka of Quilmes, Martín Iquím, saved his life by agreeing to move from the valley with his people. Before leaving, the Quilmes performed a last ritual to their sacred hills and to their ancestors (Palermo and Boixados 1991, 21). Father Torreblanca related their grief, particularly that of ‘the ancient men and the shamans, whose hearts were heavy with anguish at abandoning the country where they had grown up…’ (Piossek Prebisch 1984).

Reducción. During the first decade in Buenos Aires, they suffered from numerous nutritional problems and epidemics. By 1680 the Reducción had 450 people, 347of which were of Quilmes origin (Palermo and Boixados 1991, 22).

The Spanish conquest was completed in 1666 with the depopulation of the valleys and the relocation of eleven thousand indigenous people. Each defeated group was split into families and sent to different provinces to avoid new insurgencies, as well as to provide labour forces to all those Spaniards who had invested in military expeditions. Two hundred Quilmes’ families were sent to Buenos Aires, and a few less to the Army in Santa Fé. Salta, Córdoba, La Rioja, Catamarca and Esteco also received some families (Ottonello and Lorandi 1987, 192; Lorandi and Boixados 1988, 402; Palermo and Boixados 1991, 18).

Quilmes groups living in Buenos Aires managed to maintain their own political structure, demonstrated in recently discovered documents referring to an eighteenth century legal case for the succession of the Quilmes chiefdom. These documents detailed the traditional political organisation, including the existence of an ancient council and the manner in which hierarchical lineage was defined (Palermo y Boixados 1991; Schaposchnik 1994, 61). The sequence of Quilmes’ chiefs living at the Reducción can be reconstructed from 1666 until the first decades of the eighteenth century. They include Francisco Pallamay, Juan Pallamay, Agustín Filca and Ignacio de España, all of whom belonged to the lineage of Martín Iquím (Palermo and Boixados 1991, 42). However, most of the indigenous population was forced to labour in public works programmes - notably the building of the cathedral - although chiefs were exempted from this obligation. They were allowed to grow wheat and raise cows, and live from their own produce. The Reducción continued functioning until the nineteenth century when the town of Quilmes was founded.

The number of Quilmes people who escaped after their defeat cannot be accurately determined from historical records as they had to hide their identities in order to stay in the Calchaquí Valleys area (Lorandi and Boixados 1988, 327). Some individuals managed to escape to join the Cafayates living in the valleys, to whom many were related by matrimonial alliances (Lorandi and Boixados 1988, 326). Furthermore, Luis de Toledo y Velazco, who had inherited the ‘encomienda of the Quilmes’ (which was never made effective), started a legal case claiming his right to exploit them as a labour force. Finally he was compensated with a few Quilmes families who were sent back to Tucumán (Palermo and Boixados 1991, 20).

Meanwhile, the indigenous populations of Tucumán were threatened by isolation, overexploitation as forced labour, and imported diseases such as smallpox (Lorandi 1992, 109). Furthermore, the confluence of different ethnic groups in the same encomienda, and the influx of black slaves and immigrant groups from Bolivia led to sociocultural hybridisation of the population of the valleys and contributed to the groups’ loss of identity (Schaposchnik 1994, 62). Moreover, the systematic destruction of sacred objects by missionaries, and the persecution and burning of shamans by Spanish authorities, hampered any continuity of indigenous cults (Ottonello and Lorandi 1987, 177; Pelissero and Difrieri 1981, 187).

Very few of the Calchaquí groups were allowed to live in the valley. The Amaichas were able to keep their lands due to the help and information provided to the Spanish during the last rebellion. Their right to ancestral lands was recognised by Royal Grant of 1716 (Cruz 1992). The Colalaos and the Tolombones were also allowed to buy some lands in their region (Schaposchnik 1994).

Judging from historical references, it seems that the Quilmes, separated from their lands, shrines and language adapted in two different ways. While the group transferred to Buenos Aires kept the official status of ‘indigenous Quilmes’ under the colonial regime, most of those who managed to stay in the valley had to hide their identity to avoid relocation.

The decision to transfer the Quilmes to Buenos Aires province, was taken by the governor of Tucumán not only to avoid uprisings (Hernández 1992; Ottonello and Lorandi 1987), but also to provide the Real Audiencia of Buenos Aires with ‘Indians to serve in the forts’ (Palermo and Boixados 1991, 18). Both Quilmes and Acalianos groups lived in the religious mission of ‘Reducción de la Exaltación de la Santa Cruz de los Quilmes’. By 1667, 750 people were living at the

4.2. The ‘Old City of the Quilmes’

4.1.3. After the Conquest

The Quilmes’ main settlement was located at El Bañado de Quilmes, nine miles from Amaicha del Valle, in the Northwest of Tucumán province. It is on the eastern slope of Alto del Rey hill, 1978 m. above the sea level. The first reports concerning the Quilmes’ ruins were published by researchers Lafone Quevedo in 1883 and by Ten Kate in 1894. In 1896

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and 1897 Ambrosetti carried out the first excavation of the site, and was succeeded by Boman (1908) and Bruch (1911) who recorded it as part of their archaeological expeditions to Northwest Argentina (fig. 30). The site was not studied again until the 1970s, when it underwent a programme of reconstruction.

of the roof3 (Ambrosetti 1897a, 38). Dwellings are thought to have been square or rectangular in shape, often incorporating round annexes as storerooms (Bengtsson 1992, 35). Rectangular structures had doors and wooden doorframes (Ten Kate 1894, quoted by Bruch 1911, 23), which opened into a series of terraces, roads or squares.

Quilmes was a defensive settlement built during the Late Regional Period (AD 1000 - 1480), and attributed to the socalled ‘Santa María culture’ groups2 (Ottonello and Lorandi 1987). From 1480 onwards, the Inkas controlled all the valleys. Their presence in the central portion of the valley was demonstrated by military reinforcement of extant settlements (D’Altroy et al. 2000, 10). A rectangular building next to the farming lands was interpreted as an Inka military post by Pelissero and Difrieri (1981, 116-120). This structure, in addition to traces of Inka road and locally manufactured Inka pottery, led these authors to believe that the site had been under Inka control (Pelissero and Difrieri 1981, 191).

The fortifications consist of a sequence of walls, defensive ditches and some rectangular structures. The remaining structures at the top of the hill would have been the residential area during times of conflict. A 7000 cubic metres dam - built into a natural depression - and some remains of a stone channel are located to the southeastern side of the site (Pelissero and Difrieri 1981, 78). The whole perimeter of the old city is surrounded by a large wall (Ambrosetti 1897a). During the first excavation, Ambrosetti found two tombs in domestic contexts. Pelissero and Difrieri (1981, 82) identified two cemeteries at the north of the village, which included child burials in urns, surrounded by Santa María and Belén style pottery, and covered by slabs. Adults were buried in collective circular stone tombs covered by slabs, forming vaulted roofs. Skeletons without funerary objects were also found in holes placed below large stones in the urban area, which have been interpreted as hasty burials carried out during times of war (Pelissero and Difrieri 1981, 100).

In 1897 Ambrosetti published a description of the site, entitled ‘the Old City of the Quilmes’. He regarded it as having three distinct parts: the village located at the bottom of the hill; the fortifications located on the southern and northern sides of the hill, and the structures built on a high plateau at the top of the mountain. The village settlement extended from the bottom of the hill along the valley towards the great dam, and was formed of numerous dwellings that had almost completely collapsed (Bruch 1911, 21-22). Construction techniques included dry masonry walls built with pebbles and earth, and foundations made from large slabs or blocks, which, according to Ambrosetti, served to reinforce a line of posts driven into the ground to support the roof. His description included a tentative reconstruction

4.2.1. The Reconstruction of the Site In 1978 the ‘old city of the Quilmes’ was reconstructed as part of an agreement signed by the University of Buenos Aires and the Government of Tucumán. The work was carried out with the financial support of national and

Figure 30: Quilmes’ Ruins in the early twentieth century (from Bruch 1911).

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provincial governments. This was part of a more ambitious plan of cultural tourism in the province intended to provide alternative attractions for foreign visitors who would come to the country to attend the Football World Cup that same year. However, the whole issue is much more complex and needs to be analysed in the socio-political context of the country, and particularly the province, at that time. It is of key importance to understand the vested interests of the authorities in reconstructing the site, as much as the particular relationship between archaeology and contemporary nationalist politics.

the main sectors and opening the site to the public; the erection of a site museum, and the publication of a scientific report. The reconstruction works consisted of rebuilding walls, fortifications, the dam and some terraces. One house was roofed (using Ambrosetti’s plans) and was subsequently named ‘the “house of Ambrosetti” as a tribute to ‘the discoverer of Quilmes lands’ (Pelissero and Difrieri 1981, 13). As part of this agreement, the provincial government provided fifty workers who would collaborate in the reconstruction. Regarding the importance of the reconstruction works, Pelissero and Difrieri (1981, 19) stated that ‘the national and provincial governments understand that it is necessary to highlight these aspects of our most remote national past in order that they may be preserved, thus enabling every Argentine to receive a complete overview of them. For this reason they are involved in a campaign for disseminating cultural heritage through tourism…’

From 1973 onwards Argentina was in the midst of violence as extreme left and right wing groups battled for governmental control. In 1974 the ERP (Ejército Revolucionario del Pueblo), a left wing group, tried to create their own base in the Tucumán rainforest taking advantage of the naturally defensible environment. Unable to control the situation, the government ordered the army to ‘eliminate the terrorist elements’ (Decree 261/75), giving rise to the so-called ‘Operativo Independencia’, which sought to eradicate the ERP in Tucumán. This operation - commanded by General Antonio Bussi, among others - served as a model for the repression and human rights violations carried out by security forces throughout the last military government (1976-1983) (CONADEP 1986). During that time Tucumán was highly militarised and ruled by authoritarian governments. As a result many people ‘disappeared’, and many others abandoned the country for fear of being kidnapped.

The agreement also included an excavation of the site ‘at a later stage, in order to provide information for the report and to gather pieces for the museum’ (art. 5, Pelissero and Difrieri 1981, 15). This excavation, however, was never carried out. The scientific report published by the provincial government consisted of a large, impressively illustrated book, although the archaeological information does not differ much from that provided by Ambrosetti (1897a). The authors presented many hypotheses about the site (e.g. roof building techniques, Pelissero and Difrieri 1981, 70-72) which could not be tested due to the lack of systematic excavations. It also included a historical section in which several chronicles were analysed. However, this study makes only passing references to the Calchaquí war and the Quilmes’ resistance. General system theory and ecological models were used to explain internal conflicts among indigenous groups who would have exceeded the ‘maximum carrying capacity of their geo-system’ (Pelissero and Difrieri 1981, 160-162; Difrieri 1981). ‘Indigenous Quilmes disappeared as a group even before physically dying. A social death had already made them vanish off the face of the earth when their geo-system was deactivated…’ (Pelissero and Difrieri 1981, 116-192). In this context the Spanish conquest merely constituted a coup de grâce to a faltering socio-economic system. ‘The exile after the war implied the total collapse and fragmentation of the system. When the Indians were established near Buenos Aires, they could not reconstruct the system and they died out gradually in the eighteenth century’ (Difrieri 1981, 73).

The military regime that ruled Argentina from 1976 to 1983 saw itself as having a messianic mission dedicated to the restoration of ‘social order’ and ‘values’. Their political project was called ‘Proceso de Reorganización Nacional’, which included every aspect of social life. In the preface of ‘Quilmes, Arqueología y Etnohistoria de la Ciudad Prehispánica’, the governor of the province, General Montiel Forzado, explained that, ‘concern for the preservation of historic and cultural heritage has recently emerged in Tucumán…The Proceso de Reorganización Nacional has also undertaken the mission to “reorganise” this field’. He argued that ‘recovering the pre-Hispanic past and protecting its remains constitute a cultural action in the best sense of the word, an action which reinforces national identity’ (Montiel Forzado 1981, 9-10). In 1977 the provincial government, contacted Norberto Pelissero -Director of the Instituto Interdisciplinario Tilcaraconcerning the possibility of undertaking a reconstruction project at Quilmes. The University of Tucumán had several archaeologists on its staff, although none of them were involved in the project. The research team consisted of two archaeologists, a draftsman and an ecologist (Pelissero and Difrieri 1981, 13).

4.2.1.1. Deconstructing the Reconstruction The reconstruction of the site (fig. 31) has been severely criticised by researchers who have argued that it has diminished the scientific value of the site (e.g. Bengtsson 1992, 20). Ottonello and Lorandi (1987, 192) stated that ‘the

The reconstruction project involved four stages: clearing vegetation from the area to be rebuilt; the reconstruction of

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tragic story of the Quilmes’ did not end with the Calchaquí wars; a second genocide happened when their ruins were “barbarously” excavated in order to be reconstructed for tourism. It seems that it was their fate that even the remains of their history would be destroyed’.

Since then archaeologists - who have always agreed on the importance of the site and the need to carry out further studies - have been reluctant to accept it as a research project. This is because the site is presumed to have lost much of its useful archaeological information through looting, unsystematic previous excavations, reconstruction works and later developments in the area.

Furthermore, González (2000, 260-261) criticised the publication as well as the lack of basic scientific research previous to the reconstruction. He added that ‘the excavations and reconstruction were carried out by local peasants who had been working without any sort of guidance’. González - an archaeologist who was forced to leave the country during that time - also stated ‘all this was the work of a supposed archaeologist, who was an unconditional collaborator of the military regime which considered our science as subversive, and therefore persecuted or exiled our best researchers’.

4.2.2. The Quilmes’ Ruins Collections One of the most controversial aspects of the site is the collection of artefacts deriving from it. This is due to the fact that the number of pieces officially recorded is minute compared to the site’s size and importance, and to the number of finds mentioned by local people. Archaeological material from the site collected during the expeditions carried out at the beginning of the century are held at the La Plata Museum and the Ethnographic Museum of Buenos Aires. Private collections such as that belonging to Muñiz Barreto and Weisser, which later passed to the La Plata Museum, also included material from this site (Pelissero and Difrieri 1981, 82). Whereas, the material recovered during the reconstruction of the site was supposed to be held at the site museum, it is surprising to note the scarcity of the pieces on display, and almost all the pottery remains are broken.

Simón Costilla, a local villager who worked in the reconstruction, explained that, ‘all of us were people from the (Quilmes) community. We were happy to have a job and we worked there for six months. We weeded the area and excavated the foundations. Some walls were still standing. We used to find ceramics; at least between twenty-eight and thirty complete pieces were found. Pelissero used to walk around and collect the pieces. Once we found a mummy: all the people were astonished to see her. Copper needles, whistles and stone points were also found. We took out the pieces, he cleaned them, and put them in boxes’ (Simón Costilla, pers. comm., 23.07.2000).

Ambrosetti (1897a, 35) noted that ‘seven Quilmes skulls were collected in the last expedition (1897) which, jointly with the others held in museums, will tell us the ethnic differences between Quilmes and Calchaquíes’. These skulls were to be held at the Ethnographic Museum of Buenos Aires. The last catalogue of La Plata Museum collections (1910) includes four skulls of ‘Calchaquí Indians from Quilmes (N° 485-488), which were collected by Bruch in 1907 (Lehmann-Nitsche 1910, 43). Pelissero and Difrieri (1981, 98) also noted the discovery of a head with hair wrapped in a llama woollen cloak, although its current whereabouts is unknown.

The chief of the Indigenous Quilmes Community also noted that ‘the reconstruction was carried out very quickly. All the specialists with whom we were talking had asked why they were in such a rush’. He also stated that ‘the archaeologist in charge was not always supervising the excavation. Local people worked on the site with picks and spades. They were unaware that they were destroying the remains of their ancestors…’ (Francisco Chaile, pers. comm., 22.07.2000).

According to those interviewed, many pieces were destroyed during the reconstruction due to the workers’ lack of experience in the excavation of large ceramic vessels. ‘It requires a special technique, including very slow excavation and covering the piece with a cloak in order to avoid changes of temperature which could cause a break’ (Delfín Gerónimo, pers. comm., 19.07.2000). Although this may justify the relative poverty of the collection, it does not explain the disparity between the size of the extant museum collection and unofficial accounts of discoveries on the excavations. ‘Many things were excavated during the reconstruction. The site was looted. They

Figure 31: The Quilmes’ Ruins after reconstruction.

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carried things to Colalao del Valle in a truck. From there only a few things returned for the site museum, and in Colalao nothing was left, so where are these pieces? People said that they found mummies with funerary objects, including metalwork’ (Francisco Chaile, pers. comm., 22.07.2000). Some villagers from Colalao explained how the collections were looted from the Quilmes’ site museum: ‘a policeman was instructed to take care of the pieces exhibited in the site museum, which was under the jurisdiction of the Delegación de Colalao. A local physician used to give the policeman bottles of wine in order to let him take things away with a truck. Afterwards, he sold them’.

badly carried out’ (La Nación, 05.09.99). In spite of archaeologists’ general disapproval of the hotel, they failed to adopt a unanimous and coherent strategy of condemnation. The opening of the hotel received the support of the government, particularly the Secretary of Tourism. The hotel was built under a tourism promotion plan created by two tourist development laws (6166/91 and 6700/95), which constituted a huge benefit for investors because the government would return 90% of the funds invested (art. 4, Law 6700). Héctor Cruz, Quilmes’ concessionaire, is an artist who has gained a reputation for his tapestry, architectural designs and sculptures, which recreate indigenous art. In an interview published in the local newspaper, he argued that ‘the hotel was built with “ancient indigenous techniques”’ - although he did not explain what these were - and stated that ‘it was a tribute to my indigenous ancestors’ (Héctor Cruz, La Gaceta, 11.06.1995)4.

4.2.3. Public Property, Private Business: The Legal and Administrative Framework In 1976 a provincial law declared ‘archaeological sites of scientific and tourist interest’ located in Tucumán as provincial property, and that ‘all kinds of exploration and exploitation of these sites would be carried out by scientific institutions and without any commercial goal’ (Law 4593, art. 2).

Local people from the Indigenous Quilmes and Amaicha communities have been unanimous in their criticism of the building. ‘The hotel is the most serious and sensitive issue. I could not understand why it was not built outside the limits of the site, close to the national route. It is disgusting, because the hotel was built over the remains of our ancestors. We tried to do something but we were not so organised as we are now and this man had the support of the Secretary of Tourism and the governor of the province. He receives the entrance fees and most of the employees are paid by the province’ (Francisco Chaile, pers. comm., 22.07.2000). In recent years, members of both indigenous communities have been violently attacked as a result of claims over Cruz’s non-payment of their wages and occupation of their lands, thus generating a climate of tension and mutual suspicion.

The Quilmes’ ruins had been declared a ‘historic monument’ in 1975, under the tenets of Law 4398/75, which authorised the government to restore them. In 1982, Law 5401 expropriated the lands where the ruins are located from the Chico Family, their owners since the beginning of the century. This family - in an unprecedented legal case against the provincial government - received compensation that not only included the value of the lands, but also the historical value of the ruins. In 1992 a private entrepreneur was awarded a ten-year concession to the ruins (Decree No.104/92), and proceeded to open a five-star hotel on the site in 1995. The opening of the ‘Parador Ruinas de Quilmes’ received the condemnation of archaeologists of the UNT for the following reasons: 1) It was built over archaeological remains of the lower village. 2) The Quilmes’ ruins site is part of national and provincial heritage, and is therefore public property that should not be transformed into the ‘archaeological garden’ of any private enterprise. 3) Private investors would benefit from this concession. 4) It was not made clear who would be responsible for the control and the maintenance of the site. 5) It ignored provincial heritage legislation. They concluded with an appeal to the public to react against the ‘manipulation of archaeological heritage’ (newspaper La Gaceta, 15.05.95).

4.2.4. A Visit to the Site Quilmes’ ruins, one of the largest pre-Hispanic villages of Calchaquí Valley, extends over 283 hectares. It is four km from national Route 40 (fig. 9). Three apachetas are placed at the crossroad, indicating the way to the ruins as well as a signpost (fig. 32). The car park is situated close to the entrance of the reconstructed area (approximately 15% of the site), which is surrounded by fences. Visitors are encouraged to start the visit from the museum, where a guide provides a brief explanation of the Calchaquí Valleys, showing a map and some artefacts on display saying ‘these are the few things that archaeologists and historians left behind when they took away the rest’. Some ceramic specimens, most of them broken, and a few stone points are exhibited. Labels are old and badly maintained. When explaining the design on the urns, one visitor asked if these snakes had any relationship with Aztec snakes and the guide answered: ‘Yes, this is a world-wide phenomenon, it is said

At a national level, archaeologists reacted with fury. For example, Rodolfo Raffino (La Plata Museum) said that ‘we cannot accept what happened to the Quilmes Ruins, where a swimming pool was built over the remains of a “Santa María” house, and a hotel over the Calchaquí dwellings, quite apart from the fact that the reconstruction was very

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The care of the site and the maintenance of the reconstructed area are poor. Many rebuilt structures are overgrown by grass and a recent fire pit has been found in one of the upper structures of the southern fort. The lack of information boards is another serious problem. Dwelling sectors - which have had their walls rebuilt up to one meter high - cannot easily be interpreted by visitors without additional information (fig. 33). For example, some visitors asked how these people could live in such rooms without roofs. As routes are not clearly indicated, many people walk over the walls thinking they are roads. Foundations of dwellings that have not been rebuilt are being unintentionally destroyed by visitors. When descending from the northern fortification most people walk over a large communal mortar stone, trying to find the way out. Access to the southern fort is gained by an exhausting zigzag walk, also poorly indicated (fig. 34). The route leading from the southern to the northern fortifications can be extremely dangerous if a wrong way is taken, because it crosses a part of the hill where landslides Figure 32: An apacheta at the entrance of the Quilmes’ Ruins.

that people from Asia came here. Some people said that the Quilmes were a group which broke off from the Inkas. Because of this they were more civilised’. Later she explained that ‘of the two thousand Quilmes that were moved to Buenos Aires, only four hundred had arrived there, and they died soon after’. When asked if some of them had stayed in the region, she said that some had escaped and returned to live at the bottom of the valley. A tourist asked for examples of Quilmes’ surnames, and she answered ‘all those starting with “ch” as Chaile’. From the door of the museum looking at the ruins, the guide indicated the different sections of the site, and explained that the lower part was inhabited during peace times and the upper part during wars.

Figure 33: Reconstructed dwellings, Quilmes’ Ruins.

From the bottom of the reconstructed area, the view of buildings and terraces surrounded by the northern and southern fortifications is impressive. However the scarce signs and the lack of printed maps make it difficult for visitors to find the way and there are neither guides, nor panels explaining the functions of the different sectors. There are three types of signposts. Wooden signs, whose painted letters are almost completely erased, provide brief information about the site. More recent signs made in iron, do not contain information but warnings to visitors, such as ‘take care of the plants’. Finally arrows painted on stones indicate the way. Figure 34: Reconstructed zig-zag staircase, Quilmes’ Ruins.

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are frequent. However, there are no indications or warning signs.

4.3. The Modern Population

From the top of the site the whole valley can be seen and visitors can appreciate the real size of the site (fig. 35). The hotel’s bright iron roofs and blue swimming pool, however, interfere with the whole ‘desert-like’ view. A complete visit can take more than five hours. However most of the visitors do not spend more than half an hour, walking around the lower sector and eventually ascending to the northern fort (fig. 36).

4.3.1. The Amaichas and the Quilmes Despite their geographical proximity, the communities of Amaicha and Quilmes are differentiated by their history and current socio-economic status. The community of Amaicha continues to occupy the lands they received by Royal Grant in 1716, and it is led by its own indigenous authorities. Although these people have lost part of their original territory through time, they have obtained legal property titles from the national government, and the town of Amaicha is currently a village of 3,000 inhabitants. It became famous in the 1950s due to its dry and sunny weather, which was deemed to be particularly suitable for persons suffering from respiratory illnesses. Nowadays it is more popular for the festival of the Pachamama.

Visitor facilities are good. A coffee shop is available, placed way from the hotel complex. The handicraft shop, which is annexed to the museum, is three times bigger than the museum gallery. The hotel has forty rooms, several courtyards and a central garden with a swimming pool. The construction is very basic although the interior decoration (e.g. statues, tapestries, chandeliers, etc.), designed by Cruz, provides a remarkable decor. An employee of the hotel explained that ‘the hotel was built over the ruins, but they were respected and if one day the hotel is demolished they would be left exactly as they were before’. Local people claim that adventure tourism groups - which travel on in a ‘jeep-safari’ - visit the hotel twice a year and drive around the site in their all-terrain vehicles.

The community’s chief, the cacique Miguel Pastrana, is a charismatic leader with good political connections in the province, although some young people have recently started to question his leadership and ask for more democratic representation. In 1998 a group of local indigenous teachers created a museum and cultural school in Los Zazos, a little village close to Amaicha. The museum project received technical assistance from UNESCO and was funded by the national government. Its director, Valvín Aguaysol, explains that ‘we are the first generation that has elected to stay in the valley instead of migrating, to work for our culture and to educate young generations for freedom’. Although, he comments with irony, ‘this is not convenient for either the provincial government or the chief…’ (Valvín Aguaysol, pers. comm., 20.07.2000). The museum and library, however, have not received the expected number of visitors. The building is poorly situated for tourism, and community participation is limited. This is in part due to its recent development, but mainly because it does not receive the chief’s support (who considers the museum’s staff to be future political rivals).

Figure 35: View of the Quilmes’ hotel and ruins from above.

The lands where the Quilmes once lived are currently occupied by a number of small settlements, most of which are set back from the road and invisible to tourists. However, 1,800 people from fourteen villages live in this area. They are under the jurisdiction of Delegación Municipal of Colalao del Valle, a local government for rural areas which has very few political functions and little funding. Since 1990 these communities have formed Figure 36: Northern fort, Quilmes’ Ruins.

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the so-called ‘Comunidad India Quilmes’ (CIQ), which was authorised to function as an association by the provincial government. At present CIQ has gained provisional authorisation from the INAI and is fulfilling the necessary requirements to acquire the legal status of indigenous community according to federal law 23.515. The CIQ has democratic representation: each village has two representatives on a Council of Delegates, led by the communal chief. For special decisions the whole community meets in a General Communal Assembly, the supreme governing body of the organisation. In 1998 this assembly decided to bestow the title of ‘cacique’ upon the elected chief of the community, making Francisco Chaile the first cacique of the Quilmes’ community of over two hundred years. This new hierarchy had an unexpected impact among the older generations, who immediately started to feel a special respect for him. ‘They ask me to go to talk to them. It is a big challenge for me because I feel an enormous responsibility and there are many situations in which I must improvise because nobody taught me how to be a chief’ (Francisco Chaile, pers. comm., 22.07.2000).

Thirty secondary schoolchildren have received scholarships provided by the INAI. ‘We are in charge of assessing the progress of our students’, explained Gloria Yapura, a member of the CIQ who is taking a BA in history. ‘I am also working with children. For example, we visit different villages listening to the problems of our people and come to the Quilmes’ ruins to pay our respect to the Pachamama. We want children to know the ancient places and to appreciate the effort of their grandparents. They are now researching different topics such as apachetas and enchantments. We also try to make people conscious of environmental problems’ (Gloria Yapura, pers. comm., 22.07.2000). Thanks to the town council of Quilmes (Buenos Aires) and some volunteers, CIQ has a web page and has been widely promoted both in the country and abroad. For instance, a photographic exhibition of Quilmes’ community was displayed at the Musée de l’Homme (Paris) in 2000, and Chief Francisco Chaile was invited to attend. However, provincial government does not welcome the CIQ’s activities. Authorities are not only reluctant to recognise land claims, but also consider the CIQ representatives as a challenge to their political authority in the region. ‘We have no support at provincial level and we are too few people to have our own deputy at the congress. This valley was always forgotten’, complained Chief Francisco Chaile (pers. comm., 22.07.2000).

The claimed territory of the CIQ extends across 70,000 hectares from El Paso to Colalao del Valle, and from Santa María River to the high western mountains. ‘With the help of the INAI, we are trying to clarify our titles and possession rights and to negotiate with landowners’ (Delfín Gerónimo, member of the CIQ Council of Delegates, pers. comm., 19.07.2000). However, it will not be an easy task. Lands under dispute belong to private owners who will eventually claim compensation from the government for their expropriation. Furthermore, provincial government is offering mining concessions in the area, and therefore has very concrete reasons for not supporting CIQ’s claims.

While the ‘Amaicheños’ enjoy the official status of an ‘indigenous community’ and the privilege of being the only indigenous group whose land rights had been recognised by both colonial and republican authorities, the CIQ is a self-defined group which is still struggling for legal and social recognition. The attitudes adopted by these two groups, and the diverse way that they are perceived by provincial society, was evident during the demonstrations against the celebration of the 500th anniversary of the America’s discovery in 1992. While the community of Amaicha organised a public televised ceremony in collaboration with provincial authorities, five hundred indigenous members of the CIQ had a private meeting at the Fuerte Quemado site. ‘We had no access to the Quilmes Ruins, and we preferred a more private place in order to avoid interruption. The people managed to go there in spite of the difficulties, namely the lack of resources to travel, and the lack of political support. We produced a document about our situation and claims, which was entitled “we still exist”’ (Francisco Chaile, pers. comm., 22.07.2000). ‘It cost us great effort. The church and the authorities were against us. The local priest prevented people from attending, saying that we were “a satanic sect”’ (Delfín Gerónimo, pers. comm., 19.07.2000).

Most of the people of the CIQ are not paying rent for the lands and suffer severe water shortages because only landowners have the legal right to dig wells. The economy of these communities is affected by the impossibility of farming due to the lack of irrigation, as well as by high-level unemployment. ‘We live from our own production, exchanging work for meat. Our people have no access to electricity or gas, and use wood to cook. Very few people receive a pension, and we live almost without money. There are some craftsmen, but crafts-work is not profitable enough to be a fulltime activity’ (Francisco Chaile, cacique of the CIQ, pers. comm, 22.07.2000). In the last few years, the CIQ has received help for specific projects from the INAI, as well as from individuals and institutions from the town of Quilmes, Buenos Aires province. Since 1996 the community has been developing a programme to recover its oral tradition and its ancestors’ knowledge of medicine. The CIQ is also involved in educational programmes for children, and in campaigns to stop contamination and exfoliation of soils in the region.

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4.3.2. The Issue of Indigenous Identity at Santa María Valley

resignation that he had no option but to admit it was true (Narciso Liendro, pers. comm., 12.11.2000).

Lorandi (1992, 113) claims that the loss of their possessions and the memory of their history, as well as an intensive process of mestizaje, made indigenous descendants adopt a strategy of living in the immediate present and thus lose touch with their identity. During the interviews, however, this issue generated different reactions. Some older people still recall their family history and ethnic traditions although they do not always feel proud of their identity. The attitude is completely different when talking with descendants involved in indigenous organisations, although it is generally recognised that the stigma of being Indian or Kolla still exists.

The ‘shame of being Indians’ seems to be even stronger among local people than it was in Tilcara. ‘The schools must bear most of the responsibility for discriminating against children’, explained Valvín Aguaysol. ‘Teachers from the cities come here because they receive better payment for working in rural areas. But when children - who take care of herds and often go barefoot - enter the classrooms smelling of sheep, teachers put them apart and call them “dirty kolla”’ (Valvín Aguaysol, pers. comm., 20.07.2000). There are still people in the valley, however, who are proud of their indigenous identity. ‘I see myself as a calchaquí’, states Celia Andrade, an old woman from Amaicha, ‘I do feel it, I try to preserve what I have learnt from my ancestors. I sing coplas and I pray and give thanks to the Pachamama. I am proud to be Indian, I dress myself with barracan clothes’ (traditional handmade llama wool) (Celia Andrade, pers. comm., 25.07.2000).

Narciso Liendro (fig. 37), an old man from Tolombón, explained his Quilmes’ ancestry: ‘The parents of my grandfather Aquino were Quilmes. The Moya family was Quilmes too. My great grandmother was Serapia Garnica; she came from the North. Felipe Varela and his men brought her as a cook. Then she married one of the Moyas from Colalao, and my grandmother Sinecia Moya, married Santos Aquino. They were the parents of my mother, Catalina Aquino…. My grandfather did not use to talk about his past, but my grandmother Sinesia did. She said that the Indians were very brave, but she never told us that we were their descendants’. When asked if he tells his grandsons that they are Quilmes’ descendants, he said, ‘I do not say anything, they would not believe me’. When asked how he felt about being an indigenous descendant, he said with

For some people to be Indian brings with it an inexorable fate. ‘It is said that we are suffering the Malinche’s curse (Pizarro’s interpreter, who died having cursed both herself and the American lands). Amaicha people have also condemned themselves in the past (their lands would have been a reward for having betrayed the Quilmes) and are suffering from this’ (Valvín Aguaysol, pers. comm., 20.07.2000). Based on family memory, Celia Andrade provided some fragments of Quilmes history: ‘My father told me that the Quilmes ruins had belonged to good workers, Indians who loved their lands and who were very skilful at carrying water to their territories. They were very brave, neither wild nor drinkers. They were rebels because they defended what belonged to them. In Los Zazos there are wild roses and some stone walls. My old aunt told me that the branches of these roses were used by local people to fight against the Spaniards’ (Celia Andrade, pers. comm., 25.07.2000). However, recovering the past is a difficult task when history, language, religion and even family names are lost. ‘Our surnames are a mixture. Some of them are Inka, while others have the surnames of Spanish encomenderos. For example, my ancestors were the Indians of Chaile and they ended up being called “Chaile” themselves. People were obliged to take a Spanish name when they were christened’ (Francisco Chaile, pers. comm., 22.07.2000). ‘We do not know which archaeological sites were sacred, but we know that cemeteries, which contain the remains of our ancestors, must be respected. We are trying to make people feel proud of their past, and to make everybody respect its remains. Until a few years ago some local people used to excavate ceramics to be sold for a few coins. We are trying to change this behaviour’ (Delfín Gerónimo, pers. comm., 19.07.2000).

Figure 37: Mr. Narciso Liendro, Cafayate (03.11.2000).

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Textbooks used in schools do not make any reference to the Calchaquí wars. Not only is local history - particularly the indigenous resistance and its main local leaders - ignored, but the Calchaquí people are presented as primitive groups, bereft of any valuable cultural tradition, in contrast with the Spanish who founded churches, created cities and brought civilisation. ‘To say “Indian” here is to think about somebody who uses a bow and arrow, even for our own people. It is very hard for them to recognise themselves as descendants of indigenous people. The school and above all the (Catholic) church have a great influence. We try to visit the schools of our community, although we have two major difficulties: teachers do not belong to the community, and we do not have good textbooks. Even in our schools the discovery of America is celebrated, although the message has started to change in recent years’ (Delfín Gerónimo, pers. comm., 19.07.2000).

Nicolás Bohorquez, brother of Apolonia, is known as ‘the Indian Bohorquez’, and has always participated in political activities and as a representative of union workers. ‘The descendants of Bohorquez always worked for the people’, he said. ‘There is a street named Bohorquez in Colalao del Valle, which recalls a descendant who donated lands to build the church and the square’. When asked about the ‘false Inka’, he commented, ‘I am afraid of reading books about him, because he is always shown as an opportunist. For example, there is a book entitled “The History of a Rat”, as this was his nickname’ (Nicolás Bohorquez, pers. comm., 14.11.2000). Apolonia’s daughter, who is the schoolteacher of Tolombón, refuses to believe the official history. She said, ‘I think that he (Pedro Bohorquez) could not have been such a bad person, because all the descendants are good people, good workers. Priests said that he was a savage, a degenerate, a thief, the worst of them all, but I cannot believe this. We do not know what the real truth was…’ (Patricia Guantay Bohorquez, pers. comm., 14.11.2000).

Local people’s attitudes towards their indigenous ancestry are polarised into two extreme positions. One is represented by those who are reluctant to recognise their indigenous ancestry, under the impression that such an acceptance would socially degrade them. The other is represented by those who not only openly accept their descent, but who vindicate the indigenous past and claim to be victims of social prejudice.

4.3.3. Local People’s Beliefs Some traditional beliefs and rituals have survived in Calchaquí Valleys’ people, in spite of their forced conversion to Catholicism and the effects of the educational system, which have both denied the value of indigenous heritage. The continuity of these rituals proves that indigenous traditions are still playing a significant role in local social customs. The worship of Pachamama, the most important of the indigenous rituals, has flourished in recent decades, when its celebration also became a tourist attraction in the region, particularly in Amaicha.

4.3.2.1. Descendants of the ‘False Inka’ In Colalao del Valle, the Bohorquez family is old and well known. They are said to be descendants of the ‘false Inka’, although not many people in this village are aware of who he was. Apolonia Bohorquez, an old woman who lives in Colalao, explained, ‘I am Bohorquez, daughter of Ramón Bohorquez and granddaughter of Elías Bohorquez. The mother of my grandfather was from here, and had a brother in Tolombón. My great-grandmother was the wife of Bohorquez, although I cannot remember her name. It is said that after Bohorquez was captured, he never came back and then the widow married a man named Araoz. He took Bohorquez’ lands’. When asked if the Bohorquez who was imprisoned was the ‘false Inka’, she answered ‘this is what I was told’5 (Apolonia Bohorquez, pers. comm., 14.11.2000).

4.3.3.1. ‘Encantos’, Lights and Gases When asked about traditional beliefs, local people immediately refer to a series of phenomena, including ‘encantos’ (literally enchantments), lights and gases. Concerning the ruins, Chief Chaile said, ‘my father used to tell me that at midday on February 2nd people heard the sound of bells from the ruins. People used to come to hear them; the sound was strong enough to be heard from quite far. This was before the site was touched, at the beginning of the century’ (Francisco Chaile, pers. comm., 22.07.2000). Yapura also stated that ‘my father told me that on the Day of the Virgin of La Candelaria, the 2nd of February, a cock used to crow or bells could be heard at the ruins’ (Gloria Yapura, pers. comm., 22.07.2000).

As a Spanish citizen, Pedro Bohorquez was frequently referred to in historic records (especially when compared with indigenous leaders), although most of these records aimed to present him as a traitor to the Crown and thus to justify his execution. Recent reviews (e.g. Lorandi 1997), however, have analysed these documents in the context of the Spanish/indigenous relations in the seventeenth century to provide a more balanced picture of the role played by Pedro Bohorquez in these events. The stigma associated with the Bohorquez name, however, made his descendants experience their ancestry with a mixture of shame and disbelief towards the official history.

‘People used to see many things’, explained the Chief Chaile, ‘they could see lights and hear people talking at the site. Certain people have a special ability to find things. As a child, my grandmother saw a great number of silver coins sparkling on the mountainside on her way to school. She took some of them, and when she went back home she

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showed them to her parents. They went back to the place but nothing was found’ (Francisco Chaile, pers. comm., 22.07.2000).

three times, and eat what we have cooked’ (Celia Andrade, pers. comm., 25.07.2000). ‘There are apachetas here. The (Catholic) church says that it is paganism, although for us this is part of our beliefs. We are part of our motherland, the Pachamama. We used to say that God forgives but the Pachamama will not. In Amaicha, we celebrate the Pachamama which is symbolised by the oldest woman of the town, but now this is becoming too commercial…’ (Valvín Aguaysol, pers. comm., 20.07.2000).

The danger of handling archaeological material was also noted. ‘My father did not want to touch skeletons. He said there was a light that prevented you from touching them. It is also said that metal artefacts give off a gas, and if you take them, the gas will blow you down’ (Narciso Liendro, pers. comm., 12.11.2000). 4.3.3.2. The Pachamama Local people also noted the importance of worshipping the Pachamama and her relationship with antigales, apachetas and other traditional gods. ‘The Pachamama is traditionally celebrated in August, although she is also worshipped in February, during the harvest and the señalada. Grandparents say that apachetas are the places where the Pachamama is worshipped and that in the evening we may sleep or eat there because it is a protected place. They used to pray to her before starting a trip’ (Gloria Yapura, pers. comm., 22.07.2000).

4.3.4. Contested Views about the Past 4.3.4.1. Building a History: The Quilmes’ History after 1666 according to CIQ Members The CIQ has based their land claims on a document of 1753, which referred to a Royal Grant of 1716 (the same that had given lands to the Amaicha community). Chief Chaile explained that ‘the Quilmes who escaped returned to the valley but not to this place. They lived in temporary houses close to the river; therefore, if they had to escape, they would not lose anything important. In 1716 the governor wanted to create peace in the valley, and decided to allocate lands to indigenous people’ (Francisco Chaile, pers. comm., 22.07.2000).

‘The Pachamama and the Yastay take care of nature, while the Pachamama has a relationship with the antigales. They were sacred places, where only some people could enter. If somebody took a pot from an antigal, it was not to be sold but to be kept as something very valuable. The dead must be left in peace. The old people did not like to see that things had been removed from these places… If a person wants to hunt guanaco in the hills he asks the Pachamama first, because if she does not wish it, he will not be able to catch anything’ (Celia Andrade, pers. comm., 25-07.2000).

According to the terms of this Cédula of 1716, lands were given to ‘the chief of the town of Quilmes and other peoples, Diego Utibaitina’. It also stated that ‘as a sign of their having taken possession of the lands their names were carved in an algarrobo tree in El Paso village (which is still there and is known as the ‘written stick’ - see Publicación Comunidad India Quilmes, 1998-1). Using this document, the CIQ created a map of their community, identifying the sites they recognised as belonging to their ancestors, such as the Quilmes’ Ruins. Current researchers of ethnographic sources state that Diego Utibaitina was known as ‘the chief of the Amaichas and other Calchaquí indigenous groups’, although the Quilmes were not included among these groups (e.g. Cruz 1992, 81). A careful study of this Royal Grant by specialists is required since this type of documents usually presents a number of interpretative problems in relation to the semantic and ethnic categories employed (Cruz 1992; Lorandi and Burnster 1988).

‘We used to celebrate the carnival, the Souls Day and the Pachamama. When I went to the hills to gather salt with my father, it was very dangerous. So, before descending with the bags, my father offered salt, coca leaves and cigarettes to the Pachamama. Furthermore, in the evening the mules became nervous and we heard cries. It was the devil, so we used to worship the Pachamama. If we did not do that we would not get what we wanted’ (Narciso Liendro, pers. comm., 12.11.2000). ‘We have an apacheta on a hill and on the first day of August, the whole family goes there with all those who want to join us. Early in the morning we open the mouth to the motherland (a hole close to the apacheta) and we cover the hole with a cloak. At midday we search for a stone that can tell us how the next year will be. For example, if the northern side of the stone is dry it means that this will be a dry year. Then we make the offerings. Each person offers something different; some give food, others wood, others sing or pray. People ask for things, and then we bury a bottle of alcohol and drink the one buried the year before. Afterwards we cover the hole and walk around the apacheta

While recognising that the rights given by the Royal Grant of 1716 need further study, the members of the CIQ are confident that oral tradition will reinforce their claims. ‘We need to unite the bibliographical information and the oral tradition. Old people know many things, but often in isolation; we are trying to recover the “thread of history”’ (Delfín Gerónimo, pers, comm., 19.07.2000). Their commitment to recovering their past has received some

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criticism from researchers. Manasse and Rabey (1989, 13) have described them as a group ‘who strongly identify with their indigenous past, have idealised and try to vindicate it, in order to create an “alternative hegemonic history”’.

damaged. Our people were strongly affected by the conquest, although there are still some things remaining. They had been kept in secret by the old people of the community, and are related to our cosmology, traditions, farming and craft techniques. We managed to retain most of the life style of our ancestors, although mixed with other things introduced by the Spaniards’ (Delfín Gerónimo, pers. comm., 19.07.2000).

When asked to explain why the Quilmes lost the lands that they had received, Chief Chaile explained that ‘Quilmes’ lands were rented for grazing cows during the seventeenth century. When the official land register was created in 1892, those who had been occupying the lands reported them as their own properties and therefore acquired legal ownership. These lands were later sold onto others. In the nineteenth century, the community of Amaicha started a legal case against intruders who tried to appropriate their land and they were able to recover them. Our people, however, did not claim for their lands, thus becoming intruders in their own territories’ (Francisco Chaile, pers. comm., 22.07.2000).

4.3.4.2. Visiting the Site with the Quilmes’ Chief Some days after my first visit to the site, I went there again accompanied by members of the CIQ. They have free entrance to the site, and some employees waved to the chief as we entered. ‘The provincial government pays the salary of twelve people in order to maintain the ruins, but they work as employees of the complex doing all sorts of things’, explained Gerónimo. ‘The site is very badly preserved, but people are afraid to raise this issue publicly. Some years ago, two trained guides were hired by the province, but nowadays uneducated people are working as guides, and are paid by the concessionaire’ (Delfín Gerónimo, pers. comm., 22.07.2000).

Since that point the people living in Quilmes area have had to work for free for the landowners in order to continue occupying this land. They were also sent to work in the sugar cane harvest (zafra), a flourishing nineteenth century industry, which was controlled by the same families. Antonio Cruz, an old man of the community, explained that, ‘I started to go to the zafra when I was twelve years old. Even women with their children had to go to collect canes…we suffered from heat, cold and hunger. The owner built a shelter for us made of canes covered by corrugated iron roofs. When it rained it leaked everywhere, it was awful…’ (Antonio Felin Cruz, www.quilmesnet. com.ar./ indioquilmes/ felincruz.htm, accessed 05.08.2000)6.

Walking around the site with the chief, he pointed out that the large rectangular rooms could have been important communal places (fig. 38). At the top of the site the hill has a triangular form. ‘It looks like an apacheta with three faces,’ noted the chief. ‘Archaeological remains are located in front of each of these faces.7 The apacheta symbolised our social organisation. In these ruins, the house of the chief was located on top of the hill, because he was the community’s spokesman and representative’ (Francisco Chaile, pers. comm., 22.07.2000) (fig. 39).

Delfín Gerónimo explained that while the social situation has improved since the time of Perón’s government (1945), the ownership of lands has remained unchanged. ‘We went on paying rent for the land and for the water we used. In the 1970s there was a movement in the whole Northwest to petition for lands and bilingual education. In our case the claims started thanks to the action of local people who were living in Buenos Aires, and also because the provincial government of that time was interested in our problems. But the movement collapsed in 1976. We had many problems during the military government; we could not organise meetings and some people were persecuted’ (Delfín Gerónimo, pers. comm., 19.07.2000).

A characteristic element in Quilmes’ ruins is the great number of individual stone mortars (fig. 40), as well as big flat blocks with many circular holes which were called ‘communal mortars’ by Ambrosetti (1897a) (fig. 41). However, the function of these blocks is still a matter of

The return of democracy has enabled the CIQ to continue with their claims, to improve their organisation and start to recover their traditions. ‘We cannot rescue our Kakan language. It was lost because of the Jesuits, who were unable to understand it, and decided to prohibit its use. Our traditions are also very Figure 38: ‘Ambrosetti’s house’, Quilmes’ Ruins.

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debate because the explanation provided by archaeologists does not agree with indigenous oral tradition. Current archaeological consensus favours the idea that these blocks served a ‘communal mortar function’, although alternative uses have also been suggested by early researchers. For instance, Ambrosetti noted that two of the communal mortars had unusual characteristics. One was found in the middle of a square surrounded by a slab floor. The other was formed by individual mortars, which formed a cross and was placed in another square. He postulated that they could have had some kind of religious function, such as preparing an offering to Pachamama (Ambrosetti 1897a, 44). Boman (1908, 108-109) while supporting the ‘mortars’ hypothesis, noted a number of similar stones in more recent Chilean Indians sites, which were used to offer sacrifices before long voyages. Furthermore, the large number and distribution patterns of communal mortars attracted the attention of Bruch (1911, 25) who noted that ‘mortars are more frequent on the sides of hills than in the urban areas of the lower village’ (fig. 42). Pellisero and Difrieri (1981, 107) suggested that the Quilmes ‘did not only grind close to the houses, but used any rock that was available. They were used for a long time because they are worn’.

Figure 39: Panorama of the Quilmes’ Ruins and tourist resource centre.

However, during our visit to the ruins, the Chief Francisco Chaile (fig. 43) stated that, ‘these are not communal mortars; they were used for astrology. There are some bigger and others smaller, placed at different levels. They were filled with water and at certain hours of the day or night, they were watched in order to foresee climatic changes. By watching the sun we know if it will rain or be windy. This was part of the oral traditions of our great grandparents. When I was young, my father showed me some places and taught me as his father had taught him…’ (Francisco Chaile, pers. comm., 22.07.2000). Figure 40: Individual mortars, Quilmes’ Ruins.

The indigenous people’s views about the site, although limited to specific issues, differ from archaeologists’ interpretations. Most of the researchers, however, do not regard the ideas of indigenous people as ‘alternative views’, and ignore them entirely in the majority of cases. About their relationship with researchers working in the area, the CIQ stated that ‘archaeologists and social anthropologists have worked with us but they are not prepared to incorporate us into their academic network and we have never received any kind of return from their work’ (Delfin Gerónimo, pers. comm., 19.07.2000). They recognised that ‘in recent years there has been a change of mentality in historians, archaeologists and anthropologists

Figure 41: Communal mortars, Quilmes’ Ruins.

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who have been working with our past’ (Francisco Chaile, pers, comm., 22.07.2000). While keen to improve their relationship with researchers, the CIQ not only challenges their interpretations, but also raises objections about the exhibition of archaeological materials in museums. ‘I hope that these links can be strengthened, because it is impossible to make local people aware of the value of remains and stop looting, if those who come to excavate scientifically remove artefacts and the remains of our ancestors to display them in showcases’ (Delfin Gerónimo, pers. comm., 22.07.2000). Moreover, they have stated that ‘we - as a community - have nothing to show to our children to reinforce their sense of place and pride for their ancestry. We need to go to the La Plata Museum to see ceramics in showcases, while the human bones of our ancestors are piled up in storerooms. I am worried about what scientists are going to do, because apart from their scientific value they are our ancestors, and this is a deep and painful issue. What would you think if “motivated by ‘scientific interest” - I excavated the Recoleta Cemetery (prestigious cemetery of Buenos Aires where national heroes are buried)?’ (Delfín Gerónimo, pers. comm., 22.07.2000). 4.3.4.3. Indigenous Communities and the Control over Archaeological Sites In recent years, archaeologists working in the province have shown more interest in local communities’ attitudes towards archaeological heritage. In 1999, a group of researchers from the Instituto de Arqueología y Museo (UNT), who are excavating sites in Amaicha, produced an educational video titled ‘What will we do with our past’ (Ribotta 1999). It shows a number of interviews carried out with the Amaicha community, in which they discussed who should take control of archaeological sites. Concerning the current situation of the Quilmes’ Ruins, the Amaicha chief, Miguel Pastrana, considered that ‘the Quilmes issue is a desecration of our culture’, and he emphasised that control over sites ‘should by necessity be in the hands of the indigenous communities’. While Héctor Cruz countered that before he was awarded the concession ‘nobody wanted to visit the ruins due to the lack of facilities for visitors’. Finally, they discussed how to build a different relationship between archaeologists and the local indigenous community. In general, the people interviewed agreed that archaeological heritage management should not be privatised, and that the community should be in charge of its own sites. Even though

Figure 42: Communal mortars located in the upper part of the Quilmes’ Ruins.

Figure 43: Chief Chaile at the Quilmes’ Ruins.

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these opinions cannot have any practical results (because site management is undertaken by the provincial government), they reflect archaeologists’ awareness of the social impact of their work, and show that local people’s interest in their own past goes beyond its commercial (i.e. tourist) value.

and which will be a cause of great rejoicing for our community’ (Chief Francisco Chaile talking to tourists at Quilmes’ Ruins, pers. comm., 22.07.2000). In this context, the site is a part of their community and a chapter in their long list of claims. ‘Our future is in our community. Our worst enemy is in our minds: our fear and insecurity. But younger generations are going to be different. We have people studying and receiving training in many different fields. We are working towards five objectives. Firstly, to recover the lands. Secondly, to improve the health and irrigation. Thirdly, to train young people. Fourthly, to gain control over archaeological sites. Finally, and most importantly, to ensure that we appreciate the spiritual aspect of our culture’ (Chief Francisco Chaile, pers. comm., 22.07.2000).

The idea that indigenous communities should contribute to decisions about archaeological sites on their land is gaining acceptance from archaeologists. However, it must be noted that this idea is easier to accept in the case of the Amaicha community - whose legal and social status is beyond dispute - than in the Quilmes community case. This is therefore a key issue in the management of the Quilmes Ruins. In 2002 the present concession will end, and indigenous people and archaeologists hope for change. It is possible, however, that Cruz’ concession will be renewed because he still has considerable political support. It seems therefore unlikely that the CIQ will be able to gain control over the site.

4.4. Visitors’ Opinions about the Quilmes’ Ruins

During our visit to the site with Chief Chaile, a group of visitors who had joined us to listen to the chief asked why the CIQ were not managing the site ‘if this belongs to all of you’. The chief answered that they would like to gain public support ‘because it is appropriate that a community should manage a complex which belonged to their ancestors’. When asked about what they would do with the site, if they had the chance to manage it, the CIQ chief answered that ‘it would remain open to the public, although the issue of the hotel should be discussed. We do not yet have a communal decision, although we have started to discuss it. The great change will be the information that visitors receive’, he emphasised. ‘They must meet the contemporary indigenous people and buy their crafts, not things produced in Buenos Aires as currently sold in the museum shop’ (Francisco Chaile, pers. comm., 22.07.2000). Gerónimo also commented that ‘we would like to manage the site with the help of specialists. We have not discussed at the council the matter of the hotel, although I personally believe that it should not continue to be used as a hotel’ (Delfín Gerónimo, pers. comm., 22.07.2000) (fig. 44). For CIQ members, the site is seen as an opportunity to show themselves and their history to the public. ‘We have always been shown as part of the past, but we are still here. We are the descendants of the people who lived in this place, and in spite of being the home of our ancestors, it does not belong to us. I think that visitors deserve to know the truth, a truth that cannot be hidden for much longer,

This study aims to improve understanding visitor attitudes towards the site, its presentation and its modern social context. To this end, sixty visitors were approached and asked a series of questions that addressed these issues. The results of the survey are presented in Appendix A. Selected results are presented and discussed below.

4.4.1. Information about the Site When visitors were asked ‘how they had learned about the site’, 16 out of 60 said by ‘word of mouth’. History and archaeology books (22%) and guide books (15%) were also among the most selected options. To a lesser extent they

Figure 44: Interior decoration of the Quilmes’ hotel.

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mentioned for being part of ‘tour itinerary’, ‘newspapers’, ‘road sign’ and ‘tourist office’ (table 7).

or the great staircase (38%), because they had only visited the lower part of the site (tables A.9.2 to A.9.9). The visit to the upper part, particularly the Southern Fort, takes time and requires a certain level of physical fitness. In the case of the rectangular and round enclosures, some visitors preferred to answer ‘do not know’ due to their inability to understand the structures’ functions.

Foreign visitors tended to answer ‘guide book’, although the option ‘it was part of tour itinerary’ was also mentioned. Among local people, the ‘history and archaeology books’ option was most commonly selected. Argentinean national visitors gave the greatest variety of answers. Nevertheless, ‘word of mouth’ was the option most often mentioned, and ‘history books’ and ‘guide book’ were important sources of information.

‘The scenery’ and ‘the southern fort’ were the aspects of the site which got the highest average score in terms of visitors’ enjoyment (3.9 out of 4), followed by the round and rectangular enclosures (3.8. and 3.6 respectively), the paths (3.2), the great staircase (3.2) and the Northern Fort (2.6) (table 9). However, the average of these seven scores (3.5) was notably lower than the “overall” score allocated by visitors (4), and is mainly due to the relatively low scores allocated to the paths, the great staircase and the Northern fort. The paths and the staircase - and the fort to which they ascend - proved to be too much of a challenge for many visitors, hence the low scores they received.

4.4.2. Views about the Population of the Quilmes’ Ruins When visitors at the Quilmes’ Ruins were asked to select ‘the option which best describes the ancient inhabitants’, most replied that they were ‘part of an extinct culture’, while less than a third felt that they were ‘part of a tradition still alive through their descendants’. All local and foreign visitors categorised the site’s inhabitants as an ‘extinct culture’, as did most of the national visitors (tables 8). All n=60 Guide Book 9 [15] Tour Itinerary 6 Newspapers 5 Tourist Office 4 Word of Mouth 16 [27] History/Archaeology Books 13 [22] At School 1 Road sign 4 Other 2 Table 7. Sources of publicity concerning All n=60

When visitors were asked to select the aspect of the site that they had enjoyed most, the majority selected ‘the ruins in general’, ‘the scenery’, and ‘the setting’. A smaller number mentioned the Southern Fort, the mortars, the International Northern Fort, the museum and the condition Visitors of preservation (table A.9.10). The historic and n=3 2 cultural importance of the site, and the fact 1 that the site is open to the public, were also 0 mentioned.

National Local Visitors Visitors n=54 n=3 7 0 5 0 5 0 4 0 0 16 0 0 11 2 0 1 0 0 4 0 0 1 1 0 the Quilmes’ Ruins, by visitor type. National Visitors n=54 26

Local Visitors n=3 3

International Visitors n=3 3

18

0

0

Part of an extinct culture 32 [53] Part of a tradition still alive 18 [30] through their descendants Other 4 [7] Do not know 6 [10] Table 8. Description of the people who lived in

4 0 0 6 0 0 the Quilmes’ Ruins, by visitor type (n[%]).

Rank 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

4.4.3. Attitudes Towards Different Aspects of the Site The majority of visitors said they had enjoyed their visit to the Quilmes’ Ruins Site ‘a lot’ (63% average for all the 8 aspects - table A.9.1). Many visitors - particularly from the rest of the country - ‘did not know’ what they thought of the Northern and Southern forts (43% and 60% respectively)

When asked about which aspects of the site disappointed them, a fifth of visitors said ‘do not know’, and almost half said that no aspect of the site was disappointing. Amongst the most criticised aspects were the hotel, the concession and the swimming pool, followed by the lack of information and sign-posting, the poor maintenance of the entrance road, the parking area, and the ‘tragic fate of the Quilmes’ (table A.9.11, fig. A.9.1.). The rest of the respondents gave a wide range of answers, including perplexity concerning the rectangular enclosures, the steps descending from the forts, and the paths in general. These all point to poor site management. Aspect of the site Scenery Southern Fort Round enclosures Rectangular enclosures Paths Great staircase Northern Fort

Average Score 3.9 3.9 3.8 3.6 3.2 3.2 2.6

Table 9. Average score for different aspects of the Quilmes’ Ruins.

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The local people were the most critical, focusing their criticism on the entrance road, the path and the fact that the site management had been undertaken by a private concessionaire. Most of the foreign (67%) and national visitors (47%) said that nothing had disappointed them, while almost a quarter of the latter replied that they did not know what to criticise.

that nothing needed changing and said they did not know how to improve the site, a few others suggested major changes, including more publicity, ‘sound-and-light shows’ and the employment of performers and musicians. Other visitors stated that they would have liked more time to visit the site. The request for more information was made by foreigners, and a third of local and national visitors. Local people and visitors from the rest of the country expressed a desire for guided tours, while historical information was requested by foreigners and to a lesser extent by national tourists. When asked about the visit, most interviewees felt that the visit to the ruins was ‘interesting’, while a few visitors considered it ‘interesting but exhausting’.

4.4.4. Attitudes Towards the Reconstruction When asked about the reconstruction of the ruins, most visitors (60%) felt that ‘the reconstruction adds enjoyment to the site’, a quarter were in favour of seeing the ruins as they were originally, and a few others were undecided or gave other answers (usually a combination of the first two options, stating - for example - that they enjoyed the reconstruction, but they would also have liked to see the site as it was originally). Most visitors opposed to the reconstruction were local visitors and, to a lesser extent, Argentinean nationals. All the foreigners surveyed favoured the reconstruction (table 10).

4.4.6. Attitudes Towards Archaeological Heritage Finally, when asked why they felt archaeological sites should be protected, most visitors (22%) said they regarded them as part of ‘our history’, ‘our past’ or ‘our roots’. The ideas that archaeological sites are ‘part of the national heritage’, of ‘historic value’, ‘part of others’ past’ and ‘non-renewable resources that must be preserved’ were also common. To a lesser extent, it was claimed that the sites are part of the human heritage in general, a ‘birth right of future generations’, and that they should be preserved because of their ‘aesthetic value’.

4.4.5. Opinions Concerning Site Presentation Most visitors considered the presentation and explanation of the ruins to be ‘good’ or ‘reasonable’ (table 11). When asked how they would improve or change site presentation, most visitors requested further information and explanations, including information boards, sign posting, leaflets and maps, while almost a quarter asked for guided tours. To a lesser extent, people wanted more historical information about the Quilmes, and explanations in other languages. While a tenth of interviewees considered

The reconstruction adds enjoyment to the site I would rather have seen the site as it was originally I could not decide which one is the best option Other

Foreign visitors felt that all Argentinean archaeological sites should be protected for being part of ‘others’ cultures’, as much as because they are part of the national or historic heritage or have an historic value. Local visitors perceived the remains to be ‘our past’, ‘others’ past’ and national heritage, while more than a third of national visitors identified the archaeological sites as part International of their ‘own past’. The latter group mentioned Visitors n=3 also ‘historic value’, the status of archaeological remains as non-renewable resources and the 3 notion that sites constitute national heritage. The other options were occasionally mentioned 0 by national tourists (table 12).

All n=60

National Visitors n=54

Local Visitors n=3

36 [60]

32

1

15 [25]

13

2

4 [7]

4

0

0

5

5

0

0

Table 10. Attitudes towards the reconstruction of the Quilmes’ Ruins, by visitor type (n[%]).

International Visitors (n=3) National Visitors (n=54) Local Visitors (n=3) All (n=60)

Very Good 0 9 1 10

Good 2 21 0 23

Reasonable 0 19 1 20

Poor 1 5 1 7

Table 11. Attitudes towards the explanation and presentation of the Quilmes’ Ruins, by visitor type.

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In general, it seems that more visitors had independently sought information about the site than had found out about it through tourist offices or in schools. Visitors more readily identified the aspects of the sites they had liked than those they had disliked. Most visitors supported the site reconstruction and presentation. Only a third was able to identify aspects of the site that they disliked. However, their inability to interpret some reconstructed archaeological features may provide some

All n=60 Our history/ past Historic value National heritage Non-renewable resources Others' history/past Heritage of Mankind Future generations Aesthetic Value Tourist Value

22 [37] 9 [15] 9 [15] 7 6 4 2 1 0

National Visitors n=54 21 8 7 7 4 4 2 1 0

Local Visitors n=3 1 0 1 0 1 0 0 0 0

International Visitors n=3 0 1 1 0 1 0 0 0 0

Table 12. Meanings and values of archaeological sites (Quilmes’ Ruins visitor type (n [%]).

explanation for the high number of ‘do not know’ answers. After filling in the questionnaire, visitors frequently asked a number of questions about site interpretation. The majority of interviewees did not relate the site to any living indigenous group, believing the past inhabitants of the Quilmes’ site to have been part of an ‘extinct culture’. These opinions could have been influenced by the site museum guide - who declared that the last descendant of the Quilmes had died in the nineteenth century - but also by the fact that local villages are not visible from the route that leads to the site. Visitors tended to consider archaeological sites in general as part of their ‘own history and past’, and valued them for their historic and national importance.

4.5. Final Comments In the 1970s, the military governments encouraged a very selective recovery of the pre-Hispanic past, and aimed to separate material culture from historic records and oral traditions. Any archaeological evidence of the Quilmes’ resistance was therefore considered ‘subversive’, and the material remains were ignored in accordance with political agendas. Having been separated from meanings and memories, and reconstructed in a way that said little about the details of Quilmes’ lifestyle, the site was reconfigured by new - political - values. It was then presented as the embodiment of some remote national past where ‘the true Argentine’ - an intellectual construction in tune with the discourses of the Catholic right wing elite - could find its deepest roots. Quilmes’ ruins subsequently became a tourist destination, a target for economic exploitation and the subject of indigenous claims. The site has, therefore, gained additional symbolic value, representing not only the Quilmes’ resistance in the past but also that of the present.

site reconstruction and presentation sometimes raised more questions than answers. Not only have site managers failed to provide basic visitor information, but the Indigenous Community Quilmes has been unable to facilitate visitors’ access to their community i.e. visiting their head office - in order to discover the community’s own version of their history.

Today the site is the subject of a dispute among different interest groups, which can be divided into two main factions. Indigenous communities, archaeologists and other survey), by specialists in cultural heritage - including those working within the government - represent the first of these factions. They all claim to have been in some way dispossessed of the site: archaeologists and specialists of their intellectual ownership, and indigenous communities of their ancestral heritage. Those who control the site represent the second faction: the concessionaire and the Secretary of Tourism. They claim they have attracted visitors to a site that was almost abandoned. It is evident, however, that the concession to the site has not benefited site preservation, research, or local indigenous groups. The concessionaire himself has become the target of criticism, and dispute over control of the site has dominated the current debate. It seems reasonable to assume that, until this debate is settled, there can be no improvement in the site’s management. It thus seems unlikely that the indigenous community can participate in the management of the site. Gaining control over the site does not guarantee any success; however, it would provide the local community with an opportunity to demonstrate its abilities in managing its own heritage.

Notes 1. Pedro Bohorquez promised to recover indigenous treasures. Spanish documents referred to ‘two magnificent huacas in Quilmes’ (Father León Letter), as well as ‘a sacred site - named the “white house” - located outside the Quilmes territory on top of a precipitous hill “where it is said that the Inka had eaten and drunk with the sun”’ (Autos II Declaración de Pedro Bohorquez, 1657). One of the Quilmes’ shrines was located, according to Bohorquez, a quarter of a league from the chief’s settlement (current Quilmes’ ruins). It consisted of an ancient Inka tomb, surrounded by wooden statues of Indians and stone animals, which belonged to the Pacciocas (Lorandi 1997, 263). While the location of the two Quilmes huacas remains unknown, the ‘white house’, according to Lorandi and Boixados (1988, 350), is located close to Rincón Chico Site. Various ceremonial structures were found on the hill, including three buildings, a large platform and a surrounding wall decorated with coloured stones (Tarragó 1988).

Visitors said they were astonished by the setting and scenery as much as by the Quilmes peoples’ fate. They tended to express their surprise in positive views about the site, although for some confused and rushed tourists, the

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2. The ‘Santa María’ culture developed in Yocavil and Calchaquí Valleys and is defined on the basis of ceramic style - mainly funerary urns and bowls - as well as metalwork and settlement type. Santa María urns are characterised by low-relief features, especially faces and arms. Painted animals such as toads, rheas (suris) and snakes as well as geometrical figures also occur (Márquez Miranda 1963, 643-644). Black and red on white are the predominant colours. Concerning metal objects, ceremonial axes and bronze breast plates (cailles) are commonly found. Wooden anthropomorphic figures may have been used in religious contexts, since some chronicles reported their presence in places dedicated to sacred worship called ‘mochaderos’ (González and Pérez 1972, 92). Settlements have been compared with honeycombs due to their conjoined and numerous stone structures (Bengtsson 1992). Cemeteries were generally located separately from urban settlements. Adults were buried in baskets and children in urns. Stone tombs were circular in shape with vaulted roofs (González and Pérez 1972, 86-101).

5. When Bohorquez was arrested, the Governor Mercado y Villacorta ordered him to declare all his descendants in the valleys as well as all his ‘pregnant Indian women’, since his descendants could be a potential risk to the Spanish domination (Lorandi 1997, 292). Considering that Pedro Bohorquez was arrested in 1659, it is highly unlikely that Apolonia Bohorquez is the great granddaughter of the false Inka, although it is common for local people to talk about ‘great-grandparents’ when referring to more remote ancestors. 6. The exploitation of workers - most of them indigenous people from the Northwest - and the appalling conditions in which they were forced to live was publicly denounced by Deputy Bialet Massé in 1904. Concerning the condition of indigenous people working in sugar cane production in Chaco and Tucumán, Bialet Massé stated ‘the Indian can survive on breadcrumbs, and even so badly fed, he works better than the best workers’. However, ‘criollos are paid thirty-five pesos, whereas the Indians only received ten or twelve. The Indian is distrustful, but he has reasons. Fulfilled contracts and promises are so infrequent that he only trusts in written agreements, and asks for them as guarantees’ (Bialet Massé 1985, 54-69).

3. Recent investigations carried out at the El Pichao site have indicated that the Ambrosetti’s model of roofing seems unlikely (Bengtsson 1992, 48). 4. I was unable to establish contact with Héctor Cruz, and after many attempts I finally received his wife’s authorisation to carry out my research at the site. While not legally required to ask for permission, I considered it appropriate, mainly because I was planning to walk around the site with members of the Indigenous Community Quilmes.

7. Rock paintings, including Santa María-style representations, were found at the southern side of the site (Ambrosetti 1987a, 66-70; Pelissero and Difrieri 1981, 121). Ten Kate (1893, 337) reported the presence of apachetas in the mountains which divide Quilmes from the El Cajón Valley.

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CHAPTER 5 THE ‘MENHIRES’ PARK’

The Tafí culture is best known for its monoliths - named ‘menhires’ by nineteenth century archaeologists - some of which bear carvings of different motifs. They were located alongside the valley in various contexts. García Azcárate (1998a) has classified them according to location and inferred function. The first category denotes those found in a funerary or ceremonial context. A remarkable example of this type was found at Casas Viejas, El Mollar, one of the earliest sites attributed to the Tafí culture. A 30 m long and 3 m high artificial mound was found to contain several levels of soil, ashes, charcoal, pottery fragments and charred bones (García Azcárate 1994). The mound was partially excavated in the 1960s by González and Núñez Regueiro (1962) and later by Núñez Regueiro and García Azcárate (forthcoming). It was found to be a complex burial containing several human skeletons and camelid bones, as well as bone and stone

5.1. The History of Tafí Valley and its Menhires 5.1.1. The Tafí Culture

The Tafí Valley is located 2000 m. above sea level at the edge of the western slopes of Tucumán province, linking the Calchaquí Valleys and the eastern rainforest. Its land is suitable for grazing guanacos, which - along with the algarrobo wood - were important resources for huntergatherer groups. Afterwards, the valley was occupied by farming groups typologically identified as the ‘Tafí Culture’. While traditionally believed to be an ‘Early Period’ culture (600 BC - 659 AD), radiocarbon dating placed this culture somewhat later, between 0 - 900 AD (González 1962; Berberián 1988; Tartusi and Nuñez Regueiro 1993, 18) (fig. 45). Their settlements consisted of large circular stone enclosures with a central courtyard, surrounded by smaller circular structures. These were sunk into the ground, probably roofed with branches, and most likely used as domestic chambers or storerooms. Large family groups would have inhabited these complex buildings, which were often separated by several hundred metres. These structures were built close to cultivated land on the valley floor, and near to streams. Subsistence was based on maize, potato, bean and pumpkin cultivation, and raising llamas. Rough ceramics, textiles, copper objects and sophisticated stonework were also characteristic of this group (González 1961; González and Pérez 1972; Berberián and Nielsen 1998; Manasse 1998). A second phase of this culture - named Tafí II - was proposed on the basis of radiocarbon dating by Nuñez Regueiro and Tarragó (1972). According to Berberián and Nielsen (1988, 49-50), a change in settlement pattern took place during the second phase, when rural, family-based settlements were replaced by larger villages with communal areas. Ceramic remains attributed to the Candelaria and San Francisco cultures have been found in these sites, suggesting contact between Tafí groups and people from the north as well as from the eastern rainforest (Tartusi and Nuñez Regueiro 1993, 20). Figure 45: Geographical

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location of Tafí Culture groups (0-900 AD).

artefacts, copper sheets, ceramic pipes and zoomorphic/ anthropomorphic figurines (García Azcárate 1998a, 163). According to descriptions made by early researchers, this mound was surrounded by several megaliths. Between thirteen to sixteen monoliths may have been placed along both sides of the Rincón river (Ambrosetti 1897b; Bruch 1911; Schreiter 1928).1 These menhires are thought to have been part of a complex ceremonial centre ‘which would have required some sort of corporate labour in order to be built, and therefore implied the existence of an authority with power to mobilise people’ (Tartusi and Nuñez Regueiro 1993, 18). Accordingly, García Azcárate (1994) considered it to be a place of public ritual related to the worship of ancestors. Based on early descriptions of the site, she intended to reconstruct this ‘ritual landscape’, which was dominated by the mound and surrounded by a high concentration of menhires in an area protected from wet winds and with panoramic views of the valley (García Azcárate 1994; 1998b). The second category of monoliths refers to those placed inside circular or rectangular enclosures. These are typically associated with domestic settings next to farmlands and springs (González and Pérez 1972). Berberián (1988, 60) identified one of them in a stockyard in the north of the valley, dating to the Tafí II phase. It was placed close to the west wall, surrounded by a circle of stones and ceramic fragments. This second type may have been employed to give some kind of ‘ritual’ protection to the inhabitants as well as to their harvests and herds. Monoliths have been found in this context in other parts of the Andes. The third category of monoliths is comprised of those located along roads into the valley through different ravines, and were typically surrounded by stone circles (Schreiter 1928, 5). These menhires may have operated as landmarks to define the territories of neighbouring groups (García Azcárate 1998a, 164-5). The second and third types of menhires are found in isolation, and seem to have belonged to the second phase of Tafí culture. By this period, the ritual activities had moved from public places to domestic enclosures. Furthermore, the spread of menhires outside the valley - especially to forest areas occupied by Candelaria groups - may suggest the expansion of the ‘cult’ of the menhires, testifying to increased trading networks or control in these areas (García Azcárate 1994).

5.1.2. After the Tafí Culture Between 900-1200 AD, there was a hiatus in the valley’s archaeological record (Manasse 1998). During this period the Aguada culture flourished in the greater part of La Rioja, Catamarca, and southeastern Tucumán - including the

Calchaquí Valleys - although no remains of this culture were found in the Tafí Valley. This valley was later occupied by other groups, who used the same areas as the earlier Tafí culture. Their presence in the area is demonstrated by distinctive architecture at a number of sites (e.g. Los Cuartos, La Ovejería, El Mollar) from 1200 AD onwards. Recent studies, however, have suggested that they settled in the area shortly after the end of the Tafí period (García Azcárate 1998b, 74). Finds of characteristic pottery support the hypothesis that these new groups retained some contacts with the inhabitants of the Santa María Valley, probably in order to exploit alternative resources. However, residential architecture in the Tafí Valley at this time - typically rectangular dwellings with sunken floors - was not the same as that in other Santa María settlements. Extensive farming terraces, irrigation systems, observation posts at strategic points and Inka-style pottery demonstrate the later Inka domination of the valley (González and Pérez 1972; Manasse 1998, 18). During this period the valley became a border between the Calchaquí Valleys groups and rainforest populations, thus gaining strategic importance. People from Catamarca and Lules would have been resettled there, in order to protect the frontier and to exploit local resources. When the Spanish arrived in 1543, the valley was occupied by Kakan-speaking indigenous peoples and other groups who had been relocated by the Inkas. These groups soon came under the control of the Spanish, and were split up among different encomenderos (Cruz 1992). According to documentary sources, Juan Nuñez de Guevara became the encomendero of the Tafíes, Amaichas and Anfamas in 1552 (Cruz 1992, 71; Requejo de Medjugorac 1991, 30). However, it is difficult to determine the ethnic affiliation of the Tafí Valley population on the basis of Spanish chronicles. According to Cruz (1992), the Tafíes and the Amaichas - as well as the Siambones and the Anfamas - would have been part of the same ethnic group under the control of the chief Abaquín (and later Diego Uti). As it is probable that the Spanish came upon them in different localities - where they were exploiting alternative resources - they received diverse names. Furthermore, the invention of different ethnic names to denote the same group was a device frequently used by the Spanish to legitimise the division of one ethnic group into different encomiendas, which was prohibited by colonial legislation (Cruz 1992, 71). It is therefore believed that the encomienda of the Amaichas was in fact a subdivision of the Tafíes (Cruz 1992, 87-88). The apparent docility of the Tafíes did not protect them from relocation. They became a major labour force in Spanish cities - particularly San Miguel de Tucumán - producing a dramatic fall in the local population (Bolsi et al. 1992, 390394). When the lands of the Tafí Valley were given by grant to Melián de Leguizamo y Guevara in 1617, the royal document described the valley as ‘depopulated and without owner’. Having belonged to several landowners, the valley



was bought by the Jesuits in 1718. After building a church and some residential areas, they began to exploit the valley’s resources systematically, particularly the herding of mules and cows, and the manufacture of cheese. Indigenous people living in other religious reducciones were transferred to the so-called ‘Estancia de Tafí’, in order to work the lands. However, the economy of the valley collapsed with the expulsion of the Jesuits in 1767. Their properties were abandoned and the indigenous population was dispersed. The lands were later acquired by landowners, who continued the Jesuit economic system throughout the nineteenth century. By 1910 the valley had a population of only 2,074 inhabitants (Bolsi, et al. 1992, 402-403).

the Tafí culture as ‘the only complex of archaeological remains in the central area which cannot be tied in with the others or assigned a place in time’. However, in the next few years the followers of diffusionism associated the menhires with foreign cultures, and compared them with those found in Mexico and Easter Island (e.g. Canals Frau 1959). In the 1960s the first systematic excavations of Tafí sites - including menhires - were carried out, and the first radiocarbon dates were obtained (González 1962; González and Núñez Regueiro 1962). Since that point, there has been no question that the menhires are indeed part of Tafí material culture.

5.1.4. Interpreting Menhires 5.1.3. Discovexring Menhires The monoliths of the Tafí Valley were first noted by archaeologist Juan Bautista Ambrosetti in 18972 and have since been discussed by a number of researchers (e.g. Quiroga 1898; Lafone Quevedo 1904; Boman 1908). During his explorations in Tucumán, Bruch (1911) identified a number of large stones - some with geometric and anthropomorphic decorations - in the vicinity of the Rincón River and El Mollar (figs. 46 and 47). It was not until the 1960s, however, that the area was surveyed and the ‘menhires’ were systematically studied (González and Nuñez Regueiro 1962). In 1897 Ambrosetti compared the menhires of Tafí with those found in other areas of Northwest Argentina3, and attributed them to an ancient culture originating in the Titicaca basin, Bolivia. These stones reminded him of European megaliths, hence his adoption of the Celtic word ‘menhir’, a term which is still used by researchers. He believed that they had been brought from long distances because ‘this type of stone is not found in the region’ (Ambrosetti 1987b, 12)4. He thus provided the basis of the myth that the menhires were the artistic heritage of a non-local culture with few relationships with other local groups. He states that ‘we have no doubt that we are in presence of a system of menhires aligned like those at the famous site of Karnac…’ He also noted that ‘these (menhires) had belonged to a race different from the Calchaquíes, who constructed these singular monuments in a very remote age, over long periods of time. This race would have been powerful and proud, since almost the whole valley is covered by remains of their monumental works’ (Ambrosetti 1987b, 10-11). The menhires were not linked to any local culture until 1948. Bennett et al. (1948, 89) first defined

There are many aspects of Tafi Culture, however, that still need to be examined, as well as the nature of relationships between these groups and those that inhabited the area during the Late Regional Period (Manasse 1998, 19). Nevertheless, it seems clear that the menhires continued to

Figure 46: Menhir found at Campo del Mollar, Tafí, Tucumán Province (from Bruch 1911).

Figure 47: Circular stone enclosure surrounding the menhir at Campo del Mollar, Tafí, Tucumán Province (from Bruch 1911).



be used as sacred shrines during subsequent occupations of the region.

on some monoliths may be related to the dual figure of the Pachamama - Yastay.

The symbolic significance of the stones and their carvings is a matter of debate among both researchers and local people. Different meanings have been attributed to the menhires by diverse authors through time. For example, according to ethnographic sources, small menhires buried at the corners of farming lands throughout the Andes5 were used to protect the sown fields and to house the Pachamama. Menhires are denoted by a number of different Quechua words. They were generally called ‘huancas’ (hard carved stones), although they also received other names related to their diverse functions - including ‘chichic’ (who make crops grow), ‘chacrayoc’ (master of the farming land) or ‘marcayoc’ (guardian of the village) (Mariscotti de Gorlitz 1978, 261-262; Duviols 1973; 1979). They are associated with the ancestors’ cult and the Pachamama, and are therefore related to fertility and possession of the land (fig. 48) According to Duviols (1979) the huanca was always male, and when located in vertical position symbolised the fecundity of the earth (female Pachamama). The phallic symbolism of the menhires was noted by early researchers, particularly Quiroga (1899; 1931). Moreover, García Azcárate suggested a link between the ‘double-face’ motifs on some menhires (fig. 49) with the notion of duality that characterised Andean cosmology (García Azcárate 1994). This idea had already been expressed by Quiroga (1931, 29), who noted that the hermaphrodite anthropomorphic representations

Sixteenth-century chronicles also described ceremonial use of the menhires in the Calchaquí Valleys, where the stones were decorated with feathers as part of the rituals (González 1980, 108; also González and Nuñez Regueiro 1962). For example, Father Diego de Torres - who was in search of indigenous shrines for the purpose of destroying them described that ‘on a road next to Luracatao we knocked down a big white stone decorated with feathers which was a very ancient indigenous mochadero (ritual place)’ (Letter from Diego de Torres [1611], quoted by Requejo de Medjugorac 1991, 50). Many menhires have engravings where feathers could have been placed, and remains of red paint-work have been found on at least one of the anthropomorphic monoliths at El Mollar (González 1960).

Figure 48: Menhir with anthropomorphic motif (Menhires’ Park, Tucumán).

Figure 49: Menhir with ‘double-face’ motif (Menhires’ Park, Tucumán).



5.2. Uses and Values of the Menhires (1900 - 1997) Throughout the twentieth century the menhires were used in a variety of ways in domestic and public places. With each use the monoliths were endowed with distinct attributes of symbolic, aesthetic, political and economic value.

5.2.1. Menhires in Domestic Settings At the beginning of twentieth century, local people called the monoliths ‘standing stones’ and considered them to be symbols of good fortune. Some were moved and were employed in the construction of modern houses, to support walls, or to demarcate the boundaries between properties (Bruch 1911, 10). They were also used to decorate the entrances to wealthy landowners’ mansions (Racedo, forthcoming). A local researcher explains that ‘local people are not sure about the origin of the menhires, although they know that they belonged to the antiguos. The old women called them “minaires”, and we used to call them “large stones”. The word “menhires” started to be used in the valley when Rex González excavated them in the 1960s’ (Josefina Racedo, pers. comm., 30.07.2000).

5.2.2. Commemorating the Republic A menhir described by Ambrosetti (1897b), not only received his name but was also transported to a park in Tucumán city, in order to serve as a decorative monument. Governor Ernesto Padilla ordered its relocation in 1914, as part of the celebration planned for the centenary of the country’s independence (1916). Carrying the menhir from the Tafí Valley to Acheral was not an easy task. It took forty men a month to move it with an aipa (a kind of wheelbarrow made of wood and leather), specially manufactured to carry it along the precipitous paths. It was then transported by train from Acheral to the capital of the province. The special design of the aipa - although not the human feat - was recently

commemorated in an editorial of the provincial newspaper (La Gaceta, 04.07.2000), which included a photograph of those men - some of them barefoot - transporting the menhir in the aipa in 1914 (fig. 50). The final destination of this menhir was ‘El Centenario’ Park, designed by a French architect, in a European style, and created to celebrate Argentinean independence. The menhir was placed with its back to the sun, and became part of the newly-created altar to national pride. Buffo (1940) explains that Governor Padilla decided to move the menhir to Tucumán for its own preservation (it had been lying flat, and was completely over-grown with grass), and the need to raise awareness of its value by giving the menhir ‘a place of honour in the main park of the city’ (Buffo 1940, 58). Ricardo Jaimes Freyre, a Bolivian writer who became a member of the Tucumán’s intellectual elite, welcomed the arrival of ‘the stone giant’ to Tucumán in a letter to the provincial newspaper in 1915. In this letter, he aimed to demonstrate that the menhires belonged to a ‘remote disappeared race’ which bore no relation to ethnographic Calchaquí groups. He also stated that ‘the interpretations of some archaeologists have influenced the historians who are starting to believe in the “legend” of the Calchaquí civilisation’. He not only judged this to be ‘pure fantasy’, but also expressed his opinion of ‘the consequences that these theories may generate’. He finally stated that ‘the savage population of the valley in the sixteenth century was not capable of carrying out this type of work’, and concluded that ‘the monolith is certainly not a Diaguita monument’ (La Gaceta, 03.11.1915).

Figure 50: People from El Mollar carrying the ‘Ambrosetti’ menhir to Tucumán in 1915 (La Gaceta, 04.07.2000).

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The tone of this letter suggests a defence of an official historical ‘truth’, and aims to lessen the impact that this menhir was expected to have upon the public. Freyre was worried about the practical consequences of archaeological research, warning of the dangers posed by the spread of the new theories, and insisting that the Diaguita culture was extremely primitive. Freyre’s motivation in reacting against the archaeological rediscovery of the indigenous people’s past was analysed by Mastrángelo (1995, 7). She suggests that Freyre represented the ideological standpoint of the provincial elite, who adhered to European traditions and were economically tied to sugar cane production. In this context, accepting archaeologists’ theories about the antiquity of native cultures would not only change ‘official’ history, but would also endanger the contemporary social order. The relocated ‘Ambrosetti’ menhir was perceived to be everything from a mere decorative feature and a tribute to the archaeologist who found it to a reinforcement of national pride. Meanwhile, its indigenous origin was both manipulated and idealised. The focus on its aesthetic value and the emphasis on the foreign and sophisticated nature of the culture which produced it, permitted the denial of any link between the menhires and local indigenous groups. A good example of this view is provided by Guido Buffo (1940) - a professor of the National Academy of Fine Art - who studied the decorative design of the ‘Ambrosetti’ menhir. In the preface of his publication he stated that ‘what I have produced does not belong to me but to its anonymous unknown author, who a thousand years ago could imagine and lovingly carve this Tafí monolith. Whatever its symbolic/religious meaning would be, the spirit of a noble, heroic and virtuous race was hanging in the balance’. He also dedicated his book to ‘this remote author, who can be considered the main artistic exponent of a disappeared millenarian civilisation that once worked in these Argentine lands’ (Buffo 1940, 1-2).

5.2.3. Creating the Menhires’ Park In the early 1960s, archaeologist Alberto Rex González suggested that an archaeological park be created, to include a 360 square metres reconstruction of the mound surrounded by the monoliths. He prepared the project with the help of an architect specialising in landscape, and offered their assessment ad honorem (González 2000, 258). However, his proposition was dismissed by local authorities, who were not interested in the archaeological research carried out in the valley. In fact, these authorities expressly supported the idea that ‘provincial culture’ was a continuity of the HispanicCatholic tradition, while archaeological research was demonstrating the importance and antiquity of the indigenous past (Mastrángelo 1995, 15-16). Once again, archaeological discourse was in conflict with official history in Tucumán.

Some years later, however, the provincial government began to take an interest in the exploitation of the menhires for tourism. The collapse of the sugar cane industry prompted a severe economic crisis, as well as unemployment and widespread social unrest (Mastrángelo 1995, 17). In the wake of this upheaval, the government was compelled to promote alternative economic activities, including tourism. In this context the Tafí Valley was ideal, possessing a remarkable landscape, mild weather and a cultural heritage that included Jesuit settlements and the menhires. Provincial Law 3228 (1965) commissioned the creation of the Tafí Archaeological Park in El Mollar area in order to preserve the archaeological ‘masterpieces of indigenous civilisations’. It also ordered the excavation and restoration of the ceremonial site and the installation of a museum (art. 3), and charged the Secretary of Tourism with the enforcement of the law (art. 4). During the discussion of this law, held in the Chamber of Deputies, it was stated that ‘only those countries which do not think of their future do not try to preserve the roots of their past. Tafí Valley is one of the richest archaeological areas of the country. It constitutes a reserve of our past which will be useful for the scientific analysis of pre-Hispanic times and will serve for tourist promotion, since this type of menhir has not been found in other parts of the country or Latin America’. They also noted that ‘it is an essential labour of the government to preserve this heritage for present and future generations’ (Diario de Sesiones Cámara de Diputados, Dictamen de Comisión, 14.09.64). For the first time, the provincial congress had made a statement about the scientific, historic and economic value of the menhires and the need for them to be preserved. However, there has been a great disparity between the legal/ political discourse and practical results, thus the menhires’ situation remaining unchanged for a long time. In 1968 the Dirección de Turismo y Parques Provinciales asked the Faculty of Architecture (UNT) to design a menhires’ park. In December 1968 architect Roque Gómez, after surveying the menhires located in the valley, prepared a comprehensive report. He argued that his proposals of reconstruction of El Mollar had to follow the principles of the Venice Charter, and stated the need to excavate the site in its entirety. He produced several maps, summarising the drawings of early researchers as well as bibliographical references about the original location of the menhires (Gómez 1973). However, the government dismissed this report, for reasons that remain unknown. Instead of carrying out Gómez’ ambitious project, the Dirección de Turismo y Parques Provinciales moved some monoliths and placed them in the main square of El Mollar. In 1977, the ‘Proceso de Reorganización Nacional’ enacted by the last military government made its mark in the history of the Tafí menhires. They were included in a plan to increase

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tourism, which also caused the reconstruction of the Quilmes’ Ruins. In the creation of the ‘Menhires’ Park’ by Governor Antonio Bussi, one hundred and fourteen monoliths were moved and relocated. Most of the menhires from the valley, as well as the one on display at the Centenario Park in Tucumán city, were placed on a low hill called ‘El Pelado’ next to La Angostura dam. These actions were carried out by military forces without archaeological supervision. As a result, no record of the menhires’ provenance was made (Nuñez Regueiro 1992; Mastrángelo 1995; González 2000, 259). The relocation violated provincial heritage law (4593/76), which states that exploration and excavation of archaeological remains can only be carried out by scientific institutions (art. 2). Aesthetic criteria were used to determine the new placements of the stones (fig. 51). To enhance presentation of the menhires they were ringed with smaller stones and sets of stairs were built into the mound upon which they were located (fig. 52). The park was then made accessible by car. The Chenaut Family - who had donated the land for the park built and ran a craft shop at its entrance. The opening of the park was reported by the newspaper La Gaceta (02.05.1977), which included a photograph showing a group of armed soldiers, Governor Bussi and other officials during this event (fig. 53)6. As part of a new policy of provincial tourist development, Tafí del Valle was declared a ‘tourist area’, and was placed under the protection of a local tourist manager by the Secretary of Tourism (Law 4733/77). In 1978 a museum at the Jesuit Convent of La Banda was opened to the public, further increasing the potential for cultural tourism in the area.

Some local people who had been hired to move the menhires in 1977 refused to talk to me about this topic, claiming to have forgotten everything about the event. According to Juan Carlos Yapura, they were afraid to talk. A man named

Figure 51: General view of the Menhires’ Park.

Figure 52: Vertical stairs leading to the monolith, Menhires’ Park.

5.2.3.1. Hiding the Menhires: Stories of the Resistance The people of the valley did not challenge the relocation of the menhires. Juan Carlos Yapura, a local villager, commented that ‘local people were not aware of the damage that the relocation of the menhires caused. Some of them helped to carry the stones, and important landowners gave their consent for the government to remove them from their lands’ (Juan Yapura, pers. comm., 26.07.2000).

Figure 53: Opening of the Menhires’ Park in 1977 by Governor Bussi and members of the National Army (La Gaceta, 02.05.1977).

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Juan, preferring not to provide his surname, explained how the menhires were moved. In addition to manual labour, cranes and iron chains were used to move the monoliths, which sometimes had to be dragged due to their considerable weight (Racedo, forthcoming). Concerning the way in which the menhires were excavated, Juan explained that ‘we did not have the opportunity to see if there was anything below the menhires. We excavated the stones very fast because the soldiers did not give us much time. The army opened roads in order to carry the menhires to El Pelado Hill, and brought large cactus plants from Amaicha to decorate the park. When asked about people’s reaction, he noted ‘nobody said a word; the menhires were just stones’ (Juan, pers. comm. 26.07.2000). The military government of that time prevented any possibility of public complaint about the menhires’ relocation. ‘In 1968 the monoliths were removed from the open lands not from the houses (private properties), but in 1977 the military entered the houses’, explained Roberto Centeno, a local man. ‘I remember a captain ordering the removal of the menhires with a gun in his hand’ (Roberto Centeno, pers. comm., 28.07.2000). Some people, however, managed to avoid the removal of menhires. Uriciuclo and Toledo (2000, 11-12) tell the story of a man who had two menhires on his land. Being aware that they would be taken by the military, he plotted with a friend to hide them. Even though they failed to move the biggest, they managed to hide the other behind his house. Both men kept the secret long after the event, and only after one of them died a few years ago, did the owner of the land decide that the menhir should be returned to its original place. Another local villager explained that two menhires located close to El Mollar River remained in situ because the owner of the land flooded the road with water from an irrigation channel, thus preventing the military from entering (Roberto Centeno, pers. comm., 28.07.2000).7 These actions are now perceived to be symbolic of people’s resistance to the military regime. The story of the menhires reminds many people of the fate of those who ‘disappeared’ during the last military government. These monoliths thus gained an unexpected and powerful symbolic value. Méndez made this explicit in 1995: ‘Separated from their context, the relationship between them and the sun broken, the enigma of the menhires will remain forever, as perhaps will the fate of the 30,000 people who went missing during the military dictatorship. Local people say that the menhires - along with Argentine citizens - were kidnapped and confined to barracks…’ (1995, 15). For researchers, the fate of the menhires is another regrettable example of the systematic destruction of Argentina’s indigenous material culture. ‘Reduced in social

function, degraded like much indigenous art to the status of mere objects, the menhires are both an example and a silent witness to a culture largely devastated, silenced and unknown’ (Requejo de Medjugorac 1991, 15). The ceremonial site of El Mollar was completely destroyed, for not only were the menhires removed but also the mound itself was destroyed and the site levelled to make room for new developments. González (2000, 260) regards this as ‘an archaeological disaster, an attack on the science of the past, made by people ignorant of the principles of preservation and of basic archaeological knowledge’.

5.2.4. Recovering the Menhires From 1989 onwards the poor preservation of the menhires in the park started to attract the attention of both researchers and local people, who demanded urgent action from the provincial authorities. The Institute of Archaeology (UNT) started to study the deterioration of the menhires (García Azcárate 1994) and rescue archaeology operations were carried out in the valley (e.g. Manasse 1997). Together with the researchers, a group of local people started to demand the return of the menhires to El Mollar. The request, known as ‘Declaración de los Hombres del Mollar’, was presented to the UNT, and was supported by two hundred signatures. The University authorities put their request to the provincial government, and in 1991 the Head of the University and Governor Ramón Ortega acknowledged the local community’s claims by signing a letter stating the need to relocate the menhires in order to stop their deterioration.

The letter also notes that ‘with the coming 500th anniversary of the conquest of America, it is necessary that the Argentines - particularly the people from the Northwest are able to recognise their historical and cultural roots of thousands of years ago’. Referring to the menhires, it is noted that ‘the identity of the Argentines within America will be enhanced by the recognition and pride in this cultural legacy, which does not belong only to America but to the whole of humanity, due to the menhires’ uniqueness and originality’. Consequently, the letter promises to relocate the menhires to a ‘protected zone’, and to create an archaeological park in a 4 ha plot of land in El Mollar. It also states the intention to encourage the participation of local people and the collaboration of different organisations as well as the promotion of sustainable tourism. Finally, it notes that UNESCO should be asked to evaluate the archaeological park project (Letter of Intent signed on 26.12.91). In spite of the governor’s subsequent failure to honour the promises he made regarding the menhires, this letter shows a change in official ideology towards the menhires and the indigenous past as a whole. It adopts a position in the debate

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over the anniversary of the Spanish ‘discovery’ of America, emphasising the importance of the indigenous and South American traditions in the formation of the Argentine identity, thereby challenging provincial official ideology which had always promoted Catholic and Hispanic/ European traditions. In June 1992, a group of villagers bearing the slogan ‘let’s save the menhires of Tafi del Valle’, petitioned UNESCO to protect the menhires (but not the park) under the World Heritage programme. They stated that ‘we have decided to collaborate, to defend the menhires, which are at risk of disappearing’. They also noted that ‘when people realise the importance of their past, they begin to identify with it, claiming those treasures that best define their culture. The menhires are a visible testimony of the ancient past of our villagers, and we therefore regard them as part of the heritage of mankind’. In the same year, Nuñez Regueiro - Director of the Institute of Archaeology, UNT - presented a plan to preserve the menhires, including excavation and the creation of a museum. Because the menhires could not be replaced in their original locations, he recommended that an architect - rather than an archaeologist - should choose their new locations according to aesthetic criteria. He also proposed that efforts should be concentrated on the preservation of intact sites rather than on the menhires, since the latter had already lost much of their scientific value. He stated that if government action were limited to the transferral of the menhires without further preservation and research, the project would be no more than ‘repeating the actions of General Bussi some decades ago’ (Nuñez Regueiro 1992). Racedo explains that ‘the UNT and the CNMMyLH organised the campaign to save the menhires, but we failed to obtain a law ordering their removal. The election of General Bussi as governor in 1995 frustrated any prospect of returning the menhires during his term of office’ (Josefina Racedo, pers. comm., 30.07.2000). Taking into account the poor preservation conditions of the menhires and the inactivity of provincial government, the National Congress decided to provide them with specific legal protection. National Law 24.262/93 stated that the original locations of the menhires - El Mollar, Potrerillos, Rodeo Grande and Tafí del Valle - were national historical places. It also declared that ‘each menhir forms part of national cultural heritage’ and put them under the custody of the CNMMyLH. However, this law has not been enforced due to the lack of adequate policing. Since 1994, local villagers, the UNT and provincial authorities have collaborated in a programme dedicated to enacting national legislation. All parties agreed on the need to preserve the menhires through their relocation to lower areas of the valley, and to create a site museum at El Mollar. To

this end, a ceremony was carried out at the Menhires’ Park on October 12th, 1995. Local people, researchers from the UNT and some politicians came to pay their respects to ‘the ancient menhires which are a silent witness to the disappearance of our heritage’ (La Gaceta, 15.06.95). However, this gesture failed to encourage government action. In 1997 the provincial congress requested the governor to act for the archaeological heritage, including the enforcement of protective legislation, the updating of rules to avoid illegal trafficking of cultural objects, and better planning for tourism. Regarding the menhires’ park, the governor was asked to provide a preservation programme, including security, training, human resources and dissemination of information to the public. The request was based upon the fact that the menhires constitute part of the ‘heritage of the Argentine Republic and therefore belong to all of us’ and that the provincial state must not ‘wash its hands’ of this issue when its actions could make a great difference’ (Honorable Legislatura Tucumán, Expte. 94PR.97, L 6L F 116, 29.04.97).

5.3. The Tafí Valley at Present 5.3.1. Social Framework Social stratification in the Tafí Valley has many similarities to that described in the case of Tilcara (Chapter 3). Some descendants of the first landowners - members of the provincial upper class - are still living in Tafí. They consider themselves to be ‘truly tafinistos’ (people from the Tafí Valley), in contrast with the more recent settlers, including tourist entrepreneurs, holidaymakers, ‘New Age’ people and craftsmen. Local ‘native’ people, specifically those living in rural areas, are commonly known as ‘vallistos’ (inhabitants of the valleys). Bolsi et al. (1992, 413) described them as being strongly attached to indigenous and gaucho cultural traditions, and possessing only a very basic education. The contrast between them and the middle and upper classes of Tafí and summer holidaymakers is therefore notable, as is the ‘ethnic and social stigma’ in the region (Arenas and Manasse forthcoming). Although indigenous people populated the valley during the colonial period, it is difficult to find information about them in the historical records (Manasse 1998). They are not mentioned in historical documents, except for a few general commentaries, which always refer to them as an undifferentiated group formed of anonymous individuals. In contrast, detailed reports about Spanish encomenderos, Jesuits and landowners, emphasising their bravery and skill in transforming the local economy, are common in documentary sources. Furthermore, the educational system reinforces this pro-Hispanic view of history, in which the role of local people is completely ignored (Manasse 1998).

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‘Local people identified themselves as criollos, but use to deny any relationship with the indigenous past. The lack of education is particularly marked in the valley. Oral tradition is still very strong, and this generates many problems at schools because they are not in the habit of reading and writing’ (Bárbara Manasse, pers. comm., 27.07.2000). It therefore seems that local people are just as socially excluded now as they were in the past. As explained by Racedo, ‘the people of Tafí have been subjugated for ages, from the times of the Inkas to the modern provincial oligarchy. They have no clear idea about their origins; they define themselves as part of the landholding where they live… Local people have a complex identity as a result of the permanent tension between pride for their own traditions and obedience to their masters’ (Josefina Racedo, pers. comm., 30.07.2000). Moreover, the existence of indigenous descendants in the valley is still denied. ‘After the Jesuits were expelled, the indigenous people ran away and the valley remained empty. Fortunately, we do not have indigenous chiefs claiming that “this land is mine”. Everybody here is a new settler’ (Inés Peña, pers. comm., 29.07.2000). A self-defined indigenous group, called ‘Indigenous Community of El Mollar’ was recently formed in the valley. It comprises one hundred and twenty families, and was provisionally recognised by the INAI in 1998. They are planning to submit land claims and expect to benefit from a future property regulation system, since the ownership of most large landholdings is uncertain (due to the inconvenience and prohibitive cost of inheritance legislation).

5.3.2. The Valley as a Tourist Resort Since the 1940s, when the building of a road through the mountains ended the valley’s geographical isolation, the region experienced important demographic, economic and social changes. The town of Tafí del Valle became a holiday village for the wealthy families of Tucumán, who were attracted by the valley’s mild and sunny weather. Many landholdings were subdivided and sold in order to build the residential areas of the village. Local people who have lived and worked on the estancias (cattle ranches) for generations have been threatened with eviction since they have no legal titles for the lands they occupy (Requejo de Medjugorac 1991; Manasse 1997). In recent decades, the Tafí Valley has suffered a marked landscape transformation, resulting in considerable ecological and archaeological damage. The building of La Angostura Dam, intensive agriculture, cattle raising and urbanisation have produced significant damage without the implementation of any plan to mitigate them. Despite the fact that the tourist village is being built over archaeological

remains, only limited rescue excavations have been carried out (Manasse 1997). There is an increasing trade in archaeological material, which is fed by - and encourages looting (Manasse 1998, 20-21). Local people, however, are seemingly unaware of this situation. ‘I grew up with my grandfather; the old people did not dare to touch things because they believed that it would bring them bad luck. Nowadays, local people are not prepared to protect our culture. The land is sold in plots, and archaeological sites are being destroyed during the construction of new houses. They are unaware of the damage they cause, and the stones of the ruins are used in the new buildings’ (Juan Yapura, pers. comm., 28.07.2000). Recent decades have seen unbalanced development between different towns in the valley (fig. 9). While Tafí del Valle has become a key point for national and international tourists visiting Northwest Argentina, the town of El Mollar - the other main urban area of the valley (6,000 inhabitants) - has suffered economic crisis and depopulation. Most of its people migrate to work in the capital during the winter, and return in summer to work in the tourist industry. Despite the valley’s economic dependence on tourism, planning and funding of necessary projects have not served the interests of most visitors. ‘We are not prepared to develop a tourist plan of the valley’, commented Inés Peña. ‘We have first-class hotels - funded by tourist promotion projects - which are totally empty, while foreign visitors are searching for good and cheap hostels’ (Inés Peña, pers. comm., 29.07.2000). In recent years, Tafí Valley - like most tourist centres in the country - has been strongly affected by recession. ‘Nowadays the economic crisis is so serious that even the people from Tucumán city who have houses here cannot afford to come on holidays. While local people living in the rural areas are able to live off their own produce, local enterprises dedicated to tourism are facing serious problems’ (Inés Peña, pers. comm., 29.07.2000).

5.3.3. Menhires under Dispute In the last few years the menhires have become a matter of dispute at a number of different levels with local villagers, academic researchers and politicians all becoming involved in a series of conflicts. In 1999, the provincial government handed the administration of natural protected areas including La Angostura Menhires’ Park - over to the Secretary of Tourism (Decree 1680). In December 1999, this Secretary delegated the custody of the park to the El Mollar Cámara de Comerciantes - a local trade association (Res. 5715/3). This Cámara was also awarded commercial rights to the craft shop located at the entrance to the park. Some days before this move was announced, provincial and

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national newspapers reported the robbery of thirty menhires from the park, generating a strong public reaction. Academics at the Instituto de Arqueología (UNT) later confirmed that it had been a false story. Many local people suspect that the announcement was a ruse used to justify the Secretary of Tourism’s decision to award the custody to the Cámara. A group of villagers from El Mollar created the ‘Asociación Civil Menhires del Valle de Tafí’, a body dedicated to returning the monoliths to their villages. In March 2000, the provincial government finally ordered ‘the progressive transfer of the menhires’ to La Sala of El Mollar and other areas where the menhires had been found, including Casas Viejas, El Potrerillo and El Rincón (Decree 435/1). It stated that the first transfer would take place on March 24th, 2000 (the anniversary of the last military coup, and a significant date for human rights activists). The government - together with the local association - would hold a ceremony in the park to pay tribute to ‘our primitive ethnic groups and the megaliths of Tafí Valley, as an act of faith in American man’ (art. 3). The UNT was also invited to participate (art. 4). A local teacher was authorised to carry out the relocation, and the government assumed responsibility for protecting the menhires en route to their new locations (art. 5 and 6).

Secretary of Environment declared that I was responsible for any environmental impact that the relocation of the menhires would cause. I explained to him that we would only move “two menhires”. I invited him to attend the ceremony and congratulated him - sarcastically - for his commitment to make us respect the law even at that hour!’ (Josefina Racedo, pers. comm., 30.07.2000). On the 24th of March 2000, a group of two hundred people including representatives of provincial authorities, members of the Asociación, the CERPACU, local villagers and schoolchildren - assembled at the La Angostura Park to attend the removal of the two menhires, an event which was widely covered by the national press. ‘It was raining a lot’, recalled Racedo, ‘but the people remained there. They were very moved; they touched the menhires and played traditional songs’ (J. Racedo, pers. comm., 30.07.2000) (figs. 54, 55 and 56).

This Decree was signed on March 17th, 2000. Some days before, the Secretary of Tourism had authorised ‘the removal of between one and three menhires to El Mollar’, in order to generate tourism in the area. The authorisation was given on condition that the transportation was carried out under the supervision of UNT archaeologist Jorgelina García Azcárate. 5.3.3.1. A Contested Return of Two Menhires The relocation of the menhires became a huge political operation, involving numerous different groups and generating considerable conflict. The repatriation ceremony was hurriedly prepared to coincide with the 20th anniversary of the military coup, and to serve as a public condemnation of the regime. The event was fraught with political tension between various factions, the party led by General Bussi being particularly vociferous. While the CNMMyLH and the provincial government were in conflict concerning the province’s disregard for national Law 24.263/93, the provincial Secretary of Tourism and Secretary of Culture were locked in debate over the future management of the menhires. ‘The evening before the return of the menhires’, recalled Racedo (CERPACU - UNT), ‘the

Figure 54: Removing two menhires from the Menhires’ Park, 24.03.2000 (by courtesy of Juan Yapura).

Figure 55: Relocating menhires at La Sala, El Mollar, 24.03.2000 (by courtesy of Juan Yapura).

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resource for the younger generations’ (Ramona Von Furth, pers. comm., 29.07.2000). The president of the Asociación observed that ‘it is claimed that La Angostura Park’s menhires are located in a beautiful place, but this is not what the “native” people want. The menhires are an abandoned golden mine. It will change the lives of our people. Our future lies in tourism’ (Abraham Castro, pers. comm., 29.07.2000).

Figure 56: Relocating menhires at La Sala, El Mollar, 24.03.2000 (by Juan Yapura).

Governor Miranda addressed the crowds during the ceremony: ‘The culture of authoritarianism should be removed for ever from our country… Today we can say that we have brought the menhires home. I regret that this “democratic” governor cannot return home those many Argentineans that are now lost’ - referring to the people who ‘disappeared’ during the military government - (Clarín, 25.03.2000). While supporting the notion of moving the monoliths, the UNT archaeologists expressed reservations about the procedure. They had recommended the use of wrapping material to avoid the chains damaging the stones, and that the menhires be placed on tyres during the move (Jorgelina García Azcárate, pers. comm., 31.07.2000). However, their recommendations were ignored, which led to a formal complaint being registered by the Instituto de Arqueología (UNT) which stated that - from the technical point of view - this relocation ‘was no better than the one carried out in 1977’. Furthermore, while archaeologists considered the relocation to be a temporary solution and recommended that some menhires be kept in a controlled environment museum (García Azcárate 2000), the local people considered the relocation to be final, and hoped that it might benefit the local economy.

According to the Asociación’s view, the planned museum, crafts market and recreational areas complement the relocated La Sala menhires, which constitute the main attraction. The Asociación considers that the museum may be built at a low cost using local materials, such as stone and adobe. It is evident that they courtesy of are planning an information centre, and not a museum with appropriate environmental conditions for the long-term preservation of the stones. The two relocated menhires new home - called ‘La Sala’ - is not their original location, but an open area in the centre of the town of El Mollar where the ‘vegetable festival’ is celebrated every summer (figs. 57 and 58). The stones were placed on a platform in front of a stage, while a large signpost hailed the return of the menhires as a ‘historic, cultural and social conquest of the Tafí Valley’ carried out by the provincial government and the UNT (figs. 59 and 60). When asked about the future of the festival, the members of the Asociación declared that it would be carried out at the same site to gather funds to build the museum and the craft centre. Marcelo Oviedo, president of the ‘Cámara de Comerciantes de El Mollar’, believed that ‘the future of El Mollar depends on the tourist exploitation of the monoliths because they

During my fieldwork in the Tafí Valley I approached the different interest groups and obtained permission to attend a meeting of the ‘Asociación Menhires del Valle de Tafi’. One of its members said, ‘our objective is to return the menhires, with the hope that it may help to improve the plight of the local population and may also be an educational Figure 57: The La Sala menhires.



attract foreign visitors’. While they are in favour of ‘relocating those stones which are suffering from deterioration’, they disagree ‘with the relocation of the menhires to “La Sala”. We would prefer to put them in a museum. We could have started legal action in order to stop the relocation, but we did not want to be involved in a dispute which has such strong political implications’ (Marcelo Oviedo, pers. comm., 29.07.2000).

visitor facilities at La Angostura Park (including a pedestrian access bridge, a small museum and an observation point). Meanwhile, the Asociación has complained that the decree ordering the gradual relocation of the menhires has not been honoured, and that the Secretary of Tourism is planning a hotel and a campground inside the park.

Nevertheless, the political dispute, which involves both local and provincial governments and numerous political parties, has affected the aims and actions of the Asociación and the Cámara. The Cámara argues that they are planning to improve

Figure 58: Panoramic view of the La Sala menhires.

Figure 59: Signpost publicising the relocation of the menhires at La Sala.

Figure 60: Rear view of the La Sala menhires located in front of the stage at the annual vegetable festival site.



The Cámara states that La Angostura Park ‘gives work to local craftsmen, and that its destruction will discourage tourism in the area’ (Marcelo Oviedo, pers. comm., 29.07.2000) (fig. 61). However, members of the recently created ‘Indigenous Community of El Mollar’ have contradicted this argument, saying: ‘we support the Asociación because we want to return the menhires to El Mollar. They will reinforce our status as an indigenous community, and we would like the tourists to enter the town, to meet us and come to appreciate our traditions and handicrafts’ (José Lázaro Mamaní, pers. comm., 29.07.2000).

the damages had been caused recently. The events of March 24th were highly publicised. When the menhir was removed it was a clear demonstration of power. Furthermore, transferring the menhires from La Angostura Park to their original location along the valley may result in damage to archaeological sites, which have not yet been studied…The best solution is to exhibit some of them in museums, and to keep the rest in storerooms in a controlled environment’ (Jorgelina García Azcárate, pers. comm., 31.07.2000).

The UNT has given rise to a number of different groups, which hold diverse aims and agendas in relation to the menhires. For instance, while the Instituto de Arqueología has adopted a technical position - giving priority to the preservation of the menhires - CERPACU aims to encourage social participation in cultural heritage, and is more political. Although both groups agree that the menhires constitute ‘heritage in danger’, the CERPACU also views them as social/ethnic icons. ‘I am working with matters of local identity, and it was from this perspective that I became interested in the menhires issue’ said Josefina Racedo of CERPACU (pers. comm., 30.07.2000).

The villagers of the town of Tafí del Valle hold very different views on the issue. They oppose the closure of La Angostura Park - which would affect tourism in the town and believe that other monoliths should be recovered in order to create a new local park. In February 2000, several villagers sent a letter to the Mayor of Monteros, asking for the return of a menhir which is on display in the main square of this town (letter written by Juan Yapura, 22.02.2000, Expte 1565, 303). The local council also sent a letter to Clemente Zavaleta - one of the region’s biggest landowners requesting the donation of a menhir presently on his land, in order that it might be placed in the main square of the town (letter sent by Honorable Concejo Deliberante on 07.03.2000).8

Archaeologists have condemned what they see as the political authorities’ lack of commitment regarding the protection of the menhires. ‘We presented the political authorities with a basic plan for the preservation and public presentation of the park, but nothing was done. Whenever I go to the park and see the damage, I am outraged. The menhires are a major issue in a power dispute. At politically strategic moments, the press produces confusing reports concerning the menhires in a sensationalist manner, as if

A local tourist entrepreneur argued that ‘it was a mistake to create the park in 1977, but I cannot see the point of relocating them again because we do not know where they originally were. At the beginning I was worried about the deterioration of the menhires, and participated in different meetings which addressed the issue, but I became disillusioned when I realised that the menhires were being politically manipulated. While we were still discussing what to do, the Governor signed the decree ordering the return of the menhires to El

Figure 61: View of circular stone enclosures after the menhires’ removal (La Angostura Menhires’ Park).



Mollar. The menhires have been in La Angostura Park for twenty-two years, and constitute an ‘acquired right’ for the park. If they are scattered they will not be visited; they should be protected in this same park’ (Daniel Carrasano, pers. comm., 28.07.2000). He also noted that ‘the menhires are a goldmine, but local governments do not have the necessary skill to exploit them profitably. The provincial government is interested in gaining publicity through the national newspapers, in order to hide what was really happening in Tucumán. The relocation of the menhires was more a reaction against General Bussi than a celebration of local culture’ (Daniel Carrasano, pers. comm., 28.07.2000). Inés Peña - a descendant of a family that bought lands in the valley after the expulsion of the Jesuits - believes that ‘the creation of La Angostura Park has helped to protect the menhires from the neglect they would otherwise have suffered’. However, she noted that ‘after the park was used in a beer commercial, it became a refuge for alcoholics, and the menhires started to suffer. People have claimed that the menhires are threatened by the climate’, she added, ‘but did they want me to make them wear sweaters? They have survived 2,000 years outdoors. They do not need protection from weather conditions, but from vandalism!’ Referring to the monoliths recently moved, she commented ‘I do not know if the menhires carried to La Sala will survive beyond next summer...what we need is to protect the park, charge entrance fees and provide good leaflets to visitors as is done at Stonehenge’ (Inés Peña, pers. comm., 29.07.2000).

Figure 62: Menhir deterioration caused by biological agents.

5.3.4. A Visit to the Menhires’ Park, La Angostura Lake The park is located in a marshy area of the valley, at the edge of La Angostura Lake. The climate of the region characterised by fluctuating temperatures, with snow during winter - is more extreme in the area of the park due to altitude and proximity to the dam. As a result of these climatic conditions, the stones have deteriorated faster since their relocation to the park (Report of the Instituto de Arqueología - UNT, 1988; García Azcárate 1994). The south faces of the menhires face the wet winds, and are consequently covered with algae, lichens and fungi (figs. 62 and 63). The freezing and thawing of water in the cracks of the stones and chemical erosion caused by bird excrement are other obvious causes of deterioration (figs. 64 and 65). However, the most serious damage has been caused by human actions - both deliberate and accidental - brought about by a lack of appropriate vigilance. The pollution produced by traffic (mainly motorcycles), the horses which graze in the park and rub themselves against the menhires, and tourists sitting on the stones are all major problems

Figure 63: Detail of a menhir deterioration caused by biological agents.

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(figs. 66, 67 and 68). Moreover, the park has become a picnic area for tourists, who leave rubbish everywhere due to a lack of disposal facilities. Finally, the impact of vandalism, which has increased dramatically in recent years, is highly significant. The menhires have been painted with graffiti, and even knocked down and broken intentionally (figs. 69 and 70). The park is badly maintained. Some fallen menhires are completely hidden in the long grass and stone staircases are also overgrown. Few signposts can be read now due to their poor maintenance (fig. 71). Visitors thus receive no information about the menhires as they walk around. The only legible sign, at the entrance to the park, states that it is

Figure 64: Detail of a menhir capped with ice.

Figure 66: Circulation of vehicles close to the menhires.

Figure 65: Menhir with bird droppings.

Figure 67: A tourist sitting on a menhir to observe the landscape.

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from Route 307 in order to decrease the incidence of vandalism by motorcyclists. This means that vehicles now enter and exit through the same gate, generating major problems. Furthermore, the road inside the park - which is not surfaced - is winding and narrow. Therefore, if two vehicles meet each other, one of them must leave the track and drive over the grass where the menhires are located. Considering the persistent fog during the winter, the facilities for traffic inside the park are inadequate and therefore dangerous. Figure 68: Visitors climb onto menhir to be photographed.

During our stay in the park - at the height of the winter tourist season - the craft shop was closed. The nearest facilities for visitors were to be found at the nearest petrol station, but these were very inadequate. A thorough visit to the park requires at least two hours, although most of the visitors who came by car only spent half an hour walking around the top of the hill. Visitors are not told that this is not the menhires’ original location. Daniel Carrasano - a tourist guide from Tafí del Valle - stated that ‘I only explain that the menhires had been moved from their original setting if I am specifically asked by visitors’ (Daniel Carrasano, pers. comm., 28.07.2000).

Figure 69: Menhires damaged by graffiti.

Figure 70: A menhir that has been knocked down and cracked by vandals.

under the custody of the Cámara and warns that anyone damaging the menhires will be severely punished (fig. 72). The members of the Asociación (fig. 73) complained that the Cámara failed to provide even minimal maintenance to the park. When interviewed, the president of the Cámara explained that ‘we do not want to right the fallen menhires because we do not want to be responsible for any breakage. We have difficulty protecting the park because - as it is under national jurisdiction - the provincial police are not allowed to enter’ (Marcelo Oviedo, pers. comm., 29.07.2000). Vehicle access to the park is another serious issue. The entrance is close to the intersection of two roads. Cars originally, entered from Route 307 and exited on Route 325. Recently, however, the Cámara decided to close the access

Figure 71: Stone signpost at the Menhires’ Park.

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induced the authorities to limit the negative impact on the valley’s natural and cultural landscape. Because of the menhires’ appeal, the archaeology of the valley has traditionally focused on early occupation rather than the contact or colonial periods. Indeed, until very recently nothing was done to encourage local people to link the valley’s archaeological heritage with their own past. ‘Archaeology has always focused on the Tafí Culture, while the later occupations have not been sufficiently studied. Furthermore, the cultural background of local people is poorly understood. Local children identified the menhires with the valley, but not as part of their own past. In the last decade, the image of the menhires has often been used to promote the valley - in leaflets, shops, by musical groups, etc. - but as an abstract image, separated from its context’ (Bárbara Manasse, pers. comm., 27.07.2000).

Figure 72: Signpost at the entrance to the Menhires’ Park.

Figure 73: Members of the ‘Menhires de Tafí’ Association during a Mollar (29.07.2000).

5.3.5. Archaeologists in the Tafí Valley The role of archaeologists in the valley has changed over time. Archaeologists from different universities working in the valley have provided technical assessments to local and provincial governments almost continuously since the late 1980s (Arenas and Manasse, forthcoming). However, a serious episode resulting in damage to local archaeological heritage caused friction between provincial archaeologists and the government. In 1996 the installation of high-tension power lines and pilons through the valley caused damage to a number of archaeological sites, and also affected the ecology of the valley. Although an environmental impact assessment had been carried out, damage was caused by the inefficiency of both the provincial authorities and the mining company, as well as a lack of professionalism on the part of the archaeologists involved (Aschero 1998, 15-16). This issue attracted the attention of the local community who - through the ‘ombudsman’ of Tucumán province asked UNESCO to intervene. In 1997 a UNESCO report verified the damage caused to archaeological heritage, and called for immediate action to avoid further deterioration of the area affected. However, neither UNESCO’s recommendations nor previous assessments provided by national and international specialists (Criado Boado 1996)

In recent years, two public archaeology projects were opened: ‘La Bolsa’ Site and the ‘Runa’ Museum. They were carried out by archaeologists and private entrepreneurs, and aimed to attract tourists and disseminate meeting in El archaeology among local people. Bárbara Manasse - one of the archaeologists involved in the ‘Runa’ Museum project - explained that ‘our aim was to integrate the menhires into local history, and explain the archaeology and history of the valley. We also exhibited pieces that are owned by local people, linking these materials with their custodians, and giving them a certificate for loaning the object to the museum. In this way we were able to develop an extensive catalogue of artefacts. The local people of Tafí del Valle were happy to collaborate with us’. She also stated that, in the menhires’ museum exhibition they critically discussed issues of heritage preservation. ‘After visiting this gallery, many tourists became aware of the damage caused by the menhires’ relocation, and began to debate these issues between themselves and with us’ (Bárbara Manasse, pers. comm., 27.07.2000). When asked about the reaction of the local people to the museum, she stated that it varied according to subject. ‘In the archaeological gallery, they were surprised to learn about the antiquity and importance of the valley’s archaeology. In the colonial and criollo gallery, they used to correct us, providing more accurate information about the use of objects. Many people came also to see if their pieces were on display’ (Bárbara Manasse, pers. comm. 27.07.2000). Unfortunately, both projects - the site and the museum failed to support themselves financially, and had to be closed

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in spite of receiving good public attendance rates in high season. At present, the only official museum in the valley is the ‘Museo de La Banda’, which is located on a Jesuit Estancia and is mainly dedicated to the Hispanic period, although there are also some archaeological pieces in the collection.

represent the fertilisation of a toad - the carvings may look like tadpoles - an animal largely related to rain and the Pachamama in Andean cultures (Bravo 1996; also Méndez 1998, 12).

5.4.2. Carving Menhires

5.4. Alternative Interpretations of the Menhires While archaeologists’ interpretation of the menhires is recognised as ‘expert’ opinion, it is not accepted by all groups involved in the debate. The provincial elite continues to maintain its traditional stance - i.e. that the country’s indigenous past is of little consequence. Some alternative views about the menhires have also gained some popularity among the middle class population.

5.4.1. A Solar Calendar Orlando Bravo - a physicist studying the ‘astronomic’ use of Andean sites - believes that the menhires operated as a solar calendar for watching solstices and carrying out rituals (with emphasis on their phallic characteristics). He often gives talks explaining his theories which are very popular with the public. He regrets that ‘archaeologists have never attended my conferences to discuss my ideas’ (Orlando Bravo, pers. comm., 30.07.2000).

Juan Carlos Yapura, an amateur archaeologist from Tafí del Valle, has created his own archaeological museum and is especially interested in studying the menhires. ‘I know many things’, he says, ‘but I do not write books because all the archaeologists who have written books have died. I found a little Inka amulet and I carry it each time I excavate, to protect me. I am not a looter. I only take things that are in danger of being destroyed’. He confesses his own fascination for the menhires and has also carried out his own experiments carving menhires. ‘I have tried to carve stones but I found the abrading or pecking technique - suggested by archaeologists - to be impossible. I believe that the indigenous people used some kind of acid substances obtained from plants to make small holes in the stones, in order to sculpt them’ (Juan Yapura, pers. comm., 26.07.2000) (fig. 75).

Bravo bases his ideas on observations of in situ menhires from two different sites, located in San Pedro de Colalao, Northern Tucumán. He believes that these menhires were built to denote different phases of the solar calendar, to determine the sowing period and also the times of sacred rituals. He also suggests that the menhires represented the copulation of the sun with the earth during the summer solstice (Bravo 1996). ‘People living in a valley surrounded by mountains cannot see the sunrise and the sunset on the horizon’, Bravo explained. ‘If menhires were employed as a “sun-clock”, it could explain why they were so numerous in the Tafí Valley. Each menhir was so placed as to receive sunlight from different angles, so that each area of farmland would have had its own calendar’. He noted that ‘the menhires played a significant role every 21st of December when “the earth is fertilised by the sun”, marking the beginning of the valley’s rainy period’ (Orlando Bravo, pers. comm., 30.07.2000). He also proposes some interpretations of the designs on some menhires, all of them related to the notion of fertility. One menhir, which has a carved circular head with a long tail (fig. 74), was interpreted as a sperm travelling through the urethra (actually the Ductus deferens - McMinn and Hutchings 1988). It was also suggested that it could

Figure 74: Menhir with a circular head and a long tail, which has been interpreted as a sperm or as a tadpole.

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our ideas about the menhires, but they should not have been removed, both out of respect to other people’s beliefs and for the integrity of ancient cultures’ (Mario Agostini, pers. comm., 24.05.2000). Two artists, recent arrivals in Tafí, have opened a museum which aims to explore indigenous myths and legends through art. The museum - called ‘Los Duendes de Tafí’ (Tafí’s Goblins) - has become a tourist attraction owing to its unusual architecture, and the many sculptures of characters from indigenous mythology, such as the Pachamama and the Yastay (figs. 77 and 78). They have also produced a publication explaining their personal views of the local menhires, and their significance in relation to those found in other parts of the world. They aim to gather as many stories about the menhires as possible, in order to save the ‘voice’ of ancient cultures that had such a strong ‘relationship with the cosmic movement’. They believe the menhires to be the ‘testimony of these cultures, which created order between men and the universe, balancing the energy of the sun and the earth to create a space suitable for material and spiritual life’ (Uriciuclo and Toledo 2000, 14).

5.5. Visitors’ Opinions about the Menhires’ Park Thirty visitors to the Menhires’ Park were interviewed inorder to record their opinions and feelings about the park and the monoliths. The smaller sample size reflects the Figure 75: Modern menhires with their creator, Juan Yapura (Tafí del Valle, 26.07.2000).

5.4.3. New Age People’s Views In recent years, Tafí del Valle has become a tourist attraction for New Age people who search for ‘energetic’ places. Some of them have settled in the region. ‘Visitors say that they can feel a strong energy in the menhires, and although I am not able to feel anything I respect their opinions’, commented a Tafí del Valle tourist guide (Daniel Carrasano, pers. comm., 28.07.2000) (fig. 76). Mario Agostini, a ‘New Age’ spiritualist living in Tilcara, explains that the earth is surrounded by leylines, and that the menhires - which are found all over the world - are located at the junctions between these lines. ‘They activate the energy in the land, exerting pressure with their weight over these points. They were often placed on rocks, and sometimes pieces of quartz were put under them to reinforce their action’. He also explained that their removal affects the climate. ‘For this reason when I saw the Rinconada menhires at the Museum of Tilcara or Bussi’s atrocity in Tafí Valley, I was furious. I cannot pretend that everybody agrees with

Figure 76: Menhir decorated with ‘alien’ design graffiti.

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Figure 77: Sculpture of the Pachamama (Los Duendes de Tafí Museum, Tafí del Valle).

Figure 78: Sculpture of the Yastay (Los Duendes de Tafí Museum, Tafí del Valle).

scarcity of visitors available for interview in the Menhires’ Park due to the unusually low temperatures registered during the period of fieldwork. Many tourists preferred to visit by car without stopping in the park, and there are no visitors’ facilities where visitors could be approached. Methodological details and results of the interview process are presented in Appendix A. Selected results are presented below.

the most important sources of information among national visitors, although ‘word of mouth’ and ‘road sign’ were also common.

5.5.2. Views about the Menhires In describing the menhires, most (57%) of the people surveyed selected the option ‘sacred objects which must

5.5.1. Information about the Park

11 [37] 6 [20]

National Visitors n=20 6 4

Local Visitors n=7 2 2

International Visitors n=3 3 0

5

5

0

0

3 2 1 1 1 0

3 0 0 1 1 0

0 2 1 0 0 0

0 0 0 0 0 0

All n=30

Visitors were asked how they had learned about the site. A third indicated that they had learned about the site from ‘guide books’. ‘Word of mouth’ and ‘history and archaeology books’ were also mentioned. To a lesser extent visitors selected the options ‘road sign’ and ‘at school’. ‘Tour itinerary’, ‘newspapers’ and ‘tourist office’ were rarely mentioned (table 13). Both international and local visitors selected ‘guide book’; while local people also mentioned ‘history and archaeology books’ and ‘at school’. Guide books and history books were

Guide Book Word of Mouth History/Archaeology Books Road sign At School Tour Itinerary Newspapers Tourist Office Other

Table 13. Sources of publicity concerning the Menhires’ Park, by visitor type (n [%]).

'

be treated with respect according to their status’, while 12 out of 30 visitors considered the monoliths to be ‘cultural resources for public enjoyment’. Most foreign visitors referred to the sacred nature of the menhires, while local people tended to regard them as ‘cultural resources’. National visitors’ opinions were divided, giving alternative answers that often mixed the two options (tables 14).

Sacred objects which must be treated with respect according to their status Cultural resources for public enjoyment Other Do not know

All n=30

National Visitors n=20

Local Visitors n=7

17 [57]

11

4

12 [40]

8

3

1 0

1 0

0 0

The scenery was most the appreciated aspect of the park (average score 3.9 - table 12). The paths, the menhires and their placement and distribution were all in second place (3.3). The average of the four individual scores (3.5) was lower than the “overall” score allocated by visitors (3.6). This is mainly due to a series of International relatively low scores allocated to the paths and Visitors the menhires themselves. n=3 When asked to name the park’s best features, visitors most commonly selected the scenery and the setting. The menhires themselves and ‘the 1 whole park’ were also mentioned, although far less frequently than the scenery and setting (table 0 0 A.15.7). Many visitors felt unable to decide and therefore chose the option ‘do not know.’ The majority of these were foreigners, but almost half of the people from the rest of the country also gave this answer. 2

Table 14. Description of the menhires, by visitor type (n[%]).

5.5.3. Attitudes Towards Different Aspects of the Park When visitors were asked about the different aspects of the Menhires’ Park, the majority of them agreed that they enjoyed the scenery (94%) and the whole park (67%) ‘a lot’. More than half of them enjoyed the placement and distribution of the menhires ‘a lot’, and some liked the little paths. However, when asked about the menhires themselves, most visitors (60%) enjoyed them only ‘quite a lot’ (table A.15.1). Most of those who answered ‘quite a lot’ were national visitors (72%), while some were local visitors. Some tourists answered ‘do not know’ when asked about the paths due to the fact that they had made the visit by car and had therefore not used them. A few gave the same answer in relation to the menhires because they felt unable to comprehend the stones’ significance. When referring to the placement and distribution of the menhires, a tenth of people surveyed said they did not like them ‘at all’. This answer was most commonly given by national tourists and to a lesser extent by local visitors. A third of interviewees selected the ‘quite a lot’ option in answer to the same question. These people were largely national and international tourists, as well as a small number Rank

Aspect of the site

Average Score

1 2 3

Scenery Paths Placement and distribution of the menhires

3.9 3.3 3.3

4

Menhires

3.3

of local visitors. Finally, the whole park was ‘not at all’ enjoyed by one national visitor who claimed that ‘it should not have been created’ (tables A.15.2 to A.15.6).

More than a third of people interviewed said they ‘did not know’ which aspects of the park disappointed them. Visitors who had felt disappointed focused their criticism on the poor maintenance of the park, access and the weather conditions. Other answers varied widely, and included the menhires, the circulation of vehicles inside the park and the view that the park’s creation had been an attack on cultural heritage (table A.15.8, fig. A.15.1). The presence of graffiti and horse excrement were the aspects most often mentioned in relation to the poor maintenance of the site. While foreign visitors mentioned the traffic inside the park as a major detractor, national tourists most commonly pointed out the lack of maintenance. Local people criticised both the lack of maintenance and the access route.

5.5.4. Attitudes Towards the Relocation of the Menhires When asked about ‘the relocation of the menhires and the creation of the park’, most (40%) visitors were in favour of seeing the menhires in their original location, while a third considered that the relocation ‘adds enjoyment to the visit’. Almost a quarter said that they could not decide on the best option (table 16). Most people were surprised by the question, because they did not know that the menhires had been moved from other parts of the valley. Most of those who opposed the creation of the park were local people, although there were several opponents from the rest of the country. Foreign visitors’ opinions were equally divided among the three options.

Table 15. Average score for different aspects of the Menhires’ Park.

 

The relocation of the menhires and the creation of this park add enjoyment to the visit I would have rather seen the menhires as they were located originally I could not decide which one is the best option Other

All n=30

National Visitors n=20

Local Visitors n=7

10 [34]

6

3

12 [40]

7

4

7 1

6 1

0 0

International Visitors n=3

5.5.5. Opinions Concerning Site Presentation When asked to comment on the way that the park is presented to the public, most visitors considered it to be ‘poor’ (37%), followed by those who deemed it to be ‘good’ (33%). A lower number of visitors considered it to be ‘reasonable’ (20%) and ‘very good’ (10%). Most visitors who described the presentation as ‘poor’ were Argentinean national tourists. While the ‘good’ opinion was selected by the majority of local people, this option was less often mentioned by foreigners and national visitors. The ‘very good’ option was only chosen by national visitors (table 17). When asked how they would improve or change the public presentation of the site, more than a third of the visitors asked for more information and explanation - such as signposts and maps - while almost a fifth asked for information about the origin, provenance and significance of the menhires. Almost a third of the people surveyed would not change anything, while a few others said that they would change ‘everything’. Other visitors surveyed would improve the publicity, maintenance and security of the site. More background information was requested by most of international visitors, a third of the national tourists and also by some local visitors. While national tourists commonly asked for more information about the meaning and provenance of the menhires, local visitors were more concerned about site security. When asked about their visit to the park, the majority of people surveyed considered it ‘interesting’, while only a tenth deemed it to be ‘interesting but exhausting’, ‘boring’ and ‘other’. The options ‘interesting but exhausting’ and ‘boring’ were selected by local young people, while ‘other’ was selected by one person from elsewhere in the country who considered the site to be ‘an atrocity carried out by the military, and therefore the park is not enjoyable at all’.

International Visitors (n=3) National Visitors (n=20) Local Visitors (n=7) All (n=30)

Good Reasonable 1 5 4 10

1 4 1 6

When asked why archaeological sites should be protected, most visitors described archaeological sites as part of ‘our history’ or 1 ‘our past’ (almost a third). The idea that archaeological sites are part of national heritage 1 was in second place, followed by the views 0 that these sites must be protected because they type (n[%]). are ‘non-renewable resources’ or are of ‘historic value’. To a lesser extent, archaeological sites were described as part of human heritage, a right of future generations, and of ‘tourist value’. 1

Table 16. Attitudes towards the relocation of the menhires, by visitor

Very Good 0 3 0 3

5.5.6. Attitudes Towards Archaeological Heritage

International visitors divided their opinions among ‘national heritage’, ‘world heritage’ and ‘historically valuable’. Most local visitors considered the site to be part of national heritage, while the rest divided their opinions among ‘our past’, and ‘historic value’ and ‘tourist value’. National visitors tended to identify the archaeological sites as part of their ‘own past’, followed by the idea that they were ‘non-renewable resources’, ‘part of world heritage’, ‘a birth right of future generations’ and possessing ‘historic value’ (table 18). Overall, the impact of tourist information networks was very low among visitors surveyed at the Menhires’ Park (as well as at the other two case studies).9 Most interviewees enjoyed the park’s scenery more than the menhires themselves, and were more critical of site preservation and presentation than visitors to the other two sites. The majority of the respondents not only supported the opinion that the menhires were sacred objects, but also that they would have preferred to see the menhires in their original locations (even though most of them did not know when and how the park had been created). When asked about archaeological sites in general, most visitors believed that they were ‘part of our own past’ and ‘national heritage’.

5.6. Final Comments Political, intellectual and economic interest groups are all involved in the battle for control over the menhires. The All n=30 Our history/ past National heritage Non-renewable resources Historic value Heritage of Mankind Future generations Tourist Value

Poor 1 8 2 11

Table 17. Attitudes towards the explanation and presentation of the Menhires’ Park, by visitor type.

9 6 5 4 3 2 1

National Visitors n=20 8 1 5 2 2 2 0

Local Visitors n=7 1 4 0 1 0 0 1

International Visitors n=3 0 1 0 1 1 0 0

Table 18. Meanings and values of archaeological sites (Menhires’ Ruins survey), by visitor type.

 

political importance of these monoliths to local, provincial and national authorities has overshadowed genuine preservation policies and actions. Throughout the twentieth century, the menhires have played different roles and acquired various meanings, including enhancing national pride, promoting tourism and reinforcing democracy. Whether viewed as decorative objects or national icons, the menhires are widely believed to belong to a remote past that cannot be linked with any contemporary indigenous population. Regardless of the fact that the menhires are legally protected as a national treasure, they are under serious threat. In recent decades, the menhires’ symbolic value as ‘victims of the authoritarian regime’ has paradoxically transformed them into victims of demagogic political practices. In the 1990s their popularity has been used to legitimate and promote political groups. While they have been the topic of many impressive political speeches in favour of both cultural heritage and democracy, nothing has been done to stop their deterioration and damage at the hands of vandals and the elements. Furthermore, their potential economic value has generated a kind of ‘gold-fever’ among local villagers who claim, remove, or try to appropriate not only the La Angostura Park’s menhires, but also those spread throughout the valley and indeed the province. The notion of returning the menhires to the indigenous people and their places of origin may be based upon valid arguments, but will have disastrous consequences if political and economic agendas inhibit long-term preservation measures. Owing to the fact that the symbolic and archaeological significance of the monoliths was not widely understood, visitors tended to appreciate the menhires’ setting more than the menhires themselves. Similarly, visitors were generally unaware of the artificiality of the park, and the fact that the stones had been relocated from their original positions. Damage to the stones and poor maintenance of the park should be obvious to the most unobservant tourist. However, the visitors’ appreciation and enjoyment of the menhires - and (hopefully) their more deferential treatment of them - has been severely impaired by the inadequacies of in situ tourist information. The menhires started the new millennium as a trophy in a struggle between different interest groups. Unfortunately, possible allies - including researchers, conservationists, local villagers and ‘New Age people’ - have been unable to establish criteria or co-ordinate actions to protect them. Archaeological discourse - which places the menhires in the context of native cultures - has not only been traditionally rejected by the provincial elite, but has also deprived archaeologists of any position of power. In recent years, their ‘expert’ opinion has gained some recognition among



political authorities. However, having adopted a strictly technical position on the menhires, archaeologists have failed to establish a dialogue with local people, and are therefore unable to mediate in the search for acceptable solutions for the menhires’ future.

Notes 1. Early researchers did not provide sufficient information about the orientation of the monoliths. Ambrosetti (1987b, 4-5) stated that some of them were looking towards the South, and that one had its carved face looking at the Ñuñorco hill. However, Buffo (1940, 60) noted that most of them had their decorated face towards the sun and, therefore, looked towards the North. 2. By the time Ambrosetti visited Tafí, previous foreign travellers had already explored the menhires. He noted that one of the menhires located on the property of Frías Silva had been knocked down by some French visitors, who thought that it might cover treasure (Ambrosetti 1897b, 3). 3. Menhires had been found throughout the Andean region, including Fuerte Quemado, Quilmes, San Pedro del Colalao (Tucumán), Ruinas del Pucará (Catamarca), and Rinconada (Jujuy). However, Tafí Valley is unique in the concentration, size and decoration of its menhires (González 1961, Gómez 1973, 15-16). 4. Recent studies demonstrate that the menhires were made from a range of metamorphic and igneous rocks mined from several quarries in the region (García Azcárate and Indri 1999). 5. In Rinconada (Jujuy province), the ceremonial use of menhires is still practised by local people. Nachtigall (1965, in Mariscotti de Görlitz 1978, 60) reports that the spirits of prehistoric menhires were often invoked to encourage the fertility of herds. 6. The quality of the photograph is poor due to the fact that it is a second-generation photocopy of the original newspaper photograph. Access to the original could not be arranged at the time. 7. These monoliths were moved to the main square of El Mollar in January 2000. They were originally situated at the edge of the Mollar River, and were removed in a rescue operation in order to save them from flood damage (Bárbara Manasse, pers. comm. 28.07.2000). They were to be placed in a protected place while the site was reconstructed, although by July 2000 they were still in the town square. 8. In requesting the donation of a menhir to a private landowner, the local government made a serious legal error. All archaeological heritage belongs to the public domain of the State (Civil Code art. 2339, clause. 9), and menhires are explicitly protected by national Law 24.262/ 93.

9. The results seem to follow a trend that has been observed elsewhere. Studies conducted in European countries have already noted that word of mouth from family and friends is the most common motivation for making a visit

 !

to museums and heritage places (McManus 1991; Richards 2000, 7-8), along with the visitors’ tendency to use guidebooks (McManus 2000b, 167).

CHAPTER 6 ARCHAEOLOGICAL HERITAGE IN THE PRESS

6.1. Reporting Heritage in the National Press This chapter explores the meanings and values attached to archaeological heritage as reflected in newspaper articles. First, it aims to look at the kinds and frequency of articles about archaeological heritage published in national newspapers. Second, it examines the ways in which different interest groups’ opinions are expressed, and heritage controversies are played out. Third, national and local newspaper coverage of the case study sites is compared in terms of content and contrast in focus.

Most of the articles reported ‘discoveries’ of archaeological sites; to a lesser extent they informed about ‘research’ activities or gave general ‘comments’ (table B.2.). The countries that received most press attention were Egypt, Italy, United Kingdom, Peru, and China, while other countries (notably Greece and the USA) were also often mentioned. The category ‘world’ included international news which referred to World Heritage sites or to a worldwide phenomenon (e.g. article about the activities of underwater treasure hunters, La Nación, 19.11.1998). Sites included in this category were also among the most frequently reported (fig. B.1.). 6.1.1.2. National Articles

6.1.1. Qualitative Analysis of Newspaper Articles about Archaeological Heritage A total of 280 articles were surveyed from the two main (in terms of circulation and credibility) national newspapers, Clarín and La Nación,1 between August 1997 and December 2000. From 1998-2000,2 an average of 33 articles per year (approx. 3 per month) were published by Clarín, and 56 by La Nación (approx. 5 per month) (see Appendix B, table B.1). Months in which a larger number of articles were registered were those in which important discoveries were made (e.g. a shipwreck found in Buenos Aires port and a pyramid in Catamarca, both in October 1998; the Lullaillaco’s mummies in April 1999) or important decisions regarding archaeological heritage were taken (e.g. UNESCO nominations for the World Heritage list, September November 2000; police raids against art dealers, November - December 2000). On other occasions, the articles were not related to specific topics but to several different national and international sites. 6.1.1.1. International Articles There were 89 ‘international news’ articles, which represent almost a third of the articles surveyed (table 19). The analysis of these articles only focused on those aspects - such as ‘country’, ‘type of site’ and ‘existence of conflict’, see Appendix B - which allow comparisons with the national news. Most of the articles were descriptive reports. Only twelve of them mention some kind of conflict. They referred to issues such as the scientific debate about hominid evolution, international claims about restitution of cultural objects, the activities of treasure hunters in search of historic shipwrecks and the impact of tourism on places such as Cairo and Rome.

Newspapers’ interest in national archaeological heritage can be analysed regarding the types of articles. ‘Research’, ‘complaint’ and ‘protective measures’ articles were the most common, although in the case of Clarín, ‘discoveries’ were in second place after ‘research’ (table B.3.). Thus archaeological sites and collections mentioned in newspapers most often related to the scientific activities of specialists (research, discovery, protective measures), rather than to public-related activities (public archaeology, exhibitions and tourist activities). Furthermore, the number of ‘complaints’ revealed the existence of and the concern about threats to archaeological heritage preservation. The Argentine sites most often reported were those located in Buenos Aires City (26%). Those situated in the provinces of Salta (9%), Santa Cruz (8%), Buenos Aires (7%), Jujuy (6%), Catamarca (6%), and Tucumán (5%) were also mentioned (fig. B.2.). It is important to note that many articles referred to the same few sites. For example, ten of the sixteen news items relating to Santa Cruz were dedicated to the wreck of the Swift in Puerto Deseado. According to site type, ‘urban archaeology sites’ were the most commonly mentioned, especially in Clarín, where reports concerning this type of site represented a third of the total news surveyed. Most of them related to the Clarín n=105

La Nación n=175

All n=280

National

81 [77]

110 [63]

191 [68]

International

24 [23]

65 [37]

89 [32]

Table 19. Number of national and international newspaper articles surveyed (n [%]).

 #

activities of the Centro de Arqueología Urbana de Buenos Aires (CAUBA), in Buenos Aires City. ‘Indigenous complexsociety sites’ were in second place, followed by ‘collections’, ‘high peak archaeology sites’, ‘Hispanic sites’, ‘underwater sites’ and ‘rock art sites’ (table B.4). Some types of site were represented by only one or two sites, though these received considerable press coverage. Examples of this were Llullaillaco mountain site in Salta province, and submerged sites, such as the Swift wreck in Santa Cruz province, and Santa Fe La Vieja in Cayastá River, Santa Fe province. Among Hispanic sites, those most often reported were the Jesuit ruins and the Reducción of the indigenous Quilmes people (Buenos Aires province). Archaeological collections were often mentioned in newspaper articles, but usually in connection with looting or illegal trafficking. Most of the people interviewed by the press were researchers working on the sites, or expressing ‘expert’ opinions. In only a few cases were the comments of local people (e.g. La Nación, 28.11.98; Clarín, 11.09.99) or visitors included (e.g. Clarín, 12.11.00; La Nación, 14.01.2000). Researchers who were most commonly mentioned (table B.5) could be divided into two main groups. The first group consisted of those who either belong to research groups working in the Buenos Aires City area (e.g. Schávelzon and Weissel, who work at CAUBA), or who deal with archaeological heritage issues on behalf of national museums and official institutions (e.g. Rolandi at INAPL or Raffino at the La Plata Museum). In consequence, these institutions were the most often mentioned by the press (table B.6, fig. B.3.). The second group was those researchers who were repeatedly interviewed in relation to the same sites, where these sites attracted press attention. For instance, Cerutti and Reinhard was frequently consulted on the Llullaillaco’s mummies; Dolores Elkin on the rescue of the Swift wreck; Rex González on the pyramid found in Catamarca; María Oneto and Carlos Aschero on rock art sites in danger; and García Cano on the search for Santa Fe La Vieja. Observing how archaeologists were described in newspaper articles allowed insights into the value judgements being made about their individual activities and about the profession. ‘Researcher’, ‘scientist’, ‘specialist’ and ‘expert’ were the most common nouns used as synonyms for ‘archaeologist’ in newspaper articles (table B.7). All of these terms, as well as ‘anthropologist’ and ‘scholar’, emphasise the idea that archaeologists have both the qualifications and the intellectual authority to carry out their work. The nationality of the archaeologists was significant, and being identified as ‘Argentinean’ seemed to add ‘national importance’ to their work in the eyes of the press. For example, some articles referred to Argentine archaeological missions abroad (e.g. ‘Argentinean expedition in Egypt’, La Nación, 31.01.99) or ‘Argentinean archaeologists participating in

international research teams’ (La Nación 04.09.99). In a few cases, archaeologists were described in a more romantic manner, using terms such as ‘adventurer’. Their academic authority was also romanticised, and they were described as ‘interpreters of remote cultures’. The idea that archaeologists were ‘guardians of the memory of mankind’ was mentioned by one archaeologist, during an interview published in La Nación. Finally, the argument that ‘archaeologists are fundamentalists’ was used in a letter to the editor published by La Nación on 05.01.2000, in the context of a debate about the rescue of the Swift (see below). The ‘description’ of archaeological sites and collections was a category used to identify which aspects the press considered to be relevant and valuable. The scientific and archaeological importance of a site or collection was often emphasised by the press (table B.8). Although the uniqueness and antiquity of sites and collections were considered important in Clarín, these features did not appear to be so highly valued by La Nación. Preservation conditions and the importance of archaeology in the recovery of the history of indigenous peoples were more commonly mentioned in the latter. The monetary value of the archaeological collections and the potential of sites to become tourist resources were frequently remarked upon by both newspapers. That the archaeological heritage was ‘Argentine’ usually provided it with additional value, as this made it part of ‘our culture, identity and memory’. PreHispanic sites and collections were sometimes regarded as belonging to ‘exotic, remote, past cultures’. However, the idea of a site or collection belonging to the whole of mankind, was only mentioned when reporting on sites that had been nominated for or included on the World Heritage list. Other values identified were sacred or symbolic meaning, and mysticism, magic or mystery of sites. Aesthetic value and the status of a site as a provincial or national monument were occasionally mentioned. Archaeological sites were sometimes suggested to be curiosities or interesting places to visit in Travel sections. If a site had been ‘reconstructed’, it became ‘suitable for visitors’, according to an article in the Travel section of La Nación, while the requirement of ‘authenticity’ was mentioned by the same newspaper when referring to UNESCO’s decision to include the Jesuit ruins of Córdoba in the World Heritage list. In relation to the existence of conflict, 45% of the articles surveyed reported some kind of contested situation. Many different conflicts and problems were reported in the press (table 20). Some of them related to the government’s failure to enact legislation, implement management policies, or provide funding and training. Other problems were the result of inefficient policies in museum and heritage agencies such as lack of inventories, the inaccessibility of the collections, misuse of sites and collections, and inadequate

 $

protection for sites. A third category referred to conflicts between different interest groups, including developers, landlords, archaeologists, architects, preservationist groups, private collectors, national and local authorities, local people, indigenous peoples, ‘commercial archaeology’ entrepreneurs, tourist companies, and newspapers. Illegal activities, such as vandalism, looting, illegal occupation of sites and trafficking of archaeological objects were reported, as frequently were physical threats to sites and landscapes. Such threats included the impact of tourism and developments, and preservation problems.

modernists as well as in reinforcing local identities threatened by globalisation. Contentious sites often caused many types of conflict at once. Illegal trafficking and looting were the problems most often reported, followed by lack of financial support, lack of legislation, vandalism, preservation problems, and conflict between investors or landlords and researchers or preservationist groups. To a lesser degree, the impact of development and tourism, and disputes between authorities and local people or researchers, were significant themes in the articles analysed.

There were conflicts over the ownership of cultural heritage, including restitution of cultural objects and the ownership of collections, and there were also problems related to public archaeology, such as insufficient public awareness about site preservation, lack of publicity and visitors to the sites. Finally, there was also conflict over the role of cultural heritage in the dispute between preservationists and Type of Conflict 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

Illegal trafficking and looting Lack of Financial Support Lack of Legislation Preservation Problems Vandalism Private Owners/ Investors vs. Researchers/ Preservationists Impact of Development Authorities vs. Researchers/ Local People Tourist Impact Lack of Governmental Action Lack of Time Lack of Physical Protection Land Ownership Preservation vs. Modernisation / Globalisation Lack of Access to Collections Ownership of Artefacts Private Collectors vs. Researchers Misuse of Collections and Sites Researchers vs. Newspaper Editors Commercial Archaeology vs. Non Intrusive/ Scientific Archaeology Management in Dispute Environmental Impact Illegal Occupation of Sites Lack of Publicity Exclusive Copyright Lack of Trained Police Lack of Public Awareness Sacred Sites/ People's Beliefs vs. Scientific Research Restitution of Cultural Objects Architects vs. Archaeologists Lack of Inventory of Collections Lack of Visitors

Clarín n=67 11 5 6 3 7

This ranking of conflict, however, was different whether the results from each newspaper were analysed separately because each paid more attention to certain kinds of conflicts. For instance, while Clarín widely covered issues related to illegal trafficking and conflicts between archaeologists and authorities with dealers and private collectors, La Nación focused more on conflicts between investors or landlords with researchers or La Nación All conservationists. n=92 6 7 5 8 3

n=159 17 [10] 12 [8] 11 [7] 11 [7] 10 [6]

1

9

10 [6]

1 0 5 4 1 3 2 2 1 0 3 3 0

8 8 1 1 3 2 3 3 3 4 1 0 3

9 8 6 5 4 5 5 5 4 4 4 3 3

[5] [5] [4] [3] [3] [3] [3] [3] [3] [3] [3] [2] [2]

0

3

3

[2]

1 2 2 1 2 0 0

1 0 0 1 0 2 2

2 2 2 2 2 2 2

[1] [1] [1] [1] [1] [1] [1]

0

2

2

[1]

1 0 0 0

0 1 1 1

1 1 1 1

[1] [1] [1] [1]

Table 20. National newspaper articles, by conflict type (n [%]).

 %

6.1.2. Reviewing Archaeological Heritage: Contrasting Views on Heritage in Newspaper Articles 6.1.2.1. Challenging Scientific Values The scientific value of sites and collections is usually emphasised in newspaper articles, since it is generally accepted that archaeological sites are the witnesses of a remote past which needs to be studied by specialists in order to present that past to the rest of society. However, the press has sometimes acknowledged alternative views, especially concerning the exhumation of mummies and the excavation of sacred sites. La Nación has published three articles revealing this concern. On 13.04.1999, the paper published a letter to the editor entitled ‘Desecration of Tombs’, whose author complained about the excavation of the Llullaillaco’s mummies. He stated that ‘I cannot get over my astonishment at the treatment received by these mummified people, who belong to ancient cultures’. He noted that ‘they were buried according to rituals and beliefs so exotic as ours will be in some years time’. He continued ‘it is embarrassing to see public museums exhibiting mummified bodies in the name of science and education’. He asked ‘why can’t we exhibit - for the same purpose - any of

the nineteenth century ancestors of archaeologists and museum directors, with their funerary objects?’ The author considered that the exhibition of the bodies of indigenous people demonstrated once again ‘the discrimination, arrogance and ancestral contempt felt for different cultures’. He also asked ‘why those religions, which usually condemn the desecration of tombs, do not make any claim in this case’. He finally suggested that ‘universities teaching archaeology should include in their curricula courses about ethical treatment of mummies, emphasising that they are not simple objects of scientific interest and thus they need to be treated with respect’. He also stated that government should not permit the removal and exhibition of mummies and when they are found, and the excavation cannot be avoided, they should be reburied as a matter of ‘basic respect’ (Dr. Vicente Casado Arroyos, La Nación, 13.04.99). Some days later, an article written by journalist José Fonrouge, compared the excavation of the Llullaillaco’s mummies with the rescue of the bodies of two mountaineers who had died in Tibet, at the beginning of the century, when they were trying to climb the Everest. He concluded by suggesting that these bodies should not be exhumed, but based his argument on different reasons. He asked ‘whether removing these remains from the place they had belonged for such a long time did not imply the alteration of the mysteries which feed human imagination and keep its spirit alive’ (La Nación, 04.05.1999). The third article referred to the validity of indigenous beliefs and was published under the title ‘Witch Doctors are the True Doctors in La Puna’. Cristina Bianchetti - an anthropologist dedicated to the study of native cultures made this statement during an interview held with La Nación. She admitted that many scientists do not share her view. She noted that ‘archaeologists work with human remains, but indigenous people say that the “antiguos” should not be touched’, and explained that according to the indigenous philosophy, ‘those who get involved with dead people, start to feel a pain in their own bones’ (La Nación, 29.03.1999). However, none of these articles provoked any written response from readers of La Nación, or at least none that was published. 6.1.2.2. Indigenous People’s Claims In recent years the national press has frequently reported claims made by indigenous people, mostly related to land rights and lack of employment. In May 2000, La Nación reported a land claim made by a Mapuche community during the opening ceremony of a museum dedicated to the history of Patagonia, in Leleque, Chubut province. This claim underlined issues related to the ownership of the indigenous cultural heritage. The reporter commented ‘we can say that a remarkable museum about the history of Patagonia’s people has been created, but we should also report that during the

opening, a group of Mapuche people went there to say that the old conflict with the national state is not finished yet’ (see Chapter 2, section 2.3). He also explained that the Mapuche community of Vuelta del Río decided to hold their demonstration during this event because they wanted to be heard by the Governor and the national press. There was, however, a more important reason. Benetton, the company who sponsored the museum, also bought the lands claimed by the Mapuche from the National State. After some arguments with different authorities, the Mapuches were invited to visit the museum. But they refused the invitation saying: ‘if you want to see the Mapuche’s culture, come to visit our community’ (La Nación, 13.05.2000). 6.1.2.3. Tourist Impact and Vandalism Reports are frequently published in the national press about the damage caused by tourists to unprotected archaeological sites. They usually include archaeologists demanding the immediate action of local and national authorities. For example, Clarín published an article entitled: ‘Tourism Without Control Plunders Ancient Archaeological Artefacts’ (Clarín, 14.12.1998). It referred to several hunter-gatherer sites located next to the resort town of Sierra de la Ventana, in Buenos Aires province, and detailed a complaint made by Fernando Oliva (La Plata Museum). According to the researcher, local entrepreneurs were inviting tourists to visit the ruins and collect archaeological remains as souvenirs. In July 1999, the same newspaper published a special report about ‘the culture of our ancestors’, entitled ‘Argentine Rock Art Runs the Risk of Disappearing’. It noted the importance of the country’s several thousand rock art sites and listed the damage caused by vandalism and looting. The archaeologists interviewed demanded better legislation, political action and more public awareness. The report mentioned sites damaged by graffiti (e.g. Cerros Colorados, Santa Cruz province), images repainted to make them more impressive to visitors (e.g. Cueva del Gualicho, Santa Cruz province), and the removal of painted blocks (e.g. Cerro de los Indios, Santa Cruz province; Alto Sapagua, Jujuy province). Some of the most severely damaged were the rock art sites of Santa Cruz province, and the Secretary of Culture was asked to comment on their lack of protection. He merely stated that ‘the rock art places of this province are more protected than they were, although the existence of some isolated damage cannot be denied’ (Clarín, 30.07.99). A warning about ‘Damage to Archaeological Heritage’ was also the topic of an editorial in Clarín, which noted that ‘archaeological heritage is continually being mutilated by the actions of looters and antiquities dealers’. It argued that ‘this is possibly thanks to the lack of public awareness about the cultural remains of these ancient peoples’. The theft of the ‘Menhires’ from the Park in Tafi valley, Tucumán (see

 &

below), the vandalism of rock art sites, and the international trade in fossils from Patagonia, were the most shocking examples given. The editor noted that ‘only one per cent of Argentina’s rock art sites are suitably protected’ and warned that ‘without new legislation and more funding for protection, the destruction of this heritage will be unavoidable’ (Clarín, 14.02.2000). In a section dedicated to archaeological tourism, La Nación reported that the rock art site of Cueva de las Manos, Santa Cruz province, had been included on the World Heritage list. It recorded the opinions of some tourists visiting the site, who said that the paintings were ‘incredible’ and that they ‘could not believe how somebody could have made them so they would be preserved for such a long time’. The article reported the opinion of several specialists. Among them, Maria Oneto (INAPL) emphasised that ‘we try to conserve these rock art sites and keep their location secret to try to prevent looting’. She explained, however, that ‘we cannot avoid the fact that landowners - affected by economic crisis in Patagonia - open their ranches to tourists offering visits to the rock art sites on their lands. We hope that they will preserve this legacy’ (La Nación, 14.01.2000). Some months later, La Nación published a letter to the editor sent by the same archaeologist, who complained about an article concerning a tourist visit to the Cerros Colorados Park, Córdoba province, published by the newspaper on 12.03.2000. The reason for the complaint was the photograph included in that feature, which showed an enthusiastic visitor touching the rock art paintings. In her letter, Oneto argued ‘that people should not be encouraged to touch the images’ (La Nación, 09.04.2000). 6.1.2.4. Heritage and the Public In March 1998, the newspaper La Nación published an interview with the Director of the INAPL, Dr. Diana Rolandi, on the public presentation of the archaeological remains recovered from a seventeenth century refuse pit found in a house located in the historic centre of Buenos Aires city. Rolandi noted that the building company only gave them forty-eight hours to carry out the rescue archaeology because contractors are not legally required to cease the building work in such a situation. She demanded new legislation but argued that ‘the community is not aware about our heritage. Even a law will not help us if people take archaeological artefacts as souvenirs and do not report discoveries’ (La Nación, 31.03.98) In June of the same year, La Nación published an article entitled: ‘People Preserve their Memory. Growing Interest in Archaeological Heritage’. According to Daniel Schávelzon, ‘people are interested in knowing what is beneath the soil. Urban archaeology contributes to the history of the inhabitants of Buenos Aires, discovering things that belonged to our great-grandparents. Thus, the

public gets involved because it is related to the recent memory of the city’. He felt that ‘the government of the city of Buenos Aires is now more aware of the need to protect its heritage’ (La Nación, 16.06.1998). In August 1998, journalist Rodolfo Rapetti produced an extended review of the national government’s cultural policies. His main argument was that cultural authorities should develop the skills necessary to obtain financial support from the private sector, since government funding for ‘culture’ is insufficient. He observed that these initiatives are not encouraged by legislation, which neither prohibits the demolition of valuable buildings nor implements any exemption policies for private sponsors. He quoted Magdalena Faillace, President of the CNMMyLH, who felt that the failure of cultural policies was due to ideological reasons. ‘Our history is a result of the dispute between contested views of the past’, she explained. ‘Our inability to deal with these views resulted in the demolition of valuable buildings and places, witnesses of important historical events. The Argentine people will not value their heritage unless these antagonisms are overcome’, she concluded. However, Leon Repetur, advisor to the Cultural Commission Senate said that ‘ten years ago the cultural area was as underfunded as it is at present; what has changed is people’s concern’. He recognised that public interest in heritage preservation is a worldwide phenomenon, stating that ‘in our country, people are starting to demonstrate their awareness of this issue’ (Clarín, 16.08.1998). In September 2000, Clarín reported on a round table discussion entitled ‘Cultural Heritage in Danger’, which was organised by the National Secretary of Culture to commemorate ‘the MERCOSUR’s Heritage Day’. This article revealed that the participants not only discussed issues related to legislation and budget, but also broached a new issue concerning the public’s role in heritage preservation. According to Magdalena Faillace ‘public consciousness has changed: people demonstrate when monuments are damaged by graffiti, for example’. She stated that ‘we need to involve every sector of the community to defend our heritage, because it can provide us with an identity with which to face globalisation’. Silva Fajre (Secretary for Cultural Heritage in Buenos Aires) expressed her own belief that ‘protection has only one aim: to make heritage meaningful to society. This implies that people should not only be considered as the audience but also as the protagonists’. While cultural authorities reflected upon heritage issues, Américo Castilla (Antorchas Foundation) focused on more concrete needs, calling the conservation of movable heritage in Argentina ‘calamitous’. ‘We are obliged to train specialists, although we understand that this is not an “interesting issue” for politicians’. The reporter commented that ‘the verbs “resist” and “struggle” were the most used in the meeting’, not only by academics but also - paradoxically - by cultural authorities (Clarín, 15.09.2000).

 '

Some days later, an editorial in Clarín, entitled ‘Care of our Cultural Heritage’ analysed the then current situation, and the influence of the above-mentioned meeting was clear. The article noted that after having experienced the loss of unique artefacts ‘the community seems to have a clear and strong awareness of the need to preserve cultural heritage’. Consequently, ‘authorities are introducing active preservation strategies, and there is increasing specialisation in cultural management’. It was, however, acknowledged that these initiatives had to be supported by financial resources. Finally, the editor advocated the preservation and democratic use of cultural heritage, noting that ‘in this task, the right to our history, the preservation of our memory, and access to landmarks of the past, are at stake, and it is these which will show us our future’ (Clarín, 25.09.2000). However, this positive view about the way that cultural heritage was being protected in the country, changed a month later, when another editorial warned about imminent damage to archaeological and palaeontological remains under threat from the building of a dam in Potrerillos Valley, Mendoza province. The editor denounced the authorities’ failure to prevent damage and stated that ‘the historic and cultural heritage is not adequately preserved’ because authorities only ‘give priority to immediate needs instead of preserving elements important for the comprehension of the past’ (Clarín, 15.10.2000). Another editorial of Clarín about ‘World Heritage Sites’, published in December 2000, commented on UNESCO’s decision to include two Argentine sites on the World Heritage list. The editor stated that ‘this decision should change the minds of those who - basing their arguments on misconceived ideas of modernity - believe that investing in heritage preservation is a waste of time and money’ (Clarín, 05.12.2000). 6.1.2.5. Restitution of Cultural Heritage In July 2000, Clarín produced a comprehensive report concerning archaeological objects which are exhibited in world class museums far from their countries of origin. A photograph of the Parthenon marbles illustrated the article, with a caption stating that they are now exhibited in London. Three of the four archaeologists asked whether or not these cultural objects should be returned, believed that they are better preserved in these museums, and that they belong to the whole of mankind, while only one was in favour of restitution. However, this general opinion changed radically when they were asked about Argentinean pieces exhibited abroad. The newspaper explained that Argentinean artefacts collected by travellers and looters are now in foreign museums, such as the Field Museum of Chicago, Volker Kunde Museum in Berlin, and Museé de l’Homme in Paris. The archaeologist Rex González said that this commercialisation not only continues, but also operates very

swiftly. ‘The curator of the Brooklyn Museum sent me an object to confirm its provenance. This artefact had been seen in Belén, Catamarca province eight months before. The curator told me that the museum received it from a benefactor who had bought it in London’ (La Nación, 03.07.2000). 6.1.2.6. Archaeologists, Dealers and Private Collectors Several raids ordered by a judge in November 2000 generated a heated dispute among archaeologists, cultural authorities, private collectors and dealers. Clarín, whose headline on 03.11.2000 read ‘Fifteen Thousand Archaeological Artefacts Confiscated’, covered this issue. The article explained that the sale of archaeological pieces is a crime under law 9080, and described how archaeologists had worked for 24 hours, helping the police to catalogue the confiscated objects (Clarín, 03.11.200). However, in December 2000, a new article entitled ‘Archaeological Artefacts in a Great Controversy’ pointed out that private collectors were ‘surprised and afraid’ of the authorities who ‘say that their hobby is illegal trafficking and a violation of national cultural heritage’. The article noted that some private collectors are ‘known people’ and that ‘even the Foreign Office bought the Hirsch collection which has been stored in its headquarters for the past year’. The lawyers of one of the dealers, whose pieces were confiscated, declared to the press that ‘neither law 9080 nor law 19.939 prohibit the transferral of archaeological objects’. The newspaper also stated that the solicitors of the other dealer prosecuted would argue in court that ‘there has not been any crime and therefore, confiscation is robbery’. While Diana Rolandi (INAPL) and Liliana Barela (DNP) firmly declared that commercialisation of archaeological objects is illegal in Argentina, the newspaper commented that a proposed new law - which will not challenge current private collectors’ rights - is awaiting the consideration of the Senate. This law will state that collections should be registered and that those who sell archaeological pieces after the law is passed will be fined’ (Clarín, 04.12.2000). Another article published the same day presented the view of the private collectors. One of them noted that ‘museum collections are stored in cellars, as in the La Plata museum, and in the provinces. Museum directors do not want to give access to the collections to hide that artefacts have gone missing’. In this context, collectors considered themselves as ‘defendants of the national heritage’ because they ‘keep objects in the country or repatriate them from abroad’. ‘We fill a gap’, explained another, ‘private collections end up in museums. I am not going to take the pieces to my grave’ (Clarín, 04.12.2000). Two days later, a long editorial was dedicated to the archaeological heritage, recognising its importance and the serious damage caused by looters. It noted the slack attitude of the national state and the importance of long-standing

!

private collections. Finally, the editor demanded action from the State to protect sites and prevent illegal trafficking. He also advocated the recognition of private collectors who have bought their pieces in good faith because their collections had to some degree compensated for the lack of the national state’s commitment to our ancient culture’ (Clarín, 06.12.2000). 6.1.2.7. Privatising Submerged Treasures A heated debate about who should pay for the rescue and preservation of the Swift wreck, and who should benefit from the work, was conducted through several letters to the editors of La Nación, between January and February 2000. The polemic started when the archaeologists Dolores Elkin and Diana Rolandi (INAPL) called for a law to protect underwater archaeology, and were answered by a reader, who argued against any legislation that could stop the activity of private companies dedicated to rescuing historic wrecks. He based his argument on two ideas. The first was that the Argentinean State has insufficient funds to carry out such activities itself, and has more urgent social needs to meet. The second was that private investors have always helped scientific advances, risking their money to undertake all kinds of research. He also stated ‘that while non-intrusive archaeology proposes to find shipwrecks and leave them in situ, private companies will effectively enrich the culture of mankind’, because ‘the objects recovered become part of museum collections around the world’. Furthermore, ‘hiring private companies provides real funds for the State to pay for education, security, social assistance and other urgent needs’ (Guillermo Cabrera, La Nación, 05.01.2000). On 25.01.2000, the archaeologists replied that underwater archaeology is not so expensive as Cabrera suggested, and stated that they are in favour of private sponsorship, but not in exchange for the material recovered. They used the Swift case as an example - just as Cabrera did in making his point about how lack of State funding could stop research altogether - to demonstrate the number of private sponsors and international co-operation they had managed to gather. They also replied to Cabrera’s point that ‘it is better to have 50% of something than 100% of nothing’, arguing that ‘even in developing countries it is possible to protect 100% of the archaeological heritage’ and ‘that future generations have the right to this legacy’ (La Nación, 25.01.2000). On 24.02.2000 La Nación published Cabrera’s reply. He challenged the effectiveness of the rescue of the Swift, which ‘was discovered in 1982 and yet only 200 objects had been recovered’3. He retorted that ‘considering that a wreck must contain 20,000 and 25,000 objects, the rescue of the Swift will demand between 1800 and 2000 years’. He also argued that ‘if identical objects are rescued, there is no need to exhibit all of them in museums, when only parts of the collections will be enough’. Therefore, ‘a province like Tierra

del Fuego which had to dismiss employees and sell buildings to cover its deficit would find that allowing private rescues could be a solution to its problems’. ‘Is it fair’, he asked, ‘to deprive provinces of this genuine possibility to balance their budgets?’ Finally, he criticised the ‘us’ and ‘our’ used by archaeologists when referring to underwater heritage. He claimed that ‘the gold of the wrecks belonged to the Spanish Crown and if the Argentinean archaeologists can make any claim, it is only because the ships sank on the Argentine continental shelf’ (Guillermo Cabrera, La Nación, 24.02.2000). This author seems to have had a wide knowledge about shipwrecks and private rescue operations, since he was able to provide many examples and details. His letters were carefully composed to present the activity of treasure hunters as private entrepreneurship and to focus the argument on the benefits that such operations can provide for the government. He did not refer to the obvious profits for the rescue team. However, the most interesting aspect of this debate is the contrast between the dogmatism of the archaeologists - who defend the idea that 100% of archaeological heritage can and should be preserved - and Cabrera’s pragmatic, compelling and controversial argument for the privatisation of underwater heritage.

6.1.3. Discussion Over the years covered by this survey, articles about archaeological heritage in two national newspapers have increased. There are several reasons for this. A combination of remarkable discoveries, an incipient heritage boom partially influenced by UNESCO nominations - and some situations of conflict have provoked unusually intense press coverage. In other cases, the increasing number of articles about diverse topics, published mainly during summer months or in certain days of the week, may be due to the fact that on these days there was less influx of ‘hard’ news. Comparing national and international news, the importance of archaeology abroad was highlighted by the press. International articles represented a third of the total news surveyed and the number of international ‘discoveries’ reported was higher than the number of national ones. The high number of international news items might be explained in terms of the availability of information. While articles about archaeology abroad were received through international wire service, reporting national archaeology requires extra effort to search for, write and edit the news. This fact, presumably, only reinforces the Argentine popular image of archaeology as a remote discipline mainly concerned with the discovery of temples and tombs belonging to the ancient cultures of Egypt, Europe and the Middle East.

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Comparing the provinces and places most frequently mentioned in the press with the areas of high archaeological potential, and with those in which systematic academic research has taken place in recent years, there seems to be a bias in the newspapers’ ‘ranking’ of site types. It is reasonable to expect that not everything that researchers consider important would be equally interesting to the press (DeCicco 1988; Finn 2001). Thus newspapers focus on archaeological sites and collections when something is deemed newsworthy - such as spectacular discoveries or catastrophic events - and likely to attract the attention of the public. Mummies, pyramids and shipwrecks have captured the interest of the press over the last few years. This means that the mountain and underwater subdisciplines of archaeology were highly significant for the press due to two important events: the finding of the Llullaillaco mummies and the rescue of the Swift wreck. Similarly, the underwater search for and investigation of the Santa Fe La Vieja colonial remains was widely covered by the press. It is difficult to explain why ordinary archaeological discoveries or research are sometimes presented as topics of primary importance by the press (e.g. discoveries of refuse pits in Buenos Aires City centre). It seems that some research groups - supported by governmental agencies that depend directly on elected authorities - are under more pressure to publicise their research, and thus receive increased coverage from the press. This also means that the activities of important research groups working in universities or dependent upon CONICET are under-represented in the press. This is perhaps because their research is less spectacular, but it seems likely that is mainly due to their inability or lack of interest in contacting the press. In 1998 an archaeologist from INAPL was involved in a debate with a journalist from La Nación, when she declared that ‘some researchers prominently promote their discoveries, while we (the archaeologists) are dedicated to our work and receive the recognition of our colleagues’. The reporter then asked her whether or not she considered the dissemination of research results to the public to be a positive move. She replied ‘It may be that archaeologists should work more closely with the public. We are supported by public funds, and we need to return something to the community’ (La Nación, 16.06.1998). In this dialogue two key aspects are revealed. The first was already discussed in Chapter 2: archaeologists do not consider dissemination of information to be an essential part of academic activity. Their prime concern is with the archaeological community, which they perceive to be their real audience. This may explain the absence of news regarding the activities carried out by some important research groups. The second concern is based upon the fact that some researchers have more contacts with the national press. This provides them with an additional

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- and, it is sometimes argued, unfair - source of publicity and public recognition. It is, however, reasonable that institutions working in Buenos Aires city have more access to the press and vice-versa, and that researchers working in prestigious institutions - such as the La Plata Museum - are more often interviewed by the journalists who want to include some ‘expert’ opinion in their reports. A worrying trend is becoming apparent, in that certain periodicals deliberately present mundane facts as extraordinary discoveries. In this sense, evidence that might reasonably be expected to appear in an ‘average’ archaeological context is presented as a major new finding. Sometimes it is the result of the ‘editing’ work carried out by journalists in order to transform the academic language into a text more accessible and exciting to the general public. It is not unknown for archaeologists to exaggerate the value of archaeological remains as a way of attracting the press’s interest. This strategy is mainly employed in salvage archaeology contexts, in an attempt to persuade authorities and private developers to grant permission to carry out rescue excavations, or to extend the time conceded by developers. Where this is the case, it can be argued that this strategy constitutes a successful attempt by archaeologists to get through to the public by adopting journalism’s narrative style (DeCicco 1988; Finn 2001). However, it also runs the risk of providing a wrong message (Potter 1990) and thus discouraging public understanding of what archaeology is really about. Newspapers often announce a “new” discovery which was in fact excavated - and even reported upon - some time previously. For example, the 26.04.2001 edition of La Nación published an article entitled: ‘Mountain Archaeology: The Discoveries of a Young Argentine Researcher. Constanza Ceruti Has Found the Three Best Preserved Mummies of the Pre-Hispanic Period at 6,700 m’. It summarised the discovery of the Llullaillaco’s mummies - a topic widely covered by La Nación throughout 1999 and 2000 - and added a new interview with the archaeologist who was in charge. The scientific value of archaeological heritage is by far the most significant aspect for newspapers, although it has sometimes been challenged by brief comments or isolated letters to the editor which call for respect for the sacred meaning of these sites. The ‘expert’ opinion of archaeologists is highly respected by newspapers. What is not so clear is whose culture the reporters think they are dealing with. All the articles agree that archaeological remains from the Hispanic and colonial period belong to ‘our ancestors’, and that it is part of ‘our culture’. However, when referring to indigenous remains, newspaper articles often consider them to be part of remote, past cultures, that are neither ‘our culture’ nor linked to any extant group. However, newspapers do not hesitate to state that

archaeological heritage belongs to all the Argentines. Heritage becomes a ‘natural’ attribute of Argentine nationality when placed in an international context. Thus, archaeological sites included on the World Heritage list, local collections exhibited abroad and the activities of Argentine archaeologists in international teams become matters of national pride. For these reasons, the press has represented archaeologists as the only ‘experts’ able to interpret the ‘mystery’ of ancient cultures through their material remains. Newspapers may therefore become archaeologists’ best allies in their struggle to preserve sites. In the context of Argentina, it is not unreasonable to expect that a strong newspaper editorial about archaeological heritage at risk will be more effective in motivating authorities than several formal complaints. However, newspapers’ commitment to the preservation of cultural heritage and their respect for the opinion of archaeologists are abandoned often when the interests of important private collectors or developers are at stake. The controversy over the confiscation of archaeological pieces and the polemic about submerged treasures are good examples of how information can be manipulated. The trade of archaeological objects can be presented as a legal business; the activity of private collectors as a ‘good faith’ hobby; and the activity of treasure hunters as philanthropy. In this context, archaeologists can be seen as ‘fundamentalists’ who aim to preserve the heritage as a whole and claim more funds from a financially strained government, while private collectors and entrepreneurs are investing their own money to save a heritage which has been otherwise abandoned by the National State. Nevertheless, it seems clear that archaeologists should be more careful when presenting their arguments, because the public does not necessarily share their view about cultural heritage and is often unaware of conservation issues. They therefore run the risk of being considered indifferent to social needs, or a threat to economic development. Indigenous peoples’ concern for their cultural heritage has been almost completely ignored by the newspapers in spite of growing press interest in these groups over the last few months of the survey. Articles about indigenous communities of Argentina have merely aimed to describe their geographic location, main cultural characteristics and current unsatisfied social needs (e.g. series of articles titled ‘Indigenous peoples’, Clarín, January 2001; series ‘Aboriginal Argentina’, Revista La Nación, November 2000). Furthermore, people’s opinions, such as those of local villagers and tourists are rarely reported in newspaper articles. Also, tourists tend to express surprise along with admiration for the archaeological sites, highlighting their lack of previous knowledge about these sites and their cultural context.

6.2. National Press Coverage of Case Study Sites The Pucará of Tilcara Site, Quilmes’ Ruins and the Menhires’ Park all feature in articles of various types published by Clarín and La Nación. Six out of twelve articles dedicated to archaeological sites located in Jujuy province refer to Tilcara (the Pucará and the town), while the Humahuaca Ravine, where Tilcara is located, is mentioned in another three. Nine articles refer to sites located in Tucumán province. Three of them mention the Tafí Valley, where the Menhires’ Park is located, while Quilmes’ Ruins are the topic of two articles. Visits to these sites are often recommended in the travel sections of these newspapers, although these seldom include any critical analysis of site preservation and presentation.

6.2.1. Pucará of Tilcara Site In 2000 the Pucará attracted the attention of the national press on several occasions. In October, La Nación published a tourist article promoting the Pucará of Tilcara, with a paragraph dedicated to the monument, saying ‘it was a tribute to the great task carried out by the archaeologists who excavated the ancient ruins’. It called the Pucará ‘the Argentine Troy’ - as Ambrosetti used to do - and defined it as ‘one of the greatest examples of pre-Hispanic history’ (La Nación, 17.10.2000). In August, the Pucará of Tilcara was on the front page of the national newspapers because the ‘Divididos’, a famous rock and roll band, performed at the bottom of the hill on which the Pucará stands. According to Clarín the event was the result of a ‘“cocktail”, which mixed the Pachamama celebrations and indigenous claims with performances by local artists and the media attraction of the Divididos’. The spectacle was sponsored by the National Secretary for Culture and transmitted by the official TV channel. Newspapers interviewed Mollo, the leader of the band, who said that ‘Tilcara is a magic place for me. It is very powerful’ (Clarín, 14.08.2000). He added, ‘I am here not only to support the Kolla people’s claims but also because of the “cosmic significance” of the place’ (La Nación, 14.08.2000). Clarín reported that Mollo was also invited by the indigenous people to participate in the ceremony to the Pachamama, which was carried out in the temple of the Pucará. It was a private ritual performed by a Bolivian leader of the ‘Parlamento del Pueblo Aymara’. Later, during the show, some local artists were reported to have criticised the national authorities, ‘who should spend less money on this type of event, prepared for the national press, and be more aware of the everyday needs of local people’ (Cari sisters, musicians) (Clarín, 14.08.2000).

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In November, Clarín reported that four pucarás of the Humahuaca Ravine, including that of Tilcara, were declared ‘national monuments’. The decision was based on the fact that these sites are ‘unique relics of the Omaguaca culture’. Referring to the Pucará of Tilcara, it was noted that ‘this is the best known of all the pucarás of the region, thanks to the archaeological activity at the site since the beginning of the century’ (Clarín, 27.11.2000).

6.2.2. The Quilmes’ Ruins Descriptions of Quilmes’ Ruins are also common in newspapers’ travel sections. Visits to the ruins are strongly promoted, with articles calling them ‘some of the most valuable archaeological remains in the country’ (e.g. La Nación, 02.07.2000) or showing huge photographs of impressive views of the ruins (e.g. Clarín, 15.10.2000). In July 2000, the travel section of Clarín described the site in an article entitled ‘The Remains of the Last Community to Resist the Conquest’. The report praised the preservation of the ruins but criticised the lack of maps and signposts, as well as the lack of warning about the danger of getting lost in the upper part of the site. The article included Héctor Cruz’s comments about the ruins. He described them as ‘a monument to the indigenous people; to our parents’, and noted that ‘as indigenous descendants, we are the owners of the history of these valleys’. He explained that ‘the idea of “recycling” these ruins is based on the need to rescue the archaeological heritage of the ancient peoples and to enable public access’ (Clarín, 23.07.2000). An examination of different articles published by La Nación shows that there are contradictions regarding the existence of living descendants of the Quilmes people. In January, 1998, La Nación reported on a cultural exchange between young people of European descent from the town of Quilmes (Buenos Aires province) and the indigenous community Quilmes (Tucumán province), which included a visit to the ruins. The report explained that the latter were the descendants of the Quilmes people, some of whom were forced to move to Buenos Aires in 1666. The visitors said they had difficulty in talking to the old indigenous people because ‘they are not keen to speak to people who look like those who exploited them in the past’. However, the reporter noted that the indigenous Quilmes descendants ‘eventually talked to the visitors about their traditions, rituals, and songs’ (La Nación, 11.01.1998). Two months later, La Nación reported on archaeological research in the town of Quilmes (Buenos Aires province), carried out to rescue the remains of the Reducción of the indigenous Quilmes people. During the interview, the archaeologist in charge of the project, Zunilda Quatril, affirmed that ‘the current descendants of the Quilmes still live in the Calchaquí Valley and they are in contact with us’ (La Nación, 21.03.98). However, in October 1999, an article promoting the Quilmes’ ruins said ‘the last

descendants of those born in these ruins died in the last century’. It also noted that the ruins, which ‘have fortunately been reconstructed, constitute one of the most important archaeological sites of the country’ (La Nación, 03.10.1999).

6.2.3. The Menhires’ Park Newspapers’ travel sections usually bill this park as one of the most interesting cultural sites in Northwest Argentina. However, they do not explain that the park was ‘created’ in 1977 during the military government, and that this is not the original placement of the stones (e.g. La Nación, 28.01.2000). The conflict behind the menhires, however, does occasionally attract the attention of the national press. In February 2000, Clarín published an article entitled ‘Thirty Menhires Would Have Been Stolen’ (Clarín, 07.02.2000). It was later found that they were not taken out of the park, and only some of them had been moved from their places, although the paper did not correct the information. In March 2000 both newspapers reported the return of two Menhires to La Sala (El Mollar) on its front page, including the speech of Governor Miranda (La Nación and Clarín, 25.03.2000).

6.3. Local Press Coverage of Case Study Sites 6.3.1. Archaeology in Tilcara 6.3.1.1. The ‘Pucará’ of Tilcara Site This site is often mentioned in the local press when discussing issues related to heritage preservation and legislation, promotion of cultural tourism or ethnic identity. A view of the reconstructed part of the Pucará is the most common image used to illustrate these articles (e.g. El Tribuno de Jujuy, 09.09.96; 12.09.97). In 1995, El Tribuno de Jujuy published a long report about archaeological sites in Jujuy, which were qualified as ‘a scientific and cultural resource for the Northwest’. The Pucará of Tilcara was described as a ‘huge “tenement” where people lived crowded together. There were no courtyards or gardens, just houses connected by little corridors. All this reflects an atmosphere of uncertainty, danger and violence’. Although the report aimed to provide scientific information based on interviews with specialists and bibliographic research, the word ‘antigal’ was used as a synonym for ‘archaeological site’. For example, the caption of one the photographs of the article stated that ‘this “antigal” is known as La Huerta site’ (El Tribuno de Jujuy, 26.02.95). In the last few years, news concerning ceremonies performed at the Pucará has become more frequent. In 1992 Pregón featured a report on the indigenous people’s meeting, held

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in defiance of the anniversary celebration of the discovery of America. The paper stated that ‘after making an offering to the Pachamama at the “temple of the Pucará”, homage was paid to the sixteenth century Indigenous leader Viltipoco in the town of Tilcara’ (newspaper Pregón, 16.09.92). The procession to Buenos Aires was also described, along with a photograph of the leaders (Pregón, 29.09.92). The local press often reports not only contentious events, but also traditional rituals and cultural activities, at the Pucará. For example, in April 1997, El Tribuno published an article about the ‘Indian Day’ celebration at the ‘temple of the Tilcaras’ (the Pucará). In this event, several musicians played traditional wind instruments, some of which were part of the Casanova Museum’s archaeological collection and had been borrowed for this special occasion. (El Tribuno de Jujuy, 10.04.97; 15.04.97; 21.04.97). The same year, it was also reported that local children performed a play at the Pucará of Tilcara, in front of the National Cultural authorities (El Tribuno de Jujuy, 29.10.97). 6.3.1.2. Controversial Excavations at Tilcara In 1989, the discovery of a tomb during the building of a house - and subsequent rescue work - was reported by the local press, which remarked on the large number of visitors who came to Tilcara to see the discovery (El Tribuno de Jujuy, 13.02.89). It also reported that ‘the local people “celebrated” the discovery, with a deep and emotional homage paid to the Pachamama, including a “traditional” chayada and the performance of a sikuris band’. However, the events of the few years following this discovery have made local people’s real feelings - of propitiation instead of rejoicing - clear. Local press also gave extensive coverage to the finding of sixteen tombs in La Falda, a new neighbourhood of Tilcara, and the excavation of a 200-year-old multiple burial in Alfarcito in 1995 (El Tribuno de Jujuy, 01.02.95; 03.02.95). The impressive Late Period tomb of a young man with silver jewellery, discovered in 1996 also in La Falda, generated conflict among local people. However, while whole pages were dedicated to describing the finds (e.g. El Tribuno de Jujuy, 06.02.96; 12.01.96) and the importance of the research (e.g. 05.02.96; 09.02.96; 13.02.96), only a few lines considered local people’s views. For example, the ceremony of apologies to the dead was reported in a short article which noted that ‘fifty persons carried out a chayada to ask forgiveness for the desecration of their ancestors’ tomb’ (El Tribuno de Jujuy, 05.02.96). While the bio-anthropologist responsible of the excavation noted that the discovery ‘constitutes an excellent opportunity for our students to carry out fieldwork and exchange ideas with local people’, the owners of the house where the tomb was discovered - having indigenous ancestry themselves - ‘insisted that the tomb should not be disturbed’. Moreover, the Mayor of the town also claimed

‘that these valuable archaeological pieces should stay in Tilcara in order to create a site museum - a kind of “second Pucará” - which would be under the custody of the villagers’ (El Tribuno de Jujuy, 16.01.96). However, neither the wishes of the local people nor those of the Mayor became a reality. The conflict was aggravated by the fact that the excavation had been carried out without the authorisation of the provincial government (El Tribuno de Jujuy, 26.01.96 and 27.01.96). This issue generated great debate between researchers - who claimed they were authorised by an agreement between two national universities -, and the provincial authorities who urged the archaeologists to obey heritage protection law (El Tribuno de Jujuy, 01.02.96). On 27.01.96 El Tribuno reported that Museum Directors of the province, meeting at Tilcara, stated ‘we need to protect the heritage from looters, who come from outside the province, and sometimes hold academic qualifications’. They also noted that ‘the main problem is the ignorance of the authorities and police about the protective law’ (El Tribuno de Jujuy, 27.01.96). On February 1996 a newspaper editorial encouraged the application of the provincial law, arguing that it ‘will benefit “authentic” researchers, enabling them to carry out their work without any kind of pressure’. It also urged people to ‘protect our heritage, recording where every piece is stored, because it belongs to “our ancestors” (El Tribuno de Jujuy, 06.02.96). Furthermore, in a letter to the editor which asked people ‘to save provincial cultural heritage’, it was argued that ‘where there are local researchers, permission should not be given to non-local scientists to avoid problems related to the return of the materials studied’ (El Tribuno de Jujuy, 12.02.96). In 1997, new discoveries in Tilcara featured on the front page of the local newspaper. Stone structures were found during the construction of a residential area in the town (El Tribuno de Jujuy, 27.11.97), and rescue operations were carried out by archaeologists living in the town (El Tribuno de Jujuy, 29.11.97). On 03.12.97 an editorial stressed that thanks to the wide coverage in the newspaper, the Governor had stopped the building activities and had announced the creation of a site museum in Malca as well as an archaeological police service for the province. The article stated that ‘Tilcara - “the alabaster pearl” - has many archaeological treasures in her womb’, and described the recent discovery as ‘a new “colossus” who has woken up’ (El Tribuno de Jujuy, 03.12.97). However, neither was the museum created nor the police group formed, and the supposed ‘giant’ is still waiting to be discovered.

6.3.2. The Quilmes’ Ruins During the last decade, the Quilmes’ ruins have attracted the attention of the local press when they were the object of political discussion or when they became the target of

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controversial tourism development. The debate about the building of the hotel ‘El Parador de Quilmes’ within the limits of the site was widely covered by the local press which became interested in the topic after the newspaper Clarín published a complaint made by César Sondereguer, a professor of pre-Columbian Art at the UBA (Clarín 23.03.95). On March, 1995, La Gaceta interviewed the Director of the Institute of Archaeology (UNT), Dr. Nuñez Regueiro, who said that the provincial authorities had tried to persuade the Institute to support ‘the disaster that is being caused by the new development’. The article included photographs and testimonies that original walls and stones were used in the construction of the new building and new elements had been added to the ruins, such as a mud oven (La Gaceta, 26.03.95). Some days later, this information about the ruins became the topic of an editorial, which stated that the cultural and tourist policy of the provincial government should be seriously questioned. It also noted that ‘basic principles of preservation are a matter of common sense and expert opinion is not necessary to know that some activities, such as letting visitors take archaeological remains as souvenirs or building over the original remains, are wrong’. It concluded by calling for a reaction from the authorities and the intervention of the university in order to protect the cultural heritage. ‘Otherwise we will always regret the behaviour of officials, who act without taking account of the legal and cultural framework’ (La Gaceta, 02.04.95). In April 1995, the Secretary of Tourism supported the building of the hotel in an article entitled ‘I Am Proud of the Developments in Quilmes’. He argued that the concession not only enabled the exploitation of the ruins for tourism but would also prevent looting. When asked if the hotel was being built over archaeological remains, he replied that ‘the whole Calchaquíes valley is a huge archaeological site and that those remains had already been destroyed when the museum was built’ (La Gaceta, 09.04.95). However, the debate about the hotel continued, and both specialists and the general public expressed their disgust through the press. For instance, one citizen from Tucumán called the development ‘predatory’ (La Gaceta, 29.04.95), and the letter sent by the archaeologists Aschero, García Azcárate and Arenas to the Secretary of Tourism (see Chapter 4) was reproduced in a special report in the local press (La Gaceta, 15.05.95). The opening of the hotel in June 1995 was also widely covered. On that occasion the concessionaire, Héctor Cruz, stated ‘that the hotel - which was built employing ancient indigenous techniques - is a tribute to my indigenous ancestors’. The Secretary of Tourism called it ‘a work of art’, and noted that ‘there was no other development more criticised than this, in spite of its good intentions. Sometimes it happens that important achievements are not really appreciated by contemporary people. Time will tell.’ (La Gaceta, 11.06.1995). In the same edition, the newspaper also

summarised the arguments against the hotel given by different specialists in previous articles.

In November 1996, a photograph of the ruins illustrated an article reporting the visit of a group of international journalists, specialising in tourism, who had been invited by Governor Bussi. One of them said he was pleasantly surprised by the Quilmes ruins, although he suggested stopping massive tourism in order to protect the site and noted that ‘some hotels do not provide services worthy of their official rating’ (La Gaceta, 01.11.96). In 1998, the image of the Quilmes’ hotel was used to illustrate an article which reported the decision of the recently elected provincial congress to commission an investigation into the tourism promotion awards (see Chapter 4, section 4.2.3.) given by the former provincial authorities (La Gaceta, 07.11.98).

6.3.3. The Menhires’ Park The recent history of the menhires can be reconstructed step by step through the local press, as the park has occupied a key place on the political agenda. In 1991, La Gaceta announced the relocation of the menhires - in accordance with the letter of intention signed by Governor Ortega and the UNT - and the decision to nominate the menhires for UNESCO World Heritage Site status (La Gaceta, 27.12.91). In 1992, the paper reported Deputy Aceñolaza’s proposal that the menhires be officially classed as national monuments (La Gaceta, 10.06.92). From 1994 onwards, both specialists and the general public have reacted against the inaction of national and provincial authorities and the neglect of the site. Their opinions are aired in the local press (e.g. letter to the editor sent by Dr. Berberián, La Gaceta, 05.12.94; letter sent by Mirta Valdez from El Mollar, June 1995). On October 12, 1995 La Gaceta reported a meeting held at the park to defend the menhires, stating that ‘the recovery of the menhires means the continuation of memories and the rescue of the spirit of the valley’. The article continued ‘even though they cannot be returned to their original place, their recovery implies the end of a tradition of contempt and the start of a new sense of the value of our roots’ (La Gaceta, 15.06.95). In 1997, as the government announced an ambitious project of tourist development at La Angostura dam, involving an investment of 850,000 dollars in the Menhires’ Park and museum (La Gaceta, 09.04.1997), the press reported the continued deterioration of the menhires and vandalism in the park. In January 2000 the Cámara de Comerciantes of El Mollar’s intention to manage the park was reported in an article entitled ‘Rescuing the Forgotten Menhires’ Park’ (La Gaceta, 09.01.2000). On 06.02.2000 the press reported the theft of thirty menhires from the park. According to those who reported the crime, only eighty menhires remained. The

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article also announced the Secretary of Tourism’s decision to delegate the management of the site to the Cámara, and to put the place under permanent surveillance. However, the newspaper commented that ‘the idea of building a museum had already been announced by the last three governments, without any result’. It also hoped that the menhires would not be in their current location by the end of the Governor’s term of office. The awareness of the theft of the menhires has helped to publicise other issues, such as the inapplicability of the national law due to lack of policing, and the lack of implementation of the security plan proposed by the Institute of Archaeology. In February 2000, an article entitled ‘Much is Said but Nothing is Done About the Menhires’ referred to the claim made by the Secretary of Tourism that people rarely report crimes against the menhires (La Gaceta, 07.02.2000). Finally, La Gaceta reported the relocation of two menhires to El Mollar in March 2000. The paper printed the speech given by Governor Miranda, who compared the menhires to the people who ‘disappeared’ during the last military government (La Gaceta, 27.03.2000).

It can be concluded that the case study sites have caught the permanent interest of the local press, which reports both cultural events at, and controversies over, these sites. However, in the case of Tilcara, traditional beliefs concerning human remains have received unbalanced coverage by the local press. Although words such as ‘antigal’ (place belonging to the ancestors) are used to describe archaeological sites, people’s beliefs are underestimated and calls for respect for the ancestral tombs are misinterpreted or under-represented. Furthermore, newspaper articles have often reflected local people’s prejudice about non-local researchers. As noted in Chapter 3, the condition of being ‘non-local’ seems necessarily to be associated with those considered responsible for transgressions in Tilcara. In all three cases, but particularly in those of Quilmes and the Menhires Park, the local press becomes a vehicle for public outrage as much as the arena for disputes among interest groups. The wide coverage given to the false statement about the theft of the Menhires constitutes a regrettable example of how the press can be manipulated to justify political actions.

6.3.4. Discussion National and local newspapers are distinctly different in the way that they represent archaeology and archaeological heritage, in terms of both content and style. This has previously been found by scholars analysing the cases of Europe and United States’ local and national press (Gregory 1983; Stone 1989; DeCicco 1988). It has been argued, for example, that while the national press tends to focus on ‘archaeology as knowledge’, local papers are interested in those aspects of local archaeology - even trivial things that are able to attract local popular interest (Stone 1989, 201). Concerning the case study sites, the distinction between the coverage given by the Argentinean national press and that by local press is a result of diverse interests and values held by their respective audiences. Thus, the national press has focused on the tourist appeal of these sites because they are some of the few which are open to the public in Northwest Argentina. They are frequently described from a romantic and uncritical perspective, and neither the reconstruction of the Pucará and the Quilmes’ Ruins, nor the relocation of the Menhires, is questioned. Moreover, in the case of Quilmes, the concessionaire is presented as an indigenous artist who is interested in rescuing and preserving ‘this monument to our parents’ (Clarín, 23.07.2000). To a lesser extent, the national press mentions the sites when they are the subjects of national policies or national events (e.g. a rock and roll festival). Occasionally, national newspapers cover situations of conflict, when famous specialists make public complaints (e.g. Prof. Sondereguer, Clarín 23.03.95) or become involved in political campaigns.

6.4. Final Comments Evaluating public attitudes to archaeological heritage through newspaper articles is complex. Lack of public awareness is sometimes pointed out by the national press as one of the main problems threatening archaeological sites, while other comments suggest that people’s attitudes have changed, making them more interested in the heritage, and demanding its protection by those responsible for it (Clarín, 15.09.2000 and 25.09.2000). These opposing views make it necessary to clarify precisely who is this ‘public’ that national authorities and newspapers are talking about. It seems evident that the inhabitants of Buenos Aires and other main cities are the people to whom they refer. The citizens of Buenos Aires, mainly those living in the most affluent neighbourhoods of the city, have recently played a leading role in lobbying for the preservation of architectural heritage and its natural surroundings. It is also important to analyse the people who constitute the readership of these newspapers. It is reasonable to expect that the majority are citizens of the Federal Capital, and to a lesser extent the inhabitants of Buenos Aires province. Local newspapers are far more popular than the national press with people in the provinces. This is mainly due to the fact that national newspapers can only be bought on the day of printing in provincial bigger cities. The local press’s audience is made up of the local middle and upper classes. Some newspapers are in tune with local governments’ opinions (e.g. El Tribuno de Jujuy); others, such as La Gaceta de Tucumán, have traditionally been associated with the local upper class and conservative elite. This means that the lower

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class people of provinces like Jujuy and Tucumán - who constitute the vast majority of the population - are not the ‘intended audience’ for the local press. This fact provides a clue to understanding the under-representation of local people’s views about archaeological sites. However, when the national press makes general statements about people’s attitudes to cultural heritage - when it is in fact referring to the citizens of Buenos Aires - it assumes that there are no significant differences between these citizens and those from the rest of the country.

a great extent ‘the opinion’ of the media. Thus, articles published in Clarín and La Nación have significant impact on both national and local authorities. It is therefore not unreasonable to expect that the future of the Argentine archaeological heritage and the role of the public in heritage management will depend on the way that these issues are covered by the media.

Notes 1. Both newspapers make 80% of their sales in Buenos Aires, while Clarín is the paper with the highest circulation in the country (daily circulation ca. 500,000 copies) (www. grupoclarin.com; www.lanacion.com.ar). By December 1999, Clarín enjoyed a market share of over 50% in Buenos Aires and its suburbs, compared to La Nación’s 16% (Source IVC and AGEA, quoted by Clarín, www.grupoclarin.com/ english/grafica/diario-clarincirculacion.htm). Clarín and La Nación are held to be the most credible of national newspapers (Source: Consultores del Plata S.A., July 1999, quoted by Clarín, www.grupoclarin.com/English/grupo clarin/indice-credibilidad. htm).

Furthermore, when debating the public’s role in archaeological heritage through the press, ‘the public’ becomes something to talk about - among specialists instead of something to interact with. The public is more a subject to be reflected upon than it is a participant in the decision-making process. If it were not for a few letters to the editor and some visitors’ comments, it could be concluded that the public is absent from this debate, while the voices of researchers, public agencies, developers and private collectors are well-represented in the press. Thus local people’s beliefs about archaeological sites are considered a curiosity rather than a perspective on the meanings and uses of archaeological sites. Not surprisingly, the scientific and tourist values of sites are at the top of the press agenda, followed by the developers’ and private collectors’ demands and opinions.

2. In order to analyse the frequency of articles about archaeological heritage published per year, the period 1998-2000 was considered for being the only three years which are available on the internet in its entirety.

Even though the circulation of national newspapers in the provinces bears no comparison to that of local newspapers, the national press has a considerable impact in generating issues for public debate. Particularly, the opinion of the newspaper Clarín, which belongs to a media holding that owns Television channels and radio stations, represents to

3. The HMS Swift shipwreck sank in 1770. Systematic research on this wreck started in 1997. Most of the objects were recovered in a 2000-2001 fieldwork season as part of more intrusive interventions implemented due to the risk to the wreck posed by harbour activities (Dellino and Endere 2001).

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CHAPTER 7 CONCLUSIONS

I have attempted to ground my understanding of the relationship between archaeological heritage and the public in Argentina through empirical research on three case study sites and a survey of two newspapers. This work is based on the premise that in a multicultural society such as Argentina diversity of views regarding archaeological heritage can be expected. However, minority ‘voices’ on this issue in Argentina have not received the academic, legal or political attention they deserve. The analysis of attitudes and views of different interest groups has therefore been used as a starting point to explore the apparent disregard for its archaeological heritage by the public in Argentina.

Alliances, Discourses and Intended Audiences In Chapter 1 it was argued that three perspectives - the legal, the academic and that of the ‘others’ - should be taken into account in the development of site management programmes. However, as explained in Chapter 2, much of the current heritage legal system in Argentina stems from a blend of early twentieth century politics and evolutionist archaeology, with complete disregard for indigenous peoples’ views. Pre-Hispanic material culture was considered to represent a remote chapter of the national past, to be interpreted by archaeologists and owned by the nation in a legal sense. Federal heritage legislation remained virtually unchanged throughout the twentieth century despite the fluctuating relationship between political power and archaeology. By the 1990s, however, this legislation had become obsolete, and unable to deal with current problems. Changes to National heritage policy and shifts in theoretical approaches have not always been followed in the Provinces where the political/legal discourse on archaeological heritage is very much influenced by the local elite. The way in which some archaeological sites have developed into heritage places is therefore the result of a complex interaction between national and local ideological/political discourses and the personal and professional agendas of the archaeologists. The history of the three case study sites reflects changing socio-political and academic agendas and intended audiences through time. In the early twentieth century, Argentine researchers’ main audience was the international scientific community, which

was involved in a debate about the antiquity of the human occupation in America. Archaeological and anthropological remains were seen as the traces of a unique episode of human evolution, the study of which was of interest to both scientists and political elites. This is illustrated by the 1910 reconstruction of the Pucará of Tilcara, which was designed to coincide with the International Congress of Americanists, in order to demonstrate the importance of Argentinean archaeological ruins. The romantic nationalist agenda of the ‘Independence Centenary Generation’ announced its intention to protect archaeological remains from international looters, and to use this national legacy to enlighten the public (Rojas 1909; also Parliamentary Debate of Law 9080/13). One of the most eloquent examples of incorporating archaeological remains into the national past was Governor Padilla’s decision (1914) to relocate the ‘Ambrosetti’ menhir to ‘El Centenario’ Park in the city of Tucumán. In transforming indigenous material culture into national treasures, the discoverers and interpreters of archaeological sites became national heroes and the subjects of adulation. Monumental tombs were therefore built at archaeological sites in order to commemorate their achievements (e.g. the pyramid at the Pucará of Tilcara Site). Reverence for early researchers soon became a tradition which seems to have outlasted national interest in archaeology. Their surnames were used to name archaeological features (e.g. ‘Ambrosetti’ menhir; ‘Ambrosetti’ house at Quilmes Ruins), streets (e.g. ‘Debenedetti’ and ‘Ambrosetti’ streets in Tilcara), museums (‘Eduardo Casanova’ Museum, Tilcara) and galleries (‘Sala Ambrosetti’, ‘Sala Debenedetti’ and ‘Sala Márquez Miranda’ at Eduardo Casanova Museum, Tilcara). The loss of archaeology’s privileged position in the national political agenda from the 1920s - which coincided with the downfall of evolutionist archaeology - does not seem to have affected the local/provincial elite’s appreciation of certain archaeological sites. In Tilcara, for example, it has managed to perpetuate the flame of early archaeological development in the region. Some decades later, this elite encouraged by the charismatic figure of the archaeologist Casanova - became both the intended audience for new discoveries and an actively involved interest group. This alliance between Casanova and the local elite, has led to Tilcara being named the ‘archaeological capital of the Province’.

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If the antiquity of Argentina’s colonisation was considered to be a source of pride for the national ruling elite, the possibility that Northwestern indigenous peoples were the descendants of any ancient civilisation was perceived to be a threat to social order and the local elite groups’ economic interests, particularly those in Tucumán (see Chapter 5, sections 5.2.2. and 5.2.3.). Archaeologists in this province did not enjoy their social role in Tilcara, while local archaeological sites were considered irrelevant to local history. As a result, while the Pucará of Tilcara flourished as an archaeological site open to the public, other important indigenous fortified settlements in the Northwest - including the Quilmes ruins - were ignored for decades. In the 1960s, researchers’ interests in the menhires of Tafí Valley coincided with the government’s intention of exploiting them as tourist resources (Provincial Law 3228/ 65). However, political discourse did not produce the expected results. As a consequence, a unique opportunity for creating a research-based menhires’ park (e.g. Gómez 1973) was lost, particularly since at least part of the artificial mound of the ceremonial centre (and several menhires) of El Mollar was still in situ at the time. A decade later, the nationalistic military government claimed that the pre-Hispanic past was a vital component in the construction of ‘True Argentine’ nationhood (e.g. Montiel Forzado 1981), and used this to justify the reconstruction of the Quilmes Ruins and the creation of the Menhires’ Park. The intended audience, however, was not the national population but international tourists who were expected to visit the country for the 1978 World Football Cup. As a result these archaeological remains were heavily exploited, yet poorly studied, interpreted and preserved. Consequently, governmental interest in Tucumán Province archaeological sites generated even more negative effects than its traditional lethargy. Indigenous groups and researchers cite the case of the Quilmes’ Ruins as a classic example of governmental mismanagement of the archaeological heritage. This is due not only to the site’s poor reconstruction and the building of the hotel complex over the remains, but also to the fact that the management of the site was given in concession to an entrepreneur whose relationship with the local indigenous communities is highly conflictive. Governments’ disregard of ‘expert’ opinions in Tucumán is particularly evident in the case of the menhires. The creation of El Mollar Park in 1968, the La Angostura Menhires’ Park in 1977 and even the relocation of two menhires at Sala in 2000 were all carried out without heeding archaeologists’ recommendations. The traditional divide between archaeologists and the ruling elite in this Province provides a clue to understanding different Provincial governments’ unchanging attitudes to this issue, even when holding diverse ideological and political agendas.

Throughout the twentieth century the menhires of Tafí Valley were moved from a private context into public settings, thereby being returned to ‘public’ use reminiscent of the earliest phase of the Tafí culture. However, this move was made not to re-establish their sacred function but rather for secular reasons, namely, the commemoration of the republic, the development of tourism, and the reinforcement of nationhood. Local people saw these actions as a disturbance of a distant and mythic past as well as a loss of their more immediate heritage when menhires were forcibly removed from their domestic settings. Alternative voices, whether considered a curiosity, a product of people’s ignorance or a potential threat to science, were both underestimated and neglected. At the beginning of the twentieth century, Northwestern people’s reactions against the removal of human remains were considered ‘superstitious’, and an obstacle to research (e.g. Ambrosetti 1907). In some cases, these views were also considered to be traditional beliefs which should be recorded before they disappeared (e.g. Boman 1908; also Lafón 1961, 76). Throughout the twentieth century, the status of indigenous people evolved from ‘exponents of an inferior race’ to ‘lower class members’ of the national society. However, their ethnic diversity and rights were not legally recognised until the 1980s (Law 23.515/85). Social integration of indigenous people seems to be an even more complex process as the permanence of the ‘stigma of being Indian’ has been repeatedly noted by interviewees. Indigenous people’s link to archaeological sites has been denied, and they have not been considered to be a potential audience for heritage places. Madrazo’s interest in encouraging local people’s involvement in museum activities was followed by several local researchers from the late 1980s, although this change of attitude did not extend to the general public in Tilcara. In the case of Tafí Valley, archaeologists and local people united to demand preservation for the menhires, and in so doing managed to gain some political support in the early 1990s. However, it was not until 1992 - the 500th anniversary of the discovery of America, and the reaction that this generated among indigenous people - that the inconsistency of the new official ideology and the indigenous peoples’ changing attitudes were made apparent. The ceremony at the Pucará of Tilcara (detailed by Gerónimo Alvarez Prado) and the events at Fuerte Quemado (described by Delfín Gerónimo) both indicate indigenous groups’ concern with those places that they identify as part of their own cultural heritage. At present, indigenous groups are still struggling to participate in the management of natural resources and the matters which affect them, a right introduced by a 1994 amendment to the National Constitution (art. 75, clause 17), which in practice has been of little consequence for heritage

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issues. Even today, most Argentinean archaeologists do not consider the socio-cultural contexts of their work, and are therefore not prepared to discuss their research aims with non-professional groups (i.e. the ‘other’). Complaints about the arrogance of archaeologists - particularly those who do not live in the area - are vociferous among indigenous people of the Northwest, mainly in Quilmes and Tilcara (see below and also Chapter 3, section 3.8.3., Chapter 4, section 4.3.4.2., and Chapter 6, section 6.3.1.2).

Valuing Heritage Scientific Value ‘Scientific interest’ is the only value explicitly recognised by Argentinean archaeological heritage legislation (e.g. Law 9080/13 and Civil Code, arts. 2339 and 2340). It is also strongly emphasised by political rhetoric, policy-makers, researchers and the press. Moreover, researchers tend to treat this value as if it were the only one of relevance to archaeological sites. Therefore, if the ‘scientific value’ of a site has been severely diminished (i.e. due to reconstruction works), they seem to consider it to be of no value (e.g. Quilmes Ruins or menhires). However, interviewees, visitors and newspaper articles named other values - i.e. the sacred, symbolic, political, aesthetic and economic significance of archaeological sites - which are not recognised by national heritage legislation. Moreover, indigenous people perceive the ‘scientific value’ of archaeological sites as a threat to their beliefs - particularly when human remains are involved - and they sometimes prefer not to publicise the discovery of archaeological sites (e.g. Armando Alvarez, pers. comm., 31.05.2000). In other cases, indigenous people recognise the importance of scientific research, and take a keen interest in its findings (e.g. archaeological research reinforced their own opinions about the Pucará’s construction). Most interviewees did not question the validity of scientific work, but were displeased by the fact that they have never been sent any account of research findings. ‘Historic Value’ ‘Historic value’ has been recognised by Law 12.665/40 that created the National Commission on Museums, Monuments and Historic Places. ‘Historic value’ is often mentioned in National and Provincial laws that declare specific archaeological sites to be ‘monuments’ (e.g. the Pucará of Tilcara; the Quilmes Ruins and the menhires themselves). Visitors and newspaper articles often mention ‘historic value’ of sites. This value is also emphasised by indigenous people - particularly in the case of Tilcara and Quilmes - when referring to the resistance of their inhabitants to the Spanish conquest. However, the almost unanimous recognition of

‘historic value’ to some extent masks potential conflict between different interest groups (i.e. indigenous vs. colonial), concerning which historic accounts are presented, and - consequently - how their antecedents are depicted. Sacred Value The notion that archaeological sites are antigales (i.e. sacred places which belong to the ancient people and which cannot be safely accessed unless a proper ritual is performed), linked with apachetas and the Pachamama is frequently voiced in Tilcara and Quilmes. Sites are often linked to some traces of oral history related to legend (such as the golden bell that local groups claim to have heard both at the Pucará of Tilcara, and also at the Quilmes Ruins) and a number of supernatural phenomena, such as lights, gas and enchantments. This reinforces the notion of sites as sacred and mythic places, and therefore taboo for indigenous peoples. To violate these sites, according to some interviewees, could have disastrous consequences, not only for the trespassers but also for the whole population (Juan Carlos Torrejón, pers. comm., 01.06.2000; René Machaca, pers. comm., 02.06.2000). Sacred value often implies that sites cannot be separated from their landscape. This is particularly evident in the case of the Pucará of Tilcara, the ritual value of which was linked to the surrounding mountains (apus), also considered to be of sacred value. Andean traditions and beliefs are very strong in Tilcara, thus some indigenous groups consider the recovery of spirituality to be the first step to defining their identity. As a result, some of these groups (i.e. the ‘Amautas’) may adopt a more radical position when discussing values and uses of the Pucará of Tilcara, such as seeking to restrict tourism. Such notions about the sacredness of sites and the particular way that they are defined may often result in conflicts with scientific and legal criteria, in which western rationality and certainty of evidence are essential to develop argumentation. Conversely, the mythical components of indigenous beliefs often accord with the views of New Age people. As a result, not only do New Age supporters adopt certain aspects of Andean traditions to reinforce their own beliefs, but some indigenous leaders use New Age notions of ‘energy’ and ‘cosmic harmony’ when referring to ancient indigenous cosmology (e.g. Gerónimo Alvarez Prado, pers. comm., 30.05.2000). Mystery and magic are qualities of archaeological sites which are often noted by the press. However, such observations are designed to appeal to their readers’ own fantasies rather than to address the complexity of indigenous mythology. Contemporary Symbolic and Socio-political Values Archaeological sites have acquired symbolic value in relation to contemporary heritage issues. For example, the

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Pucará’s ceremonial centre is associated with significant advances in the recovery of indigenous peoples’ ‘rights’ such as those held in October 1992 - and more recent ritual celebrations such as Pachamama day and the Intiraimi. The Quilmes’ Ruins, due to their recent history and the fact that they bear the name of the Quilmes people, have become a symbol of the dispossession of the Indigenous Quilmes Community of its lands and past. These ruins are therefore a key issue in the agenda of claims of this community. Both Quilmes’ Ruins and the Menhires’ Park are symbols of mismanaged heritage for researchers and cultural policymakers. Representing the menhires as victims of authoritarianism has also turned them into icons of democratic values, and they have therefore received much attention in the political arena. The return of the menhires to the communities who live close to the monoliths’ original locations is therefore seen by politicians as an instrument by which to boost their popularity and gain public support. This may explain why the relocation of the menhires was sanctioned politically even when the stones were relocated neither in their original settings, nor in a place providing better conditions for their preservation. Local villagers, while culturally and temporally distant from the groups which created the menhires, view these stones as the most eloquent and familiar image of the valley’s cultural heritage. The menhires are associated with their sense of place, and they therefore feel justified in claiming them. Moreover, the relocation of the menhires to El Mollar is considered by the ‘Comunidad Indígena de El Mollar’ to be a reinforcement of its own identity (Lázaro Mamaní, pers. 29.07.2000). Regardless of the value attached to archaeological sites by local communities, federal legislation and agencies express their concern for archaeological heritage in terms of ‘National’ importance. This value is also noted by national newspapers, which, in spite of identifying sites as pertaining to ‘remote cultures’, consider them to be the property of ‘all Argentines’, and therefore a symbol of national pride. The notion that archaeological sites are a matter of national interest or part of national history was frequently mentioned by visitors. ‘National’ value, however, has been challenged by Provincial legislation which emphasises the provincial ownership of archaeological sites located in their territories - and by local authorities which act with total disregard for national policy-makers (e.g. conflicts between Provincial authorities and the CNMMyLH concerning the menhires). The notion of a ‘national’ value of archaeological sites has also been criticised by some indigenous leaders who perceive it to be a form of dispossession of their own heritage carried out by the State (e.g. Juan Carlos Torrejón, pers. comm., 01.06.2000; Delfín Gerónimo, pers. comm., 19.07.2000).

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Aesthetic Value Aesthetic considerations seem to have been neglected by researchers, policy-makers and indigenous leaders. However, the setting of the sites and their surrounding landscapes were often considered by tourists to be the most important aspect of a visit. The fact that sites are poorly interpreted diminishes their scientific/historic value in the eyes of tourists who are consequently restricted to appreciating these sites for their aesthetic qualities alone. Aesthetic attributes are also stressed in newspaper articles which often produce idealistic and uncritical reports on heritage sites (mainly dedicated to attract potential visitors). Tourist and Economic Value The tourist value of sites is a dominant issue in modern Provincial legislation, heritage policies and political speeches. It is also a major consideration when nominating sites for the World Heritage List. The fact of being listed is perceived to increase visitor interest thereby enhancing commercial goals. Newspapers’ travel sections frequently report on heritage sites, as tourist exploitation of archaeological sites has become a major source of local development (particularly in the Northwest). As a result, archaeological and historic research oriented towards tourist development tends to receive more public funding. However, both researchers and indigenous people consider expansion in tourism to be a threat to site preservation. The actual - or potential - economic value of archaeological sites for the local community is considered important in the three cases analysed. Being reconstructed and officially open to the public adds an additional value to these sites, a fact that is well known to all the groups. The exploitation of the Pucará - which is administered by the University of Buenos Aires - constitutes one of the main economic activities in Tilcara, and is an important source of employment for local people. Local villagers in the Tafí Valley regard the menhires as tourist resources that have not been adequately exploited (e.g. Abraham Castro, pers. comm., 29.07.2000; Inés Peña, pers. comm., 29.07.2000). In the case of the Quilmes’ Ruins, local people claimed that the income produced by its exploitation is used neither to improve the site, nor to benefit the surrounding communities. Control over these sites, and therefore of the income they generate, is a key issue.

Heritage Ownership The traditional premise that Argentine archaeological heritage belongs to the scientific community and to the nation has been challenged by the emergence of new and different interest groups, each of them holding somewhat different agendas. As a result, intellectual and legal

ownership of archaeological heritage is becoming a major matter of concern and debate. Intellectual Ownership Public perceptions of archaeologists differ greatly, judging from newspapers’ representations and local people’s opinions. Newspapers create an idealistic image of archaeologists as selfless researchers and adventurers, although they are sometimes criticised due to their dogmatism concerning research and preservation, which are perceived to constitute obstacles to development. Local people in the Northwest tend to perceive archaeologists more as a power-group than as individuals. Their power derives both from their knowledge, and the material resources they have to carry out research. Lack of interest and disregard of people’s views and feelings is also commonly alleged. In the case of Tilcara, archaeologists also play an important social role due to the activities of the Instituto Interdisciplinario Tilcara, thus becoming a target for indigenous leaders’ criticism. While archaeologists are less common in the area around Quilmes, they are also regarded with suspicion by locals. The Menhires case is different: archaeologists have often become the allies of local people, and provide scientific and academic support for their claims. However, as they currently hold different agendas about the menhires, archaeologists are sometimes accused of living in an ‘ivory tower’, proposing complex solutions which are technically and financially difficult to achieve, therefore impeding the relocation plan for the menhires. Indigenous leaders usually recognise the validity of archaeologists’ opinions but do not consider them to be more important than their own. Most interviewees did not criticise archaeological research itself but the way in which it is carried out, i.e. irrespective of the views of the minorities. However, when discussing the issue of excavating or exhibiting human remains, interviewees tend to adopt a more radical position. Archaeologists’ management style is also strongly criticised for its failure to include indigenous groups in decision-making processes. New Age people criticise archaeologists’ ‘arrogance’ and ‘dogmatism’ and advocate a more open-minded vision of sites, whereas local amateur archaeologists complain that they are never consulted by professionals, despite their extensive knowledge of local archaeology. Finally, newspapers accept archaeologists’ intellectual authority, while not necessarily supporting their opinions about the primacy of ‘scientific value’ over other social and economic interests. Legal Ownership Many interviewees tended to consider the notion of Stateowned archaeological heritage as a dispossession of their

own heritage. This general feeling, which questions the right of the State to deal with heritage issues, is based on two different arguments. The first, presented by some indigenous leaders, considers that the remains are an exclusively indigenous product and, therefore, possession. The second is a reaction against apparent mismanagement of sites under governmental custody, and considers that the State is unable to protect this heritage adequately. For supporters of the former argument, the priority given to the recovery of ancestral places differs from group to group. While the Amautas group of Tilcara consider this to be of primary importance, the Indigenous Quilmes Community considers it secondary to more urgent needs, such as irrigation, health and education. In the case of Tafí Valley, the recovery of the menhires by local communities is viewed as an important matter mainly because of the potential as tourist resources. The second argument has been supported by some newspapers, which question the State’s pre-eminence as custodian of archaeological collections, and supports the role of ‘good faith’ local collectors as protectors of a heritage which would otherwise have been destroyed or removed from the country. To whom archaeological sites belong seems to be a matter of concern for tourists. When asked ‘why archaeological sites should be preserved’, most visitors responded in terms of a sense of the sites’ belonging to a common heritage whether National or to mankind as a whole - or to being part of others’ pasts. Such ‘belonging’ does not, however, correspond to ‘ownership’ in a legal sense with practical implications, such as access. Rather it seems to be based on personal identification with the cultural legacy and values that the sites represent.

Archaeological Heritage Management: Principles and Practice People’s Views on Archaeological Authenticity and Reconstruction The notion that archaeological sites are non-renewable resources seems to be generally accepted and shared by the public. It was mentioned by more than a tenth of the visitors interviewed as a justification for the protection of archaeological sites. This idea is also implicit in local people’s complaint about looting damage, poor reconstruction or deterioration due to lack of maintenance. For local villagers, the destruction of the upper part of the Pucará in order to build the pyramid and the parking area, the construction of the hotel over the ruins in Quilmes and the removal of the menhires without the recording of contextual information, are all considered to be irreparable losses.

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Concerns about the accuracy of reconstruction work carried out at the case study sites were expressed by both researchers and local people. At the Pucará of Tilcara and the Quilmes’ Ruins, local villagers and indigenous representatives not only criticised the reconstruction works, but also reinforced their arguments with researchers’ opinions. Despite these criticisms, some reconstructed areas are of considerable use to both local and indigenous people - such as the upper area of the Pucará of Tilcara, which has been used for artistic performances. The ceremonial centre has acquired a ritual value for indigenous people that is unique amongst the other - non-reconstructed - pucarás of the Humahuaca ravine. This function as a ritual site has thus served to reinforce the sanctity of the place for today’s indigenous peoples. Furthermore, the images of the reconstructed Pucará of Tilcara - probably the most well-known and visited archaeological site in the country - constitute the popular image of a pre-Hispanic site. These images seem to coincide and have been instrumental in shaping most citizens’ conceptions of how these places would have looked in the past. Even though the reconstruction’s lack of accuracy has been widely criticised, researchers involved in this debate have been unable to correct this public impression, and therefore their criticism has not affected the site’s continuing popularity. It seems therefore that reconstructed sites acquire a social function which is independent of ‘expert’ opinion. However, there are cases - such as that of the Quilmes’ Ruins - in which poor excavation and reconstruction have seriously damaged the sites making any reliable archaeological interpretation impossible. The former function of structures has thus been obscured to such an extent that indigenous groups can no longer identify places of worship. Such criticisms are voiced in the strongest terms, with some local indigenous leaders even suggesting unethical behaviour on the part of the archaeologists involved. The authenticity of sites seems to be a matter of concern for local people, although this is not expressed in archaeological and conservation terms. The variety of suggestions made by interviewees demonstrates the diverse way in which ‘authenticity’ is perceived. The proposal of alternative interpretations of archaeological features (such as the astronomic use of the so-called communal mortars at Quilmes’ Ruins), the incorporation of new elements to complete the ritual function of sites (e.g. the solar clock at the Pucará ceremonial centre), the demolition of reconstructed houses and their re-reconstruction by indigenous people (their intervention being essential in order to legitimise the works), were all suggested by interviewees when asked how they thought the sites should be presented to the public.

These suggestions, however, conflict with modern archaeologists’ dedication to ‘accuracy’ in interpretation, objections to in situ reconstructions and concern about site preservation. As previously discussed, indigenous people value sites not for being a fossilised relic from their past, but for acting as a dynamic interface with which they understand and interact with this past. Sites are very much part of a set of natural and cultural elements, beliefs and memories which constitute their cultural legacy. In this context, indigenous groups consider the ‘authenticity’ of a site to be a measure of how effectively it is used and transformed as part of the recreation of their own past. This notion differs markedly from researchers’ criteria of authenticity, although the views are not necessarily irreconcilable. Even the most radical indigenous leaders are likely to be interested in participating in discussions about the sites, and eventually in negotiating more acceptable solutions for all parties. Visitors’ Views on Site Presentation Visitors were generally supportive of the way which sites were presented to the public. The lack of background information about the historical and archaeological importance of the sites may also have affected the visitors’ ability to identify issues about which to complain. Interviewees commented upon the importance of an attractive setting in making heritage site presentations pleasant for visitors. This was a key issue in the case of Menhires’ Park, due to the fact that the park is not the original site of the menhires, and that at least some of the monoliths are to be relocated near their original locations, although these places are not as aesthetically pleasing as the park. Considering that the majority of the visitors interviewed enjoyed the park views and setting more than the menhires themselves, it is not unreasonable to expect a decline in tourist visits if the monoliths are relocated to unattractive settings. Interpreting Sites: Setting a New Agenda It seems that devising a means to make the visit both more appealing and meaningful - for visitors and local communities - should be a major concern for those responsible for the future of the three sites. This is particularly true of the menhires, whether they are left in the park or transferred to other locations in the Tafí Valley. Local authorities usually associate the opening of a site to the public with the need to carry out reconstruction works. This view is based on the assumption that this is the only way to interpret a site for the public. However, direct intervention - whether demolishing reconstructed sections or reconstructing new ones - may create many legal, scientific, bureaucratic and financial hurdles, thus generating more conflicts than existed previously.

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There are other methods of presenting archaeological site information to the general public than merely by in situ reconstructions of the site. Replicas - for example the full 3-D reconstruction of the Altamira Cave and its paintings (see Museo de Altamira 2001) - offer a visually stimulating tourist experience without damaging the fabric of the site. Presenting a range of alternative explanations for archaeological features is a non-destructive and cost-effective alternative (e.g. Leone et al. 1995; Potter and Chabot 1997; Bender 1998), although they may pose a challenge to archaeologists’ professional pride. The case study sites provide numerous examples of people’s alternative interpretations of archaeological features (e.g. mortars, menhires, etc.), different explanations of building techniques (Pucará’s dwellings) and a wide range of meanings and value systems. Despite the lack of background information, visitors tend to consider the menhires to be sacred objects which must be treated with respect. These opinions might suggest that visitors would welcome further explanations about the stones’ ritual use. The fact that the menhires’ contextual information has been destroyed makes any attempt to ascertain their probable layout and function, educated guesswork at best. In cases such as that of the menhires, then, archaeologists perhaps should go further in site interpretation, and provide the public not only with what archaeology has already demonstrated i.e. with the results of the early twentieth century research but also with what can no longer be established with certainty but can only be suggested. In other words, to involve people in archaeological debate about these sites and also about the ways in which archaeologists interpret evidence and construct knowledge. Additionally, incorporating alternative interpretations about the site would force archaeologists to acknowledge the views of ‘the others’, and would offer visitors the opportunity to make their own judgements about the past (Leone et al. 1995; Potter 1997; Stone and Planel 1999; McManamon and Hatton 2000; Ucko 2000b). Considerable public interest in becoming involved with discussion about the past has been indicated by previous studies of Argentina’s museum-going public (e.g. Acosta et al. 1996; Bárbara Manasse, pers. comm., 27.07.2000).

Is Archaeological Heritage a Matter of Public Concern in Argentina? In this research, for practical purposes, the public was divided into three main groups: ‘local people’ (also subdivided into indigenous communities), ‘visitors’ and ‘readers of national and local newspapers’. Each of these groups however encompasses a range of complexities that also needs to be addressed.

One of them, is the notion of ‘local people’ itself. For example, in areas, such as Tilcara and Tafí Valley, the condition of ‘local’ is defined not only by birthplace but also by ancestry, cultural tradition and social class. Social and ethnic differentiation, as well as the stigma of ‘being Indian’, operates strongly throughout the whole Northwest. Therefore, even in relatively small communities, understanding which ‘local’ or ‘villager’ is considered to have the right to speak for the community is complex and varies from area to area. These social complexities need to be the subject of special consideration when discussing community involvement in heritage management programmes in Argentina. Among those with indigenous ancestry, the way that they define themselves also differs greatly depending on geographical location, proximity to urban areas and degree of involvement in ethnic issues. Thus, attitudes concerning ethnic identity vary between two extreme positions: those who are reluctant to recognise themselves as indigenous people, and those who identify completely with indigenous culture and are actively involved in defending its rights. As a consequence, not all indigenous descendants share indigenous leaders’ agendas regarding heritage. For example, many employees of the Pucará who acknowledge indigenous ancestry do not share the views of young indigenous activists concerning what should happen with the site. Personal conflicts and different aims also generate divisions between indigenous activist groups. The most notable is that between young indigenous activists and traditional indigenous leaders (e.g. in Tilcara and Amaicha). The former group enjoys higher levels of education and international connections with other indigenous groups and nongovernmental organisations. They have also developed a more elaborate discourse about their identity, in which the rescue - and recreation - of ancestral beliefs, traditions and history is considered essential. The latter group is more involved in local political affairs, and is mainly concerned with land claims and specific social needs. The way that indigenous people are perceived by society also varies from area to area. While indigenous discourse is becoming dominant in Tilcara (e.g. local politicians, local radio stations and text-books), the Quilmes indigenous community is not socially recognised - despite having gained legal status - and the condition of descendants of the Quilmes’ peoples is still a matter of debate among researchers. Since it is perceived by them to be socially degrading, indigenous ancestry is more commonly denied by local people of Tafí Valley, although the indigenous community of El Mollar celebrates its ancestry, and is keen to use it in order to further its land claims. The successive relocations suffered by the ancient population of Quilmes and the Tafí Valley have left current indigenous groups in a weaker position not only concerning social recognition but

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also regarding land claims than those living in areas such as Amaicha - where occupational continuity is historically (and therefore legally) supported. Most authorities and archaeologists regard indigenous activists with suspicion, and entertain doubts about the sincerity of their concerns. The fact that they have not voiced their claims until recently is the main argument usually employed in denying the legitimacy of their appeals. All these conflictive views both among and about indigenous peoples make it difficult to agree which of the indigenous leaders should have the right to speak on behalf of the indigenous descendants of a particular area. Clearly, this a key issue for any eventual heritage management programmes which aim to be applicable in areas where indigenous groups should be involved. The middle and upper classes in the Northwest - which differ from the indigenous population in terms of socioeconomic, educational level and ethnic status - also show a great deal of internal variability which affects their interest in archaeological heritage. In the tourist areas of the Northwest, the middle class (including local tourist entrepreneurs, traders and politicians) are interested in the exploitation of archaeological sites for tourism. A number of New Age people from other parts of the country have also settled in these areas due to the ‘energetic’ natural and cultural landscape. They make their living from activities related to tourism, although they are also concerned with the preservation of the mysticism of these places and are therefore opposed to large-scale tourism. The upper classes are mainly represented by landowners, who consider any archaeological potential to be a threat to their holdings, which may be affected by government expropriation under provincial and national heritage laws. Diversity of agendas regarding archaeological sites among different social classes and ethnic ancestry groups within local populations need to be identified in order to establish the identity of potential interested parties for each particular site. Most of the local and indigenous populations of the case study sites also differ from visitors and the readership of national newspapers. Most visitors interviewed can be defined as middle-class people with a relatively high level of education (e.g. 37 of 150 interviewees were ‘independent professionals’ and 85 of 150 used their own vehicles to reach the sites - Appendix A, tables A.1 and A.2.), who came from other parts of the country, especially the main populated areas (Buenos Aires, Santa Fe, Córdoba). The way that case study sites are experienced by visitors also differs from the views of the major part of the local populations. Even when people living in the area are not charged entrance fees, the notable scarcity of local visitors

to the sites - especially at Tilcara and Quilmes - seems to contradict the interest and commitment towards these sites which are expressed by the local people (see Appendix A, tables A.1.). Studies about motivation for not visiting museums and heritage attractions (McManus 1991, 38; Hood 1983) have demonstrated the importance of physical barriers (e.g. distance, transport difficulties) but, more importantly, of attitude barriers, such as those related to the use of leisure time as well as to social and cultural practices. Visitors’ motivations are based on recreational and social experiences, and visitors aim to satisfy their general interest and curiosity for informal education and social interaction (Merriman 1991; Hood 1983; Prentice et al. 1997). In the case of the Tilcara, visiting archaeological sites does not constitute a ‘typical’ leisure activity for most local people. They tend not to go to the site unless there is a special ritual or musical festival taking place there. Social, cultural and educational backgrounds are other factors that reduce the likelihood of their visit to the site, and many local villagers consider the ruins as a place for tourists or archaeologists. Local people feel that they are ‘foreigners’ at these sites since they do not fit into the profile of their intended beneficiaries, namely researchers and tourists. In contrast, the Menhires’ Park is located close to a tourist village (Tafí del Valle) with a large number of middle class inhabitants and regular holiday-makers who are keen to visit tourist sites in the surrounding area. Additionally, the Menhires’ Park has become a meeting place and a picnic area for local young people. The menhires themselves are related not only to the regional past, but also play a major role in present-day heritage disputes which preoccupy the inhabitants of the valley. Finally, national and provincial newspaper readership has been characterised in Chapter 6 as the middle and upper classes of Buenos Aires and main Provincial cities, respectively. National and provincial newspapers’ interest in heritage sites is highly variable, as it reflects the concern of their intended audiences about these sites. Since the lower classes (among which most indigenous peoples are included) are not the intended audience, their concerns about heritage are not adequately represented in the press. National newspapers do not represent ‘the public’ in a wider sense, but only the much narrower views of their readerships. This research has confirmed that the ‘public’ comprises a wide variety of people with wide-ranging interests and views regarding archaeological heritage. National authorities and researchers, however, tend to assume that ‘the public’ is a unique and homogeneous group, who not only read national newspapers but also share their views and concerns about archaeological heritage. Thus, their understanding of the public does not differ from the notion held by the

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‘Independence Centenary Generation’ at the beginning of the twentieth century, when heritage was intended to enlighten a passive, self-improving, undifferentiated ‘national citizen’. From the point of view of many authorities and researchers ‘the public’ is an abstract entity rather than a set of discrete groups of people with whom they need to interact. This erroneous perception has led to a misinterpretation of people’s attitudes towards archaeological heritage. The fact that ‘the public’ does not behave in a way that might have been expected has traditionally been interpreted as a lack of awareness about archaeological heritage. However, based on the views of the people interviewed, it is clear that the public is both interested and truly concerned about archaeological heritage, and that it is this complexity and variety of views and interests of ‘the public’ that has been underestimated. The diversity of public concern cannot always be predictable.

Is Archaeological Heritage Protected by Legislation in Argentina? If archaeological heritage is to have a role in a multicultural society it needs to address constitutional mandate (art 41, see below) and should incorporate others’ voices in managing archaeological heritage. However, National archaeological heritage legislation has not been updated since 1913 and has neither acknowledged the constitutional rights nor incorporated the obligations assumed by Argentina as a State Member of international conventions (e.g. 1970 and 1972 UNESCO Conventions, UNIDROIT Convention, etc.). The obsolete Law 9080/13 claims ownership by the National State of all archaeological sites of scientific interest (‘ruinas y yacimientos arqueológicos de interés científico’, art. 1), and runs these sites as if they were mines, whose ‘exploration’ and ‘exploitation’ by ‘scientific expeditions’ must be authorised by the State. Despite being still in force, Law 9080 has never been applied in practice due to the fact that the so-called ‘Sección Yacimientos’ - the authority charged with the enforcement of the law - was never established (Berberián 1992; Endere 2000; Orquera forthcoming). The amendment of this law is therefore necessary not only to update its contents but also to make it agree with the National Constitution which recognises the Provincial ownership of archaeological sites. In recent decades, however, the National Congress has failed to adopt new legislation concerning cultural heritage, due to the difficulty of funding the proposed protection system under conditions of strictly limited levels of public expenditure. Lack of agreement between legislators about the aims and scope of

the proposals for new heritage legislation, as well as criticisms made by cultural authorities and professionals whose interests would be threatened have further impeded legal changes. The enactment of National Law 25.193 in 1999, which confers legal protection once a site is listed, introduces a change in philosophy regarding the protection of the archaeological heritage whereby the State is no longer responsible for the custody and maintenance of ‘all archaeological heritage’ but only for those sites which have been ‘scheduled’. However, as this law does not amend previous legislation, the current legal system now suffers from the paradox that the State, while continuing to have ownership of ‘all archaeological heritage of scientific interest’ (Law 9080/13 and Civil Code, art. 2340, clause 9), is only obliged to protect the sites which have been previously listed. Moreover, setting up the organisation of the ‘Register of National Cultural Heritage’ charged with creating and maintaining the list by Law 25.193, has not yet been completed. Consequently, this new law has had very little effect. At present, the few archaeological sites officially listed are those which were previously declared ‘national monuments’ as the result of an initiative of the National Commission on Museums, Monuments and Historic Places (CNMMyLH). National authorities have not made significant moves towards the recognition of indigenous people’s rights on heritage issues. The few positive examples, such as the repatriation of the human remains of the Tehuelche chief Inakayal and the Ranquel chief Mariano Rosas authorised by National Congress in 1991 and 2000 respectively, are the exception rather than the rule. The new policies adopted by APN for management of cultural resources in national parks, which made possible the agreement for the joint management of a sacred site with the Ñorquinco Mapuche Community in the National Park Lanín (Molinari 2000 - Chapter 2, section 2.3.2), marks a positive change, albeit limited to this institution. Provincial legislation is not only more up-to-date than the National legislation, but also tends to incorporate new issues (e.g. archaeological impact studies, protection of underwater heritage) as well as to require the employment of modern and specific research methods and techniques (e.g. guidelines for rescue archaeology operations). However, the participation of the public - both as an audience and as an interest group - is not recognised by most of these laws. Exceptionally, Law 2472/97 of Santa Cruz Province authorises local ‘neighbourhood associations’ (sociedades de fomento) to collaborate with local and provincial authorities in the fulfilment of this law (Endere 2000, 135). Due to the lack of implementation and/or enforcement, neither Federal nor Provincial legislation has proved - as in the cases of the Quilmes’ Ruins and the menhires - to be of

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any help in improving the protection of archaeological sites, which are deployed as bargaining chips in the financial and political battles between governmental departments. Moreover, the lack of clearly defined areas of responsibility leads to confusion and the ability to evade accountability. The inability of heritage legislation and policy-makers to achieve their goals is not exclusively the consequence of financial problems, as is often suggested. Most current laws are not the result of a clear policy on heritage matters, but the product of sporadic inclusion of archaeology on some legislators’ agendas - often promoted by archaeologists’ lobbying ability, or by a spectacular discovery. For example, the discovery and the rescue of the ‘Swift’ wreck in Puerto Deseado, Santa Cruz Province, not only prompted the enactment of a new provincial heritage law (2472/97) - which includes the protection of submerged sites - but also the formulation of a draft federal law to protect underwater national heritage which was presented by Deputy Bernhard Kraemer to Congress in 1988 (Trámite Parlamentario 216, 2997; Dellino and Endere 2001). However, the proposed federal law was not passed and the Provincial Law 2472 has not yet been enforced. Thus, the divide between political discourse and practice, the inadequacy of legislation, the insufficient communication between archaeologists and the wider public and the neglect of the voices of ‘the others’ have resulted in an inarticulate and aimless archaeological heritage management system.

Heritage and the Public: Towards a New Model In this work the inadequacies of Argentina’s heritage management system have been reviewed in a context in which National and Provincial authorities face multiple crises (i.e. cracks in the ‘welfare state’ model; institutional, political and economic breakdown), while academics rue the collapse of the publicly-funded research system. These problems have prompted civil society to join indigenous groups in challenging the State, and the way that democratic authorities have conducted public affairs in recent decades. Heritage is a minor topic in the long list of social issues. However, recent interest in heritage derives from a mixture of factors, including middle class local/nationalist reaction to drastic socio-economic changes, and the need for alternative sources of income. As a consequence, many heritage places are being reassessed in terms of their value to local/indigenous or national traditions or as tourist attractions (Biset 1989; Delfino and Rodríguez 1992; Font et al. 1997; Alvarez and Reyes 1999; Mazzanti and Quintana 1999; CEPIHA 1999; Quatrin de Rodriguez 1999; Tapia (forthcoming), also Hewison 1987; 1991; Robins 1991; Boniface and Fowler 1996; Rojek and Urry 1997).

Argentina’s severe social and political unrest in the early twenty-first century brings the sustainability of the democratic system into question. However, so long as the current juridical system (i.e. the National Constitution) is sustained, this crisis offers an opportunity for change in many aspects of national organisation, including heritage management. The State’s gradual abandonment of its obligations concerning archaeological heritage seems to correspond with an increased involvement by civil society in heritage issues. However, the State needs to empower institutions representing different sectors of the population (e.g. non-governmental organisations, such as professional associations, indigenous groups and communal organisations, etc.) to participate in heritage management. Recent changes in legal, professional and ethnic arenas have perhaps created a suitable environment for such a move. The legal change has been engineered by an amendment to the National Constitution, which has not only recognised indigenous communities’ right to participate in the management of natural resources and other matters in their interest (‘…asegurando su participación en la gestión referida a sus recursos naturales y a los demás intereses que los afecten’, art. 75, clause 17), and also that the National government must provide general guidelines on heritage management, which must be complemented and applied by the Provinces (‘corresponde a la Nación dictar las normas que contengan los presupuestos mínimos de protección, y a las provincias, las necesarias para complementarlas, sin que aquellas alteren las jurisdicciones locales’, art. 41 in fine). The professional change has been indicated by the fact that most archaeologists working in Argentina have voluntarily joined a newly created professional association (Asociación de Arqueólogos Profesionales de la República Argentina - AAPRA). This hints at potential developments affecting professional criteria on diverse heritage issues. The support given by AAPRA to villagers’ complaints against the installations of power lines in the Quebrada de Humahuaca (see Chapter 3, section 3.8.3.), and its participation in discussions concerning indigenous people’s claims (see Chapter 2, section 2.3.3), demonstrate that this professional association is also developing its own agenda on heritage management. Internal division and conflicts of leadership among indigenous groups have prevented them from developing a strong and clear position on heritage issues. However, the recent formation of regional, national and supranational indigenous organisations, and the emergence of a young indigenous intellectual elite, may presage the consolidation of an indigenous discourse over the next few years. An increasing tension can be expected if their agenda about ‘indigenous heritage’ is not recognised within the heritage legal system. More positively, this ‘ethnic change’ may offer

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an opportunity for the formulation of new legislation to encourage a new kinds of partnerships in dealing with heritage issues. From the legal point of view, the next step should consist of establishing heritage preservation guidelines through federal legislation. Each Province should then complement and apply such guidelines according to its heritage needs, the ethnic diversity of its population and their interests concerning heritage sites. The main principle in the development of national guidelines should be the acknowledgement of Argentina’s multicultural heritage, and therefore the range of values that are significant for different interest groups. From this basic principle derives three key objectives: a) the adoption of an open and flexible definition of ‘heritage’ which can be adapted to different situations; b) the empowerment of cultural agencies to interact with researchers, local communities and indigenous groups in order to design site management plans, and c) the introduction of dialogue and negotiation as a mechanism to assess site significance and comply with site management policies. Current needs, such as a clear definition of areas of responsibility for each governing body, the adoption of a modern and dynamic concept of management, and the incorporation of different interest groups’ participation in the decision-making process, must be central to any such guidelines. The old-fashioned notion - often held by many local authorities - that sites only need to be ‘restored’ and interpreted once, before being opened to the public, should be replaced by the introduction of the notion of management as an ongoing process, which implies a continuing evaluation and adaptation of a management plan (Hall and McArthur 1996) to respond to the public’s expectations, and to preservation requirements. The creation of the

position of ‘site manager’, whose title is regulated by law prescribing education and allocating direct responsibility in the implementation of a management plan, may be a possible solution for those sites which are open to the public. Such a person may also be able to act as a mediator between interest groups. Once it is accepted that managing heritage should be based on partnership between interest groups, their involvement should not be restricted to the design of a specific site management plan but should also extend to the formulation of more general policies. As consensus arising out of dialogue cannot always be relied upon, it is also necessary to stipulate mechanisms of conflict resolution. The participation of different groups should therefore be guaranteed in the processes of negotiation and supervision, possibly, for example, in terms of a jury composed of representatives from governmental agencies, professional associations (such as AAPRA) and indigenous organisations. Argentinean archaeological heritage management in the twentieth-first century is riddled with contradictions, echoing the current relationship between State and civil society. If heritage is to gain significance in a multicultural, plural and politically-active nation, a new common agenda on heritage issues between State and society needs to address new values and new partners. A better understanding of the constituent interest groups as well as both actual and potential visitors, and their diverse and complex interests and views, is therefore essential. This must be taken on board by those charged with heritage management in Argentina in order to articulate the aims of responsible and participatory approaches to the management of archaeological sites in accordance with the requirements of their ‘real’ audiences.

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Glossary achalilas: spirits of the ancestors (grandfathers) worshipped in the Andean region. They inhabit the mountains and protect fertility of land and territorial rights (Mariscotti de Görlitz 1978, 193). antigales: places where the ancient indigenous people (antiguos) lived or were buried and therefore belong to them. These places are sacred and cannot be accessed without a ritual to ask for permission to the spirit of the ancestors. This term is also used by local indigenous people for archaeological sites. apachetas: mounds of natural stones, usually white, placed at crossroads and mountain peaks, indicating that these were important geographical features or sacred places (Mariscotti de Görlitz 1978, 66, 224). In La Puna region the apachetas are called ‘Pachamama-stones’ or just ‘Pachamamas’, thus suggesting their link with the Pachamama’ worship (Mariscotti de Görlitz 1978, 59, 72). In the same sense, Quiroga (1958, 96) referred to them as ‘altars to the Pachamama’, although other authors (such as Girault 1958 quoted by Mariscotti de Görlitz 1978, 69) state that the achalilas are also worshipped there. Two different meanings are associated with the worship of apachetas: the first consists of being protected from bad spirits, while the second views apachetas as places ‘to leave the tiredness’ (altitude sickness), and to rest during a journey. They are worshipped in several ways, although the most common among walkers is to leave chewing coca leaves there. apus: powerful mountain spirits who control fertility of plants and animals, spring water, weather (especially rains), landslides and earthquakes. The apus - which means in Quechua ‘Lords’- are related to the worship of the Achalilas (Mariscotti de Görlitz 1978, 193; Duviols 1979; Gose 1994, 299).

chullpas: stone or adobe towers used as tombs (see Dover et al. 1992, 457). criollo: White Spanish descendant born in America. encomienda: was a royal grant ‘giving the recipient permission to use Indian labour of specified villages’ (Hoberman and Socolow 1996, 280). Although this grant is different from the royal merced (see below), due to the fact that in most cases the beneficiary of both grants was the same person, it facilitated the concentration of farming production in a few hands. estancias: huge privately owned cattle ranches. gaucho: mixed blood rural worker who has special skills in riding horses and using bolas and lassoes. guaca, waca or huaca: Andean object of veneration, holy place (Dover et al. 1992, 458). It is also used for tombs and individuals - alive or dead - who are deemed to have sacred or shamanic power (Lorandi 1997, 241: also Boman 1908, 506). ingenio: sugar plantation and mill. kuraka: local hereditary Indian ruler in the Andes (Hoberman and Socolow 1996, 281). menhires: carved rectangular monoliths of different sizes located throughout the Andean Region. Their ritual meaning has been related to the worship of the Pachamama (Mariscotti de Görlitz 1978, 75). merced: Royal grant that gave their beneficiaries the right to exploit lands in perpetuity (see also Encomienda). mestizaje - literally ‘mixing’- denotes the ancestry of modern populations formed by people of mixed Spanish and Indian backgrounds.

audiencias: colonial law courts which also had governmental functions.

mita or mit’a: state system of forced Indian labour (Hoberman and Socolow 1996, 282).

ayllu: Andean Kin group with right to land (Hoberman and Socolow 1996, 279).

mitmaqkunas: non-local settlers moved by the Inkas into hostile areas in order to control local populations.

cacharpaya: farewell rituals performed before members of indigenous communities commencing long and sometimes dangerous trips to get provisions. These consist of accompanying the traveller to the first apacheta, and making an offering to Pachamama (Mariscotti de Görlitz 1978, 186).

Pachamama: Quechua word for ‘Mother Land’- the maternal goddess who gives birth to the whole of mankind. She controls handcrafts and is worshipped in rituals related to the fertility of lands and herds, harvest, cleaning of irrigation channels, hunting, ritual fights and llama slaughters. Offerings to the Pachamama consists of traditional foods, coca leaves, alcohol and hallucinogenic substances. Commonly represented as an old woman or as a toad, the Pachamama can also have harmful power (Mariscotti de Görlitz 1978, 149-182).

chayada: ritual offering to the Pachamama and to other Andean spirits in order to ask for permission before carrying out specific activities or for asking to be forgiven. Offerings usually consist of leaving coca leaves and alcoholic beverages in a hole in the soil.

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pucará or pukara: Quechua word for ‘fortification’, which has been used to describe settlements located in strategic positions throughout the Quebrada de Humahuaca (Jujuy province) from AD 1000, which were inter-connected to form a complex defensive system. reducción: settlements of Indians who were converted to Christianity during the colonial period (Hoberman and Socolow 1996, 283). señalada: ritual and offering to the Pachamama performed before branding the cattle. sikuris: local musicians who play a traditional Andean wind instrument similar to Pan-pipes named sikus during ritual ceremonies and traditional festivities.

whipala or huipala: indigenous banner with the seven colours of the rainbow which symbolises the unity of indigenous Andean people before the Spanish conquest. Although its existence is alleged to date from several centuries ago (http:// www. nativeweb. org/ tawantinsuyu, webmaster of CONAIE, Ecuador, 09.07.2001), its spread and use among indigenous groups of Ecuador, Perú, Bolivia and Argentina is relatively recent. Yastay: is one of the names given in the Andean region to the ‘Master of the herds’, a spirit who protects wild animals. Hunters must ask him for permission to hunt (Mariscotti de Gorlitz 1978, 214-222).

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APPENDIX A VISITOR SURVEY A. I. Requirements and Constraints of the Survey Studies concerning visitor’s perceptions and prejudices related to the presentation of particular sites or museum exhibitions have been widely used, mainly in the UK (e.g. Merriman 1991; McManus 1991, 1998, 2000a, etc.), in order ‘to gain an insight on how to build on the visitor’s present understandings and to work out how to deal with any misconceptions they might have’ (McManus, 1998, 10). Exploratory works, such as preliminary assessments and formative evaluation, which require less formal survey techniques and smaller sample sizes, have been recommended to improve the presentation of a site or an exhibition during its planning and development as well as at any point during its life in order to improve it (Griggs and Manning 1983; Loomis 1987; McManus 1991; Nichols 1990). Such evaluation is useful to assess its strengths and weaknesses, how can it be improved and what is working well and what is not (Loomis 1987, 218-219; Screven 1990). In accordance with this methodological approach, visitors at the three case study sites were interviewed in order to record their opinions and feelings about the sites, and the way that these places are presented to the public. The design of this survey does not claim to provide a statistically representative sample, but to generate a range of visitors’ views to compare with those of local people. The findings should therefore be considered as provisional indicators providing some general tendencies, which should be tested through further studies. A total of sixty opinion survey questionnaires were completed for the Pucará of Tilcara and Quilmes’ Ruins, and thirty for Menhires’ Park. A pilot survey was carried out to test the format of the questionnaire and to clarify the questions to be posed on various topics (see Moser and Kalton 1971, 48). As a result, some terminology was altered; for example the word ‘necropolis’ was replaced by ‘cemetery’, the term most commonly used by the visitors to Tilcara. The questionnaires were designed so they could be completed in a few minutes. To ensure that interviewees were completely aware of all options provided in multiplechoice questions, these were printed on cards and shown to the visitors, enabling them to read the different options and select their answer. Some questions (e.g. opinion surveys, questions 8a, 8b and 8c) aimed to test the answer given by asking about the same thing in different ways. This strategy was used in order to distinguish between

answers that are the result of a considered opinion from those that are the result of the tendency of certain people to agree to all statements (see Schuman and Presser 1981, 22430), The author, who was occasionally asked to explain a question further, carried out the survey interviews face-toface. One visitor in each group of people was approached. No-one refused to fill in the questionnaire, except for members of some tour groups whose guide did not give them enough time to complete the questionnaire. A roughly equal number of female and male visitors above the age of 15 completed the questionnaire, in an attempt to avoid gender bias. In each case the survey was carried out over two days. This study faced two major obstacles. The first was the absence of detailed records about visitors to the sites, which made it impossible to gauge whether a visitor sample was representative. Only at the Pucará of Tilcara were there records of the total number of visitors per month (although these do not indicate their place of origin). The second constraint was the scarcity of visitors available for interview in the Menhires’ Park due to unusually adverse weather conditions (see Chapter 5, section 5.5.). As a result, the sample size - thirty individuals - is only half that of the other two sites. The responses were entered into a database. In addition to the total number of visitors recorded, ‘visitor type’ was assigned. The categories were ‘local’, ‘national’ and ‘international’ visitors. ‘Local’ visitors were those living in the same province in which the site was located. ‘National’ visitors were those whose place of residence was located in other provinces, or in the federal capital, while the ‘international’ category described visitors from others countries. Open questions were categorised according to a coding frame (Oppenheim 1992, 266) devised on the basis of the visitors’ responses obtained in the fieldwork. Tables that were essential to the argument were presented in the main body of the text to facilitate inspection, while others were placed in this appendix and were referred to in the text. Because of small sample sizes, numerical values were presented in the tables; when more than half of the sample of each site responded to a question, the percentages were given in brackets. All percentages were rounded up to the nearest whole number. Average scores in Lickert scales were given with only one decimal place.

#!

Although at the outset, dependence on a small sample size had been thought to be sufficient to permit comparison of visitors’ views with those of local people, it became apparent when working with the data that it would have been advantageous to have had a large enough sample size to make the extrapolation of generalizations possible.

from the youngest age range (between 15 and 25 years old) (table A.1.). The age/origin profiles for visitors to these sites may have been affected by the time of year in which this study was conducted. While fieldwork in Tilcara was carried out during a bank holiday in low season (May 2000), the other surveys were carried out during the winter holiday (July 2000) when the Northwest region becomes a major tourist destination for national tourists (particularly family groups). During the low season the relative importance of international visitors and retired people from all over the country increases, while national and local tourists are more generally frequent at weekends. In recent years, the Menhires’ Park has become a meeting place for young people who picnic on the top of the hill. This may explain the large proportion of young local people among the visitors interviewed there.

A. II. Surveys Results A.II.1. Demographic Characteristics of the Interviewees The interviewees fell mainly in the age categories 41-60 years old (Tilcara and Quilmes sites), and 26-40 years old (Menhires’ Park). The Pucará of Tilcara site registered the highest number of people over 60 years of age, while the Quilmes’ Ruins and Menhires’ Park had numerous visitors

Visitors Age Group 15-25 26-40 41-60 > 60

All n=150

Pucará of Tilcara n=60

Quilmes Ruins n=60

Menhires’ Park n=30

28 [19] 54 [36] 60 [40] 8

7 20 26 7

14 20 26 0

7 14 8 1

71 [47] 79 [53]

29 31 [52]

29 31 [52]

13 17 [57]

17 [65] 4

3 54 [90] 3

3 20 [67] 7

17 6 3 17 3 6 8

33 [55] 1 1 11 3 9 2

10 2 0 9 1 8 0

Sex Male Female Provenance International National Local

23 [15] 113 [75] 14 [9]

Occupation 1. Employee 2. Businessman/woman 3. Self-employed 4. Independent professional 5. Housewife 6. Student 7. Retired

60 [40] 9 [6] 4 [2] 37 [25] 7 [5] 23 [15] 10 [7]

39

1. Employee: those working for private companies or public organisations. Independent professionals who work as employees were asked to choose the activity which is most significant for them in terms of time or salary. 2. Businessman/woman: those who run their own company and employ other people. 3. Self-employed: person without university training who earns money from his/her own business rather being paid by an employer. 4. Independent Professional: person with university training who works in his/her profession. 5. Housewife: woman who works at home taking care of her family. 6. Student: including full-time students and those whose main activity is studying. Table A.1. Demographic characteristic (n [%]).

#"

Most of the visitors to the three sites were tourists from other areas of Argentina. While there were also a large number of foreign tourists at Tilcara, ‘local visitors’ - i.e. visitors from the same province, not necessarily those who live close to the site - were uncommon except for those visiting the Menhires’ Park. The majority (87%) of foreign visitors came from European countries, mainly France and Germany, Italy and Spain.

A.II.2. Means of Transport

The ‘occupation’ categories for visitors - in descending order of frequency - were ‘employees’, ‘independent professionals’, and ‘students’. The same pattern was true of visitors from the rest of the country. Most international visitors were independent professionals and employees, although there was also a significant number of ‘businessmen/women’ at Tilcara. ‘Independent professional’ was the most common status among local visitors to Tilcara and Quilmes sites, while in the Menhires’ Park students were by far the commonest group. The highest number of retired visitors was registered in Tilcara (table A.1.).

Most international visitors to the Pucará of Tilcara and Quilmes’ Ruins were members of tour groups, while in the case of the Menhires Park they tended to use their own vehicles. Most foreign visitors worked for multinational companies, and had settled in the region. The vast majority of national visitors arrived at Tilcara in tour groups, but used their own cars to go to Quilmes and Menhires’ Park. Some arrived in rented cars or taxis, while most local visitors used their own vehicles.

Means of Transport Your own vehicle Local bus With a tour group Rented car or taxi Hitchhiking Other (walking )

All n=150 85 [57] 12 [8] 33 [22] 16 [11] 2 [1] 2 [1]

The main means of transport visitors used to reach the sites were, in descending order of importance, ‘their own vehicle’ (57%), ‘with a tour group’, rented car’ and ‘local bus’. However, most visitors at the Pucará of Tilcara arrived ‘with a tour group’, while this means of transport was rare in the case of Menhires’ Park and Quilmes’ Ruins (table A.2.).

Pucará of Tilcara n=60 18 10 24 6 0 2

Quilmes Ruins n=60 44 [73] 1 8 5 2 0

Menhires’ Park n=30 23 [77] 1 1 5 0 0

Table A.2. Means of transport (n [%]).

Pucará of Tilcara Site How much did you like each of the following aspects of the site? Quite a lot 47 [79] 13 33 [55] 24 17 15 24 7 21 16 58 2 37 17 52 8 A lot

Houses Paths The flautist Cemetery Monument Scenery Stockyards The whole site

Not much 0 3 14 6 11 0 3 0

How much did you like each of the following aspects of the Pucará of Tilcara Site?

Not Do not at all know 0 0 0 0 8 6 1 22 12 0 0 0 3 0 0 0

Houses A lot n=47 International 13 Visitors National 33 [55] Visitors Local Visitors 1

Quite a lot n=13

Not much

Not at all

Do Not Know

4

0

0

0

6

0

0

0

3

0

0

0

Table A.3.2. Attitudes to the houses, by visitor type (n [%]).

Table A.3.1. Attitudes towards different aspects of the site (n [%]).

##

International Visitors National Visitors Local Visitors

A lot n=33

Quite a lot n=24

Paths Not much n=3

7

10

0

0

0

23

13

3

0

0

3

1

0

0

0

Not at Do Not all Know International Visitors National Visitors Local Visitors

International Visitors National Visitors Local Visitors

A lot n=21 6

8

2

1

0

14

7

0

9

0

1

1

9

2

0

A lot n=37

Quite a lot n=17

5

10

2

0

0

29

6

0

3

0

3

1

1

0

0

International 12 Visitors National 37 [62] Visitors Local Visitors 3

7

6

3

0

14

7

8

5

5

2

1

0

0

1

Quite a lot n=2

Not much

1

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

1

0

0

0

International 16 Visitors National 39 [65] Visitors Local Visitors 3

Not at Do Not all Know

Table A.3.6. Attitudes towards the scenery, by visitor type (n [%]).

Do Not Know International Visitors National Visitors Local Visitors

Cemetery Not Not at much all n=6 n=1

A lot n=24

Quite a lot n=7

3

5

4

1

4

19

2

2

0

16

2

0

0

0

2

The Whole Pucará Quite a Not Not at Do Not lot much all Know n=8

Aspect of the site Scenery/setting

Visitors n=60 25

Houses

13

5

0

0

0

Different reconstructed areas

10

2

0

0

0

The whole site

6

Non- reconstructed areas

3

Cardones (xerophytic plants)

1

Historic value

1

State of preservation

1

1

0

0

Do Not Know n=22

Table A.3.8. Attitudes towards the cemetery, by visitor type.

Table A.3.7. Attitudes towards the stockyard, by visitor type.

A lot n=52

1

A lot n=58

Do Not Know

Table A.3.5. Attitudes towards the monument, by visitor type.

International Visitors National Visitors Local Visitors

Do Not Know n=6

Scenery

Quite a lot n=16

Stockyards Not Not at much all n=3 n=3

A lot n=17

Table A.3.4. Attitudes towards the flautist, by visitor type.

Table A.3.3. Attitudes towards the paths, by visitor type.

Monument Not Not at much all n=11 n=12

The Flautist Not Not at much all n=14 N=8

Quite a lot n=15

0

Table A.3.9. Attitudes towards the whole Pucará, by visitor type (n [%]).

Table A.3.10. Most enjoyable aspects of the Pucará of Tilcara Site.

#$

Do not know 20%

Visitors n=60 12

Aspect of the site Monument Do not know

12

Nothing

10

Others

8

The flautist

7

Nothing 17%

Others 13%

Scarce information

4

Shops 3%

Reconstructed areas

3

Cemetery 3%

Cemetery

2

Shops

2

Monument 20%

T he flautist 12% Scarce information 7%

Reconstructed areas 5%

Table A.3.11. Most disappointing aspects of the Pucará of Tilcara Site.

Fig. A.3.1. Most disappointing aspects of the Pucará of Tilcara Site.

Quilmes’ Ruins How much did you like each of the following aspects of the site? A lot 37 [61] 33 [55] 41 [69] 22 17 57 [95] 21 57 [95]

Rectangular enclosures Paths Round enclosures Southern fort Northern fort Scenery The great staircase The whole site

Quite a lot 19 18 8 2 7 2 6 3

Not much 1 7 2 0 0 1 2 0

Not at all 0 1 0 0 0 0 0 0

Do not know 3 1 9 36 [60] 26 0 27 0

Table A.9.1 Attitudes to different aspects of the Quilmes’ Ruins (n [%]).

How much did you like each of the following aspects of the Quilmes’ Ruins?

A lot n=37 International 1 Visitors National 34 [56] Visitors Local Visitors 2

Rectangular Enclosures Quite a Not Do Not Not at lot much Know all n=19 n=1 n=3 1

0

0

1

17

1

0

2

1

0

0

0

International Visitors National Visitors Local Visitors

Table A.9.2. Attitudes towards the rectangular enclosures, by visitor type (n [%]).

Paths Not Not at much all n=7 n=1

A lot n=33

Quite a lot n=18

Do Not Know n=1

2

1

0

0

0

29

17

6

1

1

2

0

1

0

0

Table A.9.3. Attitudes towards the paths, by visitor type.

#%

Round Enclosures Quite Not Not at a lot m uch all n=8 n=2

A lot n=41

International 2 0 Visitors National 39 [65] 8 Visitors Local Visitors 0 0 Table A.9.4. Attitudes towards the round (n [%]).

A lot n=27 International Visitors National Visitors Local Visitors

Do Not Know n=9

0

0

1

1

0

6

1 0 2 enclosures, by visitor type

Northern Fort Quite a Not Not at lot much all n=7 1

0

0

2

25

6

0

0

23

2

0

0

0

1

Table A.9.6. Attitudes towards the northern fort, by visitor type.

International Visitors National Visitors Local Visitors

The Great Staircase Quite a Not Not at lot much all n=6 n=2 1

0

0

1

26

4

2

0

22

2

1

0

0

0

Table A.9.8. Attitudes towards the great staircase, by visitor type.

Do Not Know n=36

2

0

0

0

1

17

2

0

0

35 [58]

3

0

0

0

0

Table A.9.5. Attitudes towards the southern fort, by visitor type.

A lot n=57

Scenery Quite a Not much Not at Do Not lot all Know n=1 n=2

International Visitors 3 National 51 [85] Visitors Local Visitors 3

0

0

0

0

2

1

0

0

0

0

0

0

Table A.9.7. Attitudes towards the scenery, by visitor type (n [%]).

Do Not Know n=23

1

Aspect of the site

International Visitors National Visitors Local Visitors

Do Not Know n=26

0

A lot n=29

A lot n=22

Southern Fort Quite a Not Not lot much at all n=2

A lot n=57

The Whole Site Quite a Not Not lot much at all n=3

International 3 Visitors National 51 [85] Visitors Local Visitors 3

0

0

0

0

3

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

Table A.9.9. Attitudes towards the whole site, by visitor type (n [%]).

Visitors (n=60)

Aspect of the site

Visitors (n=60)

The whole site

15

Nothing

27

Scenery / Setting

14

Do not know

12

Other

6

Hotel and site concession

5

Southern fort

4

Lack of information

4

Mortars

4

Entrance Road

4

Round enclosures

4

Others

4

Historic value

4

Parking

2

Northern Fort

3

History of the Quilmes

2

State of preservation

2

Museum

2

Do not know

2

Do Not Know

Table A.9.11. Most disappointing aspects of the Quilmes’ Ruins.

Table A.9.10. Most enjoyable aspects of the Quilmes’ Ruins.

#&

Parki ng 4%

Hi story of the Q ui l m e s 3%

O the rs 6%

Entrance road 6%

Nothi ng 45%

Lack of i n form ati on 7%

Hote l and si te conce ssi on 8% Do not know 21%

Fig. A.9.1. Most disappointing aspects of the Quilmes’ Ruins.

Menhires’ Park How much did you like each of the following aspects of the site?

9 12

Quite a lot 18 [60] 8

Not much 1 4

16 [54]

10

1

3

0

28 [94] 20 [67]

1 8

1 1

0 1

0 0

A lot Menhires Paths Placement and distribution of menhires Scenery The whole site

Not at Do not all know 0 2 0 6

Table A.15.1 Attitudes towards different aspects of the Menhires’ Park (n [%]).

International Visitors National Visitors Local Visitors

Paths Not Not much at all N=4

A lot n=12

Quite a lot n=8

1

1

0

0

1

8

6

3

0

3

3

1

1

0

2

International Visitors National Visitors Local Visitors

Menhires Not Not much at all n=1

A lot n=9

Quite a lot n=18

2

1

0

0

0

5

13

0

0

2

2

4

1

0

0

Do Not Know n=2

Table A.15.2. Attitudes towards the menhires, by visitor type.

Placement and Distribution of the Menhires Quite a Not Not at A lot Do Not lot much all Know n=16 n=10 n=1 n=3

Do Not Know n=6 International Visitors National Visitors Local Visitors

Table A.15.3. Attitudes towards the paths, by visitor type.

3

0

0

0

0

12

6

0

2

0

1

4

1

1

0

Table A.15.4. Attitudes to placement and distribution of the menhires, by visitor type.

#'

Scenery Quite a Not Not at Do Not lot much all Know n=1 n=1

A lot N=28 International 3 Visitors National 19 [64] Visitors Local Visitors 6

0

0

0

0

0

1

0

0

1

0

0

0

A lot n=20 International 1 Visitors National 15 [50] Visitors Local Visitors 4

Table A.15.5. Attitudes towards the scenery, by visitor type (n [%]).

Aspect of the site

The Whole Park Quite a Not Not at lot much all n=8 n=1 N=1 2

0

0

0

3

1

1

0

3

0

0

0

Table A.15.6. Attitudes towards the whole park, by visitor type (n [%]).

Aspect of the site

Visitors n =30

Visitors n=30

Scenery / Setting

13

Do not know

12

Do not know

11

Lack of preservation

6

Menhires

3

Route

3

3

Weather conditions

3

Lack of facilities

2

The whole site

Do Not Know

Table A.15.7. Most enjoyable aspects of the Menhires’ Park.

Menhires

1

Vehicles inside the park

1

Relocation of the Menhires

1

Nothing

1

Table A.15.8. Most disappointing aspects of the Menhires’ Park.

Nothing 3%

Lack of preservation 20%

Do not know 40%

Route 10%

We ather 10% Re location of the Menhires 3% Ve hicles 3%

Menhires 4%

Fig. A.15.1. Most disappointing aspects of the Menhires’ Park.

$

Lack of facilitie s 7%

OPINION SURVEY

Nº Please put a X in the selected answer

1 Gender:

1. Female

2. Male

2 What is your age? 3 Where do you come from? 1. International

2. National

2. Local

4 Please state your occupation 1.

2.

3.

5.

6.

7.

4.

5 How did you get to Tilcara? 1 Your own vehicle

2 Local bus

3. With a tour group

4. Rented car or taxi

5. Hitchhiking

6. Other (specifiy)

6 How did you learn about the Pucará of Tilcara Site? 1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7

8

9. Other (specify) 7

Select the option which you feel best describes the present-day town of Tilcara 1.

2.

5.

6.

3.

4.

8 How much did you like each of the following aspects of the site: 1.A lot

2.Quite a lot

3. Not much 4. Not at all 5.Don't know

1. Houses 2. Paths 3. The Flautist 4. Cemetery 5. Monument 6. Scenery 7. Stockyards 8. The whole site What did you like most? Which aspects of the site have disappointed you?

9 Which of the following opinions about the site do you most agree with? 1.

2.

3.

4.

10 Do you think that explanation and presentation of the site to the public is.... 1.Very good

2.Good

3.Reasonable

4. Poor

11 What would you improve or change of the presentation of the site to the public? 12 Why do you think archaeological sites should be protected?

13 How was this visit for you? 1.Interesting 4. Interesting but exhausting

2. Boring

3. Exhausting 5. Dissapointing

Thank you for your cooperation

Visitor Opinion Survey for the Pucará of Tilcara Site

$

6. Other

4. Which is your occupation? 1. Employee 2. Bussinessman/woman 3. Self-employed 4. Independent professional 5. Housewife 6. Student 7. Retired

6. How did you learn about the site? 1.Guide book. 2. Tour itinerary 3. Newspapers 4. Tourist Office 5. Word of mouth 6. History/Archaeology Books 7. At school 8. Road sign 9. Other (specify)

7.Which option best describes the present-day town of Tilcara? 1. A continuity from the indigenous population of the Pucará 2. A colonial village 3. A rural Community 4. A tourist village 5. A modern community 6. Other (specify)

9.Which opinion about the site do you most agree with? 1. The reconstruction adds enjoyment to the site. 2. I would have rather seen the site as it was originally. 3. I could not decide which one is the best. 4. Other (specify).

$

OPINION SURVEY

Nº Please put a X in the selected answer

1 Gender:

1. Female

2. Male

2 What is your age? 3 Where do you come from? 1. International

2. National

3. Local

4 Please state your occupation 1.

2.

3.

5.

6.

7.

4.

5 How did you get to this site? 1 Your own vehicle

2 Local bus

3. With a tour group

4. Rented car or taxi

5. Hitchhiking

6. Other (specifiy)

6 How did you learn about the site? 1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

7 Select the option which you feel best describes the people who lived in the Quilmes' ruins? 1.

2.

3.

4.

9. Other (specify) 8a How much did you like each of the following aspects of the site: 1.A lot

2.Quite a lot

3. Not much 4. Not at all 5. Don't Know

1. Rectangular enclosures 2. Paths 3. Round enclosures 4. Southern fort 5. Northern fort 6. Scenery 7. Great staircase 8. The whole site 8b What did you like most? 8c

Which aspects of the site have disappointed you? 9 Which of the following opinions about the site do you most agree with? 1.

2.

3.

4.

10 Do you think that explanation and presentation of the site to the public is.... 1.Very good

2.Good

3.Reasonable

4. Poor

11 What would you improve or change of the presentation of the site to the public?

12 Why do you think archaeological sites should be protected?

13 How was this visit for you? 1.Interesting 4. Interesting but exhausting

2. Boring 5. Dissapointing Thank you for your cooperation

Visitor Opinion Survey for Quilmes' Ruins

$!

3. Exhausting 6. Other

7. Which option best describes who who lived in the Quilmes’ Ruins? 1. Part of an extinct culture. 2. Part of a tradition still alive through their descendants. 3. Other (specify). 4. Do not know.

9.Which opinion about the site do you most agree with? 1. The reconstruction adds enjoyment to the site. 2. I would have rather seen the site as it was originally. 3. I could not decide which one is the best. 4. Other (specify).

$"

OPINION SURVEY

Nº Please put a X in the selected answer

1 Gender:

1. Female

2. Male

2 What is your age? 3 Where do you come from? 1.International

2. National

3. Local

4 Please state your occupation 1.

2.

3.

5.

6.

7.

4.

5 How did you get to this site? 1 Your own vehicle

2 Local bus

3. With a tour group

4. Rented car or taxi

5. Hitchhiking

6. Other (specifiy)

6 How did you learn about the park? 1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

3.

4.

7 Select the option which you feel best describes the menhires 1.

2.

9. Other (specify) 8 How much did you like each of the following aspects of the site: 1.A lot

2.Quite a lot

3. Not much

4. Not at all 5.Don't Know

1. Menhires 2. Paths 3. The placement and distribution of the menhires 4. Scenery 5. The whole park

What did you like most? Which aspects of the site have disappointed you? 9 Which of the following opinions about the site do you most agree with? 1.

2.

3.

4.

10 Do you think that explanation and presentation of the site to the public is.... 1.Very good

2.Good

3.Reasonable

4. Poor

11 What would you improve or change of the presentation of the site to the public?

12 Why do you think archaeological sites should be protected?

13 How was this visit for you? 1.Interesting 4. Interesting but exhausting

2. Boring 5. Dissapointing Thank you for your cooperation

Visitor Opinion Survey for Menhires' Park

$#

3. Exhausting 6. Other

7. Select the option which you feel best describes the menhires: 1. Sacred objects which must be treated with respect according to their status. 2. Cultural resources of public enjoyment. 3. Other (specify). 4. Do not know.

9.Which opinion about the site do you most agree with? 1. The relocation of the menhires and the creation of this park add enjoyment to the visit. 2. I would have rather seen the menhires as they were located originally. 3. I could not decide which one is the best. 4. Other (specify).

$$

APPENDIX B NATIONAL NEWSPAPER SURVEY B.I. Organisation of the Database

• Hispanic sites: refer both to the period but also the groups to which the sites pertained.

The internet search of ‘Clarín’ and ‘La Nación’ articles was carried out using the keywords ‘archaeology’, ‘archaeologists’, ‘archaeological heritage’, ‘archaeological sites’, ‘archaeological collections’, ‘cultural heritage’ and ‘museums’. The main weakness of this type of survey is due to the fact that newspaper websites may be incomplete - particularly for older stories - or that some articles may have been missed as a result of the keywords used to conduct the search.

• Urban archaeology sites: concerned with colonial remains found in urban context, dating to the seventeenth, eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. • Underwater sites: all sorts of submerged archaeological remains, including ruins of ancient settlements and shipwrecks. • High peak archaeology sites: mountain sites, mainly concerned with indigenous shrines, particularly Inka sacred places. • Historic monuments: sites that have been declared to be ‘monuments’ by national or provincial legislation.

The articles were classified in a database using the following criteria:

• National parks: archaeological sites located in natural reserves which are under the jurisdiction of the APN.

Date

• Rock art sites: pre-Hispanic rock paintings.

Newspaper

• World Heritage sites: those included on the World Heritage list.

Section (given in Spanish)

• All sites: articles reported on archaeological heritage as a whole.

Headline (given in Spanish)

• Collections: reports concerning archaeological artefacts hold in museums or being object of illicit trade.

Subject (given in English) Type of article: • Complaint: editorials, reports or interviews that refer to problems of preservation of sites and collections. • Exhibition: displays in museums, heritage centres or galleries. • Discovery: reports of casual discoveries and those made in the context of research projects.

When a site can be classified in more than one category, the one which was deemed to be the major thrust of the article was selected. Country Province (of Argentina)

• Research: reports concerning research activities, which are not just discoveries.

Locality (of Argentina)

• Protective measure: all projects and activities aiming to protect and preserve sites and collections.

Person interviewed: Identified by surname if s/he was an archaeologist or representative of National Culture governing bodies (such as INAPL, CNMMyLH and DNP); interviewees were otherwise identified by profession. Local villagers were classified as ‘local people’, or as ‘indigenous leaders’ when they were talking on behalf of an indigenous group.

• Public archaeology: educational programmes and actions for public enjoyment of archaeological sites and collections. • Tourist attraction: descriptions of sites included in travel sections. • Historic explanation: descriptive articles explaining the history of a site. • Training: actions dedicated to improving the skills of those involved in heritage management and conservation.

Institution

• Comment: articles about cultural heritage in general.

Descriptive terms for archaeological sites or objects: Tone of words or expressions used to describe them.

Type of site: • Hunter-gatherer sites: include archaeological remains of pre and post-Hispanic nomadic groups, particularly those located in Pampa and Patagonia. • Indigenous complex-societies sites: include those sites belonging to farming groups, mainly in Northwest Argentina.

Descriptive terms for archaeologists: Words used as synonym for archaeologists or expressions employed to describe them. Existence of conflict Type of conflict



%$ B.II. Analysis of the Data: Tables Tables referred to in Chapter 6 are presented in this section. 1998

1999

2000

Clarín n=15

La Nación n=34

Clarín n=38

La Nación n=48

Clarín n=46

La Nación n=87

2 1 1

4 4 4 1 1 2 1 2 1 2 7 5

1 2

6 1 7 8 3 3 3 5 5 3 3 1

3 3 2 2 1 2 4 4 4 4 8 9

11 6 4 7 6 4 4 6 7 7 10 15

January February March April May June July August September October November December

1 3 1 1 3 1

7 1 3 4 5 7 4 4

Table B.1. Number of national newspaper articles about archaeological heritage published per month (1998-2000).

Comment Complaint Discovery Research Protective measures Public Archaeology Exhibition Tourist visit

Clarín n=24

La Nación n=65

1 2 11 8 1 1 0 0

18 0 28 11 2 3 1 2

All n=89 19 2 39 19 3 4 1 2

[21] [2] [44] [21] [4] [5] [1] [2]

Comment Complaint Exhibition Discovery Historical explanation Research Protective measures Public Archaeology Training Tourist attraction

Table B.2. International news, by type of article (n [%]).

Clarín n=81

La Nación n=110

7 16 4 11 4 20 9 7 0 3

10 24 1 11 1 22 25 3 1 12

Table B.3. National news, by type of article (n [%]).

All site Collection High peak archaeology site Hispanic site Hunter-gatherer site Historic Monument National Park Indigenous complex-society site Rock art site Underwater site Urban archaeology site World Heritage Site

Clarín n=81

La Nación n=110

8 9 6 5 4 0 0 12 4 4 25 4

8 14 10 9 4 3 6 16 8 10 15 7

All n=191 16 23 16 14 8 3 6 28 12 14 40 11

[8] [13] [8] [7] [4] [2] [3] [15] [6] [7] [21] [6]

Table B.4. National articles, by site/collection type (n [%]).

$&

All n=191 17 40 5 22 5 42 34 10 1 15

[9] [21] [3] [11] [3] [22] [17] [5] [1] [8]

Researcher – Institution Schávelzon (CAUBA) Cerutti (NGS) Quatrin (CAUBA – Proyecto Arqueológico Quilmes) Elkin (INAPL) Reinhard (NGS) Rolandi (INAPL) González Garcia Cano (FA) Raffino (UNLP) Weissel (CAUBA) Aschero Oneto (INAPL) Valentini (FA) Silveira Zaranquin Scheinsohn Ramos Tomasini Podestá (INAPL) Goñi (INAPL)

Clarín 14 4

La Nación 6 6

Total 20 10

5

4

9

1 4 1 4 2 5 3 2 0 0 2 1 0 1 0 2 2

7 4 6 3 4 1 1 2 3 2 0 1 2 1 2 0 0

8 8 7 7 6 6 4 4 3 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2

Institutions CAUBA (Centro de Arqueología Urbana de Buenos Aires) INAPL (Instituto Nacional de Antropología y Pensamiento Latinoamericano) CNMMyLH (Comisión Nacional de Museos, Monumentos y Lugares Históricos) UNT (Universidad Nacional de Tucumán) UNCPBA (Universidad Nacional del Centro de la Provincia de Buenos Aires) UNLP (Universidad Nacional de La Plata) Proyecto Arqueológico Quilmes PREP-CONICET (Programa de Estudios Prehistóricos) UNM (Universidad Nacional de Misiones) UNCO (Universidad Nacional del Comagüe) UNS (Universidad Nacional de Santiago) NGS (National Geographic Society) CENPAT (Centro Nacional Patagónico) APN (Administración de Parques Nacionales) UNR (Universidad Nacional de Rosario) Fundación Albenga UNC (Universidad Nacional de Córdoba) Dirección de Antropología de Catamarca UNL (Universidad Nacional de Luján) Dirección Nacional de Patrimonio Museo Arqueológico de Salta UBA (Universidad de Buenos Aires) Dirección Provincial de Neuquén ICOMOS – Argentina

Table B.5. Researchers mentioned more than once.

Clarín n=49

La Nación n=68

All n=117

Scientific Value

10

17

27 [23]

Economic Value of Collections

4

6

10 [9]

Tourist Resource

4

6

10 [9]

Conditions of Preservation

2

6

8 [7]

Antiquity

5

2

7 [6]

Uniqueness

5

1

6 [5]

Aesthetic Value

4

2

6

Sacred and Symbolic Meaning

2

4

6

National Origin

2

4

6

Our Culture/Identity/Memory

3

3

6

Means to rediscover History

2

4

6

Related to

Monument

2

3

5

Heritage of Mankind

0

4

4

Mysticism/Magic/Mystery

2

2

4

Exotic/Remote/Past Culture

1

1

2

Interest/Curiosity

1

1

2

Authenticity

0

1

1

Reconstruction

0

1

1

Clarín n=63

LaNación n=65

All n=128

22

7

29 [23]

7

19

26 [20]

4

3

7

[6]

5

0

5

[4]

1

0

7

5

2

1

1

3

0

1

1

0

1

1

0

2

2

6 0

6 1

0

2

1 2

1 4

1 12

[9] 3

4

[3]

12

[9] 1 2 2

6

[5]

0

1

1

1 1 2 0 0 0 1

0 0 2 1 1 1 3

1 1 4

[3] 1 1 1

4

[3]

Table B.6. Cultural/Scientific Institutions mentioned in national articles (n [%]).

Clarín La Nación n=28 n=38 Anthropologist Expert Specialist Researcher Scientist Liberator Guardian of the memory of mankind Interpreter of remote cultures Scholar Argentinean Archaeologist/Specialist Adventurer Fundamentalist

Table B.8. Description of Archaeological Sites/Collections (n [%]).

All n=66

1 5 10 3 5 1 0

0 5 4 15 9 0 1

1

0

1

1 1

0 2

1 [5]

0 0

1 1

10 14 18 14

3

1 [15] [21] [27] [21] 1 1

Table B.7. Words used to describe the archaeologists (n [%]).

$'

1 1

World USA T urkey Syria Switzerland Sweden Spain South Africa Peru Panama Pakistan North Yemen Mexico Mercosur Kenia Jordan Israel Italy Hungary

La Nación

Guatemala

Clarín

Greece Germany UK Egypt China Chile Canada Brazil Bolivia Belize 0.0%

2.0%

4.0%

6.0%

8.0%

Fig. B.1. International Articles, by country.

%

10.0%

12.0%

14.0%

16.0%

18.0%

All Heritage Sites

T ucumán

San Juan

Santa Fe

Santa Cruz

San Luis

Salta

Total

Río Negro

La Nación

Neuquén

Clarín

Misiones

Mendoza

La Rioja

Jujuy

Different regions

Chubut

Córdoba

Catamarca

Federal Capital

Buenos Aires

0.0%

5.0%

10.0%

15.0%

20.0%

Fig. B.2. National Articles, by location.

%

25.0%

30.0%

35.0%

40.0%

ICOMOS DPN UBA

Total

MAS DNP

Nación

UNL

Clarín

DAC UNC FA UNR APN CENPAT NGS UNS UNCO UNM PREP PAQ UNLP UNCPBA UNT CNMMyLH INAPL CAUBA 0.0%

5.0%

10.0%

15.0%

Fig. B.3. Cultural/Scientific Institutions mentioned in National Articles.

%

20.0%

25.0%

30.0%

35.0%

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Ucko, P., 2001 ‘Heritage’ and ‘Indigenous Peoples’ in the 21st century’, Public Archaeology, 1, 227-238.

1968. National Law 17.711. Código Civil Argentino. Buenos Aires: Zavalía.

Upitis, A., 1989 Interpreting Cross-Cultural Sites, in D. Uzzell (ed.), Heritage Interpretation. The Natural and Built Environment, vol. 1, 152-160. London and New York: Belhaven Press.

1972 National Law 19.943. Apruébase la Convención de París de 1970 sobre las medidas que deben adoptarse para la importación, exportación y transferencia ilícita de bienes culturales. ADLA XXXII-D, 5160.

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1976 Provincial Law 4593, Declárase propiedad de la provincia de Tucumán las ruinas, yacimientos y vestigios de interés arqueológico, paleontológico, antropológico, histórico, científico y turístico ubicados en la provincia. Boletín Oficial de la República Argentina, 19.11.76.

Vargas, I., 1990. Arqueología, ciencia y sociedad. Caracas: Editorial Abre Brecha.

1977 Provincial Decree 1913. ‘Creación del Parque de los Menhires frente al Dique La Angostura’.

Vargas, I. and M. Sanoja, 1993. Historia, identidad y poder. Caracas: Fondo Editorial Trópykos.

1977 Provincial Law 4733. ‘Declárase área turística a Tafí del Valle’.

Vergara, M., 1961. Orígenes de Jujuy (1535-1600). Second edition. Salta: Gobierno de la Provincia de Jujuy, Comisión Asesora de Publicaciones.

1978 National Law 21.836. Apruébase la Convención sobre la Protección del Patrimonio Mundial Natural y Cultural, UNESCO, París, 1972. ADLA XXXVIII-C, 2392.

Walsh, K., 1992. The Representation of the Past: Museum and Heritage in the Post- Modern World. London: Routledge.

1982 Provincial Law 3866. ‘Ley de Protección del Patrimonio Arqueológico de la Provincia de Jujuy’.

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1982 Provincial Law 5401. Declárase de utilidad pública y sujeto a expropiación una fracción de terrenos en el Bañado de Quilmes. Boletín Oficial de la República Argentina, 02.07.82.

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Relevant laws listed by date 1913 National Law 9080. Ruinas y Yacimientos Arqueológicos y Paleontológicos de Interés Científico. ADLA, 1920-1940. 1959 National Law 14.932. Aprobación de Convenios Adoptados por la Confederación International del Trabajo sobre libertad sindical, abolición del trabajo forzoso e integración de la población indígena. Boletín Oficial de la República Argentina, 24.12.59. 1965 Provincial Law 3228. Créase el Parque Arqueológico de Tafí. Boletín Oficial de la República Argentina 06.05.65.

1985 National Law 23.302. Políticas Indígenas y Apoyo a las Comunidades Aborígenes. Boletín Oficial de la República Argentina, 12.11.85. 1985 Provincial Decree 3341. ‘Facúltese a la Secretaría de Estado y Turismo para licitar el Complejo Ruinas de Quilmes’. 1991 National Law 23.940. Establécese que el Poder Ejecutivo dispondrá el traslado del cacique Inacayal a la localidad de Tecka, provincia del Chubut. Boletín Oficial de la República Argentina, 25.06.91. 1992 National Law 24071. Convenio Nº 169 de la Organización Internacional del Trabajo sobre pueblos indígenas y tribales en países independientes. Boletín Oficial de la República Argentina, 20.04.92. 1993 National Law 24.262. Declárese lugar histórico nacional a los asentamietnos de menhires en el valle de Tafí, Tucumán. Boletín Oficial de la República Argentina. 18.11.93 1994 Constitución de la Nación Argentina. Texto reformado. Buenos Aires: Scotti.

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1997 Provincial Law 2472. Régimen de Protección del Patrimonio Arqueológico de la Provincia de Santa Cruz. 1999 National Law 25.193. Régimen del Registro del Patrimonio Cultural. Boletín Oficial de la República Argentina, 15.12.99. 1999 Provincial Decree 1680/99. ‘Otórgase a la Secretaría de Turismo de la Provincia de Tucumán la administración de áreas naturales protegidas’. 1999 Res. 5715/3. Secretaría de Turismo de la Provincia de Tucumán: ‘Concédase la custodia del Parque de los Menhires a la Cámara de Comerciantes de El Mollar’.

2000 National Law 25.276. Traslado de los Restos del Cacique Mariano Rosas. Boletín Oficial de la República Argentina, 28.08.2000. 2000 National Decree 1012. Declárase a los yacimientos arqueológicos de (…) Pucará de Tilcara monumento histórico de la Nación. Boletín Oficial de la República Argentina, 07.11.2000. 2000 Provincial Decree 435/1. ‘Dispónese el traslado progresivo de los menhires’. 2003 National Law 25.743 Protección del Patrimonio Arqueológico y Paleontológico.

2000 National Law 25.257. Apruébase la Convención del Unidroit. Boletín Oficial de República Argentina, 21.07.2000.

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