Celebrating Absence

Today being an unusually cloudy day for San Pedro, we decide to visit the Museo.

It's a small building set up by a Catholic priest and housing some art works of his, but largely devoted to the artefacts, tools and general resourcefulness of the first indigenous people in San Pedro, this tiny oasis in the heart of the huge and arid Atacama desert. 

The imagination and staying power of these initial settlers strikes admiration in me, but I comment to M that I am not finding the translation of the Spanish information boards especially difficult, because, essentially, the story is the same. In any museum, anywhere, which has space dedicated to the lifestyle of the area's most ancient ancestors, there is a description of how they used clay and stone to make tools and cooking implements, hunted animals with spears, ate and skinned them, wove fabrics out of plant and animal material, and made fire. I am a cultural philistine, yes. But it leaves me just a little cold (and in this case, literally - the air at this height is cold, heated only by the hot desert sun so that when it's cloudy, it's freezing).

"But don't you think that the fact that all these ancient peoples, spread all over the world, were all doing the same thing, without consultation, is fascinating in itself?" he replies.

This is a good point, and I acknowledge it, but I still find that by far the most interesting thing in the museum, is the absence of something. 

Previously, this museum housed a large number of skeletal remains of the ancient Atacaman people and, most notably, a mummified body, known famously as 'Miss Chile'. 

In 2007 all the bodies and body parts were removed in response to what was known as an 'Ethnic demand' from the indigenous people living in the Atacama region, for the removal of them from public display for reasons of respect and religious sensitivity.

The museum now houses, in their place, a short film which records the actual discussions that took place amoung a special committee of individuals representing the museum and the indigenous people, to try to reach a mutual understanding and, finally, a plan of action. It is an impressively calm and rational discussion, with genuine intentions on both sides to reach a common understanding and it represents a movement which, according to an expert, is taking effect all over the world, known as 'new museology'. This movement steers museum best practice away from a sense that anything is justified in the pursuit of public education, to a more organic and unified relationship of the museum with its cultural environment. All over the world, we are told, museums displaying culturally sensitive items are opening dialogues with the affected community to try to find a new way of being, a new museology which represents education but without leaving out perhaps that most important part of education, tolerance and understanding of the continuing values and beliefs of the living generation of the very people whose ancestors are the subject of that museum.

This raises questions about, for example, the mummified body which I remember seeing in the National History Museum in London. Ironically enough, this was not part of British national history, but had been taken from the ground in Egypt and either lent by or stolen from the Egyptians centuries ago. Surrounding the showcase were information texts which explained, with some further sense of irony, how important it was to the ancient Egyptians that their families be buried correctly, with the appropriate items to facilitate their passing into the next world, and with the right positioning both in respect to the earth and the sun, and the posture of the body itself.  Alongside this understanding of that culture, we remove the body from its resting place, display it publically in brightly lit halls on another continent, and label and position the accompanying items in such a way as they might best be viewed by an impassive foreign museum visitor. 

Now it all sounds quite damning, but those ancient Egyptians are not, at least as far as I am aware, now represented by direct descendants who retain those beliefs. The museum is not continually inviting discomfort from local communities whose ancestors are on display. So who objects? The dead? But they're dead. They don't know about it. At least not in our cultural understanding of death anyway. Those silly ancient Egyptians, believing in special resting places to reassure the soul. Ha!  Especially as we know, for definite, what happens after death....no, wait...

I am not having a go at the National History Museum. I am simply trying to examine how difficult it is and how knotty these issues can be. I am all for New Museology, and where there are living, local people, actively offended by the content on offer, then I absolutely believe it is right to enter into the kind of debate that this museum, in 2007, embarked upon. Tourists are fascinated by such things - it's a draw - I know this is true because I have read Trip Advisor reviews of this museum, dating back to before 2007. But should everything be subjugated to the curiosity of the tourists? And is that curiosity about the lives and deaths of the ancient Atacaman peoples, or about death itself, that morbid fascination, and the fact that a body such as 'Miss Chile's' could be so well preserved over such a long time. At the end of the day, tourists are just passing through. And their lives will probably not be much hindered by missing out on one exhibit. The lives and sensitivities of a living, local, permanent community are much more closely affected, and that discomfort, interwoven with the daily life of a small number of inhabitants like San Pedro's, can have a much deeper and more lasting effect. 

But the discussion, even here, raises complex issues.

The museum staff raise concerns over the potential decline in popularity of the museum, the bodies being the major feature of it, and the resultant effect on the livelihood of those who work there.

The group spends much time discussing the ethical acceptability, or otherwise, of using a replica of 'Miss Chile' in place of the real body. Some people agree that this would be an acceptable compromise, stating that the issue is that 'Miss Chile' herself be allowed to rest in peace. Others feel that a replica is as intrusive as the display of the real body, stating lack of privacy, or of proper sensitivity in the method of display. Still others believe that the central issue is 'Miss Chile' herself, having become a symbol of deep lack of respect over a long period, and that a replica of a body other than hers, or, preferably, an example body rather than a replica of a real one, which would show the visitors how the ancient ancestors were buried without the display of any one ancestor in particular, would resolve the issue. Others still, feel that the representation of death in any form is in itself distasteful.

"We must understand," says one man, "the consequences of angering our ancestors. My mother taught me that such actions bring angry winds, excessive heat, drought, climate change, and bad harvests. It will be bad for us if the ancestors are angered."

His statement is taken with grave acceptance, though among the people there, there are undoubtedly those who do not share his convictions. And quite right too. Perhaps, in these situations, it does not matter whether these beliefs are born out in exact truth, as much as that they are there at all. Should a whole section of the community be in constant fear of disaster based on the actions of a few?

In general the whole committee agrees that there is, in some definition, a 'negative energy' about the museum as it then stood. For some people this was very literal, for others it simply constituted a bad reputation and bad feeling. It was agreed that the negative energy should be transformed, somehow, into something positive. 

The bodies were removed and put carefully into a special storage centre, with a ceremony held in honour of the dead. I am surprised that there is no attempt to return them to the ground they had been exhumed from, but, as somebody had pointed out in the committee discussions, so many people had lived and died for so long in this small oasis, there were many, many bodies already in the ground, which tended to be ruthlessly, if accidentally, uncovered each time the ground was developed or built upon. In fact, rather unavoidably, the bodies were being moved and unearthed in the path of progress, or just in the interests of daily life, constantly. Perhaps it was felt that the bodies would therefore be more respectfully laid to rest there, and more at peace. 

The storage was carefully designed so that it faced Mount Licancabur, which was, and remains, of deep religious significance to the Atacaman peoples. It is not open to the public and there continues a wide scale project to try to piece together remains in which the skeletons had been taken apart, skulls stored separately to other bones, and to store them in the facility as a whole body.

In place of the bodies and the skeletal remains, which had formed the main centre piece of the museum, there is now a focus instead on the way the people lived. 

I am a little disappointed that an idea voiced by one person in the recorded committee discussions had not been taken up though. He had suggested a special room, surrounded by solemnity and ceremony, in which the beliefs and practices of the Atacaman people, particularly in respect of the afterlife, would be represented. But perhaps that too, is a morbidity on my part.

Certainly this discussion holds for me the greatest fascination of the museum, though mounted as it is, a small screen in the corner, but could easily be missed. For me it symbolised something strong and positive in today's generation. I am pleased with the 'New Museology' movement and hope it takes hold and that, moreover, such reasoned and sensitive discussions could be had by opposing parties everywhere. Imagine, for example, if our politicians could sit around a table, dispense with the amusing insults and the immediate polarised stances and the self interest and the undermining of the competition, and talk it out until a final, mutually satisfactory solution could be found, in the interests of the larger goal of running the country. 

We represent Chilean people as hot blooded fire brands. But we could learn a lot from the discussions that led to the removal of the mummified remains of a woman who lived thousands of years ago. Perhaps those ancient civilisations continue to teach us, even now.

And maybe death is not the end.