Ethics or social justice? Heritage and the politics of recognition.
Smith, Laurajane
Abstract: Nancy Eraser's model of the politics of recognition
is used to examine how ethical practices are interconnected with wider
struggles for recognition and social justice. This paper focuses on the
concept of "heritage' and the way it is often uncritically
linked to 'identity' to illustrate how expert knowledge can
become implicated in struggles for recognition. The consequences of this
for ethical practice and for rethinking the role of expertise,
professional discourses and disciplinary identity are discussed.
Introduction
Heritage is not just a pretty place; it is a political resource.
This paper offers a reconsideration of the idea of 'heritage',
and in doing so argues that the AIATSIS Guidelines for Ethical Research
in Indigenous Studies (AIATSIS 2000) is not simply a set of ethical
practices or codes of conduct, but rather a policy document discursively
constituted by the politics of recognition. The recent review of this
document offers an opportunity to consider the potential consequences
and the implications the Guidelines have for research practice and
knowledge development. Ethical research practices are not simply about
'doing the right thing', but are framed by wider struggles for
recognition and social justice. Ethical research, if theorised in this
way, must lead to rethinking the values, knowledge claims and discourses
that researchers both work within and promulgate. Heritage is one of
those taken-for-granted, or 'common sense', concepts that
bears critical scrutiny. In rethinking the idea of 'heritage',
the ways in which the political and cultural claims of Indigenous
peoples have been regulated by the discourse of, and knowledge claims
about, heritage is exposed. Also revealed are the ways in which the
AIATSIS Guidelines may potentially challenge this regulation. Further,
'heritage', and the core assumption that it is intimately
linked with 'identity', is a useful focus to illustrate how
research practices and expert knowledge claims sit within negotiations
over the political legitimacy of identity claims for Indigenous peoples.
Here, 'identity claims' refers simply to claims for
recognition and special treatment based on appeals to identity and the
past; however, identity claims are not confined to Indigenous peoples
and are also made by communities of expertise (Smith, L and Waterton in
press). Thus, it is also important to examine how the professional
identity claims of researchers and experts are themselves regulated and
maintained by such assumptions. Indeed, the Guidelines document is
itself discursively mediated, and is a textual product of the
negotiation and re-negotiation of identity claims and forms of expert
knowledge.
In developing this argument, the paper first reviews Nancy
Eraser's work on the politics of recognition (e.g. 1995, 2000,
2001, 2005). This work provides a useful framework for understanding not
only what is at stake in terms of ethical research, but how such
practices may be understood as being implicated in struggles for social
justice. Heritage, and its close association with identity, is then
examined in this context and the paper explores how in the past the term
'heritage' and the knowledge claims and bodies of expertise
that invest in defining and 'protecting' heritage were
mobilised in regulating 'identity politics'. Doing so helps to
underline not only the ethical, but also the political, importance of
the AIATSIS Guidelines. In addition, this should illuminate the
potential role of the Guidelines in supporting parity of participation
of Indigenous peoples in research and public policy development and,
ultimately, redistribution of resources. However, parity of
participation, and any move towards social justice that flows from that,
cannot be achieved only through the development and adherence to codes
of practice. An associated reconsideration of the discourses that we use
to structure practice and the knowledge developed from those practices
is also required.
The politics of recognition
As Fraser observes, 'recognition of difference' became a
definable form of political conflict in the late twentieth century
(Fraser 1995, 2000; Kymlicka and Norman 2000). Demands for the
acknowledgment or recognition of cultural and identity claims became
entwined with struggles for the distribution of resources.
'Identity politics' is sometimes dismissed as gestural, or as
working to essentialise and thus marginalise identity claims, or as
simply pernicious and irrelevant. For instance, Appleton (2003)
characterises the repatriation of Indigenous remains from Britain to
Australia as simply gestural politics, arguing that such a gesture of
recognition of Indigenous identity and cultural values will have no
material impact on the economic and social inequity of Indigenous
Australians (see also submissions to DCMS 2003; also Fforde 2004 and
Smith, L 2004a for a critique of this view). Meanwhile, those new-age
Druids who, on the basis of claims to the status of
'indigeneity', demand participation in decisions over the
disposition of human remains originating in Britain, appropriate
Indigenous identity and thus work to 'marginalise, eclipse and
displace' (Fraser 2000:108) the claims of Indigenous peoples in
settler societies (see Sayer 2009 for discussion). Rather than rejecting
identity politics as either gestural or inadequate, Fraser argues that a
critical theory of recognition is required, which defines the cultural
politics of difference as a legitimate and fundamental aspect of
struggles for justice and which is, or should be, linked to the politics
of redistribution, such as the equitable redistribution of material
resources including finance, education, housing and so forth (Fraser
1995).
The 'politics of recognition', as defined by Fraser,
allows for the observation that different community groups, with
different histories, needs, aspirations and identities, make claims for
recognition in both symbolic and material forms, and that these claims
for recognition will have material consequences for equity and justice.
Not only is recognition about respect and self-worth, but it may also
have consequences for legal standing, access to a range of resources and
equitable participation in the development of public policy, legal codes
and codes of ethics (Fraser 2000). In Fraser's framework (2000,
2001), the politics of recognition becomes an emancipatory model based
upon an idea of justice that requires a 'dismantling [of]
institutionalized obstacles that prevent some people from participating
on a par with others, as full partners in social interaction'
(2005:73). Importantly, it is a model that supports defensible claims
for equality while also recognising the legitimacy of difference (Fraser
2001:22). In terms of the Guidelines and the recent amendments (as
discussed and documented by other papers in this issue), recognition of
Aboriginal cultural and social justice claims has helped to create a
document which, at least potentially, provides opportunities for the
parity of participation in the development of research and in
negotiations over research practice, outcomes and knowledge development.
In her early work, Fraser developed a bi-focal analysis of the
politics of recognition to remedy the tendency that a simple emphasis on
'identity politics' has for obfuscating institutional and
economic inequalities. Her emphasis on redistribution is crucial--by
emphasising the overlapping nature of the economic and cultural aspects
of social justice issues, she turns our attention to the material
consequences of overreliance on the value of simply validating identity
and associated historical treatments based on that identity. For Fraser,
recognition, and by inference misrecognition, are not issues of ethics
requiring judgments about the validly of identity (Fraser 2001:23).
Rather, it is about politics, justice, and distribution of power and
resources. Recognition is thus not simply about 'valorizing group
identity' (Fraser 2001:25), nor can it be reduced to a
'generic human need' or self-realisation (Fraser 2003:45; for
further debate see Honneth in Fraser and Honneth 2003). Recognition is
about addressing misrecognition and the lack of status and parity this
affords. There are many ways misrecognition can occur. For example, it
can refer to the devaluation of the legitimacy of identity claims by
individuals or communities, or it can, for instance, refer to
'recognition' of identity predicated on racist and other
prejudicial assumptions. Misrecognition will occur when expressions of
self-identity of groups or communities are ignored or discounted. It is
in this way that the misrecognition of Aboriginal identity has come to
underpin Australian history and the treatment of Aboriginal people.
Thus, recognition is about identifying the 'social patterns of
representation, interpretation, and communication' that lead to
cultural injustice (Fraser 1995:71). Both cultural and economic
injustices are intertwined, each influencing the other. This is not to
say, however, that any claim to recognition must be given legitimacy.
Instead, Fraser contends that those requiring public recognition must
show, first, that majority cultural norms deny justice and, second, that
any remedies to injustice do not themselves deny parity to group or
non-group members (Fraser 2001:35).
More recently, Fraser (2005) has identified a third dimension of
justice concerned with 'representation' and
'misrepresentation' in political arenas. Misrepresentation is
not reducible to misrecognition and is concerned with how recognition in
political spheres is achieved. That is, how boundaries are drawn to
include or exclude people participating in struggles and contests over
justice (Fraser 2005:76). Globalisation is increasingly calling into
question the boundaries of political communities and the legitimacy of
states to define the procedural boundaries of conflicts. Thus, the
frameworks of how justice is drawn and revised have themselves become
legitimate targets, such that as movements assert 'their right to
participate in constituting the "who" of justice, they are
simultaneously transforming the "how"', that is,
'the accepted procedures for determining the "who"'
(Fraser 2005:84; see also Avendano 2009). Subsequently, redistribution
and recognition become entwined with representation, as Fraser (2005:86)
states:
as the circle of those claiming a say in frame-setting
expands, decisions about the 'who'
are increasingly viewed as political matters,
which should be handled democratically,
rather than as technical matters, which
can be left to experts and elites. The effect
is to shift the burden of argument, requiring
defenders of expert privilege to make
their case. No longer able to hold themselves
about the fray, they are necessarily embroiled
in disputes about the 'how'. As a result, they
must contend with demands for meta-political
democratization.
The AIATSIS (forthcoming) Guidelines for Ethical Research in
Indigenous Studies is a policy document based on a desire by AIATSIS to
'encourage and facilitate equal relations between Indigenous and
non-Indigenous people in the research engagement' (AIATSIS 2010:9).
The Guidelines have been continually reviewed, revised and renegotiated.
Through this process, attempts have been made to ensure that the revised
document provides for equity of participation in the processes of
knowledge construction within Indigenous studies by Indigenous peoples.
It defines a code of conduct that is not simply based on ethical
judgments, but on a regard for the justice claims of Indigenous people.
As such this is a political document implicated in both recognition and
representation as it seeks to not only recognise the identity claims of
Indigenous groups, and all that flows from that for access to land and
resources, but also to define the frameworks of representation.
Importantly, in advocating equal parity of participation in research,
the Guidelines have the potential to not only redefine practice, but
also the way knowledge is constructed and used.
Research and expert knowledge have a long and fraught history of
contributing to and bolstering colonialism and contributing to
Indigenous misrecognition. Understood within the model offered by the
politics of recognition, the Guidelines cannot just be viewed as a code
of 'good' practice, but rather as part of a process concerned
with rethinking and re-negotiating the frameworks of knowledge
construction. Researchers and experts are required to participate not
only in 'informed consultation', but also to engage with what
that means in terms of how knowledge is produced and for whom--that is,
researchers are embroiled in disputes about the 'how'. In
effect, if the guideline simply validates identity claims (the who)
without also redefining the way knowledge is framed and deployed (the
how), then the political and cultural achievements may be limited.
To illustrate exactly how non-Indigenous researchers/experts are
imbricated in the political (as opposed simply to the ethical), it is
useful to examine the concept of heritage. Heritage is a key concept
within public discourses and the disciplines of archaeology,
anthropology, history, geography, architecture and art history, among
others. It is a concept that assumes a certain common sense
understanding--we think we know what we mean when we apply this term,
but do we understand what this term does?
Heritage and identity--is it really common sense?
Heritage--we manage it, look after it, define ourselves and others
by it, we inherit it, we go to museums and sites to look at it. However,
this materialistic understanding of heritage, this common sense view,
obscures its role in the governance of populations and groups and the
way it is used to misrecognise and/or de-politicise the politics of
recognition. Indeed, as I have argued elsewhere (Smith, L 2006),
heritage is not a thing, place or monument, but rather a
'discourse'.
The idea that heritage is a discourse has been argued before, by,
for instance, Byrne (1996) and Stuart Hall (1999), but here I am
explicitly using the definition of discourse as advanced in critical
discourse analysis, which, in short, defines a discourse as being both
reflective and constitutive of social practices. As Fairclough (1992:64)
states, it is 'a practice not just of representing the world, but
of signifying the world, constituting and constructing the world in
meaning'. Discourses make the world meaningful and intercede in the
negotiation of social relationships and relations of power (Fairclough
2001:229; see also Fairclough 2003; Waterton 2010; Waterton et al.
2006).
Discourses of heritage constitute and reflect a range of social
practices that, among other things, are used to give meaning to group
identity, historical narratives and collective and individual memories,
and these in turn organise social relations and identities around
nation, class, culture and ethnicity. In effect, heritage is not a
'thing' but a cultural process of meaning making and of
negotiating the meanings and values given to identity, memory and sense
of place (see Smith, L 2006). It is, in Harvey's (2001) terms, a
'verb', in which sites, places and/or objects are used to
negotiate the meanings and value of history, culture and memory.
Material remains are not themselves 'heritage', but
rather theatres or sites of memory (Nora 1989; Samuel 1994) at which
individuals, policymakers, bodies of expertise and so forth, engage in
performances that construct and negotiate cultural and social identities
and the various values that buttress these identities. The acts of
visiting or managing places and objects are performances of remembering
and memory making in which the negotiation of identity and sense of
place are undertaken by individuals, groups and nations not in response
to 'historical realities' but, rather, to changing cultural,
social, economic and political needs and circumstances (see Smith, L
2006:44f.). In effect, what heritage is and what it does is to
continually create and recreate identity and cultural and historical
meaning and thus cannot be defined as a 'thing'. The ability
to control the 'moment of heritage', when these cultural
processes and negotiations come into play at or over the care of places
defined as 'heritage', is vital in ventures concerned with
self-determination. However, the moment of heritage is inevitably
arbitrated and regulated by what I have called the authorised heritage
discourse (AHD) (see Smith, L 2006:29f.).
This dominant Western discourse stresses materiality,
monumentality, grandiosity, time depth, aesthetics and all that is
'good' in history and culture (Smith, L 2006:29f.). It takes
as a given the symbolic importance of heritage places and objects for
representing or symbolising identity, while also assuming that heritage
in some way 'creates' identity without ever critically
scrutinising the nexus between the two. The AHD privileges the
authenticity of fabric and assumes that fabric is, in some way,
inherently valuable. It also stresses national or 'universal'
values of heritage, emphasising the idea of collective human values,
which often works to obscure local and specific sub-national expressions
of heritage. In doing so, the AHD may also facilitate the appropriation
of group identities, or aspects of a group's heritage, as
'national' heritage. In this way the 'heritage' of
elite groups can, as I have argued in the case of England (Smith, L
2006), come to stand in for the nation, but it can also see the
uncritical commandeering of, for instance, Aboriginal art as part of the
representational pantheon of a generic Australian identity. The AHD also
identifies and privileges expertise over other forms of knowledge and
practice in the management and curation of heritage places and objects.
In particular, the AHD identifies the authority of archaeology,
architecture and art history as those disciplines best suited to act as
stewards of a nation's heritage.
The AHD originated in western European nineteenth-century
architectural conservation debates about authenticity and the
'moral' duty of the present to conserve and respect
architectural design values. This debate saw the emergence of a
'conservation ethic' that stressed the need to 'conserve
as found' while also placing emphasis on the pastoral role of
experts to educate the public about the value and meaning of the past.
This debate found synergy with liberal concerns to guide and educate
populations into becoming 'good citizens' as certain forms of
expertise were used to facilitate the governance of populations through
their adherence to emergent national identities and values (Smith, L
2004b:81). The role of museums in this process is well documented by
Bennett (1995); however, heritage, and more particularly authorised
definitions of heritage, also became part of the processes of fortifying
and regulating national identity and citizenship at this time.
The Western AHD has been institutionalised within Western national
heritage agencies and within the policies and practices of
intergovernmental agencies such as UNESCO and nongovernmental
organisations such as ICOMOS (International Council on Monuments and
Sites) (see Smith, L 2006; Smith, L and Waterton in press; Waterton 2010
for further discussion). It is important to note, however, that the AHD
is not the only heritage discourse, but it is the most pervasive and
persuasive. It is not only embedded in powerful professions and
institutions, but is constitutive of the practices of heritage
management and conservation that work to reinforce the dominance and
authority of the AHD. While different national contexts will have
different dominant or authorised ways of defining heritage, in the West,
at least, the core assumptions of materiality, innate value and the
stewardship of expertise remain constant. In Australia, unlike in many
European contexts, the AHD will also include aspects of Australia's
flora, fauna and landscape images as part of the collective dominant
vision of heritage (see Smith, L 2006:162f. for a fuller discussion of
the Australian AHD).
In defining the AHD, I have so far sidestepped the issue of contest
and challenge. The AHD is, of course, open to challenge by contesting
notions of heritage. Indeed, we can see such a challenge internationally
with the growing interest in and debate about the legitimacy of
intangible heritage, following the adoption of the UNESCO Convention for
the Safeguarding of the Intangible Cultural Heritage. The AHD works to
create, sustain and validate consensus history and cultural narratives
and values. It naturalises certain visions of national and group
identity by accepting as unproblematic the links between heritage and
identity, and through a range of practices that see heritage places
conserved to preserve innately valuable fabric. Identity in effect
becomes intimately linked to the authenticity of fabric and place, and
subject to the management and conservation of expert practice. Heritage
management is inherently contested, as demonstrated by the history of
local resident action groups, conservation groups and Indigenous
communities, among others, who have fought to have certain places
preserved, re-interpreted or acknowledged (and even de-accessioned) as
heritage. In my definition of heritage as a 'cultural
process', I make the point that such conflicts are heritage--that
heritage is not only about the mediation of cultural and social
conflicts, but is ultimately about the mediation of cultural change
(Smith, L 2006:82). However, the AHD, in defining what is being
contested, also defines and controls the arena of conflict, and the
frameworks and value systems used to adjudicate on those conflicts. This
power or authority does not only come from the pervasiveness of the AHD,
or its underpinning of heritage policies and legal instruments; it also
derives from the history and nature of the knowledge and expertise that
validates and deploys that discourse.
Of particular interest to my arguments here, and to an
understanding of the potential of the AIATSIS Guidelines, is the way
certain bodies of expertise have come to not only underpin and propagate
the AHD, but have themselves become dependent on it. I want to turn now
to examine the interrelationship of archaeology with the Australian AHD,
and note that there is a strong conflation between
'archaeology' and 'heritage'. This conflation is not
one of happenstance, but actively derives from the way in which
archaeological knowledge has tended to be deployed within the Australian
context.
Archaeological knowledge, alongside other forms of expertise such
as anthropology, architecture, history and so on, has had a particular
role to play in conflicts over the control of cultural heritage and
associated political negotiations for the political and cultural
legitimacy of identity claims. I have, in earlier work (Smith, L 1999,
2004b), drawn on a critical reading of the Foucauldian thesis of
'governmentality' to help identify the authority of
archaeological knowledge in these conflicts. Within this framework
archaeological knowledge can be identified as part of the suite of
disciplines that contribute to the mentalities of rule and governance.
Indeed, archaeology may be identified as a 'technology of
government'. This is a concept developed by Rose and Miller (1992)
and defines a body of knowledge that state apparatus, policymakers and
legislators will deploy to render certain social conflicts, in this case
conflicts over identity claims, understandable and thus subject to
regulation. These mentalities of rule work to render populations and the
problems they pose subject to regulation and governance through the way
they are defined and represented. Particular forms of knowledge become
privileged in this process over other forms of knowledge due to their
ability to 'speak' to the existing cultural values and
epistemological understandings of policymakers and their ability to make
claims to 'truth'. The intellectual authority and power of
'rational' knowledge claims, therefore, finds synergy with
liberal forms of governance. Disciplines such as archaeology, which make
both historical and contemporary claims to scientific rationality,
become taken up as technologies of government by making populations and
social problems not only 'thinkable' but also subject to
regulation and resolution through the disciplined analysis of rational
thought (Rose and Miller 1992:182). Thus, intellectual knowledge is
implicated in the governance of certain social conflicts (Dean 1999).
In the past, the assertion of archaeological scientific practice
and knowledge construction through adherence to 'processual'
theory, linked to concurrent claims about the legitimacy of
archaeological 'stewardship' over the past, has been key in
defining and authorising the discipline's role as a technology of
government. This role has also been made concrete by the development in
the 1970s of Cultural Heritage Management (CHM) policy and legislation,
which has seen archaeology become one of the dominant disciplines
defining CHM and other heritage practices. This development occurred
alongside key developments within the Australian and international
archaeological discipline. During the 1960-70s Anglophone archaeology
began to aggressively assert for itself its new-found identity as a
'science', while at the same time developing a rhetoric about
the discipline's 'professionalization' (see Johnson 1999;
McNiven and Russell 2005; Moser 1995; Trigger 1989). Archaeologists
during the 1960s and 1970s were also active as lobbyists for the
development of Australian policy and legislation to protect their data
base--in particular Aboriginal material culture, sites and places. This
lobbying, undertaken within the newly minted disciplinary discourses of
scientific neutrality and professionalism, was readily listened to by
policymakers working both within a 'common sense'
understanding of science and the rational model of public policy
development that was dominant during the 1970s (Fischer 2003:4-5).
However, in this process the pastoral position of 'steward'
for the past, so dominant in the disciplinary discourse of the period
(Zimmerman 2000), became linked to notions of 'heritage', with
its underlying sense of patrimony and inheritance. In a practical and
conceptual sense, archaeological data 'became' heritage.
The CHM process controls the use, value and meanings given to
certain cultural objects and places, and provides procedures through
which archaeological knowledge and expertise may be called upon and
deployed in a policy context. Thus, cultural and social conflicts that
rest on understandings of the past become converted into technical
issues of site management and de-politicised. Moreover, conflicts over
heritage become conflicts in which archaeological knowledge defines the
'how' and the 'who' within the sphere of contest.
The benefit to the discipline of archaeology is that data is protected
and archaeological access to it is maintained. Moreover, the authority
of the discipline's knowledge is continually reinforced through its
role as a technology of government and the status of its data as
'heritage'. However, archaeological discourse and knowledge is
itself regulated within this process, as the discipline must continue to
involve the discourses of scientific rationality and stewardship while
also continually asserting the status of its data as
'heritage' in order to maintain its position as an
underpinning expertise of the AHD. Failure to do so will jeopardise both
the discipline's position of authority bestowed by its role as a
technology of government and the dominant sense of disciplinary
identity.
The implementation of archaeology as a technology of government
does not mean that, like the AHD, the discipline and its knowledge and
practices are not contested or challenged. In Australia, archaeology has
been publically and comprehensively challenged by Aboriginal communities
and activists (see for instance Ah Kit 1995; Four-mile 1987, 1989;
Langford 1983 among others). For the most part, the archaeological
discipline in Australia has responded positively to this-the Australian
Archaeological Association, for instance, implemented its own code of
ethics in 1991 to ensure informed consultation (see Smith, C and Burke
2003)--and community consultation and engagement is now accepted
practice (see for instance Clarke 2002; Greer 2010; Greer et al. 2002;
Hemming and Rigney 2010; Prangnell et al. 2010 among others).
The state use of archaeological knowledge as a technology of
government does not mean that archaeological requirements and desires
are always supported by the state, nor that they are all powerful, or
that they will always override Indigenous or other interests. The point
here is that the deployment of archaeological knowledge in the
mitigation of certain problems or conflicts, whatever the outcomes of
those conflicts, ensures that certain knowledge frameworks are never
really challenged. Archaeology maintains its utility and authority with
the state because it renders certain problems thinkable--in doing so it
confines the parameters of debate and thus other forms of knowledge (and
more specifically other ways of knowing or thinking about the past and
'heritage') are constrained. The implications are that any set
of practices, regulated by ethical guidelines or not, will also be
regulated by various discourses. Underpinning these discourses will be
layers of jockeying over the legitimacy and utility of knowledge and
epistemological claims.
Conclusion: heritage is a political resource
The unpacking of a simple concept such as 'heritage' has
unveiled a number of layers of political and cultural affect. What is at
issue here is not whether negotiations over the political legitimacy and
utility of knowledge claims about heritage has positive or negative
outcomes, either for researchers or for Indigenous peoples, but that
they occur. Understanding the layers of politics that underpin the use
of knowledge and the discourses that frame that knowledge is important
for helping researchers navigate the 'demands for metapolitical
democratization' (Fraser 2005:86). The identification of heritage
as a resource of power reveals the multiple layers of overt and covert
consequence that expert discourses can have. It also reinforces the
observation that researchers, whatever their fields, in engaging with
ethical codes of practice also explicitly engage in the redeployment of
resources of power and privilege, which may have implications for
recognition and representation and ultimately social justice. This
analysis of 'heritage' also reveals the extent to which
certain forms of knowledge have become institutionalised, not only in
terms of their incorporation in public policy and associated practices,
but by being simply naturalised as self-evident. Embedded in heritage
management and conservation practices are authorised discourses that
both draw on and underpin the position of disciplines as technologies of
government. In any ethical practice, researchers are obliged to not only
critically scrutinise practice, but to allow room for the
reconsideration of the utility and authority of the discourses that
frame the way knowledge and practice are negotiated and legitimised.
The Guidelines are a product of the continuing challenges to, and
re-negotiations over, the legitimacy of expert knowledge claims. The
document is a set of practices that implicitly acknowledges that the
politics of recognition be taken seriously. While the Guidelines are
clearly predicated on a sense of the political and cultural legitimacy
of Indigenous identity and knowledge claims, what is perhaps less clear
is the implications the Guidelines have for the identity claims of
expertise. As Fraser (2000, 2001) points out, in some struggles for
recognition it may become necessary, if justice is to be achieved, for
identities to be rethought and redefined; this is especially the case
where misrecognition has occurred. However, recognition, or the
acknowledgment of misrecognition, can only occur in a context where the
relations of power have been themselves recognised--those
'doing' or facilitating misrecognition are themselves
identified. Thus, the politics of recognition in this context requires
not only recognition of Indigenous identity and knowledge claims, but
also recognition of how disciplinary identities have themselves
contributed to misrecognition. This is not to claim that researchers and
experts need political recognition as Fraser has framed it, but rather
that any recognition of identity and justice requires a corresponding
self-recognition or acknowledgment and a corresponding rethinking of
expert identity and the discourses that maintained those identities. The
Guidelines provide an important set of policies and practices for
research that has implications for recognition and representation.
However, they also require that researchers rethink not only practice,
but also what is being researched and why. That is, they require a
rethinking of the discourses that are used to frame research and the
identities of 'expertise'.
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Laurajane Smith
School of Archaeology and Anthropology, The Australian National
University
Laurajane Smith is a Future Fellow, Heritage and Museum Studies,
School of Archaeology and Anthropology, Research School of Humanities
and the Arts, The Australian National University. She works in the area
of heritage studies, and is editor of the International Journal of
Heritage Studies.
<laurajane.smith@anu.edu.au>