Grave Goods

As long as corpses have been buried with valuables, either as offerings to the gods or as goods to be used in the next world, graves have been robbed.  When the robbery is surreptitious and carried out for private gain, we call the thieves looters.  When the robbery is carried out in the plain light of day for educational or scientific purposes, we call them archeologists.   But what are the ethics of disturbing the resting places of the dead, no matter how long ago they have died?

This question arose at breakfast yesterday when my wife showed me the front page article in the Science Times about the exhibit,  “Nomads and Networks: the Ancient Art and Culture of Kazakhstan, at the Institute for the Study of the Ancient World at New York University, on loan from four national museums in Kazakhstan.  Taken from burial mounds called kurgans, the objects on display demonstrate that these nomads were not an intermediate step between hunter-gatherers and the complex life of urban dwellers but rather that they were sophisticated, socially stratified, and in contact with other cultures. 

The beauty and craftsmanship of the objects, such as a gold diadem cast in the form of actual and mythological creatures and a golden mask encrusted with semi-precious stones, are stunning.  Taken together, these objects help archeologists learn about the way of life led by these preliterate people, who could leave no written records of their history.  And the display of these goods give those who view them a sumptuous visual treat.  Even so, the increase in our knowledge and the opportunity to see these treasures are the products of desecration and robbery. 

Were not the men and women who were buried in these mounds and were not those grieving relatives who placed them there fully human?  Are they not as deserving of respect as those who were buried last week?  Why do we feel entitled to disturb burial mounds from the fourth century BCE when we wouldn’t dream of doing so to a recent grave? 

When biologists have to kill mice or cockroaches in experiments, they speak of “sacrificing” the victims, thus showing respect for these animals, fellow creatures after all.  Do we show even minimal respect for the people buried in ancient tombs when we not only uncover their corpses but take their treasures? Perhaps we can claim that the careful study of their grave goods shows respect for those whose graves we’ve opened.  But it’s not likely that those who are buried there would have agreed to that assertion had they been asked about it in advance.

My reservations have nothing to do with my own plans for burial, for I've asked my heirs to donate my body to a medical school and then to cremate the remains.  What feeds my disquiet is the lack of respect shown for the inhabitants of these ancient tombs and for their most profound values.  I felt a similar unease a few months ago in the Mummy Room of Cairo's Egyptian Museum, where a dozen or so pharaohs are lined up like so many logs in a row.  The remains of the dead deserve the same consideration as we would want those of our own loved ones to receive.   They ought not to be treated like so many artifacts, even though they are thousands of years old.  Still, they'll probably be preserved a lot longer than most of us, whose remains will return to dust within a few generations.


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