(Note: this was originally written as a rebuttal intended for publication in Scientific American. Some comments suggested by Prof. Jacques Rouillard have been added.)

“Heart-centered” Archaeology: Is it advocacy more than archaeology?

Kisha Supernant (credit: Globe & Mail).

In An Indigenous Archaeologist’s Journey to Find the Lost Children, Kisha Supernant writes: “In mid-2021 Tk̓emlúpste Secwépemc Nation (sic) announced that about 200 probable graves had been detected near the grounds of the former Kamloops Indian Residential School in British Columbia.” The actual headline was: “First Nation in Kamloops, B.C., confirms bodies of 215 children buried at former residential school site.”  

Weeks after their initial announcement, Tk’emlups te Secwépemc corrected the tally to 200 and recently referred to those discovered remains as “anomalies” while returning to the 215 figure because “it stands for the countless spirits of children who never had the chance to return home from residential schools all across Canada,” (emphasis added).

The story of a surreptitious genocide committed at former residential schools was circulated years earlier by notorious conspiracy theorist, Kevin Annett. Annett interviewed former students who said they witnessed homicides and clandestine burials at the schools.

Canada’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) found no credible evidence of a single homicide committed against any student by any staff. After May 2021 however, stories multiplied from former students about knowing where missing children were buried. Nonetheless, at every site where excavations have been conducted after ‘anomalies’ were detected that corroborated oral testimonies, no remains have been found.

Archival research beforehand would have cautioned against suspicions of multiple clandestine burials. There are no historic reports from any parents reporting their children missing from the schools.

Supernant claims, “Thousands of them died at schools from neglect, substandard living conditions, diseases, malnutrition and abuse. Some were buried in cemeteries or graveyards at the schools, while others were disposed of in more clandestine ways. Parents were often not notified of their children’s death; their kids simply never came home.”

What proof does Supernant have that any deceased student was disposed of in a clandestine manner? What proof can she have when no such burials have been found? 

According to Jacques Rouillard, Professor Emeritus of History at the University of Montreal, there are about 2,000 students who perished while registered at a residential school (primarily from tuberculosis and influenza). The TRC's report states that the vast majority of the students who attended residential schools died in a hospital, in school infirmaries or at their home and were buried in the cemetery of their community. A few students were buried in a cemetery close to a residential school because they were orphans or because of the difficulties associated with returning bodies to remote reserves, especially during winter. In all cases, children were given a Christian burial and efforts would have been made to notify parents as required by Indian Affairs.

Students did not die from malnutrition; it was often the case that students were fed (and clothed) better at the schools than at home. There are no known cases of any student dying from abuse at any of the schools, as the TRC itself noted.

While Supernant insinuates nefarious acts behind unmarked graves, the actual circumstances are explicable. The cemeteries on school grounds or those nearby became abandoned. Wooden markers and occasionally headstones disappeared for one reason or another over the decades making it difficult for descendants to locate the plots of their deceased relatives. As Kimberly Murray, Special Interlocutor appointed by the federal Department of Justice clarified before the Senate Committee on Indigenous People: “There aren’t any missing children; they’re buried in the cemeteries. They’re missing because the families were never told where they’re buried.” 

Kamloops Indian Residential School c.1937.

Supernant repeats a popular misconception: “Established in the 1880s, these institutions incarcerated Indigenous children—separating them from their families and forcing them to attend, indoctrinating them into Christianity.”

Attendance was made compulsory after 1920 and only then if there were no other schools available. Roughly a third of eligible children attended a residential school, another third went to day schools and a third never attended school. Since the schools were church-run, parents enrolled their children according to their respective denominations which indicates that they were already Christians.

Supernant identifies as Indigenous and personalizes the “trauma inflicted by residential schools” by mentioning she had a great-grandmother who attended one.  Although her non-Indigenous ancestors implicitly outnumber the Indigenous ones, Supernant feels justified in presenting herself as an Indigenous person. Supernant realizes the advantages of being counted among the subjects of study; it gives her the “right” to study Indigenous people. Her “heart-centered” archaeology is validated by her ancestry while also being her self-validation: “It is also in heart-centered archaeology that I can find a space to be both an archaeologist and an Indigenous person. It has taken me a lifetime, but I am finally here, practicing archaeology in my own way that respects my Métis relatives.”

In attempting to draw authority from her nominal Métis background and derive social license by identifying with historic victimhood, Supernant inadvertently adds to that victimhood. 

Supernant recounts a survey on a field behind a former residential school: “Back in the lab, the data had resolved into a few colorful oval shapes on a white background, each about three feet long, three feet deep and similarly oriented. These were most likely buried children. No trace of their graves remained visible on the grassy field behind the residential school building, whose shadowed windows hid many secrets still to be discovered.”

Unexcavated radar detections quickly become dead and probably murdered children laying in obliterated graves while the guilty party symbolically lurks nearby awaiting justice. Were it only Supernant convincing herself that the horror stories are true but she was speaking to a survivor: “I told the survivor what the team had found. They needed to step away; the grief and pain were overwhelming… Each of these shapes represented a cherished child.”

Supernant introduces her confirmation bias at the beginning of her article: “A disruption appeared, changing the radar image on the screen. My breath caught. ‘There,’ I thought, anticipating what might come to light when we took the data back to the lab. I will never get used to walking over the land that may hold the unmarked graves of Indigenous children.”

Supernant isn’t asking what else might cause radar ‘disruptions’ and she isn’t telling others what else might account for them. She chooses to believe the worst and she leads others to believe the worst; that is the price they have to pay for her advocacy.