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Dr. Elizabeth Weiss on Sacred Bodies, Consent, and Anthropology

Author(s): Scott Douglas Jacobsen

Publication (Outlet/Website): The Good Men Project

Publication Date (yyyy/mm/dd): 2025/08/20

Dr. Elizabeth Weiss is an American anthropologist and Professor Emeritus of Anthropology at San José State University, renowned for her work in bioarchaeology and the scientific study of human skeletal remains. She earned her B.A. from the University of California, Santa Cruz, her M.A. from California State University, Sacramento, and her Ph.D. in Environmental Dynamics from the University of Arkansas. A former postdoctoral researcher at the Canadian Museum of Civilization, Weiss has published extensively on osteology, human evolution, and repatriation debates. She is a vocal advocate for academic freedom, evidence-based anthropology, and preserving scientific access to skeletal collections for research and education.

Scott Douglas Jacobsen interviews Dr. Elizabeth Weiss, an anthropologist and Professor Emeritus at San José State University. Weiss argues human remains are scientific evidence, not sacred objects, and warns that reframing bodies—and even realistic replicas—as sacred undermines research, education, and forensic training. She cites the Smithsonian’s removal of the “Written in Bone” exhibit despite descendant consent as emblematic of shifting standards driven by politics and beliefs. Laws like NAGPRA and expanding consent requirements, she contends, converge progressive and conservative agendas to restrict study. The result, Weiss says, is emptied classrooms, fewer osteologists, and custodial anthropology policing access over discovery today.

Scott Douglas Jacobsen: We are here with Dr. Elizabeth Weiss, an American anthropologist and Professor Emeritus of Anthropology at San José State University. In June 2023, she reached a settlement with the university that allowed her to voluntarily retire effective May 2024, with full benefits and emeritus status.

Dr. Weiss earned her B.A. in Anthropology from the University of California, Santa Cruz, in 1996, followed by her M.A. in Anthropology from California State University, Sacramento, in 1998. She completed her Ph.D. in Environmental Dynamics at the University of Arkansas in 2001. From 2002 to 2004, she held a postdoctoral research position at the Canadian Museum of Civilization, now the Canadian Museum of History.

Let us talk about anthropology. Why is the body not considered sacred, and why do some people believe that it is?

Dr. Elizabeth Weiss: Anthropology is a broad discipline composed of several subfields, including cultural anthropology, biological anthropology, archaeology, and linguistic anthropology. My focus has been primarily in biological anthropology, specifically using bioarchaeological methods to reconstruct past lifestyles through human skeletal remains. I have taught courses such as osteology, human evolution, and forensics, and my research relies heavily on CT scans, X-rays, and skeletal metrics.

In anthropology, human skeletal remains are typically regarded as valuable sources of data. Whether in forensic anthropology or bioarchaeology, these remains help us reconstruct past lives—learning about activity patterns, health, disease, causes of death, and everyday lifeways.

Within this field, the body has long been seen not as sacred but as a scientific resource. Remains are studied, shared for educational and research purposes, and documented through photographs, X-rays, and publications. This approach views the human body—especially after death—as a means to better understand humanity’s past.

However, some cultures and belief systems do regard the body as sacred. Ancient Egypt is a well-known example: the practice of mummification reflected a belief that preserving the body was essential for the afterlife. Tales of the “mummy’s curse” echo that cultural sanctity.

Many religious societies also distinguish between spiritual belief and the physical body. For instance, organ donation—once rare and controversial in many Catholic countries—is now much more accepted, demonstrating a shift away from the idea that the body must remain untouched after death.

Today, there is also a growing movement to reframe the body as sacred in the context of consent. This has been intensified by cases like Henrietta Lacks, whose cancer cells were taken without her consent and led to major scientific advances—raising important questions about autonomy, consent, and ethics in handling human biological materials.

This issue has become particularly charged in anthropology. In 2021, I posted a photo of myself holding a human skull with the caption “So happy to be back with some old friends @SJSU.” What had previously been a commonplace image—even used for promotional purposes—sparked significant backlash. I was subsequently removed as curator of the skeletal collection and locked out of the facility.

Believing the reaction to be retaliatory and a violation of my academic freedom, I filed a lawsuit in 2022. In June 2023, we reached a settlement that allowed me to retire voluntarily in May 2024 with emeritus status and pursue new opportunities, such as a faculty fellowship with Heterodox Academy’s Center for Academic Pluralism.

I have long maintained that the human body, particularly in death, offers invaluable scientific insights and that respecting the dead does not preclude rigorous study. The pushback I encountered reflects evolving cultural norms, especially around consent and cultural respect, and represents a renewed tension between science and sacred values.

And I was told by my colleagues, “But it’s different—because it’s human.” These were anthropological conflicts. I said, “Well, if you do not believe in the concept of the sacred, or in a spirit or soul for humans, then it is not different.” They said, “Yes. Yes. It’s different. It’s different.”

I responded, “It’s… not?” But what is interesting is what happened next. I thought that was a winning argument.

What I did not expect was that from 2020 onward, more and more people in academia and museums began claiming that the human body is sacred again. For example, the Secretary of the Smithsonian Institution has stated they would not display any skeletal remains—even photographs of remains—if consent had not been given. In some cases, that means consent dating back 350 years, which predates the invention of photography. It is essentially an impossible standard.

Another development was that some Indigenous communities began claiming that not only are human remains sacred, but the remains of nonhuman animals may also be sacred. Some assert that if an animal embodies a human spirit, then that animal’s remains are likewise sacred and should not be displayed.

Now we have these moving goalposts. You cannot argue logic with religion or mythology. Religion, mythology, and folklore are valid cultural aspects and important to understanding human behavior. But the issue arises when anthropologists begin treating these myths as scientific facts. When they say, for instance, that an animal has a human spirit and therefore its remains must be treated as sacred, that is no longer an interpretation—it is treated as historical truth.

That is one direction the field is heading in: the remains of nonhuman animals are now also being regarded as untouchable.

But it does not stop at anthropology. We are beginning to see concerns in the medical and research fields as well. Some people are now arguing against organ donation or the use of donated bodies for research if there was not clear, explicit consent. One case I discuss in an article involves death row prisoners—where the issue was not consent, but mutual consent.

For example, if I were to die and tell my husband, “They can do whatever they want with my body,” he should be able to make that decision. Yet, in some cases, the decision is being turned into something much broader. In Indigenous studies, for example, it is now often argued that the whole tribe must consent, or that a large extended family must agree.

In that framework, my own mother might have no say over what happens to my body.

This is what happens when you turn these decisions into religious or spiritual debates—it stops being sensible or consistent. It becomes arbitrary. One person is allowed to consent, while another is not, based purely on their group identity. In the end, the loudest, most religious voices tend to win.

Jacobsen: Can you give an example of how this has played out in practice?

Weiss: Yes. One example is the Smithsonian’s exhibit Written in Bone. It focused on colonial-era skeletal remains from Jamestown and integrated bioarchaeology and forensic science. It examined causes of death and even included facial reconstructions. There was a temporary physical exhibit, and then a permanent online version aimed at educators—middle school through high school level.

But the Smithsonian shut it down. They removed the website entirely. In its place, there is now an apology: We’re sorry we displayed these remains without consent.

But they did have consent. They had consent from the descendants of those colonialists—people who specifically approved of the educational use of the remains. Yet, that was no longer considered valid enough.

And there is even a line in that apology that says something like, “Although the descendants supported this exhibit, we recognize that we should have been more sensitive.”

So again, it is the most sensitive, the most religious voices that are drawing the boundaries—rather than the most objective ones. That is another example.

This trend is going to expand into all sorts of fields, and we are going to lose valuable data because of it—especially forensic data. Most people do not realize this, but many forensic anthropologists get their first hands-on experience in archaeological classrooms, labs, or field schools. If we lose access to human skeletal remains, we lose the ability to show students real bones—experiences that often spark a lifelong interest in the field. A model is not an adequate substitute.

When I was first criticized in 2020 for posting a photo with skeletal remains—and for my book Repatriation and Erasing the Past—one of the first things people said was, “Why don’t you make replicas? Three-dimensional printed bones? Then you can give the real bones back.”

I responded that there are several reasons this does not work. First, a replica is not the same as the real thing. Second, it is difficult and costly to make accurate replicas. But the main reason is this: as replicas become more realistic, the same people who argue that the body is sacred are now starting to claim that replicas are sacred too.

There are already tribes who say that if a replica of a bone is “real enough,” then it should be treated as sacred. Some even claim that authentic-looking replicas should be considered as protected as actual human remains. And museums are literally destroying replicas because of these demands.

So, you might think, “I will appease this group by giving back the original and keeping a replica for education.” But it does not stop there. You cannot appease people who are making religious arguments in a scientific context. The demands escalate—more extreme repatriations, more destruction of data, more hiding of information.

And this does not stop with human remains. We are now seeing it with artifacts as well. If you think about book banning, the pattern is similar. At first it is, “We do not want these images.” Then it is, “We do not want these words.” Or, “We do not want these books available to this group.” Then suddenly it is, “We do not want these books available at all.”

It always escalates. It escalates because these arguments are not rooted in logic or scientific reasoning. They are rooted in emotion and belief. When that is the framework, people keep moving the goalposts.

Jacobsen: What do you think this means for anthropology as a science, particularly in American academic departments? And what will it mean for the rigor of scientific inquiry?

Weiss: For anthropology, it could well mean the shutdown of biological anthropology that involves the study of skeletal remains.

Certain aspects of biological anthropology might still survive—such as genetics—in part because there are relatively few institutions that do that work, and it is expensive. The bar to entry is high, so those programs will likely protect themselves better. Genetics is also more abstract—less visually or emotionally charged than working with bones.

What we are seeing now, especially in California, is that classrooms are being emptied of skeletal remains, regardless of whether they are Indigenous or not. Some universities are no longer allowing skeletal materials to be used in teaching at all.

There are institutions in California where you cannot even show a photograph of skeletal remains in an anthropology class slideshow. Cal State Bakersfield is one example. That is where we are now—images are being censored, and physical remains are being removed from classrooms.

The consequence? We will have fewer well-trained anthropologists—and therefore, fewer well-trained forensic anthropologists.

For example, one of the things anthropologists are working on is how to distinguish between skeletal remains from historic Indigenous individuals—say, 100 to 300 years old—and the remains of recent border crossers. That is a key forensic question. Was this death recent? Was it a crime? Or was it due to the dangers of crossing the border? How do we identify the person and contact their family? How do we bring closure?

All of that is jeopardized when we stop training anthropologists properly.

Anthropologists are also the ones who go to disaster sites—such as the World Trade Center after 9/11—to identify human fragments. That work starts in osteology classes, where we teach students all 206 bones of the body. But that is only the beginning. In the lab, students then learn how to identify much smaller fragments and distinguish between human and nonhuman remains. You cannot teach that without physical collections. It requires hands-on experience.

Anthropologists often teach anatomy in medical schools as well. If we lose access to human remains, we will see a decline in the quality of anatomical education. Many anthropologists end up in anatomy departments rather than anthropology departments—but their expertise still comes from osteological training.

These are ripple effects—not just for anthropology, but for academia as a whole. The rigor of scientific training will decline.

Another consequence is that a different type of student is now being drawn to anthropology. These are no longer the classic anthropology students—curious about the past, passionate about anatomy, eager to learn about evolution. Instead, you are seeing students more interested in guarding remains than studying them.

They become the little gatekeepers—monitoring access to collections, policing what others are allowed to say, show, or study. Anthropology shifts from being about inquiry and discovery to becoming a custodial discipline focused on restriction.

When I started in anthropology, I had three main things that drew me to the field. One of the first was my love of anatomy. I have always found skeletal anatomy especially beautiful. It reveals the intricate relationship between form and function. It is also one of the clearest examples of evolution in action.

You can look at a human skeleton and a dolphin skeleton and immediately recognize that they are both mammals, yet see how the environment shaped their bodies in dramatically different ways. My favorite chapter in The Origin of Species is Darwin’s chapter on morphology. He is even a bit witty—almost sarcastic—when he points out how all these creatures follow a shared skeletal blueprint, with different lengths and proportions. He basically asks, “Was God that boring?” It is clever and insightful.

That chapter stayed with me. My fascination with comparative anatomy and evolution was one of my core inspirations.

The second major thing that drew me to anthropology was the mystery of reconstructing past lives—especially for cultures that did not leave written records. I have always found that incredibly compelling. Even as a child, I was curious. I moved around a lot—my father is retired military—so whether I was walking around Georgia or Germany, I would wonder: What was this place like a thousand years ago? What were people doing here? What were they thinking?

That curiosity about unwritten human history is classic anthropological curiosity. It is what used to draw people into the field.

But now we are seeing a shift. Students are increasingly being drawn in not to study bones or history or evolution, but to enforce restrictions—to make sure remains are not seen unless there is a written consent form from centuries ago.

At my own university—and this is true at many in California—we are now being told that we cannot even show photographs of the boxes that contain skeletal remains, because even the containers are considered sacred.

And this leads to more and more absurd outcomes. Take the Smithsonian’s Northwest Coast Hall, which includes displays labeled “Objects of Power.” There are now claims that menstruating or pregnant women should not be near certain items. None of this makes sense unless you accept the premise of a sacred body. If you do not share that belief, then these are simply objects—calcium and phosphate, fossilized bone—data, not sacred relics.

That is where the field seems to be going.

Jacobsen: Let us close with this: What are your final thoughts on the convergence of modern political sensitivities—particularly from the progressive left—with more traditional religious ideas of sacredness? How is that convergence impacting anthropology and ethnology today, at least in the United States?

Weiss: The Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act—NAGPRA—is one of the key laws that reintroduced the concept of the sacred body into anthropology. It was passed in 1990 and brought together a wide range of support.

Anthropologists at the time tended to view it as a human rights law. But in reality, it was also strongly supported by a coalition of conservative religious groups—including the Baptist Women of America, the Mennonites of America, and others—because they saw it as a religious rights law. They supported it because it treated the body as sacred.

Anthropologists denied this religious framing for a long time. But I said, “No—there is a reason why so many religious groups are backing NAGPRA. It is because it is redefining the body as sacred.”

Now, what we see in anthropology is a convergence: progressive liberals are embracing the idea of the sacred body too. In some cases, it is because Indigenous communities are being elevated within postmodern frameworks—treated as groups with historical trauma and victimhood status. There is an exaltation happening, which leads to the uncritical acceptance of any belief associated with those communities.

But it does not stop there. There are also other groups now being viewed through that lens—such as convicts whose bodies were used in anatomy classes after death. In my article, I discuss how some students today worry, “Wait a minute, most of these donated cadavers are male, and many are men of color. What does that say?”

So you have that “woke” concern on one side, and on the other side, you still have the religious right, which does not want evolution taught, does not want humans equated with animals, and also wants to keep the body sacred. Both groups are converging—strange bedfellows—on the idea that the body should not be studied or exposed. It is the classic case of politics making strange alliances.

When I first entered academia, I was relieved—thinking, Finally, a field where I do not have to deal with religiosity. But over time I realized the field was not against religion; it was against one religion—namely, Christianity.

I thought that was a real disappointment. My view has always been: silly is silly, regardless of the source. Religious claims that are superstitious or nonsensical should be treated that way—whether they come from Christian fundamentalists, Muslim creationists, or anyone else.

But what I began to notice was that I was treating all belief systems equally, and no one else around me was. Many anthropologists allowed their liberal identity politics to shape their views selectively. They would critique Christianity harshly, but then uncritically accept religious beliefs from other cultures in the name of cultural sensitivity or anti-colonialism.

And that is how we have ended up with progressive anthropologists and conservative religious groups agreeing on one key thing: humans are fundamentally different from animals, and the human body must be treated with sacred reverence.

Jacobsen: Thank you for the opportunity and your time, Dr. Weiss.

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Dr. Elizabeth Weiss on Sacred Bodies, Consent, and Anthropology

Author(s): Scott Douglas Jacobsen

Publication (Outlet/Website): The Good Men Project

Publication Date (yyyy/mm/dd): 2025/08/20

Dr. Elizabeth Weiss is an American anthropologist and Professor Emeritus of Anthropology at San José State University, renowned for her work in bioarchaeology and the scientific study of human skeletal remains. She earned her B.A. from the University of California, Santa Cruz, her M.A. from California State University, Sacramento, and her Ph.D. in Environmental Dynamics from the University of Arkansas. A former postdoctoral researcher at the Canadian Museum of Civilization, Weiss has published extensively on osteology, human evolution, and repatriation debates. She is a vocal advocate for academic freedom, evidence-based anthropology, and preserving scientific access to skeletal collections for research and education.

Scott Douglas Jacobsen interviews Dr. Elizabeth Weiss, an anthropologist and Professor Emeritus at San José State University. Weiss argues human remains are scientific evidence, not sacred objects, and warns that reframing bodies—and even realistic replicas—as sacred undermines research, education, and forensic training. She cites the Smithsonian’s removal of the “Written in Bone” exhibit despite descendant consent as emblematic of shifting standards driven by politics and beliefs. Laws like NAGPRA and expanding consent requirements, she contends, converge progressive and conservative agendas to restrict study. The result, Weiss says, is emptied classrooms, fewer osteologists, and custodial anthropology policing access over discovery today.

Scott Douglas Jacobsen: We are here with Dr. Elizabeth Weiss, an American anthropologist and Professor Emeritus of Anthropology at San José State University. In June 2023, she reached a settlement with the university that allowed her to voluntarily retire effective May 2024, with full benefits and emeritus status.

Dr. Weiss earned her B.A. in Anthropology from the University of California, Santa Cruz, in 1996, followed by her M.A. in Anthropology from California State University, Sacramento, in 1998. She completed her Ph.D. in Environmental Dynamics at the University of Arkansas in 2001. From 2002 to 2004, she held a postdoctoral research position at the Canadian Museum of Civilization, now the Canadian Museum of History.

Let us talk about anthropology. Why is the body not considered sacred, and why do some people believe that it is?

Dr. Elizabeth Weiss: Anthropology is a broad discipline composed of several subfields, including cultural anthropology, biological anthropology, archaeology, and linguistic anthropology. My focus has been primarily in biological anthropology, specifically using bioarchaeological methods to reconstruct past lifestyles through human skeletal remains. I have taught courses such as osteology, human evolution, and forensics, and my research relies heavily on CT scans, X-rays, and skeletal metrics.

In anthropology, human skeletal remains are typically regarded as valuable sources of data. Whether in forensic anthropology or bioarchaeology, these remains help us reconstruct past lives—learning about activity patterns, health, disease, causes of death, and everyday lifeways.

Within this field, the body has long been seen not as sacred but as a scientific resource. Remains are studied, shared for educational and research purposes, and documented through photographs, X-rays, and publications. This approach views the human body—especially after death—as a means to better understand humanity’s past.

However, some cultures and belief systems do regard the body as sacred. Ancient Egypt is a well-known example: the practice of mummification reflected a belief that preserving the body was essential for the afterlife. Tales of the “mummy’s curse” echo that cultural sanctity.

Many religious societies also distinguish between spiritual belief and the physical body. For instance, organ donation—once rare and controversial in many Catholic countries—is now much more accepted, demonstrating a shift away from the idea that the body must remain untouched after death.

Today, there is also a growing movement to reframe the body as sacred in the context of consent. This has been intensified by cases like Henrietta Lacks, whose cancer cells were taken without her consent and led to major scientific advances—raising important questions about autonomy, consent, and ethics in handling human biological materials.

This issue has become particularly charged in anthropology. In 2021, I posted a photo of myself holding a human skull with the caption “So happy to be back with some old friends @SJSU.” What had previously been a commonplace image—even used for promotional purposes—sparked significant backlash. I was subsequently removed as curator of the skeletal collection and locked out of the facility.

Believing the reaction to be retaliatory and a violation of my academic freedom, I filed a lawsuit in 2022. In June 2023, we reached a settlement that allowed me to retire voluntarily in May 2024 with emeritus status and pursue new opportunities, such as a faculty fellowship with Heterodox Academy’s Center for Academic Pluralism.

I have long maintained that the human body, particularly in death, offers invaluable scientific insights and that respecting the dead does not preclude rigorous study. The pushback I encountered reflects evolving cultural norms, especially around consent and cultural respect, and represents a renewed tension between science and sacred values.

And I was told by my colleagues, “But it’s different—because it’s human.” These were anthropological conflicts. I said, “Well, if you do not believe in the concept of the sacred, or in a spirit or soul for humans, then it is not different.” They said, “Yes. Yes. It’s different. It’s different.”

I responded, “It’s… not?” But what is interesting is what happened next. I thought that was a winning argument.

What I did not expect was that from 2020 onward, more and more people in academia and museums began claiming that the human body is sacred again. For example, the Secretary of the Smithsonian Institution has stated they would not display any skeletal remains—even photographs of remains—if consent had not been given. In some cases, that means consent dating back 350 years, which predates the invention of photography. It is essentially an impossible standard.

Another development was that some Indigenous communities began claiming that not only are human remains sacred, but the remains of nonhuman animals may also be sacred. Some assert that if an animal embodies a human spirit, then that animal’s remains are likewise sacred and should not be displayed.

Now we have these moving goalposts. You cannot argue logic with religion or mythology. Religion, mythology, and folklore are valid cultural aspects and important to understanding human behavior. But the issue arises when anthropologists begin treating these myths as scientific facts. When they say, for instance, that an animal has a human spirit and therefore its remains must be treated as sacred, that is no longer an interpretation—it is treated as historical truth.

That is one direction the field is heading in: the remains of nonhuman animals are now also being regarded as untouchable.

But it does not stop at anthropology. We are beginning to see concerns in the medical and research fields as well. Some people are now arguing against organ donation or the use of donated bodies for research if there was not clear, explicit consent. One case I discuss in an article involves death row prisoners—where the issue was not consent, but mutual consent.

For example, if I were to die and tell my husband, “They can do whatever they want with my body,” he should be able to make that decision. Yet, in some cases, the decision is being turned into something much broader. In Indigenous studies, for example, it is now often argued that the whole tribe must consent, or that a large extended family must agree.

In that framework, my own mother might have no say over what happens to my body.

This is what happens when you turn these decisions into religious or spiritual debates—it stops being sensible or consistent. It becomes arbitrary. One person is allowed to consent, while another is not, based purely on their group identity. In the end, the loudest, most religious voices tend to win.

Jacobsen: Can you give an example of how this has played out in practice?

Weiss: Yes. One example is the Smithsonian’s exhibit Written in Bone. It focused on colonial-era skeletal remains from Jamestown and integrated bioarchaeology and forensic science. It examined causes of death and even included facial reconstructions. There was a temporary physical exhibit, and then a permanent online version aimed at educators—middle school through high school level.

But the Smithsonian shut it down. They removed the website entirely. In its place, there is now an apology: We’re sorry we displayed these remains without consent.

But they did have consent. They had consent from the descendants of those colonialists—people who specifically approved of the educational use of the remains. Yet, that was no longer considered valid enough.

And there is even a line in that apology that says something like, “Although the descendants supported this exhibit, we recognize that we should have been more sensitive.”

So again, it is the most sensitive, the most religious voices that are drawing the boundaries—rather than the most objective ones. That is another example.

This trend is going to expand into all sorts of fields, and we are going to lose valuable data because of it—especially forensic data. Most people do not realize this, but many forensic anthropologists get their first hands-on experience in archaeological classrooms, labs, or field schools. If we lose access to human skeletal remains, we lose the ability to show students real bones—experiences that often spark a lifelong interest in the field. A model is not an adequate substitute.

When I was first criticized in 2020 for posting a photo with skeletal remains—and for my book Repatriation and Erasing the Past—one of the first things people said was, “Why don’t you make replicas? Three-dimensional printed bones? Then you can give the real bones back.”

I responded that there are several reasons this does not work. First, a replica is not the same as the real thing. Second, it is difficult and costly to make accurate replicas. But the main reason is this: as replicas become more realistic, the same people who argue that the body is sacred are now starting to claim that replicas are sacred too.

There are already tribes who say that if a replica of a bone is “real enough,” then it should be treated as sacred. Some even claim that authentic-looking replicas should be considered as protected as actual human remains. And museums are literally destroying replicas because of these demands.

So, you might think, “I will appease this group by giving back the original and keeping a replica for education.” But it does not stop there. You cannot appease people who are making religious arguments in a scientific context. The demands escalate—more extreme repatriations, more destruction of data, more hiding of information.

And this does not stop with human remains. We are now seeing it with artifacts as well. If you think about book banning, the pattern is similar. At first it is, “We do not want these images.” Then it is, “We do not want these words.” Or, “We do not want these books available to this group.” Then suddenly it is, “We do not want these books available at all.”

It always escalates. It escalates because these arguments are not rooted in logic or scientific reasoning. They are rooted in emotion and belief. When that is the framework, people keep moving the goalposts.

Jacobsen: What do you think this means for anthropology as a science, particularly in American academic departments? And what will it mean for the rigor of scientific inquiry?

Weiss: For anthropology, it could well mean the shutdown of biological anthropology that involves the study of skeletal remains.

Certain aspects of biological anthropology might still survive—such as genetics—in part because there are relatively few institutions that do that work, and it is expensive. The bar to entry is high, so those programs will likely protect themselves better. Genetics is also more abstract—less visually or emotionally charged than working with bones.

What we are seeing now, especially in California, is that classrooms are being emptied of skeletal remains, regardless of whether they are Indigenous or not. Some universities are no longer allowing skeletal materials to be used in teaching at all.

There are institutions in California where you cannot even show a photograph of skeletal remains in an anthropology class slideshow. Cal State Bakersfield is one example. That is where we are now—images are being censored, and physical remains are being removed from classrooms.

The consequence? We will have fewer well-trained anthropologists—and therefore, fewer well-trained forensic anthropologists.

For example, one of the things anthropologists are working on is how to distinguish between skeletal remains from historic Indigenous individuals—say, 100 to 300 years old—and the remains of recent border crossers. That is a key forensic question. Was this death recent? Was it a crime? Or was it due to the dangers of crossing the border? How do we identify the person and contact their family? How do we bring closure?

All of that is jeopardized when we stop training anthropologists properly.

Anthropologists are also the ones who go to disaster sites—such as the World Trade Center after 9/11—to identify human fragments. That work starts in osteology classes, where we teach students all 206 bones of the body. But that is only the beginning. In the lab, students then learn how to identify much smaller fragments and distinguish between human and nonhuman remains. You cannot teach that without physical collections. It requires hands-on experience.

Anthropologists often teach anatomy in medical schools as well. If we lose access to human remains, we will see a decline in the quality of anatomical education. Many anthropologists end up in anatomy departments rather than anthropology departments—but their expertise still comes from osteological training.

These are ripple effects—not just for anthropology, but for academia as a whole. The rigor of scientific training will decline.

Another consequence is that a different type of student is now being drawn to anthropology. These are no longer the classic anthropology students—curious about the past, passionate about anatomy, eager to learn about evolution. Instead, you are seeing students more interested in guarding remains than studying them.

They become the little gatekeepers—monitoring access to collections, policing what others are allowed to say, show, or study. Anthropology shifts from being about inquiry and discovery to becoming a custodial discipline focused on restriction.

When I started in anthropology, I had three main things that drew me to the field. One of the first was my love of anatomy. I have always found skeletal anatomy especially beautiful. It reveals the intricate relationship between form and function. It is also one of the clearest examples of evolution in action.

You can look at a human skeleton and a dolphin skeleton and immediately recognize that they are both mammals, yet see how the environment shaped their bodies in dramatically different ways. My favorite chapter in The Origin of Species is Darwin’s chapter on morphology. He is even a bit witty—almost sarcastic—when he points out how all these creatures follow a shared skeletal blueprint, with different lengths and proportions. He basically asks, “Was God that boring?” It is clever and insightful.

That chapter stayed with me. My fascination with comparative anatomy and evolution was one of my core inspirations.

The second major thing that drew me to anthropology was the mystery of reconstructing past lives—especially for cultures that did not leave written records. I have always found that incredibly compelling. Even as a child, I was curious. I moved around a lot—my father is retired military—so whether I was walking around Georgia or Germany, I would wonder: What was this place like a thousand years ago? What were people doing here? What were they thinking?

That curiosity about unwritten human history is classic anthropological curiosity. It is what used to draw people into the field.

But now we are seeing a shift. Students are increasingly being drawn in not to study bones or history or evolution, but to enforce restrictions—to make sure remains are not seen unless there is a written consent form from centuries ago.

At my own university—and this is true at many in California—we are now being told that we cannot even show photographs of the boxes that contain skeletal remains, because even the containers are considered sacred.

And this leads to more and more absurd outcomes. Take the Smithsonian’s Northwest Coast Hall, which includes displays labeled “Objects of Power.” There are now claims that menstruating or pregnant women should not be near certain items. None of this makes sense unless you accept the premise of a sacred body. If you do not share that belief, then these are simply objects—calcium and phosphate, fossilized bone—data, not sacred relics.

That is where the field seems to be going.

Jacobsen: Let us close with this: What are your final thoughts on the convergence of modern political sensitivities—particularly from the progressive left—with more traditional religious ideas of sacredness? How is that convergence impacting anthropology and ethnology today, at least in the United States?

Weiss: The Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act—NAGPRA—is one of the key laws that reintroduced the concept of the sacred body into anthropology. It was passed in 1990 and brought together a wide range of support.

Anthropologists at the time tended to view it as a human rights law. But in reality, it was also strongly supported by a coalition of conservative religious groups—including the Baptist Women of America, the Mennonites of America, and others—because they saw it as a religious rights law. They supported it because it treated the body as sacred.

Anthropologists denied this religious framing for a long time. But I said, “No—there is a reason why so many religious groups are backing NAGPRA. It is because it is redefining the body as sacred.”

Now, what we see in anthropology is a convergence: progressive liberals are embracing the idea of the sacred body too. In some cases, it is because Indigenous communities are being elevated within postmodern frameworks—treated as groups with historical trauma and victimhood status. There is an exaltation happening, which leads to the uncritical acceptance of any belief associated with those communities.

But it does not stop there. There are also other groups now being viewed through that lens—such as convicts whose bodies were used in anatomy classes after death. In my article, I discuss how some students today worry, “Wait a minute, most of these donated cadavers are male, and many are men of color. What does that say?”

So you have that “woke” concern on one side, and on the other side, you still have the religious right, which does not want evolution taught, does not want humans equated with animals, and also wants to keep the body sacred. Both groups are converging—strange bedfellows—on the idea that the body should not be studied or exposed. It is the classic case of politics making strange alliances.

When I first entered academia, I was relieved—thinking, Finally, a field where I do not have to deal with religiosity. But over time I realized the field was not against religion; it was against one religion—namely, Christianity.

I thought that was a real disappointment. My view has always been: silly is silly, regardless of the source. Religious claims that are superstitious or nonsensical should be treated that way—whether they come from Christian fundamentalists, Muslim creationists, or anyone else.

But what I began to notice was that I was treating all belief systems equally, and no one else around me was. Many anthropologists allowed their liberal identity politics to shape their views selectively. They would critique Christianity harshly, but then uncritically accept religious beliefs from other cultures in the name of cultural sensitivity or anti-colonialism.

And that is how we have ended up with progressive anthropologists and conservative religious groups agreeing on one key thing: humans are fundamentally different from animals, and the human body must be treated with sacred reverence.

Jacobsen: Thank you for the opportunity and your time, Dr. Weiss.

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