Despite considerable developments in the archaeological application of lidar for detecting roads, less attention has been given to studying road morphology using lidar. As a result, archaeologists are well equipped to locate but not thoroughly study roads via lidar data. Here, a method that visualizes and statistically compares road profiles using elevation values extracted from lidar-derived digital elevation models is presented and illustrated through a case study on Chaco roads, located in the US Southwest. This method is used to establish the common form of ground-truthed Chaco roads and to measure how frequently this form is across non-ground-truthed roads. This method is an addition to the growing suite of tools for documenting and comparing roads using remotely sensed data, and it can be particularly useful in threatened landscapes where ground truthing is becoming less possible.

A fundamental task of archaeology is to address challenging scientific questions related to the complexity of human societies. If we are to systematically understand the processes that affect human societies on multiple spatial and temporal scales, research leveraging existing archaeological data is essential. However, only a fraction of the data from archaeological projects are publicly findable or accessible, let alone interoperable or reusable. This is the case despite statements of disciplinary ethics, availability of capable technologies for data stewardship, publications providing guidance, and legal mandates. This article introduces the FAIR principles for data stewardship in North American archaeology, which state that data should be Findable, Accessible, Interoperable, and Reusable. We call for efforts to promote widespread adoption of the FAIR and CARE (Collective benefit, Authority to control, Responsibility, and Ethics) principles among professional organizations, publishers, data repositories, and researchers. We also call for adoption and implementation of requirements to adhere to these principles by governmental agencies, funding bodies, and other regulators of archaeological research. Ultimately, adoption of the FAIR principles in an ethical framework contributes to our understanding of our human experience and can lead to greater integration and reuse of research results, fostering increased partnerships between academia and industry.

As the venues for professional training and education, universities have always shaped the future of the archaeological discipline—for better but also, in important ways, for worse. Historically, university structures promoted practitioner homogeneity and social inequity and, at the largest research-intensive universities, even managed to turn “service” into a dirty word. However, using the same structures that perpetuated damaging practices in the past, universities can just as readily transform archaeology into the inclusive, community-engaged discipline it should always have been—while serving communities in ways that matter to them. This article explains and illustrates how and why we have tried to do this through the founding and operation of the Oklahoma Public Archaeology Network (OKPAN) at the University of Oklahoma. OKPAN seeks to improve relationships among diverse Oklahoma communities by framing archaeology as a tool that that can serve communities’ interests while creating pathways within universities for members of historically excluded groups to join and help further transform the discipline.

Participating in an archaeological field school is one of the only educational experiences that nearly all professional archaeologists have during their training. As a result, field schools are uniquely suited to provide experiential education in emerging skills that all archaeologists will need, such as information and data literacies at all stages of the contemporary research and publishing cycle. The “embedded” librarian program in the University of New Brunswick's Downeast Maine Coastal Archaeology Field School is an effective means to deploy that focused expertise to help students better understand the relationship between fieldwork, data, and dissemination. At the same time, being in the field provides librarians with the knowledge to respond more effectively to the complex data management and research needs of archaeologists. We encourage large research projects to consider librarians as specialist members of the research team.

Writing for publication will be central to students’ future careers, so learning this skill should be integral to their graduate training. In a recent graduate seminar, we set up an assignment for which students would write a digital review (DR) and receive periodic feedback on their work through an innovative mock peer-review roundtable workshop. Each student wrote a DR intended for actual publication in the journal Advances in Archaeological Practice. Students worked closely with the instructor and the journal editor on their individual topics, outlines, and abstracts. They also peer-reviewed each other's drafts and discussed their feedback as part of the roundtable workshop, which simulated real reviewers. Finally, each student wrote cover letters and prepared images for submission to the journal. This exercise demystified the peer-review process for students who had little prior knowledge about publication, prepared students for responding to reviewer comments from varying viewpoints, and helped students understand the additional steps involved in publication. Although it was challenging to scale this exercise to a large class, we hope that others will also try and share results from these types of authentic real-world training experiments to advance graduate pedagogy in our discipline and beyond.

The Bolivar Archaeological Project exemplifies the possibilities of archaeology as service, incorporating descendant communities and local stakeholders into the fabric of the research design and planning for a state infrastructure project. This collaborative, multidisciplinary project attends to marginalized histories to offer a model for how publicly funded cultural resources management archaeology can serve multiple goals. The Bolivar Archaeological Project was conceived as a public archaeology project, with dual goals of being community driven and yielding scholarly contributions. In the shifting rural–urban landscape of Denton County, a Texas Department of Transportation road improvement project has supported archaeological investigations of two nineteenth-century sites—a blacksmith shop and hotel—associated with the historic Chisholm Trail. The blacksmith shop belonged to Tom Cook, an African American freedman, whose descendants reside nearby and became active participants in the investigations, including as collaborative authors in this article. The project illustrates the importance of representation and praxis to realize inclusive community engagement, with this article outlining the development of the project and ongoing research. Informed by Black feminist archaeologies, the project works at the intersections of local communities and state infrastructure while navigating landscapes of fraught histories and presents to forge an archaeology for the twenty-first century.

Reuse and sharing of archaeological data are tied to ethics in data practice, research design, and the rights of Indigenous peoples in decision-making about their heritage. In this article, the authors discuss how the CARE (Collective benefit, Authority to control, Responsibility, and Ethics) principles and Indigenous data governance create intellectual space for archaeological research. We show how archaeologists can use this framework to highlight hidden costs and labor associated with the “data ecosystem,” which are often borne by Indigenous nations and communities. The CARE framework gives voice to Indigenous peoples’ concerns around data sharing, curation, and reuse; ways we can redress these issues; and strategies that facilitate Indigenous nations and communities in deriving collective benefit from research. In archaeology, these efforts include greater work on heritage legislation and policy, repositioning Indigenous peoples as active stewards of their data, and building capacity in digital methods and ethical data practice. Each Indigenous nation and community has its own interests, values, and protocols, and we suggest paths to bring data practice into alignment with the CARE framework.

In the last decade, archaeologists have been using human-occupied interactive digital built environments to investigate human agency, settlement, and behavior. To document this evidence, we provide here one method of conducting drone-based photogrammetry and GIS mapping from within these digital spaces based on well-established methods conducted in physical landscapes. Mapping is an integral part of archaeology in the natural world, but it has largely eluded researchers in these new, populated digital landscapes. We hope that our proposed method helps to resolve this issue. We argue that employing archaeological methods in digital environments provides a successful methodological framework to investigate human agency in digital spaces for anthropological purposes and has the potential for extrapolating data from human-digital landscape interactions and applying them to their natural analogues.

The Hacienda El Progreso functioned as an important Ecuadorian agro-industrial enterprise in the late nineteenth century. Operating out of San Cristóbal Island in the Galápagos archipelago, the plantation exported refined sugar, coffee, cattle products, and other goods to national and international markets. From its beginnings in the 1860s, the plantation established the first permanent human settlement on the island, and long after its demise in the 1930s, it continues to exert an important influence in local culture. Contemporary communities of San Cristóbal are shaping their identities based on the historical importance of the hacienda. The summer of 2018 was our last field season. From its start, the Historical Ecology of the Galápagos Islands project involved close participation with communal authorities and town leaders to investigate the island's human past. In this article, we discuss legacy and services of our project in the contemporary setting of Galápagos. We examine the relevance and contributions of our project to education, heritage policies, and the local economy. We discuss lessons learned from interactions and collaborations between archaeologists and the local community, and we evaluate the consequences of implementing an archaeological project on a remote environmental sanctuary where interest in human history can collide with the agendas of nature conservation and a lucrative ecotourism industry.

The reconstruction and representation of ancient artifacts and scenes through illustration is a cornerstone in the communication of archaeological findings. Sketches of the past have transformed over time, incorporating broader technological changes, from photography to the digital tools that have become prevalent through the twenty-first century. Most recently, developments in generative artificial intelligence (AI) promise to reshape the way we represent the past to professional and public audiences. This article shows how to use an accessible and inexpensive artificial intelligence platform to generate complex archaeological illustrations. As a case study, we create multiple scenes representing competing hypotheses about Neanderthal behavior. Using the images to visually communicate alternative hypotheses, we demonstrate how archaeological illustration using artificial intelligence promises to democratize the production of visual representations of the past.

Today, there is a growing movement to use accumulated archaeological information to contribute to discussions of general issues facing human societies, including our own. In this regard, the archaeological record is most unique and helpful when viewed at broad comparative scales. Most relevant data for these sorts of analyses are collected through the cultural resource management (CRM) process. Still, by and large, interpretation remains limited to individual projects, and data integration across projects is nearly nonexistent. What would it take for CRM to achieve real data integration? In this article, we discuss these issues and suggest one potential solution. The most pressing need we identify is for data products that integrate the primary data emanating from CRM at broad spatial and temporal scales, which are suitable for research by archaeologists and other social scientists. We argue that the time is right for the discipline to invest in organizations that produce such products.

Geospatial research in archaeology often relies on datasets previously collected by other archaeologists or third-party groups, such as state or federal government entities. This article discusses our work with geospatial datasets for identifying, documenting, and evaluating prehistoric and historic water features in the western United States. As part of a project on water heritage and long-term views on water management, our research has involved aggregating spatial data from an array of open access and semi-open access sources. Here, we consider the challenges of working with such datasets, including outdated or disorganized information, and fragmentary data. Based on our experiences, we recommend best practices: (1) locating relevant data and creating a data organization method for working with spatial data, (2) addressing data integrity, (3) integrating datasets in systematic ways across research cohorts, and (4) improving data accessibility.

The award-winning video game Heaven's Vault stands out among a plethora of over-sensationalized representations of archaeology in video games and other media. The main character of the game is a woman of color named Aliya Elasra, whose primary weapon is her mind, which she uses to uncover a centuries-old mystery while unearthing the secrets of an ancient language. Set in a fantastical science fiction–inspired universe, the player engages in activities that gradually explain the game's world. With multiple endings and re-playability, Heaven's Vault offers an experience that is hard to pass up for fans of rich narrative, archaeology, and interactive puzzles.

In the province of Ontario, Canada, it is estimated that 80% of archaeological sites are Indigenous, yet there are very few Indigenous archaeologists involved in management and decision-making about Indigenous heritage. Systemic barriers, particularly around licensing and regulations for curatorial facilities, continue to prevent Indigenous people from directly managing and protecting their own cultural heritage. Recognizing that Indigenous communities in northeastern Ontario have had little exposure or opportunity to learn about archaeology, for several years we have been involved in educational programs to train Indigenous youth, staff in First Nations government offices, and others. We illustrate with two examples: the monitor training program undertaken in northeastern Ontario and a project to catalog artifacts from the legacy collection from the La Cloche site.

Spatial data, under the broader umbrella of digital data, is becoming increasingly integral to all stages of archaeological research design and dissemination. As archaeologists lean toward reuse and interoperability, with ethics on their minds, how to treat spatial data is of particular importance. This is because of the complexities involved at every life-cycle stage, from collection to publication, including black box issues that may be taken for granted, and because the size of spatial data can lead to archiving difficulties. Here, the “DIY” momentum of increasingly accessible spatial methods such as photogrammetry and handheld lidar is examined alongside forthcoming changes in publication policies that will impact the United States in particular, framed around a conversation about best practices and a call for more comprehensive training for the archaeological community. At its heart, this special issue seeks to realize the potential of increasingly digitized—and increasingly large amounts of—archaeological data. Within cultural resource management, this means anticipating utilization of data through widespread standardization, among many interrelated activities. A desire to enhance the utility of archaeological data has distinct resonances with the use of spatial data in archaeology, as do some wider challenges that the archaeological community faces moving forward.

Archaeologists have an obligation to conduct research that is relevant and responsive to the desires, interests, values, and concerns of Indigenous descendant communities. Current best practices for collaborative, community-based archaeologies emphasize long-term engagement and “full collaboration,” including the coproduction of knowledge and total stakeholder involvement. The present-day structures and demands of archaeology—especially in CRM and graduate student research contexts—can serve to make such fully collaborative work difficult, if not impossible. Oftentimes, these difficulties result in a complete abdication of collaboration or even consultation beyond the bare minimum required by law. However, professional archaeologists must strive in all instances to work alongside Native communities in respectful, responsive, and mutually beneficial ways even if this work may often fall short of the loftiest ideal. In this article, the authors present two case studies in collaboration from recent projects conducted in the North American midcontinent. These case studies clearly demonstrate how tribal fieldwork monitoring, working with tribal institutional review boards (IRBs), and other related forms of “imperfect” collaboration can still help move us toward a more ethical, inclusive, and respectful future archaeology.

We have all read the headlines heralding, often hyperbolically, the latest advances in text- and image-based Artificial Intelligence (AI). What is perhaps most unique about these developments is that they now make relatively good AI accessible to the average Internet user. These new services respond to human prompts, written in natural language, with generated output that appears to satisfy the prompt. Consequently, they are categorized under the term “generative AI,” whether they are generating text, images, or other media. They work by modeling human language statistically, to “learn” patterns from extremely large datasets of human-created content, with those that specifically focus on text therefore called Large Language Models (LLMs). As we have all tried products such as ChatGPT or Midjourney over the past year, we have undoubtedly begun to wonder how and when they might impact our archaeological work. Here, I review the state of this type of AI and the current challenges with using it meaningfully, and I consider its potential for archaeologists.

In November 1995, the Laboratory of Archaeology at the University of Georgia submitted inventories and summaries of Indigenous ancestors and funerary objects in its holdings to comply with the passage of the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act (NAGPRA). However, after this submission, the Laboratory attempts at consultation with federally recognized descendant Tribal communities who have cultural ties in the state of Georgia were not successful, and NAGPRA-related activities essentially stalled at the Laboratory. Beginning in 2019, the Laboratory's staff recognized a lack of formal NAGPRA policies or standards, which led to a complete reevaluation of the Laboratory's approach to NAGPRA. In essence, it was the Laboratory's renewed engagement with NAGPRA and descendan tribal communities that became the catalyst for change in the Laboratory's philosophy as a curation repository. This shift in thinking set the Laboratory on a path toward building a descendant community–informed institutional integrity (DCIII) level of engagement with consultation and collaborative efforts in all aspects of collections management and archaeological research. In this article, we outline steps that the Laboratory has taken toward implementing meaningful policies and practices created with descendant Tribal communities that both fulfill and extend bounds of NAGPRA compliance.