In Miami, a modern clash over a 2000-year-old archaeological site | Science

MIAMI—For nearly 2 years, bustling teams of archaeologists—totaling more than 120 researchers on some days—have excavated a sprawling waterfront lot here in one of this seaside city’s toniest neighborhoods. The diggers have uncovered ancient human remains and some 1 million artifacts that are providing rare insight into a major Native American settlement, known as Tequesta, which flourished at the mouth of the Miami River some 2000 years ago.

“It’s a truly extraordinary site,” says archaeologist Traci Ardren of the University of Miami (UM), who is not part of the dig. Notable discoveries, she says, include ancient wooden tools and plant materials that rarely survive in Florida’s subtropical climate, as well as copper and stone artifacts that indicate Tequesta conducted a vibrant trade with distant tribes. Researchers know relatively little about Miami’s prehistoric founders, says Ardren, who expects the finds to “add a great deal to our understanding.”

But the dig—which city rules required a developer to conduct before building three luxury high-rises—has also fueled a fierce conflict over how Miami, which boosters tout as a “new city,” should recognize and preserve its ancient past. A loose alliance of archaeologists, Indigenous people, and preservation advocates want the city to require the developer to transfer the vast artifact trove to a university or museum, and help pay for efforts to study the collection and share findings with the public. “We can’t just let this important collection languish in some warehouse,” says UM archaeologist William Pestle, one of the leaders of the campaign.

For its part, the Related Group, the site’s developer, says it has already spent about $20 million on the dig and is willing to spend millions more—but only if the city doesn’t derail its plan to build some 1400 residential units.

Last week, the issue came to a head at a contentious 5-hour hearing before Miami’s historic preservation board, which was considering proposals to place historic designations on the site that could hamper construction. An overflow crowd clapped and jeered as some 50 speakers supported or opposed designation. Members of Native American tribes expressed concerns that the developer had not adequately consulted with Indigenous people about its plans, as well as about Florida’s secretive process for deciding what to do with ancient human remains uncovered by archaeologists, such as those found on the site. “There’s too little transparency around how our ancestors are being treated,” says Betty Osceola, a member of the Panther Clan of the Miccosukee Tribe.

In the end, both the preservationists and the developer emerged from the 4 April hearing claiming partial victory. But all sides agree the story is far from over.

“What happens next will be the real test of whether Miami is ready to stop ignoring its past,” Pestle says.

The flatlands surrounding the Miami River’s junction with Biscayne Bay have long been prime real estate. Native Americans began settling in the area at least 4000 years ago, researchers say, attracted by abundant fresh water and food. “It’s a classic location for an early Florida occupation,” says archaeologist Robert Carr, who has been studying the region for more than 40 years and is head of the Archaeological and Historical Conservancy, a Florida nonprofit that is conducting the current dig. Archaeologists believe Tequesta, which straddled both banks of the Miami River, became the capital of a chiefdom that stretched across southeast Florida from roughly 500 B.C.E. to the 1500s C.E.

Today, Tequesta’s remains sit beneath some of Miami’s most valuable land, and over the past 25 years a string of building projects have sparked controversy. In 1998, archaeologists conducting a predevelopment dig for a luxury high-rise just a few blocks from the current site discovered a large circle of post holes in the limestone bedrock—likely the remains of a ceremonial structure built about 2000 years ago. After an outcry, state and local officials spent $27 million to buy and protect what is now known as the Miami Circle.

Since then, preconstruction digs at other nearby sites have uncovered hundreds of human burials and archaeological features related to Tequesta, but preservation advocates complain that the city did relatively little to protect or publicize these finds. “Miami has a troubling history of allowing developers to pave over its indigenous history,” says archaeologist Sara Ayers-Rigsby of the Florida Public Archaeology Network.

The current controversy involves a 1.5-hectare parcel divided into three lots; two have been cleared for construction and one still hosts an older office building. In early 2021, when Carr began examining the cleared lots, he fully expected to find signs of Tequesta. But the discoveries proved “more extensive than anything we’ve ever seen,” he said at the hearing.

Below the water table, where low oxygen levels slowed decay, diggers found strips of cord woven from fragile plant material and three wooden artifacts, including a 20-centimeter-long pestle or club and a bowl-shaped object used for starting fires. Researchers also uncovered celts, or ax heads, made from shell and stone, including some made from basalt that likely came from the distant Appalachians. And they recovered decorative beads made from copper and galena that likely originated in central North America. Such exotic items might have been used for ceremonies or tribute, and suggest Tequesta was a trade hub with “a very complicated, stratified society,” Carr said.

The site also has yielded nearly 1 ton of animal bone, including the remains of extinct Caribbean monk seals and whales. They suggest the Tequestans “had some pretty sophisticated fishing technologies,” Ardren says, perhaps even hunting large marine mammals from their dugout canoes.

Several hundred post holes suggest the site was a major residential area, with people living on platforms suspended above the damp ground. Dating studies indicate a peak of activity between 100 C.E. and 400 C.E., around the time the nearby Miami Circle was constructed. That period “might have been the golden age of Tequesta,” which likely had thousands of residents, Carr said.

At last week’s hearing, some speakers called on the city to simply preserve the site. But legal experts say that is unlikely, especially given that construction has already begun on one lot. Others, including archaeologists, asked the board to designate the remaining two lots as historic. They argued that would give the city greater legal leverage to require the developer to care for artifacts, develop interpretive programs, and possibly even modify construction plans.

The Related Group and its allies opposed designation, asserting it could cause “immense” financial harm to the firm—and hinting it would fight the move in court. But after hours of discussion, the developer didn’t object to the board’s 8-0 vote to consider designation for the undeveloped lot. The board, in turn, dropped a proposal to consider designating the cleared lots, voting instead to give the developer time to work with archaeologists, universities, and others to devise an enforceable “action plan” for preservation and interpretation.

Board members also urged the developer to do more to consult with Native American tribes. The Related Group says it complied with Florida rules that empower a panel of Indigenous representatives to approve plans for ancient human remains found at digs; in this case, they will be reburied on the site. But those consultations were too limited and opaque, Osceola and others say.

The outcomes didn’t please everyone. But Pestle says the packed hearing “at least showed that people do care about preserving Miami’s history—and served notice that we’ll be watching what happens next.”

MIAMI—For nearly 2 years, bustling teams of archaeologists—totaling more than 120 researchers on some days—have excavated a sprawling waterfront lot here in one of this seaside city’s toniest neighborhoods. The diggers have uncovered ancient human remains and some 1 million artifacts that are providing rare insight into a major Native American settlement, known as Tequesta, which flourished at the mouth of the Miami River some 2000 years ago.

“It’s a truly extraordinary site,” says archaeologist Traci Ardren of the University of Miami (UM), who is not part of the dig. Notable discoveries, she says, include ancient wooden tools and plant materials that rarely survive in Florida’s subtropical climate, as well as copper and stone artifacts that indicate Tequesta conducted a vibrant trade with distant tribes. Researchers know relatively little about Miami’s prehistoric founders, says Ardren, who expects the finds to “add a great deal to our understanding.”

But the dig—which city rules required a developer to conduct before building three luxury high-rises—has also fueled a fierce conflict over how Miami, which boosters tout as a “new city,” should recognize and preserve its ancient past. A loose alliance of archaeologists, Indigenous people, and preservation advocates want the city to require the developer to transfer the vast artifact trove to a university or museum, and help pay for efforts to study the collection and share findings with the public. “We can’t just let this important collection languish in some warehouse,” says UM archaeologist William Pestle, one of the leaders of the campaign.

For its part, the Related Group, the site’s developer, says it has already spent about $20 million on the dig and is willing to spend millions more—but only if the city doesn’t derail its plan to build some 1400 residential units.

Last week, the issue came to a head at a contentious 5-hour hearing before Miami’s historic preservation board, which was considering proposals to place historic designations on the site that could hamper construction. An overflow crowd clapped and jeered as some 50 speakers supported or opposed designation. Members of Native American tribes expressed concerns that the developer had not adequately consulted with Indigenous people about its plans, as well as about Florida’s secretive process for deciding what to do with ancient human remains uncovered by archaeologists, such as those found on the site. “There’s too little transparency around how our ancestors are being treated,” says Betty Osceola, a member of the Panther Clan of the Miccosukee Tribe.

In the end, both the preservationists and the developer emerged from the 4 April hearing claiming partial victory. But all sides agree the story is far from over.

“What happens next will be the real test of whether Miami is ready to stop ignoring its past,” Pestle says.

The flatlands surrounding the Miami River’s junction with Biscayne Bay have long been prime real estate. Native Americans began settling in the area at least 4000 years ago, researchers say, attracted by abundant fresh water and food. “It’s a classic location for an early Florida occupation,” says archaeologist Robert Carr, who has been studying the region for more than 40 years and is head of the Archaeological and Historical Conservancy, a Florida nonprofit that is conducting the current dig. Archaeologists believe Tequesta, which straddled both banks of the Miami River, became the capital of a chiefdom that stretched across southeast Florida from roughly 500 B.C.E. to the 1500s C.E.

Today, Tequesta’s remains sit beneath some of Miami’s most valuable land, and over the past 25 years a string of building projects have sparked controversy. In 1998, archaeologists conducting a predevelopment dig for a luxury high-rise just a few blocks from the current site discovered a large circle of post holes in the limestone bedrock—likely the remains of a ceremonial structure built about 2000 years ago. After an outcry, state and local officials spent $27 million to buy and protect what is now known as the Miami Circle.

Since then, preconstruction digs at other nearby sites have uncovered hundreds of human burials and archaeological features related to Tequesta, but preservation advocates complain that the city did relatively little to protect or publicize these finds. “Miami has a troubling history of allowing developers to pave over its indigenous history,” says archaeologist Sara Ayers-Rigsby of the Florida Public Archaeology Network.

The current controversy involves a 1.5-hectare parcel divided into three lots; two have been cleared for construction and one still hosts an older office building. In early 2021, when Carr began examining the cleared lots, he fully expected to find signs of Tequesta. But the discoveries proved “more extensive than anything we’ve ever seen,” he said at the hearing.

Below the water table, where low oxygen levels slowed decay, diggers found strips of cord woven from fragile plant material and three wooden artifacts, including a 20-centimeter-long pestle or club and a bowl-shaped object used for starting fires. Researchers also uncovered celts, or ax heads, made from shell and stone, including some made from basalt that likely came from the distant Appalachians. And they recovered decorative beads made from copper and galena that likely originated in central North America. Such exotic items might have been used for ceremonies or tribute, and suggest Tequesta was a trade hub with “a very complicated, stratified society,” Carr said.

The site also has yielded nearly 1 ton of animal bone, including the remains of extinct Caribbean monk seals and whales. They suggest the Tequestans “had some pretty sophisticated fishing technologies,” Ardren says, perhaps even hunting large marine mammals from their dugout canoes.

Several hundred post holes suggest the site was a major residential area, with people living on platforms suspended above the damp ground. Dating studies indicate a peak of activity between 100 C.E. and 400 C.E., around the time the nearby Miami Circle was constructed. That period “might have been the golden age of Tequesta,” which likely had thousands of residents, Carr said.

At last week’s hearing, some speakers called on the city to simply preserve the site. But legal experts say that is unlikely, especially given that construction has already begun on one lot. Others, including archaeologists, asked the board to designate the remaining two lots as historic. They argued that would give the city greater legal leverage to require the developer to care for artifacts, develop interpretive programs, and possibly even modify construction plans.

The Related Group and its allies opposed designation, asserting it could cause “immense” financial harm to the firm—and hinting it would fight the move in court. But after hours of discussion, the developer didn’t object to the board’s 8-0 vote to consider designation for the undeveloped lot. The board, in turn, dropped a proposal to consider designating the cleared lots, voting instead to give the developer time to work with archaeologists, universities, and others to devise an enforceable “action plan” for preservation and interpretation.

Board members also urged the developer to do more to consult with Native American tribes. The Related Group says it complied with Florida rules that empower a panel of Indigenous representatives to approve plans for ancient human remains found at digs; in this case, they will be reburied on the site. But those consultations were too limited and opaque, Osceola and others say.

The outcomes didn’t please everyone. But Pestle says the packed hearing “at least showed that people do care about preserving Miami’s history—and served notice that we’ll be watching what happens next.”