38 Ø Ø N NATIONALTHE NEW YORK TIMES SUNDAY, DECEMBER 10, 2006

came from, and indigenous peoplehave more of an interest in their an-cestry because it is so important tothem.”

But indigenous leaders point tocenturies of broken promises to ex-plain why they believe their fears arenot far-fetched. Scientific evidencethat American Indians or other ab-original groups came from else-where, they say, could underminetheir moral basis for sovereignty andchip away at their collective legalclaims.

“It’s a benefit to science, prob-ably,” said Dr. Mic LaRoque, theAlaska board’s other co-chairmanand a member of the Turtle Moun-tain Chippewa Tribe of North Dako-ta. “But I’m not convinced it’s a ben-efit to the tribes.”

The pursuit of indigenous DNA isdriven by a desire to shed light onquestions for which the archeologicalevidence is scant. How did descend-ants of the hunter-gatherers whofirst left humanity’s birthplace ineast Africa some 65,000 years agocome to inhabit every corner of theEarth? What routes did they take?Who got where, and when?

As early humans split off in differ-ent directions, distinct mutations ac-cumulated in the DNA of each pop-ulation. Like bread crumbs, these ge-netic markers, passed on intact formillennia, can reveal the trail of theoriginal pioneers. All non-Africansshare a mutation that arose in theancestors of the first people to leavethe continent, for instance. But the

descendants of those who headednorth and lingered in the Middle Eastcarry a different marker from thosewho went southeast toward Asia.

Most of the world’s six billion peo-ple, however, are too far removedfrom wherever their ancestors origi-nally put down roots to be useful topopulation geneticists. The Geno-graphic Project is focusing on DNAfrom people still living in their ances-tral homelands because they providethe crucial geographic link betweengenetic markers found today androutes traveled long ago.

In its first 18 months, the project’sscientists have had considerable suc-cess, persuading more than 18,000people in off-the-grid places like theeast African island of Pemba and theTibesti Mountains of Chad to donatetheir DNA. When the North Ameri-can team arrived in southwesternAlaska, they found volunteers offer-ing cheek swabs and family historiesfor all sorts of reasons.

The council members of the NativeVillage of Georgetown, for instance,thought the project could bolster asense of cultural pride.

Glenn Fredericks, president of theGeorgetown tribe, was eager forproof of an ancient unity between hispeople and American Indians else-where that might create greater po-litical power. “They practice thesame stuff, the lower-48 natives, aswe do,” Mr. Fredericks said. “Did weexchange people? It would be good toknow.”

Others said the test would finallyforce an acknowledgment that theywere here first, undermining thosewho see the government as having“given” them their land.

Still others were interested in themechanics of migration: “Were thelands all combined? Did they gethere by boat?” For many nonindige-nous Americans who feel disconnect-ed from their roots, the project hasalso struck a chord: nearly 150,000have scraped cells from their cheekand sent them to the society with$100 to learn what scientists know sofar about how and where their indi-vidual forebears lived beyond themists of prehistory.

By giving the broader public a wayto participate, though it is likely togenerate little scientific payoff, theproject has created an unusual set ofstakeholders with a personal interestin its success. More details, theproject explains in the ancestralsketches it gives individuals, willcome only with more indigenousDNA.

“I think you have to be sensitive tothese cultures,’’ said Jesse R. Swee-ney, 32, a bankruptcy lawyer in De-troit who hopes the millennia-size

gaps in his own ancestors’ story willeventually be filled in. “But hopefullythey will change their mind and con-tribute to the research.’’

Mr. Sweeney’s DNA places his ma-ternal ancestors in the Middle Eastabout 50,000 year ago. After that,they may have gone north. Or maybesouth: “This is where the geneticclues get murky and your DNA trailgoes cold,’’ read the conclusion to histest results on the project’s Web site.“By working together with indige-nous peoples around the globe, weare learning more about these an-cient migrations.”

The first large effort to collect in-digenous DNA since federal financ-ing was withdrawn from a similarproposal amid indigenous oppositionin the mid-1990s, the GenographicProject has drawn quiet applausefrom many geneticists for resurrect-ing scientific ambitions that havegrown more pressing. As indigenousgroups intermarry and disperse atan ever-accelerating pace, many sci-entists believe the chance to capturehuman history is fast disappearing.

“Everyone else had given up,” saidMark Stoneking, a professor at theMax Planck Institute for Evolution-ary Anthropology. “If they get even afraction of what they are trying for,it will be very useful.”

Unlike the earlier Human Genome

Diversity Project, condemned bysome groups as “biocolonialism” be-cause scientists may have profitedfrom genetic data that could havebeen used to develop drugs, theGenographic Project promises topatent nothing and to avoid collect-ing medical information. The projecthas designated half the proceedsfrom the sale of kits to the public forprograms designed to preserve tra-ditional cultures and language.

In May, project officials held astormy meeting in New York withthe indigenous rights group CulturalSurvival while protestors carriedsigns reading “National GeographicSucks Indigenous Blood.” Shortly af-ter, the United Nations PermanentForum on Indigenous Issues recom-mended suspending the project.

On the ground, every region has itschallenges. To make scientificprogress, the project’s geneticistsare finding they must first navigatean unfamiliar tangle of political, reli-gious and personal misgivings.

Pierre Zalloua, the project direc-tor in the Middle East, faces suspi-cion that he is an emissary of an op-posing camp trying to prove their lin-eages are not important. Himla Soo-dyall, the project’s South African di-rector, finds herself trying to explainto people who worship their ances-tors what more her research could

add. In Australia, some aboriginalgroups have refused to cooperate.

But among the 10 geneticists thesociety has given the task of col-lecting 10,000 samples each by thespring of 2010, Theodore G. Schurr,the project’s North American direc-tor, is in last place. Fewer than 100vials of DNA occupy a small plasticbox in his laboratory’s large freezerat the University of Pennsylvania,where he is an assistant professor of

anthropology. And at the request ofthe Alaska review board, he has sentback the 50 or so samples that he col-lected in Alaska to be stored in aspecimen bank under its care untilhe can satisfy their concerns.

American Indians, Dr. Schurrsays, hold the answer to one of themore notable gaps in the prehistoricmigration map. Although most scien-tists accept that the first Americanscame across the Bering Strait landbridge that connected Siberia and

Alaska some 20,000 years ago, thereis no proof of precisely where thosetravelers came from, and the routethey took south once they arrived.

Comparing the DNA of large num-bers of American Indians might re-veal whether their ancestors werefrom a single founding population,and when they reached the Ameri-cas. And knowing the routes and tim-ing of migrations within the Ameri-cas would provide a foundation forstudying how people came to be sodifferent so quickly.

But almost every federally recog-nized tribe in North America has de-clined or ignored Dr. Schurr’s invi-tation to take part. “What the scien-tists are trying to prove is that we’rethe same as the Pilgrims except wecame over several thousand yearsbefore,” said Maurice Foxx, chair-man of the Massachusetts Commis-sion on Indian Affairs and a memberof the Mashpee Wampanoag. “Whyshould we give them that openly?”

Some American Indians tracetheir suspicions to the experience ofthe Havasupai Tribe, whose mem-bers gave DNA for a diabetes studythat University of Arizona research-ers later used to link the tribe’s an-cestors to Asia. To tribe membersraised to believe the Grand Canyonis humanity’s birthplace, the sugges-tion that their own DNA says other-wise was deeply disturbing.

When Dr. Schurr was finally invit-ed to a handful of villages in Alaska,he eagerly accepted. But by the timehe reached South Naknek, a tiny na-tive village on the Alaska Peninsula,to report his analysis of the DNA hehad taken on an earlier mission, theAlaska review board had complainedto his university supervisors.

The consent form all volunteersmust sign, the Alaska board said,should contain greater detail aboutthe risks, including the fact that theDNA would be stored in a databaselinked to tribal information.

Dr. Schurr’s latest attempt at a re-vised form is to be reviewed thismonth by the board in Alaska and theby University of Pennsylvania boardsupervising the project.

In the meantime, his early resultshave surprised some of the Alaskanswho gave him their DNA. In SouthNaknek, Lorianne Rawson, 42, foundout her DNA contradicted what shehad always believed. She was not de-scended from the Aleuts, her test re-sults suggested, but from their one-time enemies, the Yup’ik Eskimos.

The link to the Yup’iks, Ms. Raw-son said, only made her more curi-ous. “We want them to do more re-search,” she added, offering Dr.Schurr more relatives to be tested.

But she will have to wait.

Tracing Human History With Genetics The Genographic Project seeks to clarify human history by testing genes from different groups for common ancestors. Here is how it works.

Some bits of genetic material are not subject to shuffling when parents’ DNA mixes. Examples are the Y chromosome and the DNA in mitochondria, tiny structures that provide energy to the cell.

Since only males have a Y chromo-some, muta-tions on this gene give information

about the history of the paternal lineage.

Specific mutations serve as markers that tie people to a common ancestor. As they build up, they tell the history of a particular group.

As an example, two men who might live in the United States — an American Indian and a descendent of Europeans — shared an ancestor in Asia about 35,000 years ago, markers on their Y chromosomes show.

Basic pattern of Y chromo-some, shared by all men.

Non-African men have the M168 marker, which arose in people who left Africa.

M9 arose in the Middle East or Central Asia.

Eurasians who crossed into the Americas share the M3 mutation.

All mitochon-drial DNA comes from the mother. Thus, muta-

tions in the mitochondrial DNA track changes through the maternal lineage.

10,00040,00050,000Years ago (approx):

M168M9 M3

American Indian

European

45,000years ago

35,000years ago

Y-chromosomeevidence

Mitochondrialevidence

James Bronzan/The New York TimesSource: National Geographic; The Genographic Project

Groups divergeabout 35,000years ago

NUCLEUSMITOCHONDRIAY CHROMOSOME

M168 M89 M9 M45M242 M3

M207 M173 M343

Scientists Trying to Trace Indigenous DNA Hit a Snag: The Tribes Don’t Trust Them

Adrian Coakley/National Geographic Society

Glenn Fredericks, a tribal leader in Georgetown village, Alaska, swabbing his cheek to give a DNA sample.

The New York Times

A review board stopped DNA re-search in South Naknek, Alaska.

CANADA

Anchorage

Naknek

Holy CrossGeorgetown

SouthNaknek

Juneau

ALASKA

Miles 200

ALASKA

CANADA

RUSSIA

Area of detail

Pacific Ocean

Arctic Ocean

S I B E R I A

Bering Strait

Continued From Page 1

Science may prove athreat to indigenousbeliefs about creation.

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