Context: Indigenous Landscapes and Challenges in the Atacama Desert

The Antofagasta Region has a history of human occupation dating back over 11,000 years (Castro et al. Reference Castro, Berenguer, Gallardo, Llagostera, Salazar, Falabella, Uribe, Sanhueza, Aldunate and Hidalgo2016; Núñez et al. Reference Núñez, Jackson, Dillehay, Santoro, César Méndez, Uribe, Sanhueza, Aldunate, Hidalgo, Falabella, Uribe, Sanhueza, Aldunate and Hidalgo2016). A defining feature of this region—and of Andean societies more broadly—is the strategic use of diverse ecological zones across altitudinal gradients, a pattern conceptualized by Murra (Reference Murra1972) as the “vertical archipelago.” This model describes how Andean communities structured access to complementary ecological floors to sustain exchange networks, mobility strategies, and long-term settlement systems (Murra Reference Murra, Masuda, Shimada and Morris1985). In the Atacama region, this principle has been extensively documented and adapted to local conditions, where communities managed multiple ecological tiers to maintain economic resilience and sociopolitical integration (Castro et al. Reference Castro, Aldunate and Varela2004, Reference Castro, Berenguer, Gallardo, Llagostera, Salazar, Falabella, Uribe, Sanhueza, Aldunate and Hidalgo2016; Núñez and Dillehay Reference Núñez and Dillehay1979).

The LickanantayFootnote ¹ communities are primarily located in the El Loa Province of Region II (Antofagasta), including the municipalities of Calama and San Pedro de Atacama. This desert landscape contains a variety of ecological niches crucial for Indigenous economies. The management of water, agriculture, and pastoralism represents enduring forms of productive technologies that materialize historical adaptation to the limited available resources, through a great mobility between the altitudinal floors in this sector of the Andes Mountains. These communities are generally divided between two key geographic zones: the Upper Loa River–Salado River basin and the Salar de Atacama basin.

Historically, this region has been multiethnic, shaped by interactions with populations from the Lípez altiplano in Bolivia and northwestern Argentina. Although population figures are difficult to determine due to migration, the most recent census recorded 30,369 people self-identifying as Atacameño (Instituto Nacional de Estadísticas 2018). These communities combine traditional livelihoods—agriculture, llama herding, artisanal production—with modern economies based on copper and lithium mining, tourism, and cultural heritage management.

Since the 1990s, tourism growth—particularly around San Pedro de Atacama—has accelerated transformations in landscape use and heritage management. Touristification has introduced new challenges, including uncontrolled visitor flows, damage to ritual and archaeological sites, and the commodification of cultural practices (de la Maza-Cabrera and Calfucura-Tapia Reference de la Maza-Cabrera and Calfucura-Tapia2021). Simultaneously, mining operations—particularly in the Salar de Atacama—have impacted water resources and traditional lands, often without sufficient consultation with Indigenous communities (Calderón-Seguel and Prieto Reference Calderón-Seguel and Prieto2023; Gundermann and Göbel Reference Gundermann and Göbel2018). The implementation of Indigenous and environmental protection laws has played a crucial role in defining territorial boundaries and protecting heritage. For example, Indigenous Law No. 19,253 (1993) legally recognizes Indigenous lands (particularly as stipulated in article N°3 of the transitional provisions), and Environmental Law No. 19,300 establishes guidelines for environmental protection and management. These frameworks have enabled the delineation of Indigenous territorial demands, which has allowed them to manage protected wilderness areas and, in some isolated cases, to regularize territories—either through institutions such as the Corporación Nacional de Desarrollo Indígena (CONADI; Datura Consultores 1998) or, in recent years, through processes initiated by the communities themselves in the Ministerio de Bienes Nacionales of the State of Chile, although with still meager results.

In response to these pressures, Lickanantay communities have developed new governance frameworks to protect their territories and cultural heritage. The creation of environmental management units within Indigenous organizations have provided tools for asserting Indigenous rights. The Consejo de Pueblos Atacameños (Council of Atacameño Peoples) and its Environmental Unit have played central roles in coordinating community responses to environmental threats, incorporating principles of data sovereignty and Indigenous environmental stewardship.

Over the last two decades, Indigenous communities and their institutions have employed diverse strategies to protect heritage at key sites such as Pucará de Quitor (Quitor walled-hilltop site), Aldea de Tulor (Tulor site), and Tambo de Catarpe (Catarpe Inca roadway station), as well as landscape tourism in pastoral areas such as the Salar de Atacama (Atacama Salt Flat), Miscanti and Miñiques lagoons, and the Salar de Tara (Tara Salt Flat). These efforts include site restoration, conservation, and infrastructure development, such as path and trail maintenance. More recently, there has been a shift toward inclusive, community-based territorial heritage management (Espíndola et al. Reference Espíndola, Varela, Sanzana, Loyola, Figueroa, Núñez and Prieto2019). This approach emphasizes not only physical preservation but also the cultural, social, and ecological value of heritage.

The adoption of environmental and heritage policies by Lickanantay communities has generated their growing interest in evaluating the condition of architectural heritage within Indigenous territories and ancestral lands. The reassertion of Atacameño identity in the Atacama Desert represents a significant shift in the management and protection of Indigenous heritage. Historically marginalized and caricatured as peasants or herders, since the 1980s, the Atacameños have reclaimed their identity as Indigenous people through a dynamic process of identity formation and resurgence. Several factors have been recognized in the literature as driving this process, including the Indigenous Law—which formally recognized the Atacameños as Indigenous people (Barros Reference Barros van2004; Gundermann Reference Gundermann2003)—and struggles over land and resources (Prieto Reference Prieto2016, Reference Prieto2022). As part of this resurgence, archaeological knowledge has also been mobilized as a key element (Ayala Reference Ayala Rocabado2008; Prieto Reference Prieto2024), further empowering communities to assert greater control over their cultural landscapes, particularly archaeological sites, as they seek to protect and manage their heritage on their own terms.

For Lickanantay communities, water holds profound spiritual and ethical significance. Rather than being treated as a commodified resource, water is understood as a living relational being embedded in collective practices, rituals, and agricultural cycles (Babidge Reference Babidge2016). This cosmological framework informs contemporary heritage and environmental governance, shaping how landscapes, architectural remains, and ritual spaces are interpreted and protected. In this context, architecture is not merely a material record of past settlement but part of a living territorial system in which built forms, hydrological features, and ritual practices remain interconnected. Understanding the archaeological site—and especially the architecture—requires situating its architecture within a broader relational landscape.

In this challenging context, the Comunidad Atacameña de Toconao (CAT; Figure 1) has developed an innovative, community-led approach to managing and preserving archaeological heritage present in their territorial demand. Toconao is an Atacameño community located approximately 38 km southeast of San Pedro de Atacama, near the edge of the Salar de Atacama. Situated at an altitude of roughly 2,500 m asl, the community has a population of more than 1,000 residents, primarily Atacameños—often referred to as Toconares.

Figure 1.

Regional context map showing the location of the Zapar archaeological site within northern Chile.

The local economy is based on agriculture, tourism, and crafts, supported by orchards irrigated through a canal system fed by meltwater from the Andes and aquifers that feed floodplains and peatlands. In recent decades, copper and lithium mining have become significant sources of employment. Toconao also functions as a retirement destination for former miners who return to reconnect with traditional Atacameño practices and heritage.

With a strong commitment to safeguarding its archaeological legacy, the community has developed a territorial heritage management system rooted in the spatial knowledge and cultural traditions of the Toconares (Espíndola et al. Reference Espíndola, Varela, Sanzana, Loyola, Figueroa, Núñez and Prieto2019). This system offers a culturally rooted alternative to conventional academic or private-sector heritage frameworks. Toconao oversees a heritage map including various forms of desert habitation, applying diverse strategies for conservation, monitoring, and dissemination. The community also has a long-standing tradition of environmental governance, particularly in the protection of aquifers and salt flats.

CAT’s efforts are coordinated through its leadership and institutional bodies, including the Land, Water and Environment Unit; the Legal Department; the Projects Unit; the Tourism Unit; and Indigenous irrigation associations. Together, they have developed various actions for protecting Toconao’s ancestral territory in the face of ongoing mining pressures and unregulated tourism. A crucial milestone in this effort was the 2019 collaboration with the Instituto de Investigaciones Arqueológicas y Museo (IIAM) of Universidad Católica del Norte, which launched a heritage management plan for the High Andean Salt Flats. This initiative, aligned with CAT’s strategic development plan, outlined a 12-point action framework that positioned the Zapar Ravine as a priority area (Espíndola et al. Reference Espíndola, Varela, Sanzana, Loyola, Figueroa, Núñez and Prieto2019).

In the context of the construction of Hotel Tockolen—the first community-owned hotel in Chile, fully managed by an Indigenous community—a development plan for specialized Indigenous tourism is currently being articulated around the 12 main strategic actions mentioned above. As part of this initiative, the territorial survey conducted by the community to assess the feasibility of future Toconares Indigenous tourism offerings has identified new routes that will be managed and administered directly by the community. Within this planning framework, the Projects Unit of CAT proposed focusing on the archaeological site of Zapar as a pilot initiative within the Toconares tourism development plan. The documentation and research produced by the team involved in this project constitute the baseline information for this initiative, highlighting the significance of this work. In the case of Zapar, conservation assessments indicate that the site cannot sustain visitor carrying capacity. Moreover, Toconares Indigenous protocol does not permit visitation to the site due to the presence of gentiles, ancestral spirit beings associated with the site in Atacameño cosmology..

The Zapar archaeological site (Figure 2a–b), located in the northern part of the ancestral territory of Toconao, emerges as a critical case study within this context. Zapar is a walled settlement from the Late Intermediate period (ca. AD 900–1400), associated with agricultural, ritual, and storage practices centered around water management (Castro et al. Reference Castro, Berenguer, Gallardo, Llagostera, Salazar, Falabella, Uribe, Sanhueza, Aldunate and Hidalgo2016). Positioned at the confluence of river systems feeding the Salar de Atacama, Zapar’s location reflects the deep integration of cultural and hydrological landscapes that characterize Atacameño territoriality.

Figure 2.

Zapar ravine location: (a) satellite imagery; (b) aerial image.

The first archaeological and architectural documentation of Zapar was conducted by Mostny and Montt (Reference Mostny and Montt1949), who described it as an “old town” composed of houses and storage structures inhabited by an agricultural population with fields located in the nearby ravine. Later studies, including Uribe et alia (Reference Uribe, Adán and Agüero2004), classified Zapar—alongside settlements such as Quitor, Catarpe, and Paine—as primarily domestic centers.

Uribe and colleagues (Reference Uribe, Adán and Agüero2004) date the occupation of Zapar to around AD 1300, based on pottery materials and architectural evidence. The site is distinguished by its chullpa-type structures—aboveground buildings used for storage, ritual, and funerary purposes—and the presence of Hedionda-style ceramics, typically associated with ritual contexts. These elements suggest the integration of Altiplano ritual practices into local daily life. Despite its predominantly domestic nature and the diversity of ceramic styles, Zapar exhibits a significant presence of locally produced Inca ceramics, indicating interaction with Inca cultural influence. Lithic tools and botanical remains further highlight the archaeological site’s emphasis on agriculture, farming, and ritual activities. The occupation of the site extended into historical times, attesting to its enduring importance in the region.

According to Adán (Reference Adán2017), Zapar spans 8,400 m² and contains 141 enclosures organized into 27 clusters. These include residential compounds, storage units, and chullpa-type structures arranged along east–west and north–south axes. In particular, nearly 60% of these structures are ritual/storage buildings (Figure 3), reinforcing Zapar’s role as a center for social gatherings, ancestor worship, and storage (Adán Reference Adán2017). Similar patterns of multifunctional architecture have been documented in the Salado River basin, where such buildings served ritual, storage, and depositional functions (Aldunate and Castro Reference Aldunate and Castro1981; Berenguer et al. Reference Berenguer, Aldunate, Castro and Bittman1984).

Figure 3.

Chullpa-type architecture.

However, like many heritage sites in the region (Haboucha and Jofré Reference Haboucha and Jofré2021), Zapar faces increasing risks from environmental degradation, unauthorized tourism, and broader economic transformations. The fragility of its architecture—constructed in porous volcanic materials—combined with pressures from external actors underlines the urgency of developing sustainable, community-centered heritage management strategies.

The community maintains continuous stewardship over the area, integrating subsistence activities—agriculture, livestock rearing, and pastoralism—with the protection of water resources that sustain the ravine. This guardianship has served to mitigate the impact of unregulated tourism through established local protocols and practices. In 2018, a formal request by the president of the Indigenous Association of Farmers and Irrigators of Zapar initiated a technical archaeological assessment. In response, CAT—through its Territory, Water, and Environment Unit in partnership with some IIAM-UCN researchers—began implementing heritage management plans in alignment with its broader strategic vision.

In this context, the Zapar project offers a unique opportunity to explore how RS technologies can be adapted to Indigenous governance models. The project integrated technological tools into community-led processes of heritage protection, memory activation, and the assertion of land rights, moving beyond purely academic or conservation-oriented applications of RS. The specific cultural, political, and environmental dynamics of Atacama therefore make it an ideal setting to advance discussions about ethical, participatory, and locally grounded archaeological practice.

Project Design: Integrating Remote Sensing and CARE Principles

The Zapar heritage management project was conceived through a community-led framework, responding to a formal request by the Asociación Indígena de Regantes y Agricultores de Zapar and coordinated with CAT. From its inception, the project sought to move beyond conventional archaeological practices by centering community priorities, respecting Indigenous data governance principles, and collaboratively designing all phases of the research process.

A core pillar of the project’s design was the application of the CARE Principles—Collective Benefit, Authority to Control, Responsibility, and Ethics (Gupta et al. Reference Gupta, Martindale, Supernant and Elvidge2023). Developed as a corrective to open-data frameworks that overlook Indigenous sovereignty, the CARE Principles emphasize collective rights, relational accountability, and community governance over cultural and spatial data. The principles informed operational decisions from the earliest stages of planning, guiding the project’s design and implementation.

This structure differed from conventional academic projects in which consultation occurs only after research questions have been defined. At Zapar, community assemblies preceded technical planning, and the project proceeded only after formal endorsement by community representatives. This sequence is significant because it establishes that the project’s legitimacy derived from Indigenous authority rather than external academic agendas. The term “community-commanded” therefore reflects a governance structure in which authority to control, review, and modify project outputs was institutionalized, not merely symbolic.

The project’s objectives were codefined through a series of assemblies and consultations, where community members articulated specific concerns regarding the degradation of the Zapar site, the risk of losing ancestral knowledge, and the need for tools that would support territorial governance. Based on these discussions, the research team and the community jointly agreed on a transdisciplinary approach that would integrate archaeological, architectural, and hydrological perspectives while simultaneously prioritizing the activation of Indigenous memory and sustainable management. The selection of aerial documentation—specifically UAV-based photogrammetry—was conducted collaboratively, considering both the community’s emphasis on noninvasive documentation and its interest in accessible digital tools. The methodological emphasis was placed on technologies that could create durable, transferable, and community-owned data products, ensuring that technical outputs would be useful beyond the academic sphere.

In the Atacama region, RS has proven instrumental in mapping and analyzing micro-urban systems and architectural compositions. Studies have shown that RS enhances our ability to interpret settlement patterns and differentiate architectural forms, contributing to a deeper understanding of the spatial organization of prehispanic social, ritual, and economic life (Ayán Vila and García Rodríguez Reference Ayán Vila and García Rodríguez2015; Fábrega Álvarez et al. Reference Fábrega Álvarez, Oubiña, Mañana Borrazás, Güimil Fariña, Pino, Borie, González Rodríguez and Betés2018; Parcero-Oubiña et al. Reference Parcero-Oubiña, Mañana-Borrazás, Güimil-Fariña, Fábrega-Álvarez, Pino and Borie2016, Reference Parcero-Oubiña, Fábrega-Álvarez, Salazar, Troncoso, Hayashida, Pino, Borie and Echenique2017).

These methodological decisions were shaped not only by community priorities but also by emerging frameworks in Indigenous Archaeology that call for deeper integration of Indigenous epistemologies into scientific practice. Wadsworth, Supernant, and Dersch (Reference Wadsworth, Supernant and Dersch2021) and Wadsworth, Supernant, and Kravchinsky (Reference Wadsworth, Supernant and Kravchinsky2021), for example, argue that RS methodologies must meaningfully incorporate Indigenous Knowledge (IK) at all stages of the research process—from project design to data interpretation—to promote equity, accountability, and cultural relevance. These shifts move beyond consultation models, encouraging active community leadership and long-term benefits.

TallBear (Reference TallBear2013) similarly critiques the positivist assumptions of neutrality in scientific research and calls for relational, contextual approaches grounded in the lived experiences and worldviews of Indigenous communities. These ideas align with the project’s emphasis on mutual respect, coproduced knowledge, and culturally informed heritage protocols.

The design of the Zapar project sought to embody these principles by treating RS not as a neutral instrument but as a tool that could be adapted and reworked within local contexts to serve Indigenous goals. This meant embedding ethical reflection, cultural sensitivity, and shared decision-making into the very structure of data collection and interpretation, ensuring that the technologies used were accountable to the people whose heritage they documented.

The project design included several key collaborative elements. First, community-guided survey priorities were central to the process. Community members identified areas within Zapar considered culturally sensitive, historically significant, or vulnerable to environmental degradation. These locally defined priorities directly shaped both the flight plans for UAV surveys and the walking routes for ground-based documentation, ensuring that the project responded to community-defined values.

Second, the integration of oral histories complemented the architectural and spatial recording. Oral narratives about Zapar’s past and present significance were systematically collected through interviews and informal conversations during fieldwork. These narratives were not treated as supplementary information but were instead incorporated directly into spatial and interpretative analyses, enriching the contextual understanding of the site.

Third, the codefinition of data use and access was established early in the project through formal agreements. These outlined who would own the digital outputs, how they would be stored, and what forms of public access would be appropriate. Community members expressed a strong preference for open access within the community itself, accompanied by careful management of external dissemination to prevent misuse or decontextualization.

Finally, the project emphasized training and knowledge sharing. Workshops were organized to introduce community members to UAV operations, basic photogrammetric processing, and digital visualization platforms. This exchange of knowledge aimed to strengthen long-term community capacity, enabling local participants to manage and update the digital archive independently.

Throughout the project, methodological flexibility was essential. As community feedback evolved—particularly regarding the sensitivity of certain ritual spaces—adjustments were made to survey priorities and public-facing outputs. For example, not all recorded structures were included in the online 3D models (Sketchfab 2024); selective visibility was negotiated based on the cultural significance and desired privacy of certain features.

Moreover, the project explicitly recognized the community’s authority over the final interpretation of the site’s cultural narratives. Interpretative texts, labels in the virtual models, and metadata for digital files were all reviewed and validated by community representatives before publication. This practice departed from conventional archaeological workflows—where interpretation is typically researcher driven—and instead institutionalized community review as a necessary step in knowledge production.

In sum, the project’s design reflects a deliberate shift from extractive archaeological models toward a collaborative, ethics-centered approach. By embedding CARE Principles into every phase of the project, and by positioning RS not as a neutral scientific tool but as a culturally responsive method, the Zapar project offers a practical template for rethinking archaeological practice in Indigenous contexts (Table 1).

Table 1.

Operationalization of the CARE Principles in the Zapar Project.

Table 1 Long description

The table links four CARE Principles to specific practices in the Zapar Project and the resulting outcomes. For Collective Benefit, UAV flights and digital models supported heritage education, with printed orthomosaics and three-dimensional renderings delivered to local schools and the Toconao museum, strengthening local knowledge transmission. For Authority to Control, a written CAT–IIAM agreement defined data ownership, the community could veto image release, and local representatives approved metadata before publication, supporting data sovereignty. For Responsibility, sensitive areas were excluded from public models, interviews and media used informed consent, and both institutions conducted ethical review, promoting respectful handling of knowledge and imagery. For Ethics, ongoing consultation through assemblies during 2022 to 2023 and transparent discussion of risks such as mining and tourism helped build mutual trust and accountability. The entries are qualitative examples rather than measured performance indicators, so outcomes reflect reported intentions and practices rather than quantified impact.

Development of the Project: Community-Driven Archaeology at Zapar

The Zapar heritage management project unfolded through a series of stages carefully coordinated with the Indigenous community of Toconao. From the outset, the process was structured around participatory assemblies where community members, researchers, and technical specialists collaboratively defined the project’s priorities, methods, and expected outcomes.

Initial Assemblies and Codefinition of Objectives

In early 2021, prior to any fieldwork, the first assemblies were organized to discuss the proposed project framework. Approximately 60 community members participated in these gatherings, including representatives from the Asociación Indígena de Regantes y Agricultores de Zapar, elders, youth, and members of the CAT’s Environmental and Territorial Units. Due to COVID-19 restrictions, hybrid models combining in-person and virtual participation were employed to ensure accessibility.

During these meetings, community members articulated several key concerns: (1) the visible deterioration of the Zapar site structures, (2) the increasing presence of unauthorized tourists and associated damage, (3) the erosion of intergenerational memory regarding the site’s use and significance, and (4) the need for accessible, locally controlled digital tools to document and protect heritage. Based on this input, the following shared set of project goals was established:

1. 1. Noninvasive documentation of Zapar’s architectural and landscape features

2. 2. Recovery and integration of oral histories related to the site

3. 3. Creation of a digital archive managed by and for the community

4. 4. Development of educational materials to promote intergenerational knowledge transmission

Community-Guided Fieldwork

Following the codefinition of objectives, the fieldwork phase commenced under the community’s guidance. Field activities were structured around two complementary strategies: aerial RS using UAVs and ground-based walking surveys.

UAV surveys prioritized high-resolution, noninvasive documentation of the site. Based on community input, flight paths were adjusted to avoid sensitive ritual areas, and sectors vulnerable to environmental degradation were prioritized for detailed imaging. Flights were conducted using a DJI Phantom 4 RTK drone with centimetric Global Navigation Satellite System (GNSS) positioning. Thousands of high-resolution images were collected and processed into orthophotos, digital elevation models (DEMs), and 3D surface reconstructions (Figures 4a–b and 5) using Structure-from-Motion (SfM) techniques (López et al. Reference López, Jiménez, Sánchez Romero, Alarcón García, Fernández Martín, Lozano Medina and Antonio Esquivel Guerrero2016; Willis et al. Reference Willis, Koenig, Black and Castañeda2016) in Agisoft Metashape Professional (Agisoft Reference Agisoft2024). Spatial accuracy was ensured through integrated RTK positioning and ground control points (GCPs). Flight plans and preliminary outputs were shared with community representatives during fieldwork to maintain transparency and allow for immediate feedback and collaborative adjustments.

Figure 4.

Photogrammetric process in Agisoft Metashape: (a) 3D model with drone transects overlaid; (b) 3D textured model of the Zapar archaeological site.

Figure 4 Long description

Image A shows a 3D model of an archaeological site with overlaid drone transects. The model includes a grid-like pattern in blue and red, indicating different sections. Black lines extend vertically from the grid, suggesting transect paths. The underlying terrain features rocky surfaces and vegetation. Image B displays a 3D textured model of the same site, highlighting detailed surface features such as rocks and vegetation. The terrain appears uneven, with visible archaeological markings and structures on the surface.

Figure 5.

3D model in Agisoft Metashape prior to export.

The processing outputs included dense point clouds, digital surface models, tile models, DEMs, and orthomosaics (Figure 6a). These datasets provided the spatial basis for subsequent analytical work. From these outputs, a detailed architectural plan was produced, in which each structure was individually delineated, assigned a unique identifier, and systematically recorded within a structured archaeological database (Figure 6b). Buildings were digitally coded and classified according to architectural type and preliminary ground morphology. Following computational processing and field verification, approximately 100 architectural features distributed across 15 ha were documented and exported for further spatial and interpretive analyses.

Figure 6.

Planimetric products: (a) RGB orthomosaic; (b) digitalization of architectures.

Figure 6 Long description

A) An orthomosaic view of a mapped site area with many stone-built outlines visible on the ground. The structures form a dense cluster near the center, with smaller, separated outlines around the outer area. A north arrow is shown near the upper left. A scale bar at the lower right is labeled 0, 5 and 10 meters. B) A site-plan style map of the same area. The mapped area is shown as an irregular boundary enclosing the site. Inside the boundary, many outlined polygons represent individual architectural features, each labeled with an identifier code printed inside the polygon. The identifiers are short alphanumeric labels; several are clearly readable as “B-01”, “B-02”, “B-03”, “B-04”, “B-05”, “B-06”, “B-07”, “B-08”, “B-09”, “B-10”, “B-11”, “B-12”, “B-13”, “B-14”, “B-15”, “B-16”, “B-17”, “B-18”, “B-19”, “B-20”, “B-21”, “B-22”, “B-23”, “B-24”, “B-25”, “B-26”, “B-27”, “B-28”, “B-29”, “B-30”, “B-31”, “B-32”, “B-33”, “B-34”, “B-35”, “B-36”, “B-37”, “B-38”, “B-39”, “B-40”, “B-41”, “B-42”, “B-43”, “B-44”, “B-45”, “B-46”, “B-47”, “B-48”, “B-49”, “B-50”, “B-51”, “B-52”, “B-53”, “B-54”, “B-55”, “B-56”, “B-57”, “B-58”, “B-59”, “B-60”, “B-61”, “B-62”, “B-63”, “B-64”, “B-65”, “B-66”, “B-67”, “B-68”, “B-69”, “B-70”, “B-71”, “B-72”, “B-73”, “B-74”, “B-75”, “B-76”, “B-77”, “B-78”, “B-79”, “B-80”, “B-81”, “B-82”, “B-83”, “B-84”, “B-85”, “B-86”, “B-87”, “B-88”, “B-89”, “B-90”, “B-91”, “B-92”, “B-93”, “B-94”, “B-95”, “B-96”, “B-97”, “B-98”, “B-99” and “B-100”. The polygons are concentrated in the central part of the boundary, with several larger polygons and many smaller ones around them. A set of contour-style lines covers the background across and beyond the boundary, indicating surface relief. A north arrow is shown near the upper left. A scale bar at the lower right is labeled 0, 5 and 10 meters. No legend is visible.

These included DEMs, contour lines (calculated every 50 cm), and high-resolution RGB orthomosaics, all orthorectified for spatial accuracy (Figure 7). In addition to vertical imaging, oblique imagery was captured to facilitate the creation of immersive virtual tours. Special emphasis was placed on capturing circulation pathways, plazas, ritual structures, and other culturally significant features highlighted during the initial assemblies.

Figure 7.

Architectural features in high resolution: (a) habitational compound; (b) chullpa-type structures; (c) orthogonal buildings.

Parallel to the UAV survey, a walking survey was conducted across Zapar’s architectural clusters. Standardized recording forms were codesigned with community members to document key features such as wall conditions, construction materials, evidence of flooding or collapse, and proximity to ritual landmarks. Ground-based documentation included a walking survey and the capture of 360° imagery using Trimble technology to support the creation of virtual tours. These visualizations were processed in Kuula Virtual Tour (Kuula 2024), enabling monoscopic viewing on digital platforms and allowing community members to engage with the site remotely. To illustrate the navigational capacity of the interactive model, Figure 8 presents selected views from different sectors of the site, highlighting rock art areas, storage architecture, circulation pathways, and residential compounds.

Figure 8.

Selected views from the interactive 3D model of the Zapar site: (a) rock art sector with petroglyphs; (b) detail of a stone-built storage structure; (c) circulation pathways associated with the northern settlement area; (d) entrance to one of the architectural compounds within the main residential cluster.

Community knowledge critically informed the interpretation of features encountered during the survey. Elders, in particular, pointed out collapsed walls formerly associated with ceremonial use, storage spaces known through oral histories, and specific petroglyph locations related to water rituals. Their contributions refined the classification of structures beyond what RS alone could reveal. The walking survey also incorporated participatory mapping exercises, where community members annotated printed orthoimages with their knowledge about historical land use, traditional agricultural practices, and ritual spaces. These annotations were later digitized and integrated into the project’s GIS database, ensuring that Indigenous spatial knowledge was embedded within the site’s digital documentation.

The database architecture was designed to preserve interpretive plurality rather than replace one perspective with another. On the one hand, architectural documentation followed a standardized archaeological recording form based on established regional methodologies (Castro et al. Reference Castro, Maldonado, Vásquez and Hans1993), ensuring systematic description of construction techniques, spatial organization, materials, and preservation conditions. This constituted the formal archaeological layer of the project.

On the other hand, community-based interpretations of individual structures and broader site sectors were recorded in dedicated metadata fields linked to each architectural entry. These included oral narratives, functional attributions, and culturally grounded spatial meanings. Instead of privileging one framework over the other, the platform allowed archaeological and community interpretations to coexist transparently within the same relational structure. When interpretations diverged, both were retained, reinforcing the project’s commitment to epistemic coexistence and interpretive plurality.

Community Feedback and Iterative Adjustments

Once preliminary models, maps, and interpretative materials were developed, they were presented to the community in follow-up assemblies. These meetings served as sensitive feedback sessions, at which community members evaluated the accuracy, appropriateness, and cultural resonance of the digital outputs.

Key examples of community-driven adjustments included the following. Certain ritual structures, deemed too sensitive for broad public dissemination, were omitted from open-access platforms and reserved for internal community use. Interpretative labels were adjusted to reflect the community’s perspectives on ceremonial significance, instead of imposing externally derived archaeological categories. Based on community suggestions, supplementary UAV flights and ground surveys were conducted to document areas initially overlooked, particularly seasonal water channels and minor ritual spaces. This iterative, dialogical process positioned the community not only as informants or beneficiaries but as coproducers and curators of the heritage representations being developed.

The collaborative process was not free of tensions. At several moments, differing perspectives emerged regarding issues such as digital visibility, territorial sensitivity, and the implications of public dissemination in a region where external economic actors remain active. However, we deliberately refrain here from detailing specific disputes. Providing further information could risk reopening ongoing internal discussions or creating unintended consequences for the community, particularly in relation to external stakeholders. This restraint is consistent with the CARE Principles guiding the project, especially regarding (1) Authority to Control and (2) Responsibility. Revealing sensitive deliberations without explicit community authorization would contradict the governance commitments that structure this collaboration. What is important for the present discussion is that such tensions were addressed through assemblies and working-group dialogue, reinforcing community authority over final decisions.

As part of the feedback and co-curation process described above, community members actively engaged in interpreting the spatial layout of Zapar. These interpretations did not merely validate preexisting archaeological classifications but enriched them through locally grounded knowledge and lived experience. It is important to emphasize that these reinterpretations do not negate prior archaeological observations; instead, they expand their interpretive range. Functional attributions remain grounded in architectural morphology, spatial organization, material associations, and regional comparative studies. Community-based interpretations were evaluated in relation to these material indicators, generating convergences rather than simple substitutions. Although excavation could, in the future, refine or complicate some functional hypotheses, the present analysis integrates both material and narrative evidence within a noninvasive methodological framework.

The collaborative analysis led to the identification of six major sectors within the site, each with distinct architectural forms, orientations, and cultural functions. Sector delineation was grounded primarily in archaeological and architectural criteria, including wall alignments, circulation routes, spatial density, and construction typologies observed during walking survey and architectural recording. Community members had long recognized distinctions within the site based on ritual associations, water practices, and ancestral memory. Remote sensing did not generate these categories independently; rather, UAV-derived orthophotos and elevation models allowed these spatial distinctions to be visualized with greater clarity and continuity across the settlement. In this sense, RS functioned as a tool of spatial confirmation and amplification, making visible at landscape scale what had already been articulated through Indigenous Knowledge and on-site architectural analysis. The following summary reflects a shared reading of Zapar’s built environment, combining RS outputs, on-site surveys, and narrative insights contributed by members of the Toconao community.

The architectural recording of Zapar reveals a complex and multifaceted layout, including at least six distinct areas of interest. Each area, with its unique architectural and cultural features, contributes to the understanding of the site. A preliminary functional analysis identified habitational compounds, enclosures, open and enclosed yards, a plaza (open yards), storage and ritual architecture, pathways, entrances, and openings (Figure 9).

Figure 9.

Interpretation of architectural features within Zapar.

Figure 9 Long description

The map of Zapar illustrates various architectural features with distinct areas marked by different colors. The legend identifies these areas as habitational compounds, chullpas, niches, plazas, enclosures, enclosed yards, open yards, entrances, openings and pathways. The habitational compounds are marked in purple, chullpas in orange, niches in gray, plazas in teal, enclosures in green, enclosed yards in dark green, open yards in light green, entrances in yellow, openings in red and pathways in yellow. These features are distributed across the map, with pathways connecting different areas and various compounds and yards clustered centrally. The map includes a scale bar indicating distances in meters and a north arrow for orientation.

The western sector of Zapar is located on a rocky outcrop, where one of the main circulation routes begins. After a narrow entrance, it runs along the perimeter and circumnavigates the settlement. This path leads to the central sector, ascending through sets of petroglyphs (Figure 10a), ritual structures, and grindstones (Figure 10b). At the highest point of the west sector, the circular route faces the entrance to the central sector, where eight ritual-storage buildings are strategically placed (Figure 11). The combination of their shapes and surrounding walls, attached to bedrock, highlights the monumental character of this sector. In this broader context, Zapar emerges as a key node that transcends its architectural features. Its association with water, agriculture, storage, and ancestor worship is further affirmed by petroglyphs and rock art found at the site (Troncoso Reference Troncoso2019), reinforcing its integral role within the wider Atacama water-landscape system.

Figure 10.

Outcrops petroglyphs: (a) linear abstract petroglyphs carved into the rock surface; (b) grinding stones or bedrock mortars with multiple depressions.

Figure 11.

Chullpa-type architecture attached to the perimetral wall.

The central sector features a walled perimeter with several architectural elements. A corridor with eight niches, surrounded by open and closed patios (enclosed yards), forms the core of the central sector. This area has the highest density of grindstones, drinking vessels, and animal bones (many of them burned), indicating its probable use for ceremonial and/or communal purposes. The distribution of niches defines the layout of the circulation routes, creating bifurcations where new paths emerge, increasing the complexity of mobility within the central sector. Residential structures on the northern ravine edge provide excellent visibility of the river and the northern sector of Zapar. All residential structures are interconnected with chullpa-type architecture, like that in the eastern area. The major compound consists of four buildings around an enclosed yard.

The nodal sector serves as an intermediate space located in a small depression, connecting the central sector with the upper east of the settlement. It is an open space without perimeter walls, where various paths converge in a terraced open yard on the east side—possibly used for communal gathering (Figure 12). This area faces two double-walled ritual structures. The floor is covered with minerals, mainly fragments of atacamite, along with offerings of copper and shells (Pecten sp. and Spondylus sp.), which are interpreted as ritual elements symbolizing food for the gods. The presence of copper offerings emphasizes Zapar’s role as a central ritual enclave within the Atacama water landscape, as observed in other micro-urban settlements in Atacama (Sapiains et al. Reference Sapiains, Figueroa, Hayashida, Salazar, Menzies, González and Loyola2021).

Figure 12.

Nodal sector plaza. The terraced open yard is visible in the central foreground as a leveled platform bounded by low stone alignments and subtle elevation changes.

The eastern sector, situated on the highest rocky outcrop of Zapar, features five ritual structures that crown the summit. Some of these ritual structures’ entrances are oriented toward specific orographic points (Licancabur and Llullaillaco volcanoes and Kimal Hill), suggesting their importance in landscape and ritual practices.

The upper-east sector is located on a hill with double-walled orthogonal structures representing a distinct aspect of spatial planning, and resembling Inca architectural traditions (double-wall interlacing with infill and finely dressed stonework). At the zenith of the site, one structure is strategically oriented toward Licancabur volcano. Additionally, this sector features a large rock face with petroglyphs, characterized by straight and wavy linear engravings, emphasizing the ritual and cultural importance of this space (Figure 13).

Figure 13.

Engraved boulder with petroglyphs, upper-east sector.

This sector-based interpretation provides a foundation for understanding Zapar not only as a settlement but as a landscape of memory, ritual, and relational movement. Community members emphasized the enduring presence of spiritual and ecological meaning within these spaces—insights that would not have emerged from RS or architectural analysis alone. The collaborative construction of this spatial narrative exemplifies how Indigenous perspectives and digital methods can converge to produce a richer, more situated understanding of heritage.

It is important to clarify that the interpretations presented here are based on noninvasive methodologies, including UAV-based documentation, architectural recording, walking survey, and community oral accounts. No excavations were conducted as part of this project. This decision was consistent with community concerns regarding disturbance, particularly in areas associated with ancestral remains or ritual practices.

Consequently, the architectural classifications and sector interpretations should be understood as provisional and open to revision. Should the community decide in the future to pursue excavation-based research, new stratigraphic or material evidence could refine or potentially complement current interpretations. The digital archive was intentionally designed to allow for such future updates, preserving interpretive flexibility rather than fixing definitive conclusions.

Digital Dynamics: Data Governance and Long-Term Access

The use of RS and digital technologies in the Zapar project required technical innovation alongside careful consideration of the ethical, political, and practical dynamics associated with digital heritage management. From the outset, the project recognized that digital outputs—orthophotos, 3D models, virtual tours—would carry sensitive cultural information, necessitating community authority over their governance, accessibility, and long-term stewardship.

Following the CARE Principles, the ownership of all digital data produced by the project was conferred to the CAT and the Asociación Indígena de Regantes y Agricultores de Zapar. Agreements were formalized through written protocols outlining the community’s authority to determine how and when digital materials could be shared. The right to request modifications or removal of content at any point is also included, as well as the requirement that external dissemination—academic, public, or educational—must be approved by designated community representatives. This governance framework ensured that digital heritage assets remained under Indigenous control, countering trends of open-access dissemination that can unintentionally undermine data sovereignty.

Another crucial aspect is the accessibility and digital infrastructure challenges. Although Toconao benefits from relatively widespread mobile internet coverage (4G/5G), there remain disparities in digital access across age groups and households. To address these challenges, the project implemented several measures. For example, offline versions of the virtual tour and 3D models were distributed via USB drives and local servers, printed maps and visual materials were provided for nondigital community members, and training sessions were offered at the local school and community centers to familiarize residents with digital tools. However, the project also faced significant challenges. Digital platforms and cloud storage services depend on ongoing subscription costs and external hosting, raising questions about the sustainability of access over time. Without permanent funding streams, there is a risk that publicly available digital representations of Zapar could eventually become inaccessible, undermining long-term community benefits.

Although the team is currently evaluating the most suitable platform for long-term archiving, the digital outputs will soon be associated with a DOI through a secure and open-access repository such as MorphoSource. These platforms meet the reviewers’ requirement for a sustainable and traceable deposit. The selected repository will host the main 3D model of Zapar (12–15 GB) and related orthomosaics, with metadata specifying the CAT as data owner. All datasets will be released under a Creative Commons BY-NC-ND license, unless restricted by the community. Until the DOI is assigned, copies of the materials remain archived at IIAM-UCN and the Toconao Community Center to guarantee local and offline access.

The project confronted several ethical dilemmas regarding the visibility and representation of sensitive information. For example, certain ritual structures and landscape features were omitted from public-facing models to protect their cultural integrity. The community decided which elements would remain restricted. In addition, oral testimonies were anonymized, when necessary—particularly in cases where community members expressed concerns about external misinterpretation or potential tensions with mining companies or other external actors. Metadata and labels were crafted collaboratively to ensure that site interpretations did not impose external archaeological frameworks but reflected Indigenous perspectives on ritual, memory, and landscape. These measures highlighted the importance of an adaptive ethical framework, in which decisions were made collaboratively and revisited as needed throughout the project life cycle.

The experience of the Zapar project reveals the tensions inherent in digital heritage management. For example, the desire to make heritage accessible must be balanced with the need to protect sensitive knowledge. Digital tools can empower communities, but they can also expose them to new vulnerabilities if long-term stewardship is not properly planned. Funding and technical dependencies (e.g., reliance on third-party platforms) create structural risks that require proactive mitigation strategies.

Potential future actions identified include: migrating digital materials to open-source, community-managed repositories; seeking DOI assignment for key datasets to ensure their citation and traceability; and developing a community-driven digital heritage policy to guide future initiatives. Overall, the project underlines that digital technologies, while offering transformative possibilities for Indigenous heritage management, demand sustained attention to governance, ethics, and infrastructure beyond the lifespan of individual projects.

Critical Analysis: Rethinking Archaeological Practice

The Zapar project illustrates how archaeological workflows can be reconfigured when Indigenous governance structures guide research design, data interpretation, and digital heritage management. Traditional archaeological practice often privileges the authority of researchers to define what constitutes significant data, how that data should be interpreted, and who can access it. Despite the increasing incorporation of participatory rhetoric, actual coproduction of knowledge remains rare, particularly in projects involving RS and digital technologies. In contrast, the Zapar project embedded coproduction at every stage. First, community members codefined research questions, priorities, and methods. Then, oral narratives were not supplemental but were instead integrated into the spatial and digital documentation. And finally, community authority extended to decisions about data visibility, narrative framing, and long-term stewardship. This approach reframes RS as part of a collaborative research process, in which Indigenous participants influence not only interpretation but also production and management of the archaeological data.

Traditionally, RS in archaeology prioritizes formal analysis: identifying structures, mapping patterns, and reconstructing landscapes. Although valuable, this analytical approach risks flattening Indigenous sites into abstract spatial phenomena, detached from living cultural meanings. At Zapar, Indigenous narratives fundamentally reshaped interpretations. For example, buildings, architectural compounds, and pathways were not only analyzed in terms of formal architecture but contextualized within water ritual practices as described by community elders. Certain architectural features initially classified as storage units were reinterpreted as ritual enclosures, based on oral testimonies regarding agricultural ceremonies. These reinterpretations challenge the assumption that technological documentation is inherently objective. Instead, they demonstrate that spatial data must be read through culturally situated epistemologies to achieve a fuller understanding of Indigenous heritage landscapes.

The application of RS in the Zapar project was not neutral. Technologies were vernacularized—that is, appropriated, adapted, and reinterpreted to align with Indigenous goals (Coombe Reference Coombe2016). UAVs and 3D models were used to support community memory work, promote intergenerational knowledge transmission, and strengthen territorial claims by producing accessible, community-owned documentation. The result is a new space of political contestation (Hetherington Reference Hetherington2008), where scientific and cultural capital intersect to advance Indigenous agency.

This approach engages with ongoing critiques within remote-sensing and Indigenous archaeology scholarship, particularly concerns regarding extractive visualization practices, data asymmetries, and the reproduction of colonial dynamics through digital documentation technologies. Scholars such as Sanger and Barnett (Reference Sanger and Barnett2021) argue that despite being described as noninvasive, RS technologies can replicate extractive and colonial dynamics if used without attention to cultural protocols, sovereignty, and representational control. Wainwright (Reference Wainwright2014) refers to this as “geopiracy,” where visualizing landscapes becomes an act of dispossession under the guise of scientific neutrality. Conversely, initiatives like those described by Shiri et alia (Reference Shiri, Howard and Farnel2022) demonstrate how participatory, culturally informed platforms can use digital tools for Indigenous storytelling and memory preservation. These works highlight the potential of RS and digital heritage when governed by ethical frameworks and community priorities.

By embedding RS within Indigenous governance structures, the Zapar project resisted the historical tendency of digital archaeology to extract and repackage knowledge. Instead, it leveraged these technologies to support Indigenous empowerment, coproduced interpretation, and ethical stewardship of cultural landscapes. Another critical contribution of the Zapar project lies in its operationalization of data sovereignty principles. The project demonstrates that ethical digital heritage management is not just about obtaining consent but about structuring data ownership and access protocols from the beginning, building technical capacity within communities to manage their own digital assets, and planning for long-term management, beyond the lifespan of academic projects.

Such practices challenge the still-prevalent model in which researchers, even well-intentioned ones, retain ultimate control over data storage, interpretation, and dissemination. Moreover, by allowing for selective visibility and recognizing the right to withhold certain knowledge from public domains, the Zapar project models an ethics of care that respects the complexity of Indigenous relationships with sacred landscapes.

The methodological shifts demonstrated at Zapar have broader implications for archaeological practice globally, particularly in Indigenous and historically marginalized contexts. They are as follows:

1. 1. Archaeological projects must articulate clear ethical problems—not just research questions—addressing the dynamics of power, representation, and community agency.

2. 2. Participatory research demands methodological flexibility, allowing projects to adapt to emerging community priorities, even if these diverge from initial academic expectations.

3. 3. Researchers must critically interrogate the role of technologies such as RS, moving beyond assumptions of neutrality and recognizing their potential both for empowerment and harm.

4. 4. Knowledge transfer should be seen not as a supplemental activity but as an integral outcome, promoting community autonomy in heritage management.

5. 5. Coauthorship of interpretative narratives, including digital metadata and public-facing outputs, is crucial for decolonizing heritage representations.

Although the Zapar project achieved significant advances, it also faced challenges that highlight the complexities of community-based digital heritage work—namely: (1) long-term maintenance of digital archives requires ongoing resources and technical support, which are difficult to guarantee without institutional commitment or external funding; (2) balancing community desires for selective privacy with external demands for open access remains a delicate negotiation; and (3) reliance on external platforms introduces risks related to data permanence and control. These challenges emphasize that ethical archaeological practice is an ongoing process, not a one-time achievement, requiring continuous dialogue, adaptation, and resource planning.

The experience at Zapar points toward the possibility—and the necessity—of a community-governed archaeology. This means an archaeology in which Indigenous communities set the agendas, define priorities, and hold authority over both material and digital representations of their heritage. A discipline that uses technologies such as RS not to objectify landscapes but to reinforce relationships of care, responsibility, and memory. A practice that recognizes that knowledge is not extracted but built relationally, through trust, respect, and sustained engagement.

The Zapar project offers not a perfect model but a concrete, replicable example of how such a shift can be operationalized in practice. It invites specialists to rethink the very foundations of archaeological work—not simply by adding participatory components but by restructuring the ethics, methodologies, and power dynamics that underpin research itself.

This case also interacts with broader global efforts to integrate Indigenous values and priorities into heritage governance. Although the tools used—UAVs, GIS, and 3D modeling—are not inherently transformative, their application within a cogovernance framework creates possibilities that conventional archaeological workflows often foreclose.

In Toconao, this approach has supported a stronger sense of territorial control and has offered community members an opportunity to protect what they already knew was valuable. It reinforces arguments made in other contexts (e.g., Canada, Australia, Pacific Islands) that collaborative archaeology not only enhances the accuracy of interpretations but repositions communities as knowledge holders and decision-makers. When archaeologists recognize the limits of their interpretations and engage with ancestral memory, a richer and more grounded archaeology emerges—one that listens before it narrates.

Conclusion: Toward a Community-Commanded Archaeology

The Zapar project offers a concrete example of how RS technologies, when guided by Indigenous leadership and ethical frameworks, can transform archaeological practice. Rather than producing knowledge for academic consumption, the project activated Indigenous memory, supported territorial governance, and promoted intergenerational knowledge transmission—repositioning RS from a neutral scientific instrument into a relational tool for community resilience and heritage sovereignty.

At the same time, the project highlighted critical challenges that require sustained attention, specifically: (1) ensuring the long-term sustainability and accessibility of digital archives; (2) negotiating the balance between accessibility and sensitive knowledge protection; and (3) building durable community capacities for managing digital heritage autonomously. These challenges reinforce that ethical, participatory archaeology is not a static achievement but an ongoing, dynamic process requiring continuous dialogue, adaptability, and institutional support.

The lessons from Zapar extend beyond the Atacama Desert. They suggest pathways for transforming archaeological practice globally, especially in contexts involving Indigenous or historically marginalized communities. Central among these lessons is the need to move beyond extractive or tokenistic participatory approaches toward genuine community command over research agendas, methods, interpretations, and outcomes. By rethinking the relationships between researchers, technologies, and communities, archaeological practice can contribute to not only understanding the past but also supporting living, evolving cultural landscapes in the present and future.

The collaboration also relied on the institutional support of the Instituto de Investigaciones Arqueológicas y Museo (IIAM-UCN), particularly through the Escuela Andina framework, which has promoted dialogue between academic and community actors. Although the project operates within Chile’s broader heritage regulatory landscape, it was conceived neither as a state-led initiative nor as a policy-driven intervention. Rather, it emerged from a community mandate and was structured through partnerships with academic institutions, highlighting the technical and organizational capacity of Indigenous communities to address major challenges in archaeological heritage management.

Recent initiatives by the Servicio Nacional del Patrimonio Cultural (SERPAT) and related projects in nearby localities, such as Socaire and Camar, illustrate evolving approaches toward community participation in heritage governance. However, the model presented here does not seek to replace or reform national frameworks. Instead, it demonstrates how community-directed archaeology can operate autonomously while remaining in dialogue with existing institutional structures. In this sense, the project contributes a practical example of how Indigenous governance can articulate with—but not be subsumed by—national heritage systems.

Taken together, the Zapar project reorients archaeological practice by restructuring how remote-sensing research is designed, interpreted, and governed. It offers a replicable framework in which the CARE Principles are operationalized through participatory decision-making, shared authority, and iterative community validation. Indigenous narratives and spatial knowledge do not merely complement technical datasets but actively reshape their interpretation, transforming them into living archives of memory and meaning. At the same time, data governance is relocated within community control, authorship, and long-term stewardship, ensuring that digital heritage remains embedded in Indigenous institutions.