Section II of Mike Wallace’s Mickey Mouse History and other Essays on American Memory focuses on Disney and its possible contribution to the display of American History. The first article primarily looks at Disney’s Main Street and EPCOT and raises some questions about the type of history presented and also the influence of corporate sponsors on those historic presentations. It is not so much historic material that is being displayed for the public, but more of an ideal past, smooth, romantic and almost uniquely positive. Reality is not often the dominant element of those presentations and, if it is, it is mostly in its non-controversial way. Wallace presents the case of Main Street, supposedly a reproduction of Mr. Disney childhood home but not really. He then goes on with the Hall of Presidents, the Carousel of Progress and, finally, EPCOT. The latter being his primary focus, as he lengthily describes the different thematic journeys (transportation, communication, etc.) sponsored by big companies (AT&T, General Motors, Kraft, etc.). According to Wallace (once again, I have not been there, so it is a little harder to comment thoroughly), all of those journeys focus foremost on “investors and businessmen”, praising the evolution of capitalism and leaving peace-disturbing elements in the silence. Of course, no Wallace’s article would be a true Wallace article without references to social classes and social inequalities. As a conclusion to this first study, Wallace explains that the vast majority of visitors coming to Disney World are middle-class people and that, therefore, the history presented in those entertainment parks is some sort of “self-affirmation” of their social status. As a conclusion, Wallace wonders if a more controversial history would be boring for those people and also explains that this “entertaining history” produced by Disney blurs the frontiers between reality and fiction.
Wallace’s second essay is called “Disney’s America” and elaborates on the Disney Company project to create a new theme park, which would focus on the history of America. The project was entirely cancelled, but Wallace describes the plans, the oppositions to the project and why it was eventually set aside. Once again, this essay raises the question of “educating with entertainment”. It is rather obvious that making materials more lively will make it more appealing to large audiences, but there surely is a limit. The transmission of history to the public should not be a dry and boring one, but it also does not necessarily imply creating a commercial- and Disney-based approach to history. Wallace does raise a very valid point when he mentions that Disney theme parks are utopian spaces (p.171), so the question is how to introduce historic reality in such a type of institution. How can we be sure that Disney’s America would have presented a more realistic and academic history to its public? Historians would have to work with Disney if they ever had a project of creating a consistent history museum, but the question should maybe be looked at from another point of view.
Maybe it comes from my European background, and maybe I am not that accustomed to American culture yet. I cannot help but wonder why Disney should be considered as museums and, as such, as valid contributors to the transmission of history. Disney Worlds are entertainment parks. People go there to relax, have fun, and forget about everything else. How serious can it therefore be? Isn’t it a little ironic to go to an amusement park, hoping to learn more about one’s history? Is it all that is left for Americans? Go to Disney World to learn about their past? Let’s say that I am a very optimistic person, and I still believe people can make the difference in content and quality between a museum and Disney; they go to one place or another for different reasons, with different ideas in mind. Going to Disney with the serious hope and expectation to live a history museum-like experience is close to considering that Las Vegas will one day host so many miniature reconstitution of famous worldwide places and buildings that it will replace traveling around the world and discovering different cultures.
Call me old-fashion or conservative if you want… But I still believe Disney should focus mostly on entertainment, instead of trying to propose a shallow/pseudo and disneysized history of the United States.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
“Cinematic History: Where Do We Go From Here?” by Robert Brent Toplin
After focusing on a French movie about Martin Guerre and documentary films, this third article brings us into the world of Hollywood and the use of history in the Hollywood movies. The main emphasis of this article is not so much on the historical content of those movies, but more on the interpretation of the use of history in the films. Toplin chooses to reflect on the “choices and challenges” facing cinematic historians, wondering how the situation will evolve from there on. Even though studying and analyzing experimental films is interesting, Toplin starts by encouraging historians to keep looking at the blockbuster ones. Indeed, as they usually are the ones attracting a wider and more general public, turning away from them would be turning away from a way to reach out to broad audiences. Toplin then ponders on the possible interrelation between the historic period used in the movie and the present time of its making. He does not defend one extreme or the other, but rather suggests that the present may influence part of the way the past is represented in the movie, without it being all about the current times. Finally, Toplin suggests that cinematic history should not focus on the political aspects of movies. According to him, it is an interesting challenge to research how those movies can give us an insight into other aspects, such as cultural, intellectual or social.
If historians can study mainly the technical characteristics of a movie, or focus on its historical context, Toplin suggests that a deeper level of study would be more contributing to the field. The research should be lead further after those two first levels, and cinematic historians should also investigate the “production histories behind the movies” (p.86). He encourages historians to also study different types of sources related to the production of the movie. This can bring a more accurate understanding of the historic content of the movie and of the context of its making.
In Toplin’s opinion, cinematic history is a genre of movies for itself and, as such, deserves to be researched, analyzed and talked about, above all by cinematic historians.
Therefore, Toplin’s contribution raises a central point that was also mentioned in one of the other articles: historians should not turn their back to commercial and mainstream movies, letting other people be experts on so-called historic movies and historic debates. To the contrary, they should engage in that field, contribute in one way or another to the making of those movies or documentaries, or at least comment on them, accept to debate about their accuracy, etc. It should not be considered as a “not good enough field” to invest time in, because it is not their familiar “purely academic world”. If historians want to convey their knowledge, share their work with others, they should accept to sometimes reach out and dip their toes in different kinds of waters.
If historians can study mainly the technical characteristics of a movie, or focus on its historical context, Toplin suggests that a deeper level of study would be more contributing to the field. The research should be lead further after those two first levels, and cinematic historians should also investigate the “production histories behind the movies” (p.86). He encourages historians to also study different types of sources related to the production of the movie. This can bring a more accurate understanding of the historic content of the movie and of the context of its making.
In Toplin’s opinion, cinematic history is a genre of movies for itself and, as such, deserves to be researched, analyzed and talked about, above all by cinematic historians.
Therefore, Toplin’s contribution raises a central point that was also mentioned in one of the other articles: historians should not turn their back to commercial and mainstream movies, letting other people be experts on so-called historic movies and historic debates. To the contrary, they should engage in that field, contribute in one way or another to the making of those movies or documentaries, or at least comment on them, accept to debate about their accuracy, etc. It should not be considered as a “not good enough field” to invest time in, because it is not their familiar “purely academic world”. If historians want to convey their knowledge, share their work with others, they should accept to sometimes reach out and dip their toes in different kinds of waters.
A Trademark Approach to the Past: Ken Burns, the Historical Profession, and Assessing Popular Presentations of the Past.
The article by Vivien Ellen Rose and Julie Corley is a strong criticism of Ken Burns’ contribution to the making of documentary films and his lack of historical professionalism in dealing with the past. The authors of this article wonder about the consequences of historical documentaries, which too often end up blurring the frontiers between historic accuracy, legends and imagination. They also reflect on the role historians could have in that field; how they could use their knowledge and transmit it to broader audiences via mediums like movies. According to Rose and Corley, one of the main problems with Burns is that not only is he molding the historical content transmitted to a general public, but he also brings forward a specific definition of what history making is. His history is made of heroes, and it is their stories that he wants to tell. On that subject, the PBS webpage on Ken Burns is quite revealing. The short introduction on Burns ends with those words: “History made them famous, Ken Burns makes them real”. The “invisible makers” of history are therefore quite obviously kept in the dark once more.
In light of the article, it seems that Burns’s major problem is to take only what can contribute to the story he wants to tell. He leaves aside important elements, focuses on certain people only, and does not take into consideration new research on the subjects. He also uses interviews of historians or comments from them only if, and in a way that fits his purpose. Rose and Corley demonstrate throughout their article the mistakes Burns made in his documentary entitled “Not for Ourselves alone”, which focuses on two leading figures of the 19th century feminist movement in the United States. What worries the authors is not only the fact that Burns does not rely on serious scholarship, but that his work is actually treated as serious research and reliable material. People tend to turn to him and his products instead of turning to historians for answers. If Burns’s productions are as lacking as described in this article (and it is hard to comment this without being familiar with his work), then this indeed raises some concerns. Rose and Corley do not necessarily call for a total rejection of works like Burns’s, but they rather encourage historians to reinvest a field given up to non-professional historians. Professional historians should keep working with documentary makers, but they should also learn to better communicate to broad audiences via different technologies. In addition, they should be more productive in commenting and reviewing those films, not only in savant opuses, but also in newspapers, magazine or on television programs.
A down side of the article however, is that even though most of the points made seem very pertinent, it feels at times too much like a personal vendetta. Is Ken Burns the only person doing historic documentaries? Is he so popular as to embody the entire profession just by himself? Is there anything positive going on in the historic film-making industry nowadays? Those are some of the questions that just kept running through my mind after reading this article…
In light of the article, it seems that Burns’s major problem is to take only what can contribute to the story he wants to tell. He leaves aside important elements, focuses on certain people only, and does not take into consideration new research on the subjects. He also uses interviews of historians or comments from them only if, and in a way that fits his purpose. Rose and Corley demonstrate throughout their article the mistakes Burns made in his documentary entitled “Not for Ourselves alone”, which focuses on two leading figures of the 19th century feminist movement in the United States. What worries the authors is not only the fact that Burns does not rely on serious scholarship, but that his work is actually treated as serious research and reliable material. People tend to turn to him and his products instead of turning to historians for answers. If Burns’s productions are as lacking as described in this article (and it is hard to comment this without being familiar with his work), then this indeed raises some concerns. Rose and Corley do not necessarily call for a total rejection of works like Burns’s, but they rather encourage historians to reinvest a field given up to non-professional historians. Professional historians should keep working with documentary makers, but they should also learn to better communicate to broad audiences via different technologies. In addition, they should be more productive in commenting and reviewing those films, not only in savant opuses, but also in newspapers, magazine or on television programs.
A down side of the article however, is that even though most of the points made seem very pertinent, it feels at times too much like a personal vendetta. Is Ken Burns the only person doing historic documentaries? Is he so popular as to embody the entire profession just by himself? Is there anything positive going on in the historic film-making industry nowadays? Those are some of the questions that just kept running through my mind after reading this article…
“Movie or Monograph? A Historian/Filmmaker’s Perspective”, Natalie Zemon Davis
This short article by Natalie Zemon Davis entitled “Movie or Monograph? A Historian/Filmmaker’s Perspective” commences with her experience in the making of the French movie “Le Retour de Martin Guerre” and then leads on to a reflection on the possible contributions of historians in historical movies.
As an early modern historian, Natalie Zemon Davis saw in the story of Martin Guerre an opportunity to show the lives of French peasants in the 16th century. She thought it would be a very interesting way of reaching wider audiences that would know nothing about this time period and those people under other circumstances. She was ready to work on that movie when she learned that a French director had already started working on the film script. Because of her notoriety as a historian, and especially as a 16th century France historian, Jean-Claude Carrière and Daniel Vigne were thrilled to work with her on the script. That is how Zemon Davis became the “historical advisor” for the movie.
One of the more intriguing interesting aspects of this experience is that Zemon Davis chose not to limit herself to working on the script, but she also chose to write a book on the story of Martin Guerre. The movie-making had its limitation and some changes were not possible as time went by, therefore she decides to use her research for a contributing book. Consequently, her book became a complement through which she was able to convey additional or more precise information to the public.
Zemon Davis’s article leads to a reflection on how historians and movie directors should work together when preparing a historical film. She calls for the taking into consideration of both cinematic and historical criteria as a way for the movie to be plausible and “historically understandable” for its audience. Her last example about acceptable and misleading historical errors in the Martin Guerre movie is very interesting. She considers as acceptable that the judges’ robe to be of the wrong color, but she is very critical about the choice to make the trial public whereas it was something closed in Old Regime France. Indeed, if the error of color might not be particularly misleading, the erroneous representation of the judicial life in the Old Regime conveys to the audience an inaccurate portrait of life in the 16th century; and criminal justice was an important aspect of life in that period. For Natalie Zemon Davis, such elements should not only reinforce the contribution of historians in the making of historical movies, but it should also encourage them to write about and comment about the historical events depicted in the movie, whether they have participated in the movie or not.
I think Zemon Davis’ article is an excellent reflection-basis for public historians. Indeed, historical movies are a great way to connect with a broader public and public historians should therefore find new and creative ways to contribute to and interact with this sort of history making.
As an early modern historian, Natalie Zemon Davis saw in the story of Martin Guerre an opportunity to show the lives of French peasants in the 16th century. She thought it would be a very interesting way of reaching wider audiences that would know nothing about this time period and those people under other circumstances. She was ready to work on that movie when she learned that a French director had already started working on the film script. Because of her notoriety as a historian, and especially as a 16th century France historian, Jean-Claude Carrière and Daniel Vigne were thrilled to work with her on the script. That is how Zemon Davis became the “historical advisor” for the movie.
One of the more intriguing interesting aspects of this experience is that Zemon Davis chose not to limit herself to working on the script, but she also chose to write a book on the story of Martin Guerre. The movie-making had its limitation and some changes were not possible as time went by, therefore she decides to use her research for a contributing book. Consequently, her book became a complement through which she was able to convey additional or more precise information to the public.
Zemon Davis’s article leads to a reflection on how historians and movie directors should work together when preparing a historical film. She calls for the taking into consideration of both cinematic and historical criteria as a way for the movie to be plausible and “historically understandable” for its audience. Her last example about acceptable and misleading historical errors in the Martin Guerre movie is very interesting. She considers as acceptable that the judges’ robe to be of the wrong color, but she is very critical about the choice to make the trial public whereas it was something closed in Old Regime France. Indeed, if the error of color might not be particularly misleading, the erroneous representation of the judicial life in the Old Regime conveys to the audience an inaccurate portrait of life in the 16th century; and criminal justice was an important aspect of life in that period. For Natalie Zemon Davis, such elements should not only reinforce the contribution of historians in the making of historical movies, but it should also encourage them to write about and comment about the historical events depicted in the movie, whether they have participated in the movie or not.
I think Zemon Davis’ article is an excellent reflection-basis for public historians. Indeed, historical movies are a great way to connect with a broader public and public historians should therefore find new and creative ways to contribute to and interact with this sort of history making.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Website - Work in Progress
I have put online all the papers that I have received so far. I am still missing Esther's and Shannon I believe, so just send those whenever you can :)
As soon as I'll have pictures, I'll add them.
Also, don't hesitate to send me comments, remarks, or others, so I can keep working on the website.
Btw, what do you all think about having a "picture gallery" where we can put more pictures of our sites (more than just one, that is).
here is the current address: http://www.modoux.com/aroundnorthflorida
As soon as I'll have pictures, I'll add them.
Also, don't hesitate to send me comments, remarks, or others, so I can keep working on the website.
Btw, what do you all think about having a "picture gallery" where we can put more pictures of our sites (more than just one, that is).
here is the current address: http://www.modoux.com/aroundnorthflorida
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Comparing Websites: The Reformation
The four history websites that I have chosen focus on the history of the Reformation in Europe. Three are in English, and one is in French – I thought it would be interesting to compare American websites and European ones. Finding websites that actually focus on that history is not as easy as I thought it would be. What one mostly finds when looking up “history of the reformation website” or something similar, are websites offering primary sources.
So, here are a few observations and comments:
I. Memo: La Reforme
It is a very "teaching" website; lots of information on the Reformation, basic ones mostly, but that gives readers a good overview on the subject. The hyperlinks can be located in odd places (and do not always work), but most of them are interesting ones that enables the reader to get some information about bordering subjects (giving the opportunity to look at a context in a more global way). It covers a variety of aspects on the subject of the Reformation.
It has pictures, maps.
Constructed like a book, with different chapters and sub-chapters. It enables the reader to either read everything at once, or select a subject they want to focus on.
II. The Reformation Page
This website is on the same subject (of course), but offers a different type of data.
It is made of lots of different links, most of them point to primary sources. There is some biographical information also, but this is not the majority data.
The design of the website is very basic, and not very easy to navigate. It is a long document, listing all kind of different subject or people; the color or the design has nothing appealing. There is also nothing homogeneous about this website, as it mostly redirects people to other sites where they have primary sources or other info.
III. The Crawford Reformation Guide
There are some texts within the website, but it also focuses a lot of links.
Example of Heinrich Bullinger, which has his own essay on the website itself (source from the Swiss Historic Lexicon - a reference for Swiss historians).
Then, there are many links to a website called "forerunner", which - to me - does not seem particularly historical (after further investigation, it seems to be a Christians website, publishing articles from students around the world). So I would not be sure of the quality of the documents.
Or going to the website of the Irish Presbyterian website will not really help in a historical approach.
The design, however, is not very appealing. It is kind of "old'-fashion looking" for a website, and some of the links do not exist anymore. The website has probably not been updated for quite some time. As some kind of educational website, it surely should be more "attractive" and not look so old-dated. Unfortunately, it does not really encourage surfing at the first look, even though they do have interesting things around.
IV. History World: The Reformation
The website covers the process of the Reformation over the centuries and also presents it in some major countries in Europe.
This last website is very “modern” looking, well organized and well structured. Like the Memo website, this one is constructed in different chapters and sub-chapters, but those are accessible from a menu on the left, which makes it very easy to use and know where one is, and how to quickly access another theme. The downfall is that each chapter stands on one single page, which can make them rather long (even though there is a handy “up to top of page” button.
A few thoughts:
Maybe it is because it is an "old" subject ;-) but I must say that few of those websites had a very user-friendly and interesting design interface. The Memo website was rather good, even though it still has a few glitches, and the navigation or change of chapters is not always simple. Those first three websites clearly had nothing revolutionizing. The historyworld.net was surely the most modern and user-friendly designed. Without talking content (because it is not my intent here to thoroughly discuss the academic content of those websites), it would be the best of the four. I would even say that the other websites should work towards that kind of interface.
I know it is not always that way, and it can change depending on the type of subjects, but it made me wonder how historians and scholars can try to better combine interesting and serious information with an appealing interface. Of course, history websites should not become like tv-adds and try to attract people with funny, weird, or very empty, messages or "stories". But it also should not mean for them to remain in the area they are talking about... The internet and website designing have made so much progress in the past decade, that history websites should not grow to become the "prehistoric websites" of the web. Adapting to new technologies and designs might actually encourage more people to visit, read and use them. Even though as I am writing those lines, I cannot help but wonder how prevalent history-websites should or can become. How could they be used, structured or designed? What should be their primary use? Should they maybe try to bring another type of information and view point than the nowadays so common Wikipedia? An example of more thorough and academic work that would yet still appeal to a general public?
So, here are a few observations and comments:
I. Memo: La Reforme
It is a very "teaching" website; lots of information on the Reformation, basic ones mostly, but that gives readers a good overview on the subject. The hyperlinks can be located in odd places (and do not always work), but most of them are interesting ones that enables the reader to get some information about bordering subjects (giving the opportunity to look at a context in a more global way). It covers a variety of aspects on the subject of the Reformation.
It has pictures, maps.
Constructed like a book, with different chapters and sub-chapters. It enables the reader to either read everything at once, or select a subject they want to focus on.
II. The Reformation Page
This website is on the same subject (of course), but offers a different type of data.
It is made of lots of different links, most of them point to primary sources. There is some biographical information also, but this is not the majority data.
The design of the website is very basic, and not very easy to navigate. It is a long document, listing all kind of different subject or people; the color or the design has nothing appealing. There is also nothing homogeneous about this website, as it mostly redirects people to other sites where they have primary sources or other info.
III. The Crawford Reformation Guide
There are some texts within the website, but it also focuses a lot of links.
Example of Heinrich Bullinger, which has his own essay on the website itself (source from the Swiss Historic Lexicon - a reference for Swiss historians).
Then, there are many links to a website called "forerunner", which - to me - does not seem particularly historical (after further investigation, it seems to be a Christians website, publishing articles from students around the world). So I would not be sure of the quality of the documents.
Or going to the website of the Irish Presbyterian website will not really help in a historical approach.
The design, however, is not very appealing. It is kind of "old'-fashion looking" for a website, and some of the links do not exist anymore. The website has probably not been updated for quite some time. As some kind of educational website, it surely should be more "attractive" and not look so old-dated. Unfortunately, it does not really encourage surfing at the first look, even though they do have interesting things around.
IV. History World: The Reformation
The website covers the process of the Reformation over the centuries and also presents it in some major countries in Europe.
This last website is very “modern” looking, well organized and well structured. Like the Memo website, this one is constructed in different chapters and sub-chapters, but those are accessible from a menu on the left, which makes it very easy to use and know where one is, and how to quickly access another theme. The downfall is that each chapter stands on one single page, which can make them rather long (even though there is a handy “up to top of page” button.
A few thoughts:
Maybe it is because it is an "old" subject ;-) but I must say that few of those websites had a very user-friendly and interesting design interface. The Memo website was rather good, even though it still has a few glitches, and the navigation or change of chapters is not always simple. Those first three websites clearly had nothing revolutionizing. The historyworld.net was surely the most modern and user-friendly designed. Without talking content (because it is not my intent here to thoroughly discuss the academic content of those websites), it would be the best of the four. I would even say that the other websites should work towards that kind of interface.
I know it is not always that way, and it can change depending on the type of subjects, but it made me wonder how historians and scholars can try to better combine interesting and serious information with an appealing interface. Of course, history websites should not become like tv-adds and try to attract people with funny, weird, or very empty, messages or "stories". But it also should not mean for them to remain in the area they are talking about... The internet and website designing have made so much progress in the past decade, that history websites should not grow to become the "prehistoric websites" of the web. Adapting to new technologies and designs might actually encourage more people to visit, read and use them. Even though as I am writing those lines, I cannot help but wonder how prevalent history-websites should or can become. How could they be used, structured or designed? What should be their primary use? Should they maybe try to bring another type of information and view point than the nowadays so common Wikipedia? An example of more thorough and academic work that would yet still appeal to a general public?
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Book Review: Baker's Double Fold
If digitizing records or documents of different types is, overall, a good thing in today’s society, Nicholson Baker, in his book Double Fold: Libraries and the Assault on Paper surely gives us some sort of warning about the consequences that can take place when people stop thinking. Indeed, his narrative about how some major American Libraries have gone to destroy tons and tons of newspapers and other books, in the name of preservation and lack of shelving room, is quite frightening.
Starting with his discovery that the British Library was about to weed a large amount of foreign newspapers, Baker goes on to describe his struggles to save the American ones, and then weaves a narrative combining his attempts to save those newspapers, with a journey through the situation in the United States. Baker describes how the main philosophy in the United States Library world has been to microfilm so-called too old and too brittle newspapers (and even books), and then destroy the original. If the official reason seems to usually be the preservation of records (they have become too fragile to be used), a disturbing under-lying cause of this destruction was the lack of storage space. Baker mentions that it is more a question of choosing one’s domain of investment, rather than a lack of money. Indeed, microfilming, testing different methods, etc. can be quite expensive, akin to building an additional storage facility for a library. Baker lists several names, describes what they have done, and how they have contributed to the loss of so many newspapers and books. He openly criticizes their methods, their conceptions of preservation and conservation, as well as their continual assault on paper. His explanation of the “double fold test” is quite impressive. I must admit that I could not resist performing that test on my book, however silly it felt. Indeed, Baker asks the right question when he wonders what readers ask of their books and the paper used. They do not ask that the pages survive so many foldings of the corners, but that the pages can be turned, and therefore the books read. It was at times rather startling to read about the different tests or methods invented to “preserve” books; the rule of “reversibility” (you must always be able to undo what you did to a document) does not seem to have been part of those people’s preoccupations.
Baker surely does have a very straightforward and polemical way of writing about issues. Yet, this should not divert our attention from his main concern: What is the point of microfilming documents, and then destroying the originals? If it is in an effort to preserve newspapers, books, or other types of records, that they are microfilmed, this should not lead to the tossing of the paper format. What will happen when microfilms will not be a readable format anymore? What happens when the transfer has been executed poorly and some (or all of) the data has been lost? What will happen when digitization will be more common and projects will come up to digitize those documents? How will the microfilm be transferred to digital?
Those questions will remain present and relevant for a very long time, especially with the growing importance of digitization. Should microfilms or digital formats replace original documents, or should they truly fulfill their “preservation mission”? If they are preservation formats, then the originals surely should not be destroyed. One of the examples I know of is the audio preservation program at the Florida State Archives. What they are doing is transferring into digital format all of their audio collection, making a “preservation copy” in a very high quality, and then making a lower-bitrate copy for the patrons to have access to. The originals are never destroyed, but some of them are in too poor condition to be used on a regular basis, and others are using formats that may be hard to read in a very near future (reels, cassettes). Those audio records are being preserved digitally and in their original form. The care is not only given to the transfer, but also to keep the actual records in the best condition possible.
Starting with his discovery that the British Library was about to weed a large amount of foreign newspapers, Baker goes on to describe his struggles to save the American ones, and then weaves a narrative combining his attempts to save those newspapers, with a journey through the situation in the United States. Baker describes how the main philosophy in the United States Library world has been to microfilm so-called too old and too brittle newspapers (and even books), and then destroy the original. If the official reason seems to usually be the preservation of records (they have become too fragile to be used), a disturbing under-lying cause of this destruction was the lack of storage space. Baker mentions that it is more a question of choosing one’s domain of investment, rather than a lack of money. Indeed, microfilming, testing different methods, etc. can be quite expensive, akin to building an additional storage facility for a library. Baker lists several names, describes what they have done, and how they have contributed to the loss of so many newspapers and books. He openly criticizes their methods, their conceptions of preservation and conservation, as well as their continual assault on paper. His explanation of the “double fold test” is quite impressive. I must admit that I could not resist performing that test on my book, however silly it felt. Indeed, Baker asks the right question when he wonders what readers ask of their books and the paper used. They do not ask that the pages survive so many foldings of the corners, but that the pages can be turned, and therefore the books read. It was at times rather startling to read about the different tests or methods invented to “preserve” books; the rule of “reversibility” (you must always be able to undo what you did to a document) does not seem to have been part of those people’s preoccupations.
Baker surely does have a very straightforward and polemical way of writing about issues. Yet, this should not divert our attention from his main concern: What is the point of microfilming documents, and then destroying the originals? If it is in an effort to preserve newspapers, books, or other types of records, that they are microfilmed, this should not lead to the tossing of the paper format. What will happen when microfilms will not be a readable format anymore? What happens when the transfer has been executed poorly and some (or all of) the data has been lost? What will happen when digitization will be more common and projects will come up to digitize those documents? How will the microfilm be transferred to digital?
Those questions will remain present and relevant for a very long time, especially with the growing importance of digitization. Should microfilms or digital formats replace original documents, or should they truly fulfill their “preservation mission”? If they are preservation formats, then the originals surely should not be destroyed. One of the examples I know of is the audio preservation program at the Florida State Archives. What they are doing is transferring into digital format all of their audio collection, making a “preservation copy” in a very high quality, and then making a lower-bitrate copy for the patrons to have access to. The originals are never destroyed, but some of them are in too poor condition to be used on a regular basis, and others are using formats that may be hard to read in a very near future (reels, cassettes). Those audio records are being preserved digitally and in their original form. The care is not only given to the transfer, but also to keep the actual records in the best condition possible.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
The Governor’s Commission for a Sustainable South Florida – Florida State Archives
During my internship at the Florida State Archives, I got to work at the Record Center for a few weeks (and I am actually still working there, still struggling with my internship). One of my tasks there was to study a new series that had been accessioned by the Archives in February 2007, re-box and re-folder all the documents, as well as write the description of the series, and enter the data in re:discovery.
Here is some of the information that I have gathered:
Record Group Number: 000550
Series/Collection Number: .S 2092
Creator: Florida. Dept. of Environmental Protection.
Title, Dates: Everglades study and restoration commission records, 1994-2001.
Amount: 8.3 cubic ft.
Description of the Series:
The Governor's Commission for a Sustainable South Florida was created by Governor Lawton Chiles in 1994 (Executive Order 94-54) to assure a healthy Everglades ecosystem, which could coexist with and be mutually supportive of the South Florida economy. The Commission was formed partly in response to numerous lawsuits, which arose over the ecosystem restoration and was intended to improve consensus and coordination of activities impacting the ecosystem between the private and public sectors. The Commission was headquartered in Coral Gables and was funded by grants administered by the Department of Environmental Protection.
The Commission issued a variety of reports and studies, including a restudy of the 1948 "Central and South Florida Project" which had resulted in a program of drainage and building of canals, levees, and water control structures in the Everglades. The Commission's "Restudy" proposed recommendations to alleviate the damage caused by these activities and to restore the Everglades ecosystem.
The Commission was continued by Executive Orders 95-464 and 97-201. As the Commission was set to expire on June 30, 1999, Governor Jeb Bush signed Executive Order 99-144, establishing the Governor's Commission for the Everglades as the successor agency to the Commission for a Sustainable South Florida and comprised of a similar membership. The Commission was funded from the budgets of the Florida Departments of Environmental Protection, Transportation, Community Affairs, and Agriculture and Consumer Services. The Commission served as an advisory body to the South Florida Ecosystem Restoration Task Force; served as a forum for improving decision-making and public participation in Everglades’s restoration; and evaluated and made recommendations regarding funding and implementation of the Restudy.
In March 2000, the Commission adopted Resolutions 2000-1 and 2000-2 calling for the State of Florida to fully fund the non-federal share of the restoration plan (the "Restudy") and recommending full partnership between the State of Florida and the federal government in implementing the plan. The Governor's Commission for the Everglades continued operating until expiration of EO 99-144 on June 30, 2001.
Summary of the Series’ content:
This series documents the efforts of the Governor's Commission for a Sustainable South Florida, and its successor agency the Governor's Commission for the Everglades, to develop a consensus-based plan for restoration of the Everglades ecosystem. The series includes correspondence with the Governor, legislators, members of Congress, President Bill Clinton, lobbying organizations, and citizens, as well as correspondence between Commission members, discussing issues studied by the Commission and issues raised at Commission meetings. Also included in the series are Commission reports, studies, and amendments, as well as drafts showing development of the reports and studies; Executive Orders establishing or extending the Commission; Commission resolutions; member appointment records; meeting files, including minutes, agendas, and background materials; study and meeting files of the Commission's issue teams and committees; public relations materials such as videos and brochures; and newspaper articles and press releases.
Here is some of the information that I have gathered:
Record Group Number: 000550
Series/Collection Number: .S 2092
Creator: Florida. Dept. of Environmental Protection.
Title, Dates: Everglades study and restoration commission records, 1994-2001.
Amount: 8.3 cubic ft.
Description of the Series:
The Governor's Commission for a Sustainable South Florida was created by Governor Lawton Chiles in 1994 (Executive Order 94-54) to assure a healthy Everglades ecosystem, which could coexist with and be mutually supportive of the South Florida economy. The Commission was formed partly in response to numerous lawsuits, which arose over the ecosystem restoration and was intended to improve consensus and coordination of activities impacting the ecosystem between the private and public sectors. The Commission was headquartered in Coral Gables and was funded by grants administered by the Department of Environmental Protection.
The Commission issued a variety of reports and studies, including a restudy of the 1948 "Central and South Florida Project" which had resulted in a program of drainage and building of canals, levees, and water control structures in the Everglades. The Commission's "Restudy" proposed recommendations to alleviate the damage caused by these activities and to restore the Everglades ecosystem.
The Commission was continued by Executive Orders 95-464 and 97-201. As the Commission was set to expire on June 30, 1999, Governor Jeb Bush signed Executive Order 99-144, establishing the Governor's Commission for the Everglades as the successor agency to the Commission for a Sustainable South Florida and comprised of a similar membership. The Commission was funded from the budgets of the Florida Departments of Environmental Protection, Transportation, Community Affairs, and Agriculture and Consumer Services. The Commission served as an advisory body to the South Florida Ecosystem Restoration Task Force; served as a forum for improving decision-making and public participation in Everglades’s restoration; and evaluated and made recommendations regarding funding and implementation of the Restudy.
In March 2000, the Commission adopted Resolutions 2000-1 and 2000-2 calling for the State of Florida to fully fund the non-federal share of the restoration plan (the "Restudy") and recommending full partnership between the State of Florida and the federal government in implementing the plan. The Governor's Commission for the Everglades continued operating until expiration of EO 99-144 on June 30, 2001.
Summary of the Series’ content:
This series documents the efforts of the Governor's Commission for a Sustainable South Florida, and its successor agency the Governor's Commission for the Everglades, to develop a consensus-based plan for restoration of the Everglades ecosystem. The series includes correspondence with the Governor, legislators, members of Congress, President Bill Clinton, lobbying organizations, and citizens, as well as correspondence between Commission members, discussing issues studied by the Commission and issues raised at Commission meetings. Also included in the series are Commission reports, studies, and amendments, as well as drafts showing development of the reports and studies; Executive Orders establishing or extending the Commission; Commission resolutions; member appointment records; meeting files, including minutes, agendas, and background materials; study and meeting files of the Commission's issue teams and committees; public relations materials such as videos and brochures; and newspaper articles and press releases.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Wallace's "The Virtual Past: Media and History Museums"
Wallace chapter entitled “The Virtual Past: Media and History Museums” is a rather interesting one to look at in retrospect. Indeed, Wallace wrote this piece in 1993, and a lot of things have changed since then in the digital and computerized worlds. Throughout his article, Wallace mostly focuses on the risks inherent to the digital world. He wonders if history computer games or electronic books will be the only way future generations will be connected to historical subjects. He seems to believe that helmet and body sensors will become a very popular technology and will be widely used in museums, for virtual exhibits or such. One of his main concerns is that virtual museums will slowly replace real ones, bringing up the question of artifacts and what will become of them. Wallace is apprehensive that virtual museums will feel more convenient for individuals, who will slowly turn into “couch-potato museumgoers”. Moreover, even though he declares that the use of public places is already slowly disappearing in our societies, Wallace seems worried that the emergence of virtual museums will make matters worse by removing another opportunity people have to leave their house and interact with others. In addition, Wallace also thinks that the internet will maintain a social distinction in the access to culture. Computers, software, and internet connection would be expensive and not everybody could afford such technologies. Even though he interestingly closes his article on a more optimistic note – new technologies might end up bringing new possibilities for learning history in museums – Wallace surely seems preoccupied with those novelties. A twenty-first century reader cannot help but wonder if Wallace painted the devil on the wall from lack of knowledge and experience. If it is certain that new technologies have dramatically reshaped our society, they have not destroyed our cultures. Without saying that computers and internet connections are inexpensive, their prices have been going down and will surely continue to do so. Besides, books have not yet disappeared, just as libraries. Museums are still standing. They actually use the new technologies not to become isolated islands of knowledge for a few elected ones, but to reach out to broader audiences. So far, what Wallace seemed to be hoping for in his conclusion is taking place: the internet has not replaced museums, and new technologies haven’t swallow everything else. They nevertheless have enhanced the world of museums and have erected new bridges between people and museums.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Goodwood visit – just a few random thoughts
After a regular guided tour of Goodwood during our Heritage Bus tour, the “behind the scene” visit of the museum felt like a perfect supplement to understand things better. Indeed, it is one useful thing to learn about the history of the house, its different owners, etc., but it is another interesting aspect to hear about how the museum functions, why things are the way they are, and what projects are waiting in the drawers.
What I learned is that Goodwood is considered to be a small museum, with about two hundred volunteers and six people on staff. Its annual budget is 0.5 million that need to be gathered each year. That budget covers operational expenses only. The visit fees are not enough to cover such a budget, and the additional “income” comes mostly from rentals and fund-raising events, such as the “An Evening under the Oaks” (which just took place I believe; the concept sounds great, but it is still a little too expensive for college students).
Because the money covers only the operational needs of the museum, there are no funds available for any research. Some projects exist though, but they cannot be undertaken right now. For instance, one idea is to study the African Americans that used to work on the plantation or in the house. There is also a project to digitize the collection of photographs that the museum owns and put them online – akin to the Archives’ Florida Memory Project does – but this also requires additional funding and materials.
On the brighter side, the “carriage house” is under construction, and will be able to host events for up to three hundred people – which will eventually increase the number of rentals/events. There is also a project to restore the water tower, even though it is not sure yet what will be done with it.
I truly do love Goodwood, and I am never tired of going back to that place. But I can also understand that not everybody sees it that way, and that once they have been there, they do not really go back. However, it seems that the museum hopes its visitors will come back, over and over again. I guess my greatest curiosity today, is how that would be possible. Except for a few “Goodwood-geeks” (I know there are some around here, and I might even be one of them), what would drive people to come back? The core of the visit is the main house, and it is furnished with a permanent exhibition. There is nothing that really changes x-time per year. Yes, there is that small room on the North side, which hosts different mini-exhibits, but is that enough to bring people back? I do not think so.
Of course, I do not have any answers, just lots of questions. And that is mostly what our second visit to Goodwood brought to my mind.
What I learned is that Goodwood is considered to be a small museum, with about two hundred volunteers and six people on staff. Its annual budget is 0.5 million that need to be gathered each year. That budget covers operational expenses only. The visit fees are not enough to cover such a budget, and the additional “income” comes mostly from rentals and fund-raising events, such as the “An Evening under the Oaks” (which just took place I believe; the concept sounds great, but it is still a little too expensive for college students).
Because the money covers only the operational needs of the museum, there are no funds available for any research. Some projects exist though, but they cannot be undertaken right now. For instance, one idea is to study the African Americans that used to work on the plantation or in the house. There is also a project to digitize the collection of photographs that the museum owns and put them online – akin to the Archives’ Florida Memory Project does – but this also requires additional funding and materials.
On the brighter side, the “carriage house” is under construction, and will be able to host events for up to three hundred people – which will eventually increase the number of rentals/events. There is also a project to restore the water tower, even though it is not sure yet what will be done with it.
I truly do love Goodwood, and I am never tired of going back to that place. But I can also understand that not everybody sees it that way, and that once they have been there, they do not really go back. However, it seems that the museum hopes its visitors will come back, over and over again. I guess my greatest curiosity today, is how that would be possible. Except for a few “Goodwood-geeks” (I know there are some around here, and I might even be one of them), what would drive people to come back? The core of the visit is the main house, and it is furnished with a permanent exhibition. There is nothing that really changes x-time per year. Yes, there is that small room on the North side, which hosts different mini-exhibits, but is that enough to bring people back? I do not think so.
Of course, I do not have any answers, just lots of questions. And that is mostly what our second visit to Goodwood brought to my mind.
“The Other Suburbanites: African American Suburbanization in the North before 1950”, Andrew Wiese
This history of American suburbs has been researched and written about, but mostly as solely a white middle-class phenomenon. In Andrew Wiese’s view, such an approach misses out on a wider population that also has been experiencing life in suburbs in the past decades, people like workers, immigrants or African Americans. Through his article “The Other Suburbanites: African American Suburbanization in the North before 1950”, Wiese attempts to draw another picture; a picture that would take into consideration other communities that have been meaningful in the history of American suburbs. His particular focus is African American suburbs in the North, and his main example for this article is Chagrin Falls Park in Ohio. Wiese not only wants to explain why what has been looked at by white people and academics as “slums”, felt like a community, a home, to its African American inhabitants. He also wants to elaborate on the “motivations and values of early black suburbanites”, while bringing back black suburbanization within the context of American urban history.
To accomplish this, Wiese uses Oral History interviews and inserts them in his article in a very smooth and subtle way. Indeed, He does not quote at length the interviews, or put them in an annex at the end of his work, but he blends them into his writing, using those interviews to exemplify thesis or statements. Secondary literature and other types of primary sources are his basis for research, and then combining it with Oral History makes it more real to the readers, and helps grasp the concepts in a more concrete way. Wiese starts out by giving a context on American suburbs, and then goes on to explain how Chagrin Falls Park got started and started expanding. When he starts describing life in Chagrin Falls Park, what people used to do, how they would live, etc., is the primary use of interviews. Usually, it is children whose parents move to Chagrin Falls Park and recall the way things were. For instance, one lady remembers her father looking for a place with a garden, so they could grow vegetables and raise small livestock. Or he quotes different men to show how commuting was organized. He also uses the example of different families to present how important it was for those African Americans at that time to have a “place of their own”. Having their own house also enabled those people to rent rooms as a source of additional income. One lady and her husband built an addition to their house so they could rent it to people moving in the neighborhood, until their own house was ready. Another couple had three other houses built that they would use for rentals. Wiese also describes the family networks that existed. Having extended family and friends in the neighborhood was very important in case of hard times, and Wiese refers to different families in Chagrin Falls Park, and uses their story to demonstrate the importance and extension of such networks.
In his article, Wiese not only tries to make visible a history that has been mostly kept in the dark so far, and wants to show that behind the concept of “suburbs” in the United States in the first part of the 20th century, there were not only white middle-class families, but that the scope of inhabitants was much wider, leading to different kinds of suburbs often with common patterns. In addition to his subject, Wiese also uses a very interesting methodology, blending Oral History with social and African American history. It surely brings something more to his research, making his examples feel closer or more tangible to his readers.
To accomplish this, Wiese uses Oral History interviews and inserts them in his article in a very smooth and subtle way. Indeed, He does not quote at length the interviews, or put them in an annex at the end of his work, but he blends them into his writing, using those interviews to exemplify thesis or statements. Secondary literature and other types of primary sources are his basis for research, and then combining it with Oral History makes it more real to the readers, and helps grasp the concepts in a more concrete way. Wiese starts out by giving a context on American suburbs, and then goes on to explain how Chagrin Falls Park got started and started expanding. When he starts describing life in Chagrin Falls Park, what people used to do, how they would live, etc., is the primary use of interviews. Usually, it is children whose parents move to Chagrin Falls Park and recall the way things were. For instance, one lady remembers her father looking for a place with a garden, so they could grow vegetables and raise small livestock. Or he quotes different men to show how commuting was organized. He also uses the example of different families to present how important it was for those African Americans at that time to have a “place of their own”. Having their own house also enabled those people to rent rooms as a source of additional income. One lady and her husband built an addition to their house so they could rent it to people moving in the neighborhood, until their own house was ready. Another couple had three other houses built that they would use for rentals. Wiese also describes the family networks that existed. Having extended family and friends in the neighborhood was very important in case of hard times, and Wiese refers to different families in Chagrin Falls Park, and uses their story to demonstrate the importance and extension of such networks.
In his article, Wiese not only tries to make visible a history that has been mostly kept in the dark so far, and wants to show that behind the concept of “suburbs” in the United States in the first part of the 20th century, there were not only white middle-class families, but that the scope of inhabitants was much wider, leading to different kinds of suburbs often with common patterns. In addition to his subject, Wiese also uses a very interesting methodology, blending Oral History with social and African American history. It surely brings something more to his research, making his examples feel closer or more tangible to his readers.
Friday, October 26, 2007
“Digital Archives are a Gift of Wisdom to be used Wisely”, Roy Rosenzweig
The article entitled “Digital Archives are a Gift of Wisdom to be used Wisely” and written by Roy Rosenzweig in 1995 focuses on the main opportunities, but also impediments, that digital archives can bring to historians. In Rosenzweig’s opinion, one of the big advantages of digital archives is that they offer a more direct access to primary sources, wherever you live or go to College, and independently from the size of the library you can access.
Rosenzweig starts by giving a quick overview on the changes that have occurred in the field of digital use and access in the last decades. He mentions a CD-ROM he worked on with other colleagues which, when it appeared in 1993, already felt kind of obsolete because of the arrival of mosaic, the first web-browser which was easy to use and install and opened the access to the web to the public. Maybe the arrival of Mosaic felt like a huge and very innovative change, but in retrospect it is a little hard to think that CD-ROM would have been outdated by the arrival of internet browsers. Those are two different technologies and both have different possible uses. But let us go back to Rosenzweig. What seems to be most amazing to him is the number of digital libraries and databases that have emerged on the web during the last decades, making all kind of primary sources available to a larger amount of people and widening the scope of resources for teachers in different disciplines.
If some people think that using the web might be dangerous because of the false or bad information that can be found, Rosenzweig chooses to take a stand and defends the changes that have taken place on the World Wide Web in the past years. He believes that the “quality of Web-based historical resources is surprisingly good and getting better.” What seems to be of a bigger concern for the author is the question of the access to all those materials; the actual access to documents on the web, and then more the actual intellectual access (knowing what to do with the sources). Before elaborating some more on the question of access, Rosenzweig takes some time to talk about the relatively recent appearance of google and the great research possibilities it has brought as well as its ranking system. He also mentions the kind of “peer-review” that is becoming more frequent and that helps sorting good from bad information.
It is toward the end of his article that Rosenzweig comes to a very interesting and relevant point: the question of the commercialization of the access to primary sources on the web. His concern is whether the digital world will – or will not – reproduce what the “real” world has been living on: the inequality of access to the available resources. In the “real” world, it is embodied by the size of libraries and the capital of the college, which influence the books, journals, or primary sources that they have been able to gather and are still able to acquire. On the web, this inequality of access can be exemplified with the Thomson Corporation and their 18th century collection. They have digitized “every significant English-language and foreign-language title printed in Great Britain during the 18th century”, but to have access to it, universities have to pay a very impressive fee; a price that not every university can afford. I remember accessing that database when it was still in its beta version, and I must admit that it was a very impressive and useful tool for researchers. As I was working on the 18th century at that time, I was able to find on that website an amazing amount of texts from preachers and intellectuals from England and Switzerland; sermons and different kind of books that I would never have had access to (or with great difficulties) without this online resource. It was a great loss when it left its beta phase and the fee was introduced, because my college did not have the money to subscribe. Therefore, I am not very sure to agree with Rosenzweig when he says that it is impolite to complain about those kind of online database, because the potential they represent is amazing (and he thinks we should maybe consider that aspect more, rather than be upset there is a fee to pay). I just wonder why everything has to be made into a profitable business, even the access to our history. It is rather sad that academic institutions often do not have the necessary funds to undertake such projects, and that those are then grabbed by private institutions/firms whose primary purpose is to generate profit.
And yes, Rosenzweig is right to mention that after the issue of “physical” access, there is still the problem of their actual intellectual access: using and interpreting those documents. However, is it really a new preoccupation? Or is the broader access to primary sources of all kinds making more apparent a problem that had been hiding in the corner for so long: the lack of instruction in reading and using historical sources. Hopefully, changes in the digital world will encourage some needed changes in education.
Rosenzweig starts by giving a quick overview on the changes that have occurred in the field of digital use and access in the last decades. He mentions a CD-ROM he worked on with other colleagues which, when it appeared in 1993, already felt kind of obsolete because of the arrival of mosaic, the first web-browser which was easy to use and install and opened the access to the web to the public. Maybe the arrival of Mosaic felt like a huge and very innovative change, but in retrospect it is a little hard to think that CD-ROM would have been outdated by the arrival of internet browsers. Those are two different technologies and both have different possible uses. But let us go back to Rosenzweig. What seems to be most amazing to him is the number of digital libraries and databases that have emerged on the web during the last decades, making all kind of primary sources available to a larger amount of people and widening the scope of resources for teachers in different disciplines.
If some people think that using the web might be dangerous because of the false or bad information that can be found, Rosenzweig chooses to take a stand and defends the changes that have taken place on the World Wide Web in the past years. He believes that the “quality of Web-based historical resources is surprisingly good and getting better.” What seems to be of a bigger concern for the author is the question of the access to all those materials; the actual access to documents on the web, and then more the actual intellectual access (knowing what to do with the sources). Before elaborating some more on the question of access, Rosenzweig takes some time to talk about the relatively recent appearance of google and the great research possibilities it has brought as well as its ranking system. He also mentions the kind of “peer-review” that is becoming more frequent and that helps sorting good from bad information.
It is toward the end of his article that Rosenzweig comes to a very interesting and relevant point: the question of the commercialization of the access to primary sources on the web. His concern is whether the digital world will – or will not – reproduce what the “real” world has been living on: the inequality of access to the available resources. In the “real” world, it is embodied by the size of libraries and the capital of the college, which influence the books, journals, or primary sources that they have been able to gather and are still able to acquire. On the web, this inequality of access can be exemplified with the Thomson Corporation and their 18th century collection. They have digitized “every significant English-language and foreign-language title printed in Great Britain during the 18th century”, but to have access to it, universities have to pay a very impressive fee; a price that not every university can afford. I remember accessing that database when it was still in its beta version, and I must admit that it was a very impressive and useful tool for researchers. As I was working on the 18th century at that time, I was able to find on that website an amazing amount of texts from preachers and intellectuals from England and Switzerland; sermons and different kind of books that I would never have had access to (or with great difficulties) without this online resource. It was a great loss when it left its beta phase and the fee was introduced, because my college did not have the money to subscribe. Therefore, I am not very sure to agree with Rosenzweig when he says that it is impolite to complain about those kind of online database, because the potential they represent is amazing (and he thinks we should maybe consider that aspect more, rather than be upset there is a fee to pay). I just wonder why everything has to be made into a profitable business, even the access to our history. It is rather sad that academic institutions often do not have the necessary funds to undertake such projects, and that those are then grabbed by private institutions/firms whose primary purpose is to generate profit.
And yes, Rosenzweig is right to mention that after the issue of “physical” access, there is still the problem of their actual intellectual access: using and interpreting those documents. However, is it really a new preoccupation? Or is the broader access to primary sources of all kinds making more apparent a problem that had been hiding in the corner for so long: the lack of instruction in reading and using historical sources. Hopefully, changes in the digital world will encourage some needed changes in education.
"Can you do serious history on the web?", Carl Smith
The title of Carl Smith’s article is pretty much self-explanatory: “Can You Do Serious History on the Web?” wonders whether or not historical websites can be a relevant source of information and, as such, be considered as “serious history”. Smith’s point of view is that it is, indeed, possible to produce significant content on the Internet and he proceeds to prove this with the example of an online exhibition he curated on the Great Chicago Fire. Smith gives extensive examples from that experience to show how that type of history making is valid. The online-exhibit is made of two main chapters, each having galleries of images, libraries of texts as well as interpretive essays. Smith, in collaboration with others, worked on selecting images and texts, referred to and used some of the main research that have been produced on that question, and attempted to include some original approaches on the subject.
Early in his article, Smith offers to define “serious history”: it is an “original work that is responsibly based on primary sources, is intelligently informed by relevant scholarship, and makes a clear argument or group of arguments.” Smith admits that it might be a simplified definition, but it seems to cover the main and general aspects of what an in-depth historical work might be. In addition to being a significant work, the use of the web also brought some interesting opportunities for the exhibit. For instance, it enabled Smith to make available a large variety of texts. The form and the structure of the website also allowed the opportunity to bring together different texts, ideas and images in a way that might not be easy in a book or in a museum. Furthermore, because the website is going to be available online for an unlimited amount of time, it makes it possible for its visitors to come back, read the different texts at their own pace, or print what they want. Thanks to the evolution of graphic web designing, such intense texts and information can be presented in a very readable and visitor-friendly display. For Smith, not only is it important that it is a form of serious history, but the fact that people are encouraged to interact with history by themselves, explore and interpret it.
One of Smith’s central points is that he is not trying to sell a substitute way of making history, but rather a complementary one. Because of the new and different possibilities it conveys, the web is something that should be used by historians, and not rejected. The question that historians – teachers as well as scholars – should keep in mind is what they ultimately want to achieve, especially in the field of public history. If one of the goals is to reach a larger public, and transmit a qualitatively serious and comprehensive history, maybe using the web as a tool should be taken into account. Smith’s conclusion points at a very valid and crucial concept: “The only way to see to it that there is serious history on the web is to put it there ourselves.” The problem maybe lies in the fact that too many historians are still reluctant and doubtful about the digital and the online worlds. But is this based on reasonable judgment, or on some lack of knowledge on those new technologies and possibilities? The question has been thrown in the debate arena.
Early in his article, Smith offers to define “serious history”: it is an “original work that is responsibly based on primary sources, is intelligently informed by relevant scholarship, and makes a clear argument or group of arguments.” Smith admits that it might be a simplified definition, but it seems to cover the main and general aspects of what an in-depth historical work might be. In addition to being a significant work, the use of the web also brought some interesting opportunities for the exhibit. For instance, it enabled Smith to make available a large variety of texts. The form and the structure of the website also allowed the opportunity to bring together different texts, ideas and images in a way that might not be easy in a book or in a museum. Furthermore, because the website is going to be available online for an unlimited amount of time, it makes it possible for its visitors to come back, read the different texts at their own pace, or print what they want. Thanks to the evolution of graphic web designing, such intense texts and information can be presented in a very readable and visitor-friendly display. For Smith, not only is it important that it is a form of serious history, but the fact that people are encouraged to interact with history by themselves, explore and interpret it.
One of Smith’s central points is that he is not trying to sell a substitute way of making history, but rather a complementary one. Because of the new and different possibilities it conveys, the web is something that should be used by historians, and not rejected. The question that historians – teachers as well as scholars – should keep in mind is what they ultimately want to achieve, especially in the field of public history. If one of the goals is to reach a larger public, and transmit a qualitatively serious and comprehensive history, maybe using the web as a tool should be taken into account. Smith’s conclusion points at a very valid and crucial concept: “The only way to see to it that there is serious history on the web is to put it there ourselves.” The problem maybe lies in the fact that too many historians are still reluctant and doubtful about the digital and the online worlds. But is this based on reasonable judgment, or on some lack of knowledge on those new technologies and possibilities? The question has been thrown in the debate arena.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Book review: Preserving Nature in the National Parks: A History
Richard W. Sellars Preserving Nature in the National Parks: A History is a comprehensive and rather surprising research on the topic. Comprehensive because his three hundred pages book thoroughly covers the period from prior to the creation of the National Park Service to almost nowadays. Rather surprising because, even though Sellars actually works for the Service, this does not prevent him from drawing a somewhat controversial picture of his Service history and situation. Sellars chooses to mainly focus on the environmental and ecological aspects of National Parks management, and his perspective is that throughout the century, those two aspects have never been really dominant. Even though changes have occurred, the improvements are probably not important enough. The problem is that, from the very beginning, scientific research has never been dominant in the management’s philosophy.
Sellars presents the importance of business interests in the development of National Parks, from the very establishment of Yellowstone as a National Park in 1872, continuing with the creation of the National Park Service in 1916. Railroad companies were interested in the development of those Parks, because of the opportunities they brought, for railroads construction, but also hotels and other commodities. From the very beginning, the main focus for the Parks management was aesthetical preoccupations and tourism. The idea was clear, it was to “make business of Scenery” (p. 28). Of course, conserving nature was always something in the back of the mind, but it did not imply the preservation of the natural conditions. Throughout the decades, predators were killed, species becoming too predominant were also killed, fish-growth was strongly encouraged for fishing purposes and nonnative plants were introduced and kept.
An element that is emphasized on from the first chapters of this book is that fact that a tradition in preoccupation was set very early in the history of the Service. Its first directors clearly did not want to involve science in their management, and the management of the land mostly had to be utilitarian in order to keep things nice and attract more tourists. Some hope for ecological concerns emerged some time during the 1930s, but it seems to have been too early and did not get any support from politics or from the public. Therefore, the attempts of a few biologists remained mostly fruitless until the 1960s and 1970s, when a broader ecological movement emerged in society. It seems that the situation for biologists and scientific research has slowly been improving in the last two to three decades. They are not prevalent in the Parks Management, but they have been given a voice and have been able to influence choices. In Sellars’s words, the National Park Service remains nowadays a “House divided”, still torn between one side wanting to become more scientifically and ecologically informed and another side mostly preoccupied with continuing the predominant tradition of the Service: that of being touristically attractive.
In Preserving Nature in the National Parks, Sellars gives lots of examples, shows the management problems that have emerged over the decades, and keeps hinting that the approach should be more scientific. But he never states one thing clearly, or maybe he just misses the beneath-the-surface aspect: it is not just a question of inserting scientifically ecological and environmental research in National Parks management. The deeper question is rather related to the goals given to National Parks. What should they do, what should they bring? That would influence what works need to be performed in order to fulfill those goals. In the United States, it clearly seems that the primary goal of National Parks is to be organized in uniquely beautiful spaces for the visitors’ leisurely enjoyment. But one question stands out of this: aren’t they enough of other places to do that? Shouldn’t National Park first and above all aim at preserving Nature, offering people an opportunity to observe wildlife in its natural and original environment? Shouldn’t parks be more of a preservation area rather than a displayable business card for the country? There is an old reference to Switzerland in this book, and how we have been able to use our beautiful sceneries, bring them in the front stage. However, looking at the website of our National Park, I do not see any trace of “making business of Scenery”; I rather see preservation and protection of wildlife, research, and educating people about their natural environment. Some food for thoughts: http://www.nationalpark.ch/
Sellars presents the importance of business interests in the development of National Parks, from the very establishment of Yellowstone as a National Park in 1872, continuing with the creation of the National Park Service in 1916. Railroad companies were interested in the development of those Parks, because of the opportunities they brought, for railroads construction, but also hotels and other commodities. From the very beginning, the main focus for the Parks management was aesthetical preoccupations and tourism. The idea was clear, it was to “make business of Scenery” (p. 28). Of course, conserving nature was always something in the back of the mind, but it did not imply the preservation of the natural conditions. Throughout the decades, predators were killed, species becoming too predominant were also killed, fish-growth was strongly encouraged for fishing purposes and nonnative plants were introduced and kept.
An element that is emphasized on from the first chapters of this book is that fact that a tradition in preoccupation was set very early in the history of the Service. Its first directors clearly did not want to involve science in their management, and the management of the land mostly had to be utilitarian in order to keep things nice and attract more tourists. Some hope for ecological concerns emerged some time during the 1930s, but it seems to have been too early and did not get any support from politics or from the public. Therefore, the attempts of a few biologists remained mostly fruitless until the 1960s and 1970s, when a broader ecological movement emerged in society. It seems that the situation for biologists and scientific research has slowly been improving in the last two to three decades. They are not prevalent in the Parks Management, but they have been given a voice and have been able to influence choices. In Sellars’s words, the National Park Service remains nowadays a “House divided”, still torn between one side wanting to become more scientifically and ecologically informed and another side mostly preoccupied with continuing the predominant tradition of the Service: that of being touristically attractive.
In Preserving Nature in the National Parks, Sellars gives lots of examples, shows the management problems that have emerged over the decades, and keeps hinting that the approach should be more scientific. But he never states one thing clearly, or maybe he just misses the beneath-the-surface aspect: it is not just a question of inserting scientifically ecological and environmental research in National Parks management. The deeper question is rather related to the goals given to National Parks. What should they do, what should they bring? That would influence what works need to be performed in order to fulfill those goals. In the United States, it clearly seems that the primary goal of National Parks is to be organized in uniquely beautiful spaces for the visitors’ leisurely enjoyment. But one question stands out of this: aren’t they enough of other places to do that? Shouldn’t National Park first and above all aim at preserving Nature, offering people an opportunity to observe wildlife in its natural and original environment? Shouldn’t parks be more of a preservation area rather than a displayable business card for the country? There is an old reference to Switzerland in this book, and how we have been able to use our beautiful sceneries, bring them in the front stage. However, looking at the website of our National Park, I do not see any trace of “making business of Scenery”; I rather see preservation and protection of wildlife, research, and educating people about their natural environment. Some food for thoughts: http://www.nationalpark.ch/
Review: “Selling the Meaning of Place: Entrepreneurship, Tourism, and Community Transformation in the Twentieth-Century American West”, Hal K. Rothman
The article written by Hal K. Rothman and entitled “Selling the Meaning of Place: Entrepreneurship, Tourism, and Community Transformation in the Twentieth-Century American West”, briefly but grippingly presents an overview of the different changes of tourism in the American West, from the beginning of the century until then end of the 20th century. According to Rothman, tourism is an unique industry in its capacity to anticipate and adapt to cultural trends. From reading his article, one can also relate to the significance of economic and social aspects. Rothman presents three stages in tourism in chronological order of appearance: heritage tourism, recreation tourism and finally entertainment tourism. For the first one, Rothman mostly focuses on the history of Grand Canyon and Santa Fe. For both places, he demonstrates how the transportation offered by the developing railroad industry helped for the emergence of those places as historic and touristic. What was also important for those places were the roles played by individual entrepreneurs, who chose to invest in their development and bring out interesting aspects. In Grand Canyon, for instance, making it attractive for heritage tourism was its symbolism as a true American (and not European influenced, like the East side) unique scenery, slowly organized with access via railroads, then roads, with hotels and other attractions. In a second phase, recreation tourism focused on different kinds of visitors, looking for different types of activities. Rothman focuses on the emerging skiing industry, and presents the examples of Sun Valley and Aspen. Before the 1920s and 1930s, skiing already had grown to be a popular activity in the East. It however became of interest in the West in the 1920s, and the idea was mostly to offer to wealthy people less crowded slopes, in some amazing areas. Sun Valley embodies such an example. Once again, it was under the impulsion of one man – W. Averell Harriman – closely related to the railroads industry (he was the head of the Union Pacific Railroad) that the place got prepared for American tourists. He bought the land, and then hired a public relations specialist to start promoting the place. The latter had in his mind a grandiose hotel that would attract affluent and famous people. Harriman aimed at the upper- and upper-middle classes, creating an accessible and enjoyable outdoor recreation space, organized in a nice resort. Finally, Rothman closes with a third chapter on entertainment tourism, the most famous example of this being Las Vegas. Emerging from the post-war period, this new type of tourism was no longer limited only to the sole privileged ones, but adopted a more general and leisurely approach. At that time, railroad was not the transportation industry that was so influent anymore; jet airplanes were the ones to largely contribute to the expansion of that kind of tourism. With its hotels, casinos, and also the unique shows that were brought there (Cirque du Soleil, for instance), Las Vegas expanded as a typical entertaining city, offering 24/7 recreational activities for everybody, that felt rather luxurious.
If the American touristic industry started as mostly entrepreneurial in the early 20th century, Rothman shows how it slowly grew into something bigger and more lucrative, drawing in the interests of corporate and institutional business in the second half of the century. Tourism became all about how to find the perfect spot and then make it agreeable to potential visitors or clients. Nowadays, it seems that the different types of tourisms described by Rothman are not that obvious anymore; a historical site can be made very entertaining; history, leisure and activities are brought together in an attempt to give people the feeling that they are learning something, coming closer to their past, in an amazing setting, while relaxing at the same time. Almost everything is about business and profit, isn’t it?
If the American touristic industry started as mostly entrepreneurial in the early 20th century, Rothman shows how it slowly grew into something bigger and more lucrative, drawing in the interests of corporate and institutional business in the second half of the century. Tourism became all about how to find the perfect spot and then make it agreeable to potential visitors or clients. Nowadays, it seems that the different types of tourisms described by Rothman are not that obvious anymore; a historical site can be made very entertaining; history, leisure and activities are brought together in an attempt to give people the feeling that they are learning something, coming closer to their past, in an amazing setting, while relaxing at the same time. Almost everything is about business and profit, isn’t it?
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Landmarks & Legacy: bus tour of African American Heritage and History
Starting at the Riley House, the bus tour on the heritage of African Americans in Tallahassee took us in a variety of places. Among them were Smokey Hollow, FAMU, the Civic Center, the old City Cemetery, Frenchtown, Alabama Street, Miracle Hill, FSU and finally Goodwood. Each place had something to tell us about the history of the African American community in Tallahassee. For instance, the Old city cemetery was and still is a segregated cemetery. Its West part is only for African Americans (important and/or wealthy ones only); the East side is reserved for white Caucasians. The two sides are quite different in appearance, the West being much simpler, less inhabited. Miracle Hill was the first nursing home for African Americans in Tallahassee, and was started by a Black Primitive Baptist Church back in the 1940s. FSU might have been created in 1851, but it was only in 1961 that the first black students got the opportunity to study in this institution. One of the now-administrative building of FAMU used to be a hospital for the African American community. And where the Civic Center now stands, there used to be a flea market, which was a meeting ground for the African Americans in Tallahassee.
One of the interesting moments of the tour was driving through the part of Tallahassee called “Frenchtown”. Maybe it is because I speak French and people keep thinking I am French (but no, I’m Swiss, and not Swedish either), but I have always been curious about that part of town. I had heard things about it, but – after one year in town – still had no idea where it was and what it looked like. I had heard that it was not such a good part of town at one point, but that things have been improving over the years. It certainly looked like it. Even though the neighborhood still seems pretty diverse, it was interesting to observe what they call the “revitalization” process. Frenchtown used to be the center of the city for the African American community. It used to have Lincoln Academy, a movie theater, different stores and public places. The neighborhood seems to have changed a lot, but now there is a plan to bring it back to life, making it more attractive again. The project is laudable per se, but its consequences not so much. Indeed, the plan is to build new residential houses that look exactly like the old and original ones still standing there. That is a good example of integration, to keep the unity of a neighborhood or district. However, there is a glitch in the picture. Indeed, those new houses might be identical copies from the original ones, but they are so much more expensive. The consequence is that the original inhabitants can no longer afford the new neighborhood. That reminded me of Mike Wallace’s Mickey Mouse History and Essays on American Memory, in his chapter about the history of Historic Preservation in the United States. At one point, Wallace explains how historic districts are being restored and revitalized – which is good – but that as a result, the original community living in that area has to move out, because prices become too high. Wallace is very strongly opinionated, and yet he seems to have a point that I had not fully realized when first reading him. I thought he only felt the need to relate everything to class struggles and unfairness. Once again, I thought he was just making too much of a fuss. But having seen Frenchtown, and having actually witnessed what Wallace was referring to, helped me understand what his general concern was. I will not go as far as agreeing with all of his critiques, but the underlying issue is much more obvious now: should a district be restored and revitalized to the detriment of its original inhabitants? Isn’t it too much of a paradox that bringing back a neighborhood to what it used to be implies getting rid of its “historic community”? Shouldn’t preservation try to take into consideration both the buildings and the communities? I am not quite sure to what extent such a project could be possible, but some steps can be surely taken towards that direction.
Visiting Goodwood was also an interesting experience, because of the amazing preservation and restoration work that has been performed, and also because the place is unique. Protected by majestic live oaks, this early-nineteenth century residence has been brought back to what it looked like in the 1920s. Its furniture is all original and reflects the different owners of the house. Goodwood was originally a plantation, and therefore surely had slaves working out in the fields. The owners also surely had servants around them, for it is a very big house that needs taking care of. However, that history is very much left on the side, the visit focusing on the different landlords and landladies. This is very much understandable, because the history on that aspect is already so very rich, and this is mostly what the house tells us about itself. However, I wondered in retrospect how our visit to Goodwood could be related to the rest of our tour, how to include this part of history in the history we had mostly been focusing on: the African Americans in Tallahassee.
Leaving books and classes, going on a bus tour to discover the history of a city and of one of its community was a fascinating experience. History was right there, through buildings, cemeteries, and neighborhoods. It was something reachable, not just something you have to imagine or conceptualize while sitting quietly at your desk. And as I am writing this, I cannot help but remember what Adam said on the bus: “Could you imagine what such a field trip would be like in Washington?” Once again, this reminded me of Europe and makes me imagine a public history or historic preservation field trip in Paris, Rome, or even Berne. It would not be just school-book history anymore, and it would not be simply walking in the street, observing very old buildings and different monuments and respecting them just because of their age or meaning. It would be a combination, using what books have taught us to discover further and experience the heritage that all those cities carry; not just architectural, but also social and economical.
One of the interesting moments of the tour was driving through the part of Tallahassee called “Frenchtown”. Maybe it is because I speak French and people keep thinking I am French (but no, I’m Swiss, and not Swedish either), but I have always been curious about that part of town. I had heard things about it, but – after one year in town – still had no idea where it was and what it looked like. I had heard that it was not such a good part of town at one point, but that things have been improving over the years. It certainly looked like it. Even though the neighborhood still seems pretty diverse, it was interesting to observe what they call the “revitalization” process. Frenchtown used to be the center of the city for the African American community. It used to have Lincoln Academy, a movie theater, different stores and public places. The neighborhood seems to have changed a lot, but now there is a plan to bring it back to life, making it more attractive again. The project is laudable per se, but its consequences not so much. Indeed, the plan is to build new residential houses that look exactly like the old and original ones still standing there. That is a good example of integration, to keep the unity of a neighborhood or district. However, there is a glitch in the picture. Indeed, those new houses might be identical copies from the original ones, but they are so much more expensive. The consequence is that the original inhabitants can no longer afford the new neighborhood. That reminded me of Mike Wallace’s Mickey Mouse History and Essays on American Memory, in his chapter about the history of Historic Preservation in the United States. At one point, Wallace explains how historic districts are being restored and revitalized – which is good – but that as a result, the original community living in that area has to move out, because prices become too high. Wallace is very strongly opinionated, and yet he seems to have a point that I had not fully realized when first reading him. I thought he only felt the need to relate everything to class struggles and unfairness. Once again, I thought he was just making too much of a fuss. But having seen Frenchtown, and having actually witnessed what Wallace was referring to, helped me understand what his general concern was. I will not go as far as agreeing with all of his critiques, but the underlying issue is much more obvious now: should a district be restored and revitalized to the detriment of its original inhabitants? Isn’t it too much of a paradox that bringing back a neighborhood to what it used to be implies getting rid of its “historic community”? Shouldn’t preservation try to take into consideration both the buildings and the communities? I am not quite sure to what extent such a project could be possible, but some steps can be surely taken towards that direction.
Visiting Goodwood was also an interesting experience, because of the amazing preservation and restoration work that has been performed, and also because the place is unique. Protected by majestic live oaks, this early-nineteenth century residence has been brought back to what it looked like in the 1920s. Its furniture is all original and reflects the different owners of the house. Goodwood was originally a plantation, and therefore surely had slaves working out in the fields. The owners also surely had servants around them, for it is a very big house that needs taking care of. However, that history is very much left on the side, the visit focusing on the different landlords and landladies. This is very much understandable, because the history on that aspect is already so very rich, and this is mostly what the house tells us about itself. However, I wondered in retrospect how our visit to Goodwood could be related to the rest of our tour, how to include this part of history in the history we had mostly been focusing on: the African Americans in Tallahassee.
Leaving books and classes, going on a bus tour to discover the history of a city and of one of its community was a fascinating experience. History was right there, through buildings, cemeteries, and neighborhoods. It was something reachable, not just something you have to imagine or conceptualize while sitting quietly at your desk. And as I am writing this, I cannot help but remember what Adam said on the bus: “Could you imagine what such a field trip would be like in Washington?” Once again, this reminded me of Europe and makes me imagine a public history or historic preservation field trip in Paris, Rome, or even Berne. It would not be just school-book history anymore, and it would not be simply walking in the street, observing very old buildings and different monuments and respecting them just because of their age or meaning. It would be a combination, using what books have taught us to discover further and experience the heritage that all those cities carry; not just architectural, but also social and economical.
Saturday, October 6, 2007
Book review: Road Trips Through History: A Collection of Essays from Preservation Magazine
Road Trips Through History: A Collection of Essays from Preservation Magazine gathers the articles written by Dwight Young between 1992 and 2003 for his column in the magazine. All in all, the book covers fifty-four articles, all embracing a wide variety of subjects. However, they all have a deep connection: not only are they related to historic preservation, but also to emotions and feelings. Young does not just advertise the importance of historic preservation by offering his potential readers a boring description of places, measures that are lacking, or buildings that are disappearing. In the three parts of this book, Young covers very many different subjects, in a very lively and captivating way.
In his first part, entitled Voyage, Young mostly focuses on different trends that are emerging in the United States. For instance, destroying historic downtowns to then realize that it was better before and reconstruct some sort of copies of traditional ones. He also writes about the relation between music and buildings, the Slow Food Movement and how slowing down life can make you notice things that had never caught your attention before, or about the importance of preserving battlefields as a reminder and homage at the same time. A very witty and concise piece is called “Past Imperfect”, in which Young ironically mocks the tendency to build copies of historic buildings or unique places (Eiffel tower, Venice Doge’s Palace and many others) in Las Vegas. Indeed, why would Americans need to travel aboard and discover the history of Europe or Asia if they can just fly to Vegas and find perfect copies, in air-conditioned areas, surrounded by newly-constructed golf courses and great casinos? Why not use Las Vegas as some sort of preservation center, where copies would be made so that the original can be torn down?
The part called Guides and Fellows Travelers then focuses on a few people, such as Anne Pamela Cunnigham, called the “Mother of the American Preservation Movement”, or specific places. Young, for instance, tells us the story of the people in Toluca who fought to preserve two hills, the “Jumbos”, because they were part of the historic heritage of their city. Another article, “Looking Injustice in the Face” raises the question of how to make a monument or a historic site commemorating an injustice. Using the example of California’s “war relocation centers” for Japanese-Americans during World War II, Young wonders how should such a part of our past be interpreted, how it should be organized so as to encourage visitors to come, face the past and accept to think about what one usually tries to forget. Finally, his article called “Of Paint, Clay, and Marble”, which links September 11 and the situation of the United States to a trip he made through the country side, then to Chesterwood before finally going back to Washington and sit by the Lincoln Memorial, is uniquely simple and yet so powerful.
Destinations closes the collection with essays about buildings and their liveliness. During a trip to Russia, Young went to Kizhi and found there three buildings that felt amazingly special and awe-striking to him. There was a bell tower, the Church of the Intercession and the Church of the Transfiguration. He uses those three buildings and how they made him feel to point at one very important aspect of preservation: it is not always only about preserving something with a particular meaning, but it is also about aesthetic and taking care of unique architectures. Young also hopes that the new City Museum of Washington will encourage its visitors to just go out, walk around and enjoy certain neighborhoods of the city, pay attention to new details.
Buildings and places should be looked at as a link to our past, a tangible connection with those that were there before. Therefore, they should not only be looked at as cold stones, immobile structures. They are telling us something; they are history, but are also unique, beautiful and special. Young’s articles have that way of grabbing their readers, leading them towards a most unexpected path, one that combines historic preservation and emotions. I was afraid to start reading essays from some sort of tree-hugger from the preservation movement. Instead, I ended up reading pieces written in a great style, with ideas put onto paper in a smart and witty way, combining preservation issues with broader perspectives.
In his first part, entitled Voyage, Young mostly focuses on different trends that are emerging in the United States. For instance, destroying historic downtowns to then realize that it was better before and reconstruct some sort of copies of traditional ones. He also writes about the relation between music and buildings, the Slow Food Movement and how slowing down life can make you notice things that had never caught your attention before, or about the importance of preserving battlefields as a reminder and homage at the same time. A very witty and concise piece is called “Past Imperfect”, in which Young ironically mocks the tendency to build copies of historic buildings or unique places (Eiffel tower, Venice Doge’s Palace and many others) in Las Vegas. Indeed, why would Americans need to travel aboard and discover the history of Europe or Asia if they can just fly to Vegas and find perfect copies, in air-conditioned areas, surrounded by newly-constructed golf courses and great casinos? Why not use Las Vegas as some sort of preservation center, where copies would be made so that the original can be torn down?
The part called Guides and Fellows Travelers then focuses on a few people, such as Anne Pamela Cunnigham, called the “Mother of the American Preservation Movement”, or specific places. Young, for instance, tells us the story of the people in Toluca who fought to preserve two hills, the “Jumbos”, because they were part of the historic heritage of their city. Another article, “Looking Injustice in the Face” raises the question of how to make a monument or a historic site commemorating an injustice. Using the example of California’s “war relocation centers” for Japanese-Americans during World War II, Young wonders how should such a part of our past be interpreted, how it should be organized so as to encourage visitors to come, face the past and accept to think about what one usually tries to forget. Finally, his article called “Of Paint, Clay, and Marble”, which links September 11 and the situation of the United States to a trip he made through the country side, then to Chesterwood before finally going back to Washington and sit by the Lincoln Memorial, is uniquely simple and yet so powerful.
Destinations closes the collection with essays about buildings and their liveliness. During a trip to Russia, Young went to Kizhi and found there three buildings that felt amazingly special and awe-striking to him. There was a bell tower, the Church of the Intercession and the Church of the Transfiguration. He uses those three buildings and how they made him feel to point at one very important aspect of preservation: it is not always only about preserving something with a particular meaning, but it is also about aesthetic and taking care of unique architectures. Young also hopes that the new City Museum of Washington will encourage its visitors to just go out, walk around and enjoy certain neighborhoods of the city, pay attention to new details.
Buildings and places should be looked at as a link to our past, a tangible connection with those that were there before. Therefore, they should not only be looked at as cold stones, immobile structures. They are telling us something; they are history, but are also unique, beautiful and special. Young’s articles have that way of grabbing their readers, leading them towards a most unexpected path, one that combines historic preservation and emotions. I was afraid to start reading essays from some sort of tree-hugger from the preservation movement. Instead, I ended up reading pieces written in a great style, with ideas put onto paper in a smart and witty way, combining preservation issues with broader perspectives.
Friday, September 28, 2007
Book review: Mickey Mouse History, and other Essays on American Memory Part III
In the third section of his book Mickey Mouse History, and Other Essays on American Memory, Mike Wallace focuses on the history of historic preservation in the United States, first by giving an overview on the subject from its beginning to the 1980s, and secondly by focusing on the most recent years (his first article was written in 1986, and then second probably around 1994-1995). It seems that Wallace’s goal is to give a general summary of the historic preservation movement in the United States, showing how it began, the different struggles it met along the way, as well as the involvement and withdrawal of the State. Wallace pertinently strikes out at the history of disregard in historic buildings and constant drive for profit in the country, and keeps it as a thread for both his article. Starting with the colonial period, he then goes on to what he calls the “preservation pioneers” and presents four groups that have been of importance between the end of the 19th century and the first half of the 20th century (the Brahmins, descendants of the antebellum planter class, multimillionaire industrialists and professionals). If the concern to preserve built traces for the past started primarily as an individual one (and from social elites too), the State became involved from the 1930s on. One of the most important step was the 1935 Historic Sites Act, which “authorized the Department of the Interior, acting through the National Park Service, to acquire property, preserve and operate privately owned historic or archeological sites, construct museums, develop educational programs, and place commemorative tablets.” (p.184) For Wallace, the intrusion of public (federal) concern for historic preservation enabled the broadening of the meaning of “historic” from what had been previously defined by a limited group of people. Saving some historic buildings, which would not have been seen as worth saving earlier. Then followed a larger preservation movement in the 1960s with groups of people being opposed to urban renewal and the destruction of housing buildings and entire neighborhoods. The second half of the 1960s also brought an interesting new allied force to the movement: middle class professionals who were seeking profit by avoiding the destruction of existing structure. This is what Wallace refers to as “adaptive reuse”; the main idea was to recycle old buildings, keep their exterior (or at least the front façade) and find new and profitable uses for the interior. Wallace goes on to describe meticulously the ups and downs of the historic preservation movement, with new legislations, support from the upper-class looking for profit, etc. His first article ends with the backlash of the 1980s, with the oppositions of large firms to the control and restrictions deriving from preservation laws (designation as historic landmark without the owner’s consent), as well as the anti-preservation moves from Reagan’s government. Wallace’s second article on the subject focuses on the second half of the 1980s and then goes on to the 1990s. He mostly explains the intrusion of business in the preservation movement, and the consequences of the drive for profit being more important than they “why” of preserving historic places. He eventually concludes describing the three renewed claims of historic preservation (reaching out to a multi-cultural embrace of the past, being concerned with housing issues, and working together with the environmental movement). For Wallace, the preservation movement cannot survive and be a winner if they do not collaborate with other minority groups.
A problematic aspect of Mike Wallace’s work is that he cannot retrain himself from strongly commenting things, and has to use a socio-political prism for all of his analysis. If it is true that issues cannot be removed from their social or political context, it is sometimes too much to try to introduce “class-struggle” everywhere. Wallace calls for the American preservation movement to reach out to a larger base, to work with the labor class, and other minorities. For him, the fight to save historic buildings should be combined with demands for additional and cheaper housings. But Wallace does not stop there. He goes much beyond that point, using historic preservation as a political soap box, when he declares that “{…} if we enhance popular control over the production and distribution of goods, including housing, if we provide shelter for those who need it and make resources available to those who want to fix up their own neighborhoods, people would likely be more than willing to honor collective memories.” (p.210). Wallace calls for a new social system, which would enable collectivization of goods, sufficient housing, and… historic preservation. But is Wallace approaching the issue in a relevant and constructive way? What does it bring to introduce a “class-struggle approach” in this issue? Is Wallace hoping for a social revolution, which would gather all those oppressed and unheard groups and launch the end of his much-hated Republican party? Isn’t it, maybe, time to go beyond such an approach? To look at it a little differently so as not to be mocked by people who remember that communism might be rolling towards extinction ? Maybe the problem lies somewhere else in American society. How does our society combine the omnipotence of private property, individual freedom and capitalism, with a humble respect and homage to the past? How to combine a never-ending thirst for profit and the preservation of a historic heritage that might not be money-wise profitable but “only” culturally profitable? What are our priorities? Further, how can antagonist priorities cohabit? Are we going to keep annihilating our historic heritage in the name of profit, or are we going to try to learn from our European neighbors who have been able to preserve a lot of their historic heritage, which is so much older than ours? Much seems to have been lost already, but it is never too late to keep trying. Trying to work on people’s sensibility and respect towards history might be a little easier and more realistic nowadays than calling for a pseudo-communist regime to seize power.
A problematic aspect of Mike Wallace’s work is that he cannot retrain himself from strongly commenting things, and has to use a socio-political prism for all of his analysis. If it is true that issues cannot be removed from their social or political context, it is sometimes too much to try to introduce “class-struggle” everywhere. Wallace calls for the American preservation movement to reach out to a larger base, to work with the labor class, and other minorities. For him, the fight to save historic buildings should be combined with demands for additional and cheaper housings. But Wallace does not stop there. He goes much beyond that point, using historic preservation as a political soap box, when he declares that “{…} if we enhance popular control over the production and distribution of goods, including housing, if we provide shelter for those who need it and make resources available to those who want to fix up their own neighborhoods, people would likely be more than willing to honor collective memories.” (p.210). Wallace calls for a new social system, which would enable collectivization of goods, sufficient housing, and… historic preservation. But is Wallace approaching the issue in a relevant and constructive way? What does it bring to introduce a “class-struggle approach” in this issue? Is Wallace hoping for a social revolution, which would gather all those oppressed and unheard groups and launch the end of his much-hated Republican party? Isn’t it, maybe, time to go beyond such an approach? To look at it a little differently so as not to be mocked by people who remember that communism might be rolling towards extinction ? Maybe the problem lies somewhere else in American society. How does our society combine the omnipotence of private property, individual freedom and capitalism, with a humble respect and homage to the past? How to combine a never-ending thirst for profit and the preservation of a historic heritage that might not be money-wise profitable but “only” culturally profitable? What are our priorities? Further, how can antagonist priorities cohabit? Are we going to keep annihilating our historic heritage in the name of profit, or are we going to try to learn from our European neighbors who have been able to preserve a lot of their historic heritage, which is so much older than ours? Much seems to have been lost already, but it is never too late to keep trying. Trying to work on people’s sensibility and respect towards history might be a little easier and more realistic nowadays than calling for a pseudo-communist regime to seize power.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Article Review: American Memory, Culture Wars, and the Challenge of Presenting Science and Technology
In his article “American Memory, Culture Wars, and the Challenge of Presenting Science and Technology in a National Museum”, Roger D. Launius tackles the issue of the interpretation of science and technology in museums such as the NASM, and what kind of perspectives and approaches such type of museums could adopt. What should the NASM role be in the debate over American identity and past-making? Launius starts by going over the main historical schools from the 1940s to nowadays. He identifies two primary ones: first, the consensus school, followed by the new social history. The consensus interpretation tends to look at the past and interpret it as one unified past, the past of one people. Then, in the 1960s, the new social history approached the past under its multitude (black history, women’s history, etc.). This is important because for Launius it helps to understand the gap between the general public, cultural institutions, and the academics. Indeed, during the 1980s, scholars were drifting away from the consensus approach, whereas cultural institutions kept holding on to it. This is what Launius calls “the battle for control of the national memory”: is this history to be a sole unified one, or is it to be the one of different communities, evolving in different contexts? In the 1990s, the attempts to control the making of a unified history for the United States became more and more present, via control of television, secondary school and others. Launius asks the question, in the midst of those struggles, where do the museums stand? The question raised by Crouch, curator of the NASM when asking “Do you want an exhibition intended to make veterans feel good, or do you want an exhibition that will lead our visitors to talk about the consequences of the atomic bombing of Japan” (p.19) points at the dichotomy of the situation. Is it possible for museums to include different perspectives and have divergent communities accept this? According to Launius, controversial exhibits have always been found, but they have grown in a more frequent phenomenon during the 1990s. Has something changed for that to happen? Launius thinks it might come from the fact that the “forces of the consensus, one-nation, one-people history” (p. 20) have been leading more and more attacks to control the making of national history. What is at stake for an institution like the Smithsonian? How should they deal with those issues? Launius is worried that several of the recent exhibits put up at the Smithsonian become more and more uncritical and consensual. What should be the Smithsonian’s role in relation to an “official memory”? Should it allow visitors to encounter divergent meanings and interpret them themselves?
Launius then goes on to present the three ways people relate to history (through personal experience, through relatives or friends, and finally through broader historical events with which they have no personal connection). According to him, museums’ mission is to find ways to connect people to that last category, to bring them in relation to distant events or phenomena. After presenting ten projects that he has had in mind but that he knows will be controversial, Launius closes his article by wondering what public historians can do, and how institutions such as museums can have a positive impact on its audiences. What should be the role of a science and technology museum? For instance, should it focus only on technical aspects, or relate them to a broader social context? Launius seems concerned that all there is left for NASM is to bring a certain type of celebration of the past to its public, to educate them in that sole aspect, without challenging their thoughts. Launius hopes that there is still something else left. He admits not having any answers or ready-made solutions, but nor does he desire to give up. This is certainly something worth to do: to not give up, to keep trying, without actually imposing one interpretation or the other on society.
Launius then goes on to present the three ways people relate to history (through personal experience, through relatives or friends, and finally through broader historical events with which they have no personal connection). According to him, museums’ mission is to find ways to connect people to that last category, to bring them in relation to distant events or phenomena. After presenting ten projects that he has had in mind but that he knows will be controversial, Launius closes his article by wondering what public historians can do, and how institutions such as museums can have a positive impact on its audiences. What should be the role of a science and technology museum? For instance, should it focus only on technical aspects, or relate them to a broader social context? Launius seems concerned that all there is left for NASM is to bring a certain type of celebration of the past to its public, to educate them in that sole aspect, without challenging their thoughts. Launius hopes that there is still something else left. He admits not having any answers or ready-made solutions, but nor does he desire to give up. This is certainly something worth to do: to not give up, to keep trying, without actually imposing one interpretation or the other on society.
Article Review: A Narrative for Our Time. The Enola Gay "and after that, period"
In his article “A Narrative for Our Time. The Enola Gay ‘and after that, period’ ”, Robert C. Post addresses the issue of the display of the Enola Gay. He starts his overview with the 1990s controversy over the exhibition organized by the NASM. According to Post, “at the heart of that conflict was the question of how this plane was to be ‘interpreted’ ” (p.374). One of the main dilemmas that the curators and the director of the NASM faced when preparing the exhibit was whether they would put up something that would please the veterans, or something that would bring the visitors to think more deeply about the bomb and its consequences. Crouch, one of the curators, thought this would be a very difficult goal to achieve, but he ended up following his director who believed it was possible. In accordance with a previous agreement, John Correll – who was editor of the AFA’s magazine – received the first draft of the scenario in 1994. His reaction was not long to come, and in March already the NASM’s team was accused of betraying their mission to portray the courage of the Americans serving in the Armed forces. Even though the Smithsonian team did recognize the too central place given to the Japanese death and ground zero (and changed in the following drafts), they were not betraying their museum’s mission. It was part of their responsibility to educate the public, and that could only be done by offering a full overview on the subject. Even if several people seem to acknowledge the fact that the exhibition had its weaknesses, needed some change in focus and some rephrasing, the crusade initiated by Correll went far beyond any imaginable reactions. For instance, the Congress became involved, demanding changes in the presentation and threatening to cut their funding to the museum. From the 1990s exhibition, Post goes on with the Enola Gay’s history and reaches 2003 and the opening of the new Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center where the plane was transferred. The plane is now displayed among other types of airplanes (commercial, air force, etc) and bears a short notice explaining that it was the plane which dropped the first atomic bomb. Post raises several questions in relation to that presentation: whether or not such a display is sufficient for visitors? Should it mention the consequences of the bombing? Does its many omissions render it neutral? Aren’t those gaps actually stating something about those who work in public history, supposedly contributing to the public’s education? Post concludes his article with a reflection on the nature of history, and how events are interpreted and revisited. Post demonstrates how some people believe it is not the NASM’s mission to interpret history but to show its visitors the good aspects of the United States, to construct a glorified past. They criticized historians and their way of imagining pasts, instead of being true to what the country really is. How are museums to deal with these continuous attempts from some groups to influence what is to be brought to their audiences? How could museums best deal with this gap that too often exists between historians and the public? And, above all, what is the role of a museum? Should it be only a tool of the ones in power, or should it enable people to access history and interpret it on their own?
Those central questions are raised by Post, and he tries his best to encourage his readers to think over these issues and decide for themselves. If someone like Mike Wallace, in his Mickey Mouse History, blatantly tells his readers what to think, Robert Post, on the other hand, tries to broaden our perspectives and give us enough material to think for ourselves. Yes, he does point at problems, and we can easily guess his opinion, but he never tries to impose it as the truth. Post tries to show that artifacts like the Enola Gay speak by themselves to the public, that they do raise issues, whatever their display is. Museums should not play dumb and try to keep things under silence. One day, those who try to take away the museums’ mission to educate the public will realize that silence can be far more dangerous than comprehensive information.
Those central questions are raised by Post, and he tries his best to encourage his readers to think over these issues and decide for themselves. If someone like Mike Wallace, in his Mickey Mouse History, blatantly tells his readers what to think, Robert Post, on the other hand, tries to broaden our perspectives and give us enough material to think for ourselves. Yes, he does point at problems, and we can easily guess his opinion, but he never tries to impose it as the truth. Post tries to show that artifacts like the Enola Gay speak by themselves to the public, that they do raise issues, whatever their display is. Museums should not play dumb and try to keep things under silence. One day, those who try to take away the museums’ mission to educate the public will realize that silence can be far more dangerous than comprehensive information.
Book review: Mickey Mouse History, and other Essays on American Memory Part IV
The fourth section of Wallace’s Mickey Mouse History, and other Essays on American Memory focuses on two main issues: President Reagan and his use of and relation to History, and the controversies and debates around the Enola Gay Exhibit in the 1990s. In his first article, Wallace primary thesis is that President Reagan took control over the past and redefined history, events and their meanings. He set aside what is commonly called “history” and aimed at constructing a new mythology for the United States. According to Wallace, President Reagan came to that approach through his experience in Hollywood and his relation to its productions. This took mostly place in the 1930s-1940s when, via different movies, Hollywood was working at constructing a mythical past for the Nation; a past that was worth defending (during WWII, mostly). According to Wallace, another central idea of the time was to prove how superior of a nation the United States were, and also to celebrate those who keep the country so special: its people. Wallace goes on to explain how Reagan became so convincing to the American people, through what he offered, and the way he offered it. Wallace concludes his article by calling for an oppositional movement, for more oral history projects, and for the treatment of controversial subjects. Wallace declares that “[u]nderstanding how the present emerged from the past maximizes our capacity (whoever we are) for effective action in present” (p.267).
In his second article, Wallace then focuses on the story of the Enola Gay exhibition that was put up by the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum (NASM) in 1995. He attemps to present the process through which the writing of the exhibit scenario went, the opposing voices that emerged, and what ended up happening to the initial project. According to Wallace, the Air Force Association (the AFA) were the first unhappy ones with the project, and then started a general campaign against it. The press also criticized strongly the director and curators of the museum, and it even reached a point where congress threatened the museum with a total cut of financing if the exhibition was going to be constructed around the original draft. Ultimately, after several revisions, the opposition was still not content and the exhibit ended up being emptied of most of its sense.
The problem with Wallace is that he brings up interesting and important points at times, but they are railroaded by his way of accusing, highlighting others’ mistakes and proclaiming himself truth holder. For instance, he raises a very central point when discussing the Enola Gay exhibit. What is to be done about controversial subjects? Should certain issues be kept out of the public scene so as to avoid hurting one’s or another’s feelings? Or, rather, should we use the public arena to create a discussion, bring out different perspectives and let the people approach them? To what extend should we, as historians and/or museum planners, let certain lobbyist groups influence the scenario of an exposition? Likewise in his article on President Reagan, Wallace is unable to raise issues without condemning others. Wallace strongly denounces President Reagan’s attitude, his mistakes and choices, but he does not bring up the other side of the story, so as to allow readers to analyze things for themselves. Wallace declares that he lied, or that this is the truth, but why should we trust him more than somebody else? The sad thing is that Wallace actually ends up doing what he blames the others for doing: he forces people to trust him, to follow his way, without enlightening them wholly on the issues. He proclaims what is wrong and what is correct, and expects everybody to blindly follow him. Wallace enjoys criticizing everybody else for taking a stand, when that is actually all he does.
In his second article, Wallace then focuses on the story of the Enola Gay exhibition that was put up by the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum (NASM) in 1995. He attemps to present the process through which the writing of the exhibit scenario went, the opposing voices that emerged, and what ended up happening to the initial project. According to Wallace, the Air Force Association (the AFA) were the first unhappy ones with the project, and then started a general campaign against it. The press also criticized strongly the director and curators of the museum, and it even reached a point where congress threatened the museum with a total cut of financing if the exhibition was going to be constructed around the original draft. Ultimately, after several revisions, the opposition was still not content and the exhibit ended up being emptied of most of its sense.
The problem with Wallace is that he brings up interesting and important points at times, but they are railroaded by his way of accusing, highlighting others’ mistakes and proclaiming himself truth holder. For instance, he raises a very central point when discussing the Enola Gay exhibit. What is to be done about controversial subjects? Should certain issues be kept out of the public scene so as to avoid hurting one’s or another’s feelings? Or, rather, should we use the public arena to create a discussion, bring out different perspectives and let the people approach them? To what extend should we, as historians and/or museum planners, let certain lobbyist groups influence the scenario of an exposition? Likewise in his article on President Reagan, Wallace is unable to raise issues without condemning others. Wallace strongly denounces President Reagan’s attitude, his mistakes and choices, but he does not bring up the other side of the story, so as to allow readers to analyze things for themselves. Wallace declares that he lied, or that this is the truth, but why should we trust him more than somebody else? The sad thing is that Wallace actually ends up doing what he blames the others for doing: he forces people to trust him, to follow his way, without enlightening them wholly on the issues. He proclaims what is wrong and what is correct, and expects everybody to blindly follow him. Wallace enjoys criticizing everybody else for taking a stand, when that is actually all he does.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Book review: Mickey Mouse History, and other Essays on American Memory. Part I
Mike Wallace’s Mickey Mouse History, and Other Essays on American Memory, is a collection of essays written over the years. In the first section of the book, Wallace discusses different issues related to the world of American museums. Wallace first starts with the history museum and historical houses, describing who first created them and how their contents evolved over the decades. He then goes on with urban museums, the history of Ellis Island, and also the museums of Science along with the Industrial museums. In each article, Wallace takes the time to go over a brief but useful history of his subject, and then goes on to how things are now, and how they could still be improved. What stands out of his writings, and what he also mentions in his last article on “Museums and Controversy” is the shift that has taken place in the 1970s-1980s in the museums world. Indeed, it is during that period that social history made its entry in museums, bringing with it the history of certain people, such as African Americans or workers. At that time, new subjects were also presented in the museums, such as imperialism or ecology. If Wallace stresses that shift in each of his articles, he then comes back to it in his last contribution and tries to open some new paths for museums and/or exhibits. He would like museums to go beyond taboo subjects (such as the Vietnam war or the antiwar movement). He calls for the introduction of different interpretive points of view in exhibitions, so as to encourage the visitors to take the time to think, build their own opinion on the subject.
One of the many interesting elements found in those article is his approach to what he calls “The Virtual Past: Media and History Museums”. What first must be noted is that most of Wallace’s articles were written some time in the 1980s and 1990s. Therefore, some of his comments, critics or fears may feel a little out-of-date for nowadays readers. His article on new technologies belong that group. Indeed, Wallace mostly focuses his writing on the risks inherent to the digital world. He wonders if video games or electronic books will be the only way future generations will be connected to historical subjects. He also seems worried that these new technologies (such as the internet) will slowly replace museums. One of his main concerns is that virtual museums will slowly replace real ones, bringing up the question of artifacts and what will become of them. Wallace is apprehensive that virtual museums will feel more convenient for individuals, who will slowly turn into “couch-potato museumgoers”. He also thinks that the internet will maintain a social distinction in the access to culture. Computers, software, and internet connection would be expensive and not everybody could afford such technologies. Even though he interestingly closes his article on a more optimistic note – new technologies might end up bringing new possibilities for learning history in museums – Wallace surely seems preoccupied with those novelties. A twenty-first century reader cannot help but wonder if Wallace painted the devil on the wall from lack of knowledge and experience. If it is certain that new technologies have dramatically reshaped our society, they have not destroyed our cultures. So far, what Wallace seemed to be hoping for in his conclusion is taking place: the internet has not replaced museums, and new technologies haven’t swallow everything else. They nevertheless have enhanced the world of museums and have erected new bridges between people and museums.
All in all, Wallace does mention relevant elements about the history of certain types of museums, showing what is lacking, or what should no longer be forgotten in such places. He calls for a better relation between the world of museums and their audiences. If museums do not focus solely on the social and economic elites anymore – by presenting their history and history from their point of view - they still fail to approach certain topics or social groups. They should, therefore, continue in the necessary direction of broadening the scope of their audience, topics and messages. Wallace hopes that, as museums continue to change, they will encourage citizens to think about history, and their relation to it. It will also enable them to participate more in public debates, and to become “historically informed makers of history” (p.128). Wallace hopes that museums will help the strengthening of the link between the past and the future.
One of the many interesting elements found in those article is his approach to what he calls “The Virtual Past: Media and History Museums”. What first must be noted is that most of Wallace’s articles were written some time in the 1980s and 1990s. Therefore, some of his comments, critics or fears may feel a little out-of-date for nowadays readers. His article on new technologies belong that group. Indeed, Wallace mostly focuses his writing on the risks inherent to the digital world. He wonders if video games or electronic books will be the only way future generations will be connected to historical subjects. He also seems worried that these new technologies (such as the internet) will slowly replace museums. One of his main concerns is that virtual museums will slowly replace real ones, bringing up the question of artifacts and what will become of them. Wallace is apprehensive that virtual museums will feel more convenient for individuals, who will slowly turn into “couch-potato museumgoers”. He also thinks that the internet will maintain a social distinction in the access to culture. Computers, software, and internet connection would be expensive and not everybody could afford such technologies. Even though he interestingly closes his article on a more optimistic note – new technologies might end up bringing new possibilities for learning history in museums – Wallace surely seems preoccupied with those novelties. A twenty-first century reader cannot help but wonder if Wallace painted the devil on the wall from lack of knowledge and experience. If it is certain that new technologies have dramatically reshaped our society, they have not destroyed our cultures. So far, what Wallace seemed to be hoping for in his conclusion is taking place: the internet has not replaced museums, and new technologies haven’t swallow everything else. They nevertheless have enhanced the world of museums and have erected new bridges between people and museums.
All in all, Wallace does mention relevant elements about the history of certain types of museums, showing what is lacking, or what should no longer be forgotten in such places. He calls for a better relation between the world of museums and their audiences. If museums do not focus solely on the social and economic elites anymore – by presenting their history and history from their point of view - they still fail to approach certain topics or social groups. They should, therefore, continue in the necessary direction of broadening the scope of their audience, topics and messages. Wallace hopes that, as museums continue to change, they will encourage citizens to think about history, and their relation to it. It will also enable them to participate more in public debates, and to become “historically informed makers of history” (p.128). Wallace hopes that museums will help the strengthening of the link between the past and the future.
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Book review: Paradise Lost? Chapter 13
Chapter 13 : “Conservation Is Now a Dead Word”. Marjory Stoneman Douglas and the Transformation of American Environmentalism. Jack E. Davis
The article by Jack E. Davis, “Conservation Is Now a Dead Word”. Marjory Stoneman Douglas and the Transformation of American Environmentalism, feels like a comprehensive biography of Marjory Stoneman Douglas, a woman who got involved in environmental issues and defended the conservation and restoration of the Everglades throughout the twentieth century. Although a twenty-page article cannot describe her life completely, nevertheless Davis uniquely combines key elements from her life with the changes in the environmentalist movement and the history of Miami and of the Everglades. Born at the end of the nineteenth century, Douglas moved down to Miami in 1915 to work in the newspaper her father owned. At that time, Miami was still a fairly new city, and its expansion was rather limited. In 1896, The Florida East Coast Railroad had reached the city, and it influenced grandly the coming growth of the city; companies, farmers, investors and politicians became more interested in the development of the region, as well as in the possible use of the Everglades. According to Davis, Douglas was never opposed to the actual development of the area, but she strongly opposed to the continual attempts to drain the Everglades, and their destruction. Throughout her career, Douglas got involved in different ways. She wrote a decisive book called The Everglades: River of Grass in 1947, which has been a great influence on environmental history. Douglas went on to get involved in different groups, and also founded a grassroots organization. It is intriguing how the article combines information on Douglas herself, the expansion of the region, and political decision-making as well as activism. It also makes the article very dense and not always easy to follow all the way through.
The article by Jack E. Davis, “Conservation Is Now a Dead Word”. Marjory Stoneman Douglas and the Transformation of American Environmentalism, feels like a comprehensive biography of Marjory Stoneman Douglas, a woman who got involved in environmental issues and defended the conservation and restoration of the Everglades throughout the twentieth century. Although a twenty-page article cannot describe her life completely, nevertheless Davis uniquely combines key elements from her life with the changes in the environmentalist movement and the history of Miami and of the Everglades. Born at the end of the nineteenth century, Douglas moved down to Miami in 1915 to work in the newspaper her father owned. At that time, Miami was still a fairly new city, and its expansion was rather limited. In 1896, The Florida East Coast Railroad had reached the city, and it influenced grandly the coming growth of the city; companies, farmers, investors and politicians became more interested in the development of the region, as well as in the possible use of the Everglades. According to Davis, Douglas was never opposed to the actual development of the area, but she strongly opposed to the continual attempts to drain the Everglades, and their destruction. Throughout her career, Douglas got involved in different ways. She wrote a decisive book called The Everglades: River of Grass in 1947, which has been a great influence on environmental history. Douglas went on to get involved in different groups, and also founded a grassroots organization. It is intriguing how the article combines information on Douglas herself, the expansion of the region, and political decision-making as well as activism. It also makes the article very dense and not always easy to follow all the way through.
Book review: Paradise Lost? Chapter 2
Chapter 2: An Eighteenth-Century Flower Child, William Bartram. Charlotte M. Porter
Born in Kingsessing, Pennsylvania, in 1739, William Bartram grew up in a prosperous environment for what will later become his vocation. Their house had its own botanic garden, and his dad was a self-taught botanist who corresponded with English Quakers and members of the Royal Society of London on subjects related to natural history. In 1772, William Bartram was hired by a wealthy British to collect and draw plants. This is when Bartram started traveling in different areas of the country. His journey lasted from 1773 to 1777, and out of this experience a book was published in 1791: Travels through North & South Carolina, Georgia, East & West Florida, the Cherokee Country, the Extensive Territory of the Muschogugles, or Creek Confederacy, and the Country of the Chactaws; Containing an Account of the Soil and Natural Productions of Those Regions, Together with Observations on the Manners of the Indians. According to the author of the article, Charlotte M. Porter, even though the term “environment” does not appear in that lengthy title, its last part suggest a study of the interaction between nature and humans.
Among the many places he went through, Porter focuses on William Bartram’s journey through the Alachua Savanna, in central East Florida. According to Porter, the Alachua Savanna was one of the greatest landscapes of Bartram’s travel, being an amazing natural garden. Bartram had been hired for scientific purposes, but this was not his only focus. Indeed, by traveling with skin traders, he became more accustomed to their habits, and also studied their relations to the native Indian tribes. From Porter’s article, it seems that one of the most important element emerging from Bartram’s narrative is the concept of “asymmetry”. He describes the asymmetry in the “natural communities”, and also asymmetries in extension of species, where they were numerous or scarce. There were then exchange asymmetries: between the American scientists and the British colonists, or also between the skin traders and the Indians. Bartram realized how the skin traders would ask for more and more products from the Indians, but gave in exchange fewer European goods. He observed how the colonial. He was concerned with the consequences for the Indians hunting grounds and the pauperization of the Indians. Bartram worries that this excessive exploitation of nature will lead to the disappearance of the Indians, and the deterioration of the Floridian wildlife.
Porter’s article is comprehensive (she draws different needed contexts enabling a more in-depth analysis of Bartram’s book), and very dense. She brings the reader many things to think of, even though it feels at times a little over-whelming in regards to the numbers of tracks she encourages them to follow.
Born in Kingsessing, Pennsylvania, in 1739, William Bartram grew up in a prosperous environment for what will later become his vocation. Their house had its own botanic garden, and his dad was a self-taught botanist who corresponded with English Quakers and members of the Royal Society of London on subjects related to natural history. In 1772, William Bartram was hired by a wealthy British to collect and draw plants. This is when Bartram started traveling in different areas of the country. His journey lasted from 1773 to 1777, and out of this experience a book was published in 1791: Travels through North & South Carolina, Georgia, East & West Florida, the Cherokee Country, the Extensive Territory of the Muschogugles, or Creek Confederacy, and the Country of the Chactaws; Containing an Account of the Soil and Natural Productions of Those Regions, Together with Observations on the Manners of the Indians. According to the author of the article, Charlotte M. Porter, even though the term “environment” does not appear in that lengthy title, its last part suggest a study of the interaction between nature and humans.
Among the many places he went through, Porter focuses on William Bartram’s journey through the Alachua Savanna, in central East Florida. According to Porter, the Alachua Savanna was one of the greatest landscapes of Bartram’s travel, being an amazing natural garden. Bartram had been hired for scientific purposes, but this was not his only focus. Indeed, by traveling with skin traders, he became more accustomed to their habits, and also studied their relations to the native Indian tribes. From Porter’s article, it seems that one of the most important element emerging from Bartram’s narrative is the concept of “asymmetry”. He describes the asymmetry in the “natural communities”, and also asymmetries in extension of species, where they were numerous or scarce. There were then exchange asymmetries: between the American scientists and the British colonists, or also between the skin traders and the Indians. Bartram realized how the skin traders would ask for more and more products from the Indians, but gave in exchange fewer European goods. He observed how the colonial. He was concerned with the consequences for the Indians hunting grounds and the pauperization of the Indians. Bartram worries that this excessive exploitation of nature will lead to the disappearance of the Indians, and the deterioration of the Floridian wildlife.
Porter’s article is comprehensive (she draws different needed contexts enabling a more in-depth analysis of Bartram’s book), and very dense. She brings the reader many things to think of, even though it feels at times a little over-whelming in regards to the numbers of tracks she encourages them to follow.
Saturday, September 8, 2007
Book review: Written in Stone. Public Monuments in Changing Societies
In his essay Written in Stone. Public Monuments in Changing Societies, Stanford Levinson explores the subject of the making of national history, and the making of its heroes and villains. His work does not focus primarily on what historians produce, but rather what official institutions – such as states – and also individuals want as historical heritage. Levinson starts with the example of the Millennium monument in Budapest. His brief but comprehensive survey of the history of that monument points right to the central theme of Written in Stone: depending on the period in time, and the political power in place, the monument was modified and rearranged so as to transmit a message that would satisfy the leaders. The author then goes on to describe more generally the interesting situation in Eastern Europe. Indeed, as the communist regimes were abolished, monuments honoring the leaders and heroes of those regimes were brought down, and destroyed. If the concept of “regime change” and the alteration in attitude towards public monuments apply when describing the situation in Eastern Europe, something else has to be found in the United States to explain an exchange in attitudes. Levinson remarks that the difficulty for our country lies in the making of one culture out of several different ones. Coups have not shaped our history, but rather its multi-cultural society. After presenting four general examples, Levinson then concentrates on his main focus: the American South. This is a very intriguing and complex case. If Eastern Europe rid itself of the monument to the glory of Stalin and the communist period, conversely the South kept its commemorations of the secession. The Confederate flag can still be found, and has been found flying above a state capitol not too long ago, and some memorials still glorify Southern icons from the Civil War. The central question is what kind of past are such monuments and symbols transmitting to the present and future generations? What is it that we want to keep from the past? And how do we want to preserve and convey it? Does the Confederate flag only symbolizes the peculiar institution, or does it also and more generally embody a certain Southern culture and identity? How neutral can a state be in commemorating the past? Levinson offers several possibilities in how to deal with certain monuments. An interesting one is to question their location, and also the raising of another monument in proximity to them, portraying both sides of a story. When concluding his work, Levinson mentions that sometimes, to commemorate an event is also a way to remember how dreadful it was, so as never to forget it and – hopefully – never to repeat it. Traces from our past should be kept, maybe in museums, or in parks for instance. But what is most critical is the transmission of this past to the future generations, to be sure that it is not the wrong message that is passed along.
Saturday, September 1, 2007
Book review: The Presence of the Past
In 1989, a group of professionals from the worlds of historians and museums met in Indianapolis to brainstorm on better ways to connect academic historians and a larger public curious about history. This led to a survey which was conducted in 1994, and during which about 1500 Americans were questioned over the phone about their relation to history, events that have marked their lives, or ways they feel most connected to the past. A book eventually came out of his research, The Presence of the Past. Popular Uses of History in American Life. In a six-chapter long analysis, the authors present the results of their survey, largely quote their respondents and try to make sense of the information they collected.
The core of this study revolves around one central idea: the notion of popular historymakers versus professional historians. The former being a category of people that do not follow the academic path to construct their history, relate to or interpret the past. The research shows that people feel most connected to the past in family gatherings, or when listening to friends or relatives witnessing about historical events they lived through. People also would rather visit museums or historic sites than read books or watch movies on the subject. In addition, the respondents held a dual opinion on scholars or professors. On one hand, professors are thought to be rigorous in their research, reading primary sources and interpreting them. Therefore, what they state is very closely to what can be gathered from listening to eyewitnesses, or visiting certain places. On the other hand, however, some respondents consider professors to be easily opinionated and, therefore, wanting to defend one thesis to the exclusion of all the others.
The respondents of the survey seemed all to be interested in the past, and driven by a desire to relate to it, and use it in their lives. However, one wonders at time what kind of past the book and the respondents are referring to. Indeed, they did not seem deeply interested in conventional history, or a more general history. What these respondents were saying, is that they would use pieces from their own past, or stories from their families, or even sometimes their culture or heritage, and use that to construct their own history or future. What is described in the book feels at times as uniquely personal and often too self-centered. Yet, one wonders if this is really what the authors of the survey were trying to express. Moreover, is this really the only way people relate to history? Does everything have to be connected to them? Are they only interested in events or facts that they can associate to themselves, their present and their future? The message conveyed by this book feels two-sided. It is on one hand almost comforting to see that people are still interested in history, even though they usually do not keep a positive memory from institutional history classes. However, how is one supposed to comprehend this too often egocentric approach to the world’s history?
The six main chapters of this book, which describe the results of the survey, would not make much sense without the Afterthoughts. More accurately, they would leave a bitter and confused taste in the reader’s mind. After studying those chapters, they would just stare at the book, wondering what to do now; what it all means. The Afterthoughts bring additional information, some deeper analysis of what has just been presented in a very abrupt and condensed way. Roy Rosenzweig, for instance, elaborates on how important it is to find a collaborative terrain where professional historians and those “popular historymakers” could meet. What is most important in that article is related to the risks emerging from the study: a privatized past, and forgetting to embrace the world’s history in a larger way. History is not limited to personal histories, even though those stories are all important. There are larger structures at stake also; political or economic powers and interests, for instance. It is important to find a common ground, to reach what Michael Frisch calls “shared authority” (quoted p.181), which would lead to a better understanding and respect between both types of history makers. History cannot and must not be reduced to what can be immediately used by individuals; it must not become a product that people consume for their sole benefit. But history also should not remain enclosed in an academic world, alienating larger audiences.
The core of this study revolves around one central idea: the notion of popular historymakers versus professional historians. The former being a category of people that do not follow the academic path to construct their history, relate to or interpret the past. The research shows that people feel most connected to the past in family gatherings, or when listening to friends or relatives witnessing about historical events they lived through. People also would rather visit museums or historic sites than read books or watch movies on the subject. In addition, the respondents held a dual opinion on scholars or professors. On one hand, professors are thought to be rigorous in their research, reading primary sources and interpreting them. Therefore, what they state is very closely to what can be gathered from listening to eyewitnesses, or visiting certain places. On the other hand, however, some respondents consider professors to be easily opinionated and, therefore, wanting to defend one thesis to the exclusion of all the others.
The respondents of the survey seemed all to be interested in the past, and driven by a desire to relate to it, and use it in their lives. However, one wonders at time what kind of past the book and the respondents are referring to. Indeed, they did not seem deeply interested in conventional history, or a more general history. What these respondents were saying, is that they would use pieces from their own past, or stories from their families, or even sometimes their culture or heritage, and use that to construct their own history or future. What is described in the book feels at times as uniquely personal and often too self-centered. Yet, one wonders if this is really what the authors of the survey were trying to express. Moreover, is this really the only way people relate to history? Does everything have to be connected to them? Are they only interested in events or facts that they can associate to themselves, their present and their future? The message conveyed by this book feels two-sided. It is on one hand almost comforting to see that people are still interested in history, even though they usually do not keep a positive memory from institutional history classes. However, how is one supposed to comprehend this too often egocentric approach to the world’s history?
The six main chapters of this book, which describe the results of the survey, would not make much sense without the Afterthoughts. More accurately, they would leave a bitter and confused taste in the reader’s mind. After studying those chapters, they would just stare at the book, wondering what to do now; what it all means. The Afterthoughts bring additional information, some deeper analysis of what has just been presented in a very abrupt and condensed way. Roy Rosenzweig, for instance, elaborates on how important it is to find a collaborative terrain where professional historians and those “popular historymakers” could meet. What is most important in that article is related to the risks emerging from the study: a privatized past, and forgetting to embrace the world’s history in a larger way. History is not limited to personal histories, even though those stories are all important. There are larger structures at stake also; political or economic powers and interests, for instance. It is important to find a common ground, to reach what Michael Frisch calls “shared authority” (quoted p.181), which would lead to a better understanding and respect between both types of history makers. History cannot and must not be reduced to what can be immediately used by individuals; it must not become a product that people consume for their sole benefit. But history also should not remain enclosed in an academic world, alienating larger audiences.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)