Cohen and Brown

The articles by David Cohen and Joshua Brown explored ideas about how the internet has influenced history. They touched on principles of how and why to preserve history digitally, the issues with converting to a digital medium and what it means not only to the public, but also to historians.

The overarching benefit of the internet present throughout the articles is that it has a massive capacity to present and collect resources. Upon visiting the website for the 9/11 Digital Archives one can immediately view how this resources is evolving. Since they are launching a new design, they offer a link to the old version. As a former web designer and current historian, I find this fascinating to be able to view how this very significant event is revolutionizing how history and the web interact.

When viewing the older site, you can see how it was an immediate reaction not only to memorialize, but also to collect information about 9/11. Now, it is more organized, has the Library of Congresses support and what made me view it as an archival source rather than just a website was the presence of a ‘Special Collections,’ much like many physical archives have.

My initial concern, as is a common one, is the reliability of the information collected. How can a researcher trust the information being collected is factual? I suppose it is no more or less a risk than reviewing correspondence materials in a physical archive, but it presents a valid concern for researchers. Reliability of websites though is a common issue. Cohen describes that the internet’s “failure to provide reliable clues that help one discern the real from the fake and the good from the bad” is a disadvantage not to be overlooked.

Cohen and Brown also describe the use of history websites and CDs as educational resources in contrast to printed materials. Unfortunately, I do not think it is impossible to comprehend a world without printed books, especially when it comes to educational materials. Younger generations are introduced to the digital world almost immediately, therefore, content producers should be taking this into account as well as older generations needs for printed materials.

The upside to all of this is access though, which I think is the more important issue. Don’t we want more interaction with history? Then we need to train educators how to teach students how to correctly analyze not only physical documents, but online ones as well.

I wonder how many teachers use the link, “Secrets of Great History Teachers,” http://historymatters.gmu.edu/browse/secrets/ .

Frisch

To complete the reading of Frisch’s Shared Authority, we see his dissection of the use of oral history in various elements of public history. In this analysis, as in many of the readings this semester, we see the power struggles between academic and public history. Oral histories are at the base of this struggle because it is the public’s recorded memory and not the physical documents that historians are traditionally familiar with.

In this reading, oral history is presented as a “source for change” and a “source of resistance to change.” (2) Whenever there is information that invokes change, there will most likely be an opposing party. Most people are uncomfortable with change, ideas, and theories that take them out of their comfort zone. However, Frisch identifies that “the hegemony of scholarly authority…must be challenged and often qualified, but not by rejecting the insights of scholarship by definition.” (xxi) Since history is not stagnant, it is important to recognize and analyze the elements that can help us “learn about the process of change.” (192) In the Hard Times essay Frisch quotes Henry Resnick’s that oral histories ‘put us back in touch with our elemental humanity.’(6)

Humanity is an interesting term here and I think it brings us back to the heart of why oral histories are so important. That human touch; a personal story allows historians to go to a point in time and share an experience with another human being. Even though I can appreciate the feeling of researching historical documents and I do not refute their necessity, speaking with an individual about their personal experience as history brings about another experience all together and it makes history real.

Therefore, it becomes the historian’s obligation to provide context for oral histories so that they are not dismissed as useless documentation. Sorry to be so quote heavy, but I think this excerpt sums up this obligation perfectly so I end presenting it in its entirety.

“We must listen, and we must share the responsibility for historical explication and judgment. We must use our skills, our resources, and our privileges to insure that others hear what is being said by those who have always been articulate, but not usually attended to. Only in this way can the arrogance of the powerful be confronted by the truth of another reality, by those history-makers whose consciousness provides the record of that reality and the measure of its challenging power.” (71)

History and Film

For this week’s readings on the issues surrounding history and film, I found the main theme to be the obligation of the historian as the means to regulate historical accuracy. Really, the obligation of the historian in all aspects of public history has been at the heart of all the readings this semester. I agree with most scholars that suggest historians, whether public or academic, have a responsibility to record history as it was, while using imaginative means to engage people without distorting the truth or imposing interpretations that seek to meet a personal agenda.

This does not mean, however, that I agree with Rose and Corley’s theory that historians should transcend into the filmmaker’s role. Davis’ article illustrated this dilemma where she discussed her role as a historian on the set of Le Retour de Martin Guerre and the power struggles that ensued between her and the producers. It was interesting how her response to resolve inaccuracies was to write a book that explained the distortions and presented the accurate interpretations. This brings me to the point that Toplin makes that historians must take an active role in the discussion of movies. He argues that if historians do not remain in the discussion that it will be the “nonprofessionals who offer glib remarks on television talk shows.” (83)

Just as in other contested cases we have read this semester, it really boils down to the fact that the media will pick up the loudest voice on the topic. In most cases, this is not a person with the credentials to do so, but more so an individual with a personal agenda. I feel the readings, this week especially, argue that, that voice needs to be the historian who can dispel the inaccuracies. This is particularly relevant when dealing with such a high profile medium, such as film.

Film reaches a wide range of audiences and because of its popularity often used as an educational tool. This illustrates another issue brought up in Frisch and Rose Corley about public funds. Should NEH or public monies be used to fund major films and documentaries? Examples of Kens Burns productions and the Vietnam documentary demonstrate the tension between entertainment and obligation to accuracy.

My thoughts on this are that a film’s primary role is to entertain—not to educate, a filmmaker’s role is to create, not to educate and a historian’s role is to interpret, present and educate—not create. Since their seems to be ambiguity as to whether or not a filmmaker should be considered a historian, I would argue, no, because in most cases, they do not have the credentials or training to do so. Therefore, unless a historical film is going to submit to a process that ensures historical accuracies in all areas, then no, a film should not receive public money under the premise that the film is an instructional tool. This is not to say that historical films cannot be used as instructional tools, I actually think they can, but students need to be taught how to question them.

Overall, I thought the readings spoke very well to each other and they present compelling arguments for why this is such an important issue.

Terkel

Hard Times by Studs Terkel is a fascinating look at The Great Depression through a variety of oral histories. The book, first published in 1970 and then again in 1986, the version we read carries an interesting tone of how interviewees perceived the current economic climate of that time. This perception is most likely influenced from their experience with The Great Depression and is an interesting concept to explore in relation to memory. Just how does one’s memory not only differ from one person to the next, but also how it effects how one views similar events in the present and how they predict the future. The oral histories also reflect the difference in memories between classes and interestingly enough how the memories of the lower classes, of extreme poverty and destitution are those images most often associated with the depression. It is not often students are told the stories of men like General Robert E. Woods, who founded All State Insurance in 1931, during the midst of the Depression. While I do remember learning about how extremely affluent names like Rockefeller were not affected by the Depression, I always thought that to be the anomaly, not to hear so many stories of people successfully coming through the Depression. It is not to say that the images of destitution are wrong, but that without histories like those presented by Terkel, we are usually only given one side. This example alludes to the dialogue at the beginning of the book between Pa Joad and Preacher Casey about truth and really “whose truth is it?” Memories held certain truths for one man, but an entirely different truth for another. This is especially prevalent between the classes.

It was disheartening to read the stories about how harsh upper class members of society came down on lower class members. They really believed that the lower class was at fault for their desperation. Statements like, “A person doesn’t have to be poor,” by W. Clement Stone was alarming at how much empathy he lacked. (451) Rereading a quote from the Forward, “Ours, the richest country in the world, may be the poorest in memory,” makes me wonder, which era was influencing his memory. (xvii) In this case it seems as though the distance in time and his affluence may have skewed his memories of the 30s.

Overall, I thought this was an amazing book. Kudos to Terkel for compiling such a great collection of histories that really give a great visual of both sides of the Depression. The book gives credence to the importance oral histories have as primary sources.

Burton

This week’s reading, Archive Stories by Antoinette Burton was an interesting collection of essays about historian’s experiences with archives. When I began reading this book, during the Introduction, I began to think of the African Nationalism class I took, where my first exposure to the fact that records are in fact destroyed when a government wants to control what is remembered. This information also lead to the fact that like the Aboriginal History Wars, archives that did contain documents were located in European institutions, controlled by the nations that dispossessed the Indigenous populations. Like the Tasmanian case, the historical texts I read for that class, relied heavily on oral histories to attempt to collect the memories from the bottom up instead of the top down. And like other academics mentioned, the students in our class questioned the validity of these archival resources. Although I do not think it is always the case, on the one hand, the government is accused of skewing history in its favor, on the other, public memory could be recorded to create their own history. This tension of power between a colonial state and the dispossessed people is what I believe lies at the heart of Burton’s argument. She illustrates the fact that historians interpret historical facts, but also that the facts can be skewed through the absence or withholding of information, painting archivists in some cases as gatekeepers. In Durba Ghosh’s essay we also see how these power plays are at work where judgment about a researcher’s topic attempts to sway her away from exposing a presumed scandal that some individuals do not think be included in a national narrative. The resolution I believe Burton gets at is that the responsibility lies with the researcher, the individual who ultimately makes history available to the public through their publications.

Bodnar

John Bodnar’s Remaking America studies the conflict between ‘cultural leaders’ and ‘ordinary people’ that arises from national commemoration. Bodnar presents this as an evolution from before WWII, where pioneerism was celebrated in connection with ethnic groups, to after WWII where patriotism became the new focus. In addition, throughout the book, he addresses the use of the vernacular versus official expressions, ultimately presenting the case that public memory has evolved into a combination of both.

Frederick Douglas’ quote effectively describes what commemorations ‘should’ accomplish, “We have to do with the past only as we can make it useful to the present and the future.” (43) In the vernacular expressions, identified with ‘ordinary people,’ public memory represents something more personal and localized, in the cases presented by Bodnar, even ethnic. In areas of America where settlements remained small and rural, such as the Midwest, communities wanted to commemorate events as how they saw themselves fitting into the picture. They “continued to use symbols, such as pioneers as a defense of local and personal concerns and frequently viewed commemorative activities as opportunities for simple entertainment and leisure.” (113) Whereas, official expressions, identified with ‘cultural leaders,’ was all encompassing and needed to resolve how to remember a past that included all of these local groups. They “sought to use patriotism to foster citizen unity and loyalty to existing structures of power.” (113)
Given the delicate task of combining nationalism that respects vernacular expression, it is no wonder emotions run high in these conflicts. Personal memories are put on trial and as we saw in the documentary of the Vietnam Memorial and as Bodnar discusses, some veterans felt that the memorial lacked the “patriotism and glory” (5) they felt ‘should’ be associated with the memorial. It is an ongoing battle of “one set of interests over another.”(9) However, it is a necessary battle so that voices are not forgotten or marginalized. Referring back to Douglas’ quote, if national commemorations have no meaning to the audience viewing them, eventually they will disappear.

Bodnar’s discussion of the significance of the National Park Service and historic sites presents a reasonable resolution in the conflict between vernacular and official. Bodnar addresses the problems with these sites, as we have seen in past readings, that there are interpretative flaws with some of these sites, but I think he gets at the broader point for these sites that we have preserved the past in a way that ‘ordinary people’ on both local and national levels can connect with.

Even though this was a difficult read for me, I thought the discussion was good. It made me think about how each side effectively asserts their power over public memory.

Levinson

Written in Stone by Sanford Levinson takes an interesting look at controversial monuments in the United States as well as abroad. He identifies the dilemma of the structures meaning at the time of installation versus the controversial and often unconstitutional meaning of the structure in the present. As a constitutional lawyer, Levinson argues his point from this perspective, which complicates and often offers no easy resolution to the contested monuments presented in this book.

Since Levinson focuses on the Southern region for this book, he primarily looks at objects created to commemorate the Confederacy. From a constitutional standpoint today, these sites, structures, even the flag and in some cases stamps, have all had to be reconsidered for the message they are sending out that is unconstitutional. Once the issues of legality are established, the debate begins about whether or not it is appropriate for these objects to occupy public spaces and if not, then where are they to be moved to?

Levinson effectively uses the international cases to diffuse the argument that it is not appropriate to destroy the structures. However, he also provides a healthy argument for why moving the structures, for example, to a museum is not necessarily the best option either. Can these politically charged objects ever really be separated from their historical context and only appreciated for their aesthetic properties? Moreover, what space then, public or otherwise is appropriate for historical context to be applied?

The strength of this book is that Levinson promotes a healthy discussion about what to do with these contested objects. He identifies and I would agree with that there is no easy solution of what to do with these objects.

South Beach

Saving South Beach, M. Barron Stofik, is part of a series documenting Florida history. The intention of this volume is to describe the evolution of South Beach. Although this volume could have been condensed and better organized, it’s strength lies in it’s illustration of the historic preservation process.

Through Stofik’s story of how South Beach came to be what it is today, the reader can trace the work involved in the preservation process; the wins and losses and the everyday people that were involved. Saving South Beach also draws attention of how to manipulate the preservation process in order to achieve a particular outcome. Due to South Beach’s high-profile beginnings in the early twentieth-century, some felt it was possible to protect South Beach from “doom” (18) and used historic preservation as the tool. Donovan Rypkema is quoted, “I have never visited a downtown with a successful record of economic revitalization where historic preservation wasn’t a key element of the strategy.” (135) Rypkema’s point identifies the efforts of Barbara and John Capitman and Leonard Horowitz, however, is the South Beach that emerged, the South Beach they envisioned? There is no question that the area was in need of revitalization, but it came at what cost to the residents? This is where I feel that the author does a good job at presenting how politics and corporations capitalized on the historic image that was created and twisted it into something not entirely accurate.

And does it need to be accurate? I feel that the Stofik is arguing for accuracy as she quotes the president of the National Trust, Richard Moe. His definition of a preservationist is “someone who is concerned about the rootlessness and erosion of community that threatens the very foundations of our society, someone who wants to maintain a connection with the past, who feels the need for a tangible link with something real, something solid and meaningful.” (248) Stofik portrays those involved in the early stages of revitalizing South Beach as wanting to preserve the sense of community as well as the Art Deco architecture. However, she also captures the essence of what resulted in Nancy Liebman’s definition of preservation being more about “saving an environment and an atmosphere.” (221)

Displays of Power

Steven Dubin’s, Displays of Power described some of the most significant cases in contested interpretation of museum exhibitions. Dubin, explores the powerful motives behind these ‘museum battles’ and presents politicians, museum administrators, cultural groups and even, maybe even especially, the media as the players. In addition, he highlights the positivity of these seemingly negative situations.

Behind these ‘battles’, whether it be to promote their status, bring recognition to or to redirect attention from other politically charged issues, someone or group stood to benefit from the controversies that ensued. For example in Gaelic Gotham, Marion Casey’s fight for her status as curator became infused into the controversy. In addition, Mayor Giulini’s role was at the forefront of the Sensation controversy most likely to divert attention from himself. The media stood to gain financially in all of these issues.

The media proved to be an instrumental tool, and in the case of Sensation, according to Dubin’s interpretation, the instigator. He accurately identifies that “the group that is the most mobilized, the most vocal and often the first to jump into the fray sets the tenor and dictates the terms of the debate.” (249) As recognized in the Harlem on My Mind case, groups learned how to utilize the media to act as their voice. Ironically, the media was also identified as “stirring the pot.” (49) Similarly, in the Sensation case, Dubin argues that a news reporter planted the seed in key players minds that helped to ‘stir up’ some controversy.

Even though these conflicts over perspective and interpretation were very costly, both financially and emotionally to the parties involved, Dubin illustrated the healthy aspects these controversies have in a democratic society. He argues that “culture—and the struggles over it—can reveal us at our most unflattering,” however, “it is important to pay attention to such clashes.” The activists bring awareness to the museum communities that there is more than one interpretation. The ‘battle’ forces the parties to assert their perspectives and in the end come to resolution.

I thought Dubin did a great job of presenting all sides of these cases about power. In the end, the book provides an excellent reference for museum professionals getting ready to host potentially controversial exhibitions.

Week 3

A friend has always said to me “A truth is always a truth.” The statement I think corresponds to Fred Shuttlesworth’s quote and title of Chapter 2 that “If you don’t tell it like it was, it can never be as it ought to be.”(33) James Horton and Lois Horton’s book, Slavery and Public History: The Tough Stuff of American Memory, is a compelling compilation of essays that exemplify how both academic and professional historians worked together on public history sites to bring out the truth in the history of slavery that has been overlooked in the past.

Although there are many, two specific examples in particular stood out that illustrate the ‘techniques and strategies’ that J. Horton claims are necessary for ‘historians and historical interpreters’ to use ‘for addressing race and slavery.’(53) Gary Nash’s essay surrounding the controversy with the President’s House at the Liberty Bell site and Dwight Pithcaithley’s essay about NPS Civil War battlegrounds both faced considerable resistance, however, the authors’ involvement and commitment to presenting the truth prevailed. Ironically, these two historians together were instrumental in the case of the President’s House.

The President’s House controversy is an excellent example of the collaboration between historians and interpreters in revising the history of slavery in a public site. Nash demonstrated the positive use of media in not only gathering public opinion, but also allowing the public’s voice to be heard. This gave administration on the Liberty Bell project the opportunity to make the necessary revisions, despite the fact that they were ‘out of time and money.’(80) Pithcaithley’s role as chief historian for the NPS also provided an instrumental role in pushing the INHP’s interpretative team to meet the NPS’s new mission for presenting the truth about America’s historical sites.

Another good example is the case of the NPS Civil War battlegrounds. This instance, however, models the process of taking on the revisionist task when the public is not in support of change and when collective memory becomes a problem. The Sons of the Confederacy provided the most resistance to Pitcaithley because they felt the need to uphold the version of the Civil War that they remembered or wanted remembered. Memory will always be valuable in history, but when memory distorts historical truths then the obligation rests on the academy to correct it.

This obligation, identified throughout the Horton book, presents its own controversy. While I feel motivated as a historian to present the truth and not to back down to resistance, I also feel compelled to ask, ‘How are public historians in smaller institutions, dealing with lower-profile exhibits supposed to address such contested topics when administration or trustees above them dictate otherwise? We will not always be able to employ activists like Gary Nash to take on resistance. Therefore, I think the strengths of this book rest in the fact that as historians, we must begin to push discussions; as public historians, we must begin to delve deeper into our research to present the truth, no matter how difficult it is even if the result is not what we intended.

Week 2

In Defining Memory, Amy Levin presents essays that reveal the specialized importance of smaller, ‘local’ museums. She highlights that they provide a variation from the large-scale, high profile institutions, such as the Smithsonian or the Met, without placing a higher value on one type of museum. Her book gives the smaller museums a presence that the AAM does not recognize.

Levin argues that ‘local’ museums assert their agency through their interpretations and educational approaches. She uses Elizabeth Vance’s ideas about Shwab and Huebner’s Curriculum Theories to discuss how these institutions represent the ‘commonplace’ of education in America. In addition, she also recognizes the importance personal memory has and how it influences learning.

In David Kyvig’s Foreword, he points out that “a contrary view, at once older and more recent, is that anyone who visits a museum should be free to examine the full range of objects preserved there and make whatever connections and interpretations they wish. (4)” This statement illustrates how no individual museum staff member or specifically, educator, can control what a visitor takes away from their experience. Therefore, Levin’s compilation of case studies provides a variety of approaches, both conventional and non-conventional.

The history these institutions provide is intensely specific and usually in abundance, as in the cases of the Geneva History Center and the Daughters of the Utah Pioneers Museum. On the one hand, at the Geneva History Center, Levin points out that the staff has taken considerable care to display and explain the objects they have. This is a stark contrast to the approach staff members at the Daughters of the Utah Pioneers Museum took, where they have chosen to stick with older methods of displaying everything with little or no explanation. In either case, however, the public still has the opportunity of making their own interpretations.

Levin also describes how nostalgia and what people expect to find in museums play an important part in how museum educators approach learning in their institutions. She acknowledges that “nostalgia…affects the knowledge imparted by the museums.(93)” As was the case with CowTown, where what was represented was not a historical truth, however, it still managed to conjure up public memory.

Therefore, Levin’s book illustrates that memory is an important part of public history. As was mentioned last week, it is the public’s personal memories that help them relate to a museum and the objects contained in them or the motivating factor in visiting an archive for genealogical research. However, because memories are not physical documents, the book presents the continuing controversy that memories do not hold the same weight as history or historical documents. If public memory is so important, but still disregarded in the professional arena, what options are left for museum professionals? The answer to this is why I think Levin wrote this book. To provide museum professionals with a guide as to what CAN work, not to necessarily provide a one-size-fits all guide to what does work.

A ‘fluid’ definition of public history

It is not easy to form a definition for public history. This week’s readings prove that there are different views about public history, but none of them offers a concrete definition. The article on the National Council for Public History (NCPH) website, aptly labeled “What is Public History?” attempts to resolve the issue, however, concludes with nothing definitive. Corbett and Miller’s article, “A Shared Inquiry into Shared Inquiry” describes the skills necessary for a public historian, but also does not provide a formal definition. Furthermore, the chapter from Rosenzweig and Thelen’s, The Presence of the Past, offers information about what the public views as history, but again, no definition. Therefore, it is necessary to address that any definition of public history needs to be as adaptable as the field itself.

Appropriately, the NCPH article provides the most usable definition for public history describing it as “a movement, methodology, and approach that promotes the collaborative study and practice of history; its practitioners embrace a mission to make their special insights accessible and useful to the public” (http://www.ncph.org/WhatisPublicHistory/tabid/282/language/en-US/Default.aspx). In other words, public historians need to provide the necessary access, be skilled historians, as well as possess interpersonal skills to interact with the public. In Corbett and Miller’s commentary to the NCPH, they disagreed with the given descriptions of public history as a movement and approach. If public history is not a movement or an approach then, is it a method? Greg Smoak, Associate Professor of History at Colorado State University, suggested that public history is in fact not just one method, but several actually used to engage the public.

The public is the topic of both Corbett and Millers article and Rosenzweig and Thelen’s chapter. While the authors of both readings describe the public’s role differently, what is clear is that not only do public historians have something to share with the public, but also the public has a role in returning the past to the professionals. Public historians study, document, collect, interpret, present and preserve the public’s history. While doing this though, they must interact and engage with the public in ways that other historians do not.