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Lost in a Disneyfied World: Archivists and Society in Late-Twentieth-Century
America
by
WILLIAM J. MAHER, University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign
53rd president of the Society of American Archivists
The
following presidential address was delivered on September 3, 1998, during SAA's
62nd annual meeting in Orlando, FL, Walt Disney World Dolphin Hotel.
The improbability
of archivists meeting at Disney World suggests a Manichaean dualism which reflects
on our role in late-20th-century society. It brings into focus the perception
of a vast divide between the authentic world represented by archives, historical
collections, and their users on one hand, and, on the other, the entertainment
industry's appropriations of heritage for commercial purposes, often dependent
on advanced, synthesizing technology. Archivists understand the past as complex,
multi-faceted and fractal. They know it conflicts with the present and offers
both intellectually and spiritually enriching perspectives on life. In the
other
world, well-funded, slick and often superficial presentations of the past generally
reflect a single harmonious, monolithic, and monocultural image, free from
disturbing
incidents or experiences that might engender the question of "why."
The social appropriation
of the past for commercial and political use is a complex phenomenon. On the
one hand, it bolsters public interest in history and would seem beneficial
to
archives. On the other hand, much of the mass-market appeal of history seems
to operate on a more superficial and sinister level. There is a strong primary
emphasis on the emotive appeal of the past; nostalgia and "event experiences" are
very much in contrast to documentary-based examinations of the past where
the evidence can be removed and reexamined. To put a political cast on the
issue,
one might argue that many of the commercial and media-based evocations of the
past are part of an escapism that at the least assists the distraction of
citizens
away from the problems of the present, and at the worst, may be creating a
mythical harmony to quiet dissent from conformity to current political and
economic norms.
(1)
In our more
cynical moments, archivists may slip over into a millennialist, apocalyptic
thinking that contrasts the pure realm of archives with an anti-archives
entertainment
kingdom guarded by the seven headed beast of Disney, Universal Studios, Busch
Gardens, MGM Studios, Oliver Stone, Ken Burns, and Norman Rockwell. What
these
entertainment icons share is an emphasis on taking a distant time or place
and making it immediate to a public that is increasingly dependent on a fast-food
diet of culture and science. Archivists bemoan the commercial approach to
the
marketing of heritage in which the modus operandi is the sentimental and expressionist
evocation of a harmonious and monolithic past all the while purporting to
provide
an authentic experience. By contrast, we see our beleaguered profession and
collections as the guardians of the "true," or at least a truer, past that can
only be discovered through examining and digesting both textual and non-textual
documents. The apocalyptic perspective is only heightened by the readily apparent
vast discrepancy between the resources of the "edu-tainment" industry
and the cycle of poverty and neglect experienced by academically driven cultural
institutions. (2)
In our grossly
underfunded institutions we survive by nursing a dream of a coming millennium
when we will be able to properly care for and present our understanding of the
past through rich documents that touch citizens as effectively as the efforts
of our commercial counterparts. We dream of a day when archives will have a
determining role in the public's contact with history. We dream of a world where
archives will provide an authentic message, and we dream of the opportunity
to present archival images as effectively as Disney's Main Street America but
which actually reflect the variegated experiences of the victims as well as
the victors of society.
The more optimistic
among us believe that by working with those responsible for so much of the
marketing of history, we can thereby advance archives and authenticity by
applying archival
knowledge and theory directly in service to the commercial projects. Some of
us more passively try to emphasize the value of archives to society by pointing
to all the occasions in which our collections are passingly used in such
large
projects as Ken Burns' "Civil War" or "Baseball." In these scenarios, at least
the ether of nostalgia that envelopes the public at theme parks, movie theatres,
and mass marketing of history may seem somewhat more authentic because of our
participation. The more pessimistic among us see the examples of Disney's "Pocahontas"
or Oliver Stone's "JFK." The truly pessimistic look further and see instead
the Enola Gay problem, in which leading independent public cultural institutions
find themselves fully unable to manage the presentation of well-researched
alternate
perspectives on the past if that presentation contains images that conflict
with the public's hazy perceptions of the past or if the presentation raises
thought provoking questions and doubts about key events in our evolution as
a people.
Archivists know
that popular conceptions and misperceptions of the past are easily belied by
the archival record. Unfortunately, few archives have the resources to make
broad public presentations of archival evidence that challenge popular conceptions
of the past. Given that our narrow resource base is so dependent on the continued
good humor of public funders and private philanthropists, we are not in a position
to raise questions that cause discomfort to these resource allocators. The problem
for institutional archivists can be particularly acute if their parent institutions
become uncomfortable with archivists who regard it as their mission to utilize
historical documents to provide institutional accountability when the institutions
desire instead warm nostalgia and just a retelling of past glories.
If it is fair
to say that archivists are in the business of the past, we can also be said
to have a legitimate concern about how others utilize and exploit the past.
We appreciate the entertainment value of the past, but we care more about the
educational value of the past. And we understand that the greatest educational
value comes from archives not as a source for images of the past, but as the
font of evidence. Where we particularly should be taking issue with the mass
media use of the past is when it is used for escapism from the present. Indeed,
we have a special responsibility to note when slick edu-tainment presentations
are built upon narrow selections of the past in order to paper over the moral
ambiguities and cruelties of the past, which we know are often well reflected
in our archives.
As archivists
assemble for the 62nd annual meeting of the world's largest professional archival
organization, we are sadly a very small body. As we embark on this meeting,
we can see the difficulty of making a dent on the commercial and entertainment
world around us. Even if we were to decide that all of us should wear a unique
colored rain poncho, let's say imperial purple, it is likely that our purple
would be quickly swallowed up by the sea of yellow ponchos offered by Disney's
shops.
Nevertheless,
as we embark on the annual meeting and the professional year it opens, we must
reflect on the archival values that we hold deeply, for it is our role and responsibility
to be the faithful archivists for society. Even when it may appear futile,
since archives seem endemically undervalued by the criteria of the external
society, we must stand fast and hold true to our role as custodians and guardians
of the authentic record of the past. In contrast to the seven headed beast of
the entertainment industry, we need to keep our focus on the seven domains of
archival work by which we fulfill our mission of managing an authentic record
of the past.
In other words,
our first responsibility is to be thoroughly proficient in these domains and
to advance theory and practice so that society may indeed entrust us with the
care of their records and heritage. These areas define us as a profession and
provide a means for us to organize our work, subdividing it into specialties
and related activities, and ultimately ensuring the overall unity of the profession.
You have heard them before, but the list bears repeating. These seven core functions
are: authoritative establishment and administration of programs, authentication
of documents, appraisal, arrangement, description, preservation, and use. What
they have in common aside from the interrelatedness of their execution is the
assurance that their proper execution ensures that authentic evidence is preserved
and made accessible while its full value and meaning is retained to enrich the
future.
It may be old
fashioned, but I would emphasize that we presume that archivists preside over
the past so that others may examine it; that is, that our mission is not to
interpret the documentary record or limit it to one set of meanings. We should
hold fast to the luxury that our goal is to manage the documentary record for
use by others who will form their own opinion and picture of the past.
However, we
face a very significant challenge in trying to do archives in the midst of the
fin de siËcle Disney-world. First, we need to understand that our
role as archivists is indeed different from several of the other roles around
us.
This is especially difficult since many of us come to our archival careers
late and nearly all of us are educationally framed or institutionally placed
such
that we are adjacent to comparable professions—public history, museums,
library service, records administration. Because we have affinities to these
other fields and sense a need for many allies, we often do not attend sufficiently
to our own professional identity as archivists. As much as these other fields
provide a useful perspective on archival work, we need to make sure that we
preserve our identity as archivists and keep our profession as archival in
the
midst of competing alternatives. In our cycle of poverty, it is often tempting
to change our focus to garner the resources and attention available in these
allied fields. Doing so, however, carries with it the significant risk of losing
our identifying mission and purpose.
For example,
public historians and museums are in the business of entertaining and educating
the public with history and objectifying the past, often building on nostalgic
memories and linking the viewer to established conceptions of the past. With
varying success, they also attempt to break traditional preconceptions of the
past. Ultimately, however, the role of public history and museums is as interpreters
and promoters of the past.
Libraries are
in the business of capturing information that has been created specifically
for mass dissemination and making that information readily available to multiple
publics. However, librarianship is an information profession wherein data
are
valued as independent entities, separate from the context that created them.
By contrast, archivists must focus on unique documents created often as the
accident rather than the object of an action. We are not information professionals
like librarians—we are evidence professionals.
Archivists should
treasure their role as presiders over evidence, the substance of history from
which all interpretation, presentation, and dissemination must proceed. We
need
to accept this role as a noble calling, and we need to focus on conveying this
message to the public. In the post-David Gracy era since 1984, we need to
move
beyond the archives-and-society utilitarian promotion of archives, wherein
the emphasis has been on the economic value of archives. Instead, we need
to move
into very specific and strategic publicity on the cultural value of archives
as the authentic past, especially in contrast to the artificiality of the
nostalgic
world around us. We need to emphasize the importance of the value of "the real
thing" of the archival record in contrast to the pop culture images that succeed
because of their syrupy sweetness.
We are fooling
ourselves if we think that archivists will ever hold center stage in society's
understanding of the past. But we should neither chastise ourselves for being
on the margins, nor accept the perception that what we do is marginal. The nobility
of our calling as guardians of historical truth and authenticity is demonstrated
by our commitment to selecting and keeping a reliable record, not by the number
of curtain calls we receive. Unless we accept and profess ourselves to society
in a way that demonstrates that we value ourselves in this way, we will set
ourselves up for failure and disappointment because we can never compete with
Mickey, Donald, and Goofy. If we set utility as the ultimate arbiter of value,
we will be ceding the valuable ground of higher purpose at the same time as
we attempt to compete in a contest where we are armed with toothpicks and our
competitors have industrialized weapons.
There are, nevertheless,
some important internal actions that we must take. Within SAA, we need to realize
that the all-important focus on technique and process that so predominates
our
field must not become the substance of our work. We need ever improving techniques
and methods, and only the associations of archivists can be the crucible
for
perfecting techniques and disseminating standards and professional knowledge.
But we also need to keep our eyes on the substance of our repositories and
our
reason to exist—to provide an authentic, comprehensive record that ensures
accountability for our institutions and preservation of cultural heritage for
our publics. As we burrow into the latest protocols for electronic system design,
MARC tagging, Encoded Archival Description mark-up rules, or appraisal models,
we also need to remember the broad purposes that unite us as a profession,
and
we need to look for ways in which each of us relates our specialty to the archival
whole. This is the answer to the much-noted worry about fragmentation and balkanization
of the profession.
As your president
and a twenty-year member, I can see no better forum for our philosophizing as
a profession than SAA. It is true that, like you, I can find some things that
I would like to see different in SAA, but the genesis of my criticism, like
yours, is our high hope for the organization. Above all, what SAA provides is
the network of people who help us grow and help us think. Indeed, what I value
most in the organization is the network of people who bring a common set of
interests and a vision to problems about which each contributes to, or draws
from, the expertise of the whole.
So for those
of you who feel that SAA sometimes lacks an overarching purpose or identity,
I call on you to engage in a philosophical examination of the functional value
to society of what you do as your particular archival career specialty. I ask
you to think of how you can condense that rationale into a few words that will
have currency and value to society at large. In the new millennium, we need
to define ourselves not as process and technique or as a control, but as products
and values.
For my money,
with all due apologies to Coca-Cola, what I believe archivists provide is "the
real thing," but we need to expand this idea to create similar concise descriptions
of each of our specialties. Coke's catch phrase shows the value that a simple
set of words can have in defining the very substance of what we do as archivists.
If there is one thing that I hope you will carry from my comments, it is that
each of our specialist areas needs to spend some time condensing their functional
mission statements to a simple motto that will be readily comprehensible to
our external audiences. In particular, I think we need to emphasize the outcomes
and products of our work. (3)
In a large capitalist,
consumer society that operates principally by finding continued new markets,
we are likely to find it difficult to secure the attention and financial
support
of society. This is often because we do not control the valves in the financial
pipeline, but it is also because society finds it easier to hold on to simplistic,
artificial notions than to complex, variegated ideas. Our response should
not
be to compromise our message, but to hold fast to archival authenticity and
the bedrock importance of what we do. However, we do need to be able to describe
accurately what it is we do as products and what the results are for society.
We need to focus on the broad, intangible "products" that we provide. We
can point to the preservation of heritage, the assurance of accountability
of institutions
and government, effective access to corporate historical assets, and assurance
of availability of records that protect individual rights. We cannot expect
society to suddenly embrace us with praise and financial resources, but in
the
end our self conviction in what we do and in our key principles will carry
us further in all our efforts with the public than any resort to retailing
the
utilitarian or financial value of our work.
After all, there
is no way we can compete against the financial resources of the commercial
world, and the media's realm is far beyond our control, but this does not
mean that
we should be demoralized or compromise our principles. For at the end of the
day, there is no disputing one unassailable fact—we are the keepers of
that extremely rare and valuable commodity, the authentic documentary heritage
in all its multidimensional richness, the "real thing" to which the future
will need to return again and again. We should never underestimate its value.
End Notes:
1. Mark Steyn, "The Entertainment State," New Criterion 17 (September 1998):
24-29 provides a biting critique of the decline of American politics into simplistic
images perpetrated by the entertainment industry. While published after this
address was given, Steyn's critique is full consistent with the thinking that
developed in this address.
2. Douglas Greenberg, "'History is a Luxury:' Mrs. Thatcher,
Mr. Disney, and (Public) History,"
Reviews in American History 26 (March 1998): 294-311. In addition
to suggesting ideas that supplemented the development of this address, Greenberg's
essay provides an excellent case for the need of historians, and by my extension,
archivists, to accept the popularization of history. At the same time, however,
archivists must maintain a role separate from "public history" because
they are the managers of authentic evidence.
3. For example,
preservation specialists might start their consideration with a phrase such
as "without us, your past is not even 'history.'"
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