I am torn by these readings. As a kid I went to the Minnesota Museum of Natural History in Minneapolis and to various sites controlled by the Minnesota Historical Society expecting to see and learn from exhibit curators. I still have a sense of wonder whenever I visit any of the museums at the Smithsonian and every trip ends with me acquiring some new bit of knowledge. That opportunity to learn is one of the things that drive me back to museums over and over. As presented in Letting Go? I loved the idea of content more personally germane and therefore more interesting to individual museum-goers. I expect a curator to keep exhibits fresh. I also expect to be learning from an expert in the field, from an exhibit presenting relevant, factual information. For a curator that is a challenge and I acknowledge, sometimes they fail. Using different, innovative ways to capture and present information is laudable and I support it. The use of film by the Minnesota History Center is a great example of innovation, so are interactive exhibits. Museums need to respond to public input and user-generated content seems like a logical reaction. However, indulging the public with significant user-generated content goes too far. While these articles presented a variety of ways to engage users, each method only temporarily attracted a narrow audience. Though each article in Letting Go? highlighted how much interest user-generated exhibits generate, I saw no evidence of any lingering benefits in fund-raising, membership or sustained increases in attendance. In conclusion, I see a correlation between user-generated content on the web and in museums. I am distrustful of user-generated content on the web and have similar concerns about such material in a museum. On those occasions when web content is interesting enough to look at, 99 times out of a 100, after viewing I just delete it and without bothering to forward it. The web has billions of users so such a low response can still make financial sense to advertisers or content creators. I am not sure it makes a lot of sense for museums.
Please Don’t Let Go…
The idea of a museum as “a place that would be a pleasure to visit on crowded days” (31) makes my skin crawl. I tend to turn away and resolve to come back another day if I see the parking lot full at places like museums, my anxiety heightened and my discomfort visible to everyone. It’s unfortunate that we’ve entered a reality where museums must be, as Joe mentioned in his response, “cheapened” by the flashy ability to connect to a social media platform, where your enjoyment requires cooperation between patrons, to have an app on your phone, or to speak face-to-face with an exhibit. Heaven forbid I have the desire to just wander through a museum and quietly experience it for myself.
Now, this isn’t to say that we should still be practicing the antiquated trend of separating expert from visitor (70-71). If anything is going to keep people from patronizing museums, it’s going to be that elitist environment in which you feel like you’re a part of the unwashed masses, wholly stupid and simply grateful to be allowed to tread on sacred ground. It is important, as well, to keep from petrifying a museum in one unchanging state, as people will only visit once, having already seen everything. (Two-headed calf, anyone?) So how can this be done without risking the alienation of those who don’t feel inclined to vocally or physically participate?
I think the balance comes from the integration of things like “dialogic museums” (83-95). Holy cow, do I love this idea. The style gives curators and historians the ability to shed old ways of presenting nothing but the facts, and, at the same time, also reject those old, exclusionary, historical narratives, by introducing new stories from those whose representation is often erased from the narrative altogether. They challenge visitors’ thinking, bring new ideas and faces into the museum, and, can still rely on technological advancements. By all means, encourage the public to submit their own voices, and suggest the stories that should be told. Solicit those untold stories via social media platforms, and engage in a dialogue about why exclusionary narratives are harmful. Make history accessible and worthy of a conversation. But most importantly, when it comes time to create a physical space to tell these stories, they can be curated in ways that allow visitors to enjoy exhibits and installations on their own terms. Now, obviously this isn’t the only solution, and not every museum can put something like this together or align this style with the primary goal of their establishment. But it’s a nice starting point to think about…
In Over My Head?
Where do I even begin? As I can see from those who posted before me, I am not alone in feeling conflicted about the reading. It left me with many questions, first of all, how I can move forward? Most of the ideas presented were about participatory techniques, increasing the use of social media and technology, and embracing co-creation within institutions- all foreign concepts to me. When reading about these efforts, issues arose for me because I had difficulty visualizing such exhibits and had never encountered them before.
Of course I understand the need to reach more diverse audiences and dilute the idea that museums are the “end-all” historical authority, but I found my logical goals as a historian clashing with my experiences as a museum patron. As a historian, I agree that content should be presented in a way that allows visitors to feel personally connected to history, and foster active engagement with unique dialogues. You hope that museums become bustling places that people are not intimidated to visit, while they experience wonderment with challenges to perspectives that normally would not occur. On the other hand, I was constantly thinking about my own museum experiences. Contrastingly, as I patron I relish the “empty” days at museums, which allow me to slowly and silently reflect without interruption. I enjoy the time to turn my phone off and “disconnect” from the world incessantly needing “likes”. In this way, I found the sections about engaged participation through social media and technology daunting.
Perhaps the chapter that I found most interesting was Minnesota’s “Greatest Generation” Film Festival. I enjoyed reading about how filmmakers were able to conduct their own familial investigations and become historians. The combination of pictures, oral accounts, and research created poignant entries that would be fascinating to watch.
Through the different projects discussed, it struck me how empowered people can become by “owning” their stories within the larger historical picture. I think it is important that museums are embracing the notion that everyday subjects are worthy of being displayed and explored. As we all know, perspectives and ideas of significance shift. As interesting as all these different projects are, I am left with a sense of “What did I get myself into?” and “how can I ever hope to contribute to these types of projects?”. I guess we’ll find out.
On a side note, I have included a picture I took from my visit to the Louvre from 2008. It shows the wall of people encircling the Mona Lisa in the distance behind the glass. It was an amazing visit, but the amount of people was a stress factor. I am curious how museums such as the Louvre could instigate changes discussed in the book. As one of the biggest and most popular museums in the world, is it necessary to embrace these new techniques? They already have the diverse global pull of famous art so is it worth it to switch things up?
Discussing “Letting Go?”
Reading through the different ideas and experiences in Letting Go? reminds me of countless conversations had with my cohort class about history and views of public history. The conversations about how History Channel was better when it first came out and now has been dramatized to keep the viewership numbers high. The web and virtual exhibits can be useful in getting people who would otherwise not want to go to museums to go and better enjoy themselves. The other side is that there has to be a middle ground between interactive and non-interactive to appease most people when it comes to exhibits. The article by Kathleen McLean see museums as a place to hold historical conversations and is community place of learning for all involved. “We need to think of visitor’s as partners in a generative learning process within a dynamic community of learners” (72). Instead of believing one is expert its better to learn as a community and have positive dialogue.
The use of the web and interactive technologies is good but should not be the overdone either. To much stimulus can ruin an experience. Digital collections enhance learning by allowing the historical community to see artifacts or photos not normally seen in public. This also allows for more information to be accessed to the community when needed for research. As Mathew MacArthur saw that objects can be used as learning tool and resource. The art of using the object is what can make it successful as a learning tool. “Thus displayed, museum collections “cultivate the powers of observation, and the casual visitor even makes discoveries for himself, and, under the guidance of the labels, forms his own impressions”; further, objects are a ” powerful stimulant to intellectual activity” (58). With the use of both learning and thinking is achieved.
The public historian in the world of the world wide web
While reading Letting Go? I find myself intrigued by an idea that most historians understand, but one that the general public does not always seem to grasp; the internet has everything but in having everything, the internet is not always correct and certainly does not always provide a complete story. Even some seemingly reputable sources (ie. Newspapers) often have an agenda of their own that taints the information that they put out. The public, in general, expect the nearly impossible from museums; to give completely unbiased views yet maintain a multitude of different viewpoints. The web 2.0 has added to both the ability to accomplish this as well as the difficulty of such an undertaking. Although the web 2.0 has facilitated the ability for many people to add to the narrative of history, it has also opened a new role for the public historian as an expert that can differentiate between sources with solidly researched information and those sources that are closer to opinion presented as fact. In this there are pitfalls that must be avoided. The public is, in general, often drawn to the stories that we have been told, good or bad, of what and how things happened. Deviating too far from this traditional narrative can put public historians in a position of being more augmentative than as an authoritative voice on the subject. Letting Go? introduces the thought through Matt Fisher, who explains the dominant viewpoints when he says, “Introducing different prospectives is vital, but simply criticizing or undermining dominant or authoritative viewpoints is ultimately limited.”[1]I find this interesting in that many of us look at situations in history, and due to its controversial nature, are asked to argue one thing or another but rarely stop long enough to think of whether or not arguing against past indiscretions is actually useful to anyone. Many of these arguments were not only carried out at the time but also tend to either bore or infuriate a large number of people that are less read on the situation and only know the traditional narrative.
[1] Bill Adair, Benjamin Filene, and Laura Koloski, Letting go?: sharing historical authority in a user-generated world, (Philadelphia, PA: Pew Center for Arts & Heritage, 2011), 49.
Initial thoughts about public history as discussed in “Letting Go?”
It would seem that the relationship between curator and consumer, expert and audience, museum staff and museum goer is a contentious one. This is especially true if you were to believe Matthew Fisher. While being interviewed by Bill Adair, Fisher paraphrases Duchamp, saying that artists and spectators collaborate, meaning that the viewer is as important as the artifact that is on display. Perhaps it is my age and disposition, but I enjoy a quiet, dry, dull, non-interactive exhibit. But I can see the desire to make museums more “friendly” for the internet generations. I do not, however, feel that the museum experience needs to be similar to my online shopping experiences. Fisher states “if museums don’t embrace these new paradigms (Web 2.0 ie. tagging, commenting, blogging) they are in danger of becoming irrelevant” (50). I do not think that irrelevance is the most important problem facing museums. It is a lack of funding that the Humanities, in all shapes and sizes, have everywhere. Fisher seems to claim the only way to solve that is to develop a “creative relationship between objects and visitors” (47), but I think treating the museum experience like a YouTube channel cheapens the experience for everyone else.
I see the need, as was voiced in the article written by Kathleen McLean, to be more inclusive of under-represented viewpoints. She describes the way the Oakland Museum of California (OMCA) sought the advice of their Native Advisory Council. When it came time to create a new exhibit, instead of using the traditional anthropological perspectives, they built the exhibit around what “our Native partners thought most important” (74). Additionally, there is the example of the Minnesota Historical Society, who asked for film submissions. One of these submissions, in the words of the film maker said “In the end, my attitude toward the History Center changed. … I was not a consumer demanding to be entertained, but a part of it” (106). And that is an outcome I think that all of us would want every one to have…
Tom King and Bombing Boise
Tom King’s lifelong career in CRM has obviously led to great cynicism about the system in place to protect our national heritage (understatement of the century.) This perspective colors this text throughout, where he makes the groundshattering claim from the beginning that the entire system of bureacratic natural and cultural resource protection is in fact a sham. He is intentional in this claim, trying to explode readers’ perceptions of CRM, especially since most of his readers are interested or work in heritage management. While it is dismaying that all of the extensive regulations, policies, and agencies in place in King’s view are essentially accomplishing project proponents’ goals rather than actual CRM, I do trust where King is coming from, based on his extensive experiences as a consultant, working with different agencies, and his concern for the actual protection of resources. For these reasons, while I can very easily see where this could be a depressing read for those interested in entering CRM, I was very interested in seeing what King had to say, and what changes he suggested. Having read King before, I did enter with expectations of lengthy example cases, but I was dismayed that the bulk of the text was devoted to case examples with only the last chapter dedicated to possible solutions (many of which he admitted were near impossible, i.e. constitutional amendments). Now that I think about it, I think we were forewarned about this…
For me, the most disappointing part of the whole system that King described is that it is marked by lethargy, inertia, and an overall feeling of “that’s just the way it is.” The CRM personnel will contract themselves to project proponents, coming up with as few roadblocks as possible; the federal and state agencies will only step in and impede in the projects if there is a serious issue that others are sure to notice; the contractors will fudge on their bids about the amount of time compliance will take to get the job; and the proponents themselves will request bids for FONSI when they search for their EA contractor. (how is that even allowed?!) I appreciated King pointing all of this out, and trying to put a fire under the feet of everyone involved to say “this isn’t why we have this system in place! These laws and policies were created for a reason! Let’s put intention back into the system instead of regarding it as red tape that you just have to work your way through/evade!” A big part of it that King points out is the language of obfuscation that populates the regulations, public notices, and that they are based on a “good faith effort.” By not being hard and fast rules, it is easy to not consult the parties that the project proponents, or as King points out, even SHPO or other agencies realize could raise the biggest fuss or ask for more extensive review. One of the weirdest gray areas to me was the idea of “cumulative impacts.” What is the point of a cumulative impact option if the site can be divided into smaller projects to allow for quicker review and project approval? How often would anyone acknowledge a cumulative effect? On the other hand, couldn’t anything be considered in a long-view and be included as a cumulative impact? Also, King did extensively lay blame with the Bush administration, it would be interesting to see the specific policy positions the Bush administration took that were responsible for this in King’s eyes and how that looks now towards the end of Obama’s administration.
The most disheartening example King mentioned was between the Rosas and the BNSF in Abo Canyon, due to the extent of energy, time, money, and how thoroughly the Rosas engaged with the review process to work within the system to seek protection for the canyon. This clearly demonstrates that the process does not work, is controlled through the discretion of the project proponents and agency reviewers, and that community mobilization, heritage protection law, and even the work of CRM consultants isn’t necessarily the solution. I am torn here because the extent of the Rosas’ engagement with the process is a good example to follow in say, continual work to protect Minidoka from the interests of dairies and CAFOs, but also an example that doesn’t have a positive outcome. I think the saving grace for Minidoka may be that the federal agency, in this case NPS, is the one petitioning for protection rather than an outside reviewer or a project (CAFO) proponent.
As an aside, King briefly mentioned the conflicts between Native Hawaiians and NASA over building telescopes on spiritual places. This is ongoing and it was recently announced that the telescope under construction in Hawaii as the world’s largest telescope has since lost that ranking. If you are interested you can read about it here. There is also a pretty big movement for protecting Hawaii against further intrusions, including petitions here.
Aaaaayy, it’s ok, the FONSI said so!
I enjoyed reading this book, if only for the fact that I could get fired up, not only about the problems and possible solutions, but also King himself. The style and organization of the book are juxtaposed nicely against the complicated and face-palm inducing laws and jargon. For this post I have numerous coherent comments and thoughts that I will share, but I’ve also pulled out some of my favorite quotes and some random thoughts at the end.
I’m less upset that CRM and EIA consultants allow their reports to be dictated by their employers than I am about the fact that the Army Corps of Engineers, the Bureau of Land Management, Fish and Wildlife, etc, all of these government agencies who are tasked with impartial review have zero integrity. “So before BLM had even received a draft of the EA from the contractor—BNSF’s contractor, that is—who was preparing it, the Corps, BLM, and BNSF took it for granted that BLM was going to issue a FONSI—that is, find that the project would have no significant impact on the human environment….But what’s important here is that although neither the Corps nor BLM had carried out the assessment that was both legally and logically necessary to determine whether all these effects amounted to something significant, they already knew they were going to find them not so. In short, the fix was in. This is by no means uncommon. I’ve seen requests for proposals (RFPs) in which the agency seeking a contractor specified that the contractor would prepare an EA and FONSI, and I’ve very, very rarely seen a case in which an EA actually led to the decision to do an EIS. It does happen, but usually only with a lot of pressure from outside the agency.” (p. 57). On top of all of that King later states: “And most of the laws give federal agencies almost unfettered authority to interpret their responsibilities” (p. 65). WHAT!? This is disgraceful. I’m disappointed moreover because I feel this is the sort of crap that the public can use to argue for privatization, that big government is bad, and many other blanket statements that ignore the fact that a restructuring of the system would help rather than throwing the whole thing out or over to some massive corporation who then controls the process from start to finish.
I have some reservations about the wild horse issue. I do not know enough about the BLM’s management, but I do know that in some areas, the wild horses are actually destroying the countryside and dying of starvation at the same time. I get that King is using this as an example of the bigger picture that all parties involved are refusing to look at, but the way he presents it constrains the story and makes the BLM out to be the bad guys. Maybe they are the bad guys, but King has fallen into the same trap he criticizes, not taking the time to discuss all of the evidence.
With the case of the Fort Mojave Indian Tribe I am more than outraged. Have these archaeologists never heard of landscape archaeology? It’s an entire field of study on the prehistoric/historic use of land by groups of people including spiritual sites. You have one job, do it, and do it with integrity (i.e. in an undisturbed manner).
I like that he isn’t shooting for the protection of everything just because it’s part of the built or natural heritage. The time needs to be taken for a productive discussion of the benefits, consequences, and needs of individual cases. We should be able to have democratic deliberations in order to find the best balance or compromise. According to King, “that, regrettably, we can’t presently do.” (p. 16) “I’m not saying that all the people who come to me with their problems ought to prevail, but I’m enough of a populist to think that they ought to be heard, and negotiated with in good faith, and that they ought to have a level playing field on which to contend. They aren’t and they don’t, and in a democracy, that strikes me as a problem.” (p. 26). This seems to be his mantra. If we could only get all of the parties to sit down and have an actual conversation, without the jargon and the grandstanding and the fogging, we might actually make progress through a legitimate process of deliberation.
“The notion that these requirements serve an actual purpose—that it’s a good idea to think about what damage may result from something you’re thinking of doing, before doing it—has been quite lost.” (pg 7) – I feel like this is true for more than just natural or built heritage.
“perceive it to be a mere administrative nuisance” (67) – I’m terribly sorry you think caring for the environmental impacts of your actions are a nuisance, but future generations would really appreciate it if you would do your job.
So is a solution to the “analyst as a proponent” problem to de-privatize CRM and EIA?
Aren’t all government documents full of jargon and hard to comprehend? Ever tried to read a proposed bill or law or filed your taxes for that matter?
“There’s really no reason why not, except that the application of laws like NEPA and section 106 seems to cause people to shut down their faculties of common sense.” (78).
Solutions Galore!
I think I’m the outlier of our group…but I loved Our Unprotected Heritage and I appreciated King’s interpretation of the problems. I appreciate snark and frankness, particularly in academic writing. And I disagree that he does not offer solutions. I think that if we look at this work holistically, instead of as a list of problems that need solutions, we can find many recommendations.
For starters, the overwhelming message of the book is that government agencies have tied their own hands. They write jargon-y protocol to follow confusing laws and expect underpaid and overworked employees to be shiny beacons of morality and competency. As King points out various antiquated or confusing practices of government agencies, I find that his solutions read between the lines…”Stop doing that!” Let’s focus less on red tape and bureaucratic forms so that our federal and state employees have the time to seek real solutions with real people. Instead of filling manuals with confusing wording and acronyms, let’s write clear directions and expectations. While laws might be slow to change and update, we can give administrative and managerial staff the confidence and power to make common sense judgements. I appreciated King’s example of the couple making a decision to buy a car…they discuss options, weigh outcomes and make an informed decision together. It should not be so difficult for agencies and concerned citizens to have the same types of conversation and rely less on forms, letters, lawyers, and arms distance negotiations.
Another glaring issue that King discusses (and I think proposes solutions to) is the problem of EIA and CRM firms acting as a proponent for project. If a third party is hired to assess the environmental or cultural impact of a project, they are far more likely to skew results in favor of their client. After all, “Your project means the world to us!” truly does mean the fiscal survivability of the firm. I think the solution for this problem is equally as clear as the last…”Be bothered by this!” Governmental agencies, consultants, clients and citizens should all be bothered by this. If laws are in place to prevent corruption and we all have to spend the time and resources on following these laws, shouldn’t we want our time and money to be well spent? The best way to circumnavigate this is in the small example that King gives on pg. 43. “Environmental and cultural resources studies (should) be done by contractors who report directly to (the agency), rather than to the project proponent. The proponent pays, but the agency calls the shots.” I’m sure the reason why most agencies don’t do this is lack of staff to accomodate the extra work. But if agencies free themselves from bureaucratic nonsense (as mentioned) above, they should have time to read a (concise and jargon-free) report from the consultant.
King does tear through Caldwell’s recommendations for change, but I don’t think he dismisses them. Instead he adjusts them for the real world. Idealism is fine and dandy in our ivory towers, but the reality of the situation calls for the kind of brutal honest that King offers. Part of finding any solution is in a sophisticated analysis of the problem. It is clear that King has done that.
More Cowbell? How About More Acronyms Instead?
Our Unprotected Heritage: Whitewashing the Destruction of Our Cultural and Natural Environment was a really befuddling read for me. I have to agree with Tom King that NEPA, NHPA, and all their various acronyms and sections are all super confusing, full of jargon, and inaccessible. Even King is unable to make the chaos of environmental & cultural preservation laws understandable. Thus, I’m going to be really upfront with you all and admit that I’m not sure that I followed King’s explanation of heritage laws very well. I have more questions than ideas this week.
Why is it bad that consultants work in the interest of the people that pay them? As a historian who believes that all history is biased, I find it sort of naïve to assume that consultants would work against their employer’s interests unless there was a Godzilla-sized problem. King and I agree that there is a moral responsibility to try and counteract this bias. (164-166) However, it seems like King never puts forth an obvious solution other than “build [new] administrative systems”. (166)
Don’t all of King’s complaints come back to the fact that the general public doesn’t really care about heritage protection until it’s right in their backyard? In the final chapter, King discusses how Republicans “launched attacks on both NEPA and section 106 of NHPA.” (147) However, these lawmakers seem to be doing their jobs, as a majority of their constituents don’t really care about heritage preservation. Broken NEPA & NHPA laws seem like sort of a minor symptom of a much larger disease. I mean, this is sort of obvious from the first chapter when King talks about how quantifiable bright green laws (AKA more STEM-esque laws) have had more success than their light green (AKA social science) counter parts. (11-13)
Finally, how will the government save money by fixing the EIA and CRM? King attempts to answer this question in the Epilogue of the book by saying, “ …I didn’t—don’t—think the changes I propose should cost money; instead they ought to save it.” (171) Except that one of his proposed solutions is to have the federal agencies CEQ, Advisory Council on Historic Preservation, Fish & Wildlife Service) gather together with the public to discuss how to fix the current laws. (163) Having the agencies talk to one another and the public they serve is a great solution! However, it’s still going to cost the government in man hours (meeting & subsequent retraining of personnel) at the very least. And this is just one of King’s numerous solutions put forth. If King really wanted things to change he should, at the very least, lay down a rough draft of how it will save the government money. Decreasing wasteful spending speaks volumes to both the American public and its lawmakers, I promise.