Digital Components and The Museum

The Role of Digital Components in The Museum.

 

One of the aspects that Letting Go? focuses on is how museums are relying more and more on digital content from blogs, podcasts, visitor contributions from feedback booths, and tweets.   This is a response to a larger societal trend and museums are trying to stay relevant in a user created world.  On the part of the museum, it seems like that is the only option to modernize, but I have reservations about the headlong dive into creating so many digital platforms.

 

What I really appreciated from Letting Go? is the acknowledgment of the downfalls that museums face with the pressure of creating digital content. While many visitors do have sentimental feelings towards the old museum paradigm, the new blended museum is here to stay.  While reading, I realized that even though the book details many great digital museum sites, such as 21st Century Abe, I had never heard of them before reading the book.  So, problem number 1: How do museums get the word out about their digital resources?   If no one knows about it, does it even matter that it is good?   Also, once visitors leave the museum, is there a role for the digital component of the exhibit?

 

The book is honest with its discussion of what has worked with digitally and what has not.  While other museum books have extolled the virtues of the feedback booth, this book acknowledges that most contributions are unusable and silly.  And, unfortunately, the good contributions have nowhere to go but to an archive where they probably won’t be seen again. This goes back to the earlier question – what is the point of digital components if they are bad?  Is there such a pressure to bring digital aspects to a museum that quality is compromised?  I realize that digital aspects within museums are a fairly new phenomenon, and of course, still in the process of trial and error.  While the profession is growing and improving, it is refreshing to have a book where students of museum studies can see and learn from other museums’ efforts.

OK, now I like it!

Meggan LM

01/19/15

Reflections: Letting Go? Sharing Historical Authority in a User-Generated World

OK, I admit it…after being raised in a political, Catholic, and Basque family, I run from the word “authority.” And…after working for the federal government for a quarter-century, those who thought they had “authority” prompted a similar reaction for me: run away, fast! Why? Because for me, authority is synonymous with control, which can inhibit creative thought, shut down open-mindedness, discourage communication, and limit choices.  So, one can probably imagine my visceral reaction to this book title! What? A book that uses “Letting Go” and “Sharing Historical Authority” together right on the book cover? Then, the Foreword greets the reader with “Sharing the Authority of Knowledge.” The very thought that knowledge is somehow a construct of authority rubbed me ever further raw. Furthermore, these words in conjunction with history, a field that I have great respect for, troubled me.

For me, history is not an authoritative action, a final declaration, or a definitive means of knowledge control. Nor is it limited to chosen individuals who have been vested with authority to tell one story, or the only story.  It is not to be relegated to archives or collection storage for the minority who know how to access it. It’s not about the curator, the archivist, the collections manager, the professor, or the powerful institution. History is about the continual process of learning and acquiring knowledge. Public history welcomes sharing stories, changing times, and evolving relationships. It is the opposite of authority and control, because it encourages creative thought, shares perspectives (to open minds), welcomes communication and conversation, and offers many choices. It is participatory. It is communal. It is diverse.

Despite my trepidation at the titles and sub-titles in Letting Go? Sharing Historical Authority in a User-Generated World, the first 155 pages have proven my misgivings about the book somewhat wrong. Thankfully, it challenges traditional concepts of the authority of history and the control of historical gatekeepers. Some of the book’s  chapters align with my four principles of public history: creativity, shared perspectives, conversation, and choice. They prompted serious thought about the public history in today’s fast-changing world, and the role the public historian can play in changing traditional authoritative approaches for the benefit of visitors, institutions, and most importantly – the communities history serves. If public history evolves the way many of the examples in this book have, history’s relevance in the future will be ensured. So far, this book has me excited about contributing energy to public history in ways beyond authority. It got my wheels turning!

A few thoughts about some of the pieces – not comprehensive in any way and I look forward to hearing everyone else’s thoughts!

Nina Simon’s piece is about the benefits of participatory design for both institutions and participants (p. 18-33). It encouraged me to think about the value of peer review amongst the public, collaboration between the institution and the public, and the feedback loop. The use of conversation, whether through voting on content or adding content, ensures an ever-changing, non-stagnant approach to history, using multiple perspectives. I agreed with her argument that this allows for inclusion because traditionally, museums have appeared to be exclusionary. Encouraging dialogue not only personalizes the experience, but it adds dimension and depth to exhibitions. Most importantly, museum staff responsiveness tells the visitor that he or she is no longer an outsider, but rather, a participant in the conversation. An exchange is occurring, which means no longer is it the authoritative historian presenting a definitive, controlled message, but rather, a “give-and-take” that allows for a multi-dimensional experience created communally.

Matthew Fisher and Bill Adair’s piece, “Online Dialogue and Cultural Practice,” contention that online, digital means must move beyond just “getting the collections online” (p. 44-55). I liked Fisher’s comment that as with the teacher who “provides guidance, informs the classroom environment with expertise and knowledge, and encourages the students to look beyond their own viewpoint,” the public historian, too, encourages exploration and conversation (p. 48). The two authors support of technology as a tool to accomplish conversation was great. History is about the conversation.

Steve Zeitlin’s story of the City of Memory project in “Where are the Best Stories” supported my principle of shared perspectives in public history (34-43). Through the “Add a Story” function, and placing stories on a virtual “map,” people were connected – by story, memory, and place. These are all individual experiences, but they begin to form a community of shared perspectives. Zeitlin’s words say this the best, “…It links stories and memories in ways that across chronology, sparking connections and enabling visitors to rediscover the city through the memories of others (p. 43)” New Yorkers were given the chance to connect with others and still retain their place in the shared experience. This allows for self-identity, as well as cultural connections to others’ experiences in place, time, and memory.

Matthew MacArthur’s  “Get Real! The Role of Objects in the Digital Age” got my wheels turning about giving artifacts “a second chance” through digital technology (p. 56-65). I agreed with the emotional connection that “real-life” objects may have over digital images, but creative uses of these images can engage greater intellectual exploration, in-depth research, and the ability to see objects at one’s leisure rather than wait for the museum to display them.

Kathleen MacLean’s “Whose Questions? Whose Conversations?” was another thought-provoking piece (p. 70-79). I appreciated the approach that communities and museums are reciprocal experts, and that creative and open dialogues can empower conversation amongst communities.

I fell in love with Benjamin Filene’s “Make Yourself at Home” (p. 138-155). Possibly because this project in Minnesota could parallel the Basque community’s work on the Cyrus Jacobs-Uberuaga boarding house and the immigrant story, it opened a flood of ideas for improving living history museums and working to tell the everyday, common story. The Open House project embodied creativity that I hope to be able to put forward into public history!

Michael Frisch’s metaphorical digital kitchen, “From a Shared Authority to a Digital Kitchen, “ however, was the clencher for me (p. 126-137). His nuanced approach to “sharing authority” and “shared authority” was brilliant. Sharing authority presumes inequity, power, and control. Shared authority levels the laying field and encourages participation because everyone has the potential to share what their know: individual, common knowledge has value. I appreciated his caution about the “trackless waste of cyberia,” and that the new information, digital world has its limits as well. This serves to remind the public historian to keep current, use technology, but always learn how to integrate many modalities.

Shared Authority and Dialogic Museums

These readings in Letting Go were all very thought-provoking, and I loved the chance to learn about real examples of all the ways that different people and institutions are working to break the museum mold of artifact-driven authoritative interpretation. Sometimes you hear about the benefits of interpreting under-represented communities, of using oral history, of allowing users/visitors to contribute to a project, but it isn’t until you read the way that sites can be almost wholly interpreted through oral history  like in Open House or how engaged the community can become with projects like City of Memory that you see all the possibilities we have access to while working in this field.

I liked the critical nature of the readings, and I often felt pushed to reflect on the work I am in the midst of doing or plan to do in the future and ask myself how I can encourage shared authority and community curation, use digital resources in ways that go beyond the transition of an authoritative narrative from a traditional medium to a digital one, and provoke inquiry and dialogue in users/visitors.

Perhaps the reading that will stay with me the longest is Tchen and Sevcenko’s piece on dialogic museums. I have come across Sevcenko’s work a bit in the past, and the chief of interpretation at Minidoka is actually hoping to get the site included in the International Coalition of Sites of Conscience. For me it was really validating to read about the public history work that not only tries to invoke critical dialogue, but does so to work towards social justice, encourage representations of subaltern history,  and challenge existing power structures. I was struck by Sevcenko’s mandate to not only recognize forgotten or suppressed pasts, but to then DO something with that recognition, as well as her reminder that creating a space for untold stories can reinforce power relationships rather than challenging them. This is especially relevant in sharing authority with visitors in issues that involve stereotypes surrounding race, religion, sexuality, etc. When do you allow the visitors to share their realities, which can be offensive and harmful? Do they help give a realistic lay of the land or do they only reinforce negative power relationships?  This piece struck a particular chord with me as a trusted mentor in my undergraduate career strongly dissuaded me from pursuing public history, afraid that I would submit my self to a career of writing watered-down 300-word exhibit texts on subjects like slavery and Japanese incarceration, forgoing an academically-focused engagement of post-colonial theory and power studies. Public history is powerful, though. It is about creating spaces for challenging assumptions, expanding viewpoints, engaging in critical reflection, and working to understand the human condition in its infinite expressions.

Moving Pictures: Minnesota’s Most Rewarding Film Competition

This is a slightly unorthodox post. I enjoyed reading a lot of Letting Go? and have comments and questions on many of the short pieces. I love the amount of education theory that continuously creeps up and the possibilities for using technology to find balance in who has authority and power in the telling of our shared past. Throughout the first ninety or so pages of Letting Go? I highlighted and took notes about learning theories, technological influences, and community involvement in museums. Then I hit “Moving Pictures: Minnesota’s Most Rewarding Film Competition” and I lost my composure at the bottom of the first page. I will preface the rest of my response with this: My grandmother passed away last week and my grandfather, her husband, passed away this past August.

As I read this piece, the history of the film competition and the stories of Grandma Lucy and Grandpa Bill, the raw emotion it evoked caught me off guard. I am sad and I miss them both dearly, but I am also angry with myself for never taking the time to do what these filmmakers “had always meant to do” and finally did. I spent plenty of time with both Nona and Papa, but I never asked the questions I wanted to ask. What was the Navy like during the War? Where did you serve? Will you teach me to play backgammon? What was life like growing up with a mother who only spoke Italian? What did you do as a teenager, before you married Papa? How do you make that salad dressing that makes every vegetable taste like heaven? While I am personally more upset about those stupid little questions, as a historian, I am angry that I failed to preserve their story in a meaningful manner. I failed in my “obligation to future generations” by not capturing their story using all of the technology available today, to make it as vivid and as genuine as possible.

Like that of Grandma Lucy, my grandparents’ stories are not remarkable or fantastic, but ordinary. I know bits and pieces from my father and my aunt; and I believe as Drube does that “the defining characteristic of the greatest generation was not the circumstances that they endured, but rather the hope they had for a better tomorrow” (p 105). I believe this because I saw and felt it when I was with my Nona while she cooked for her family and when I was with my Papa when he taught me to play cribbage. I know it is not too late to capture their stories the way Grandma Lucy’s was captured by Drube and his daughter and to make them part of the conversation of our past.

Deleting the “less than impressive” stories

In Steve Zeitlin’s piece “What are the best stories? Where can I find my story?”, he mentions in one brief paragraph that City of Memory plans “to re-curate the site periodically, leaving only the more interesting and substantive entries up permanently” (p. 40). I’m not sure what to think of this practice. On one hand, I can agree that some stories are more interesting than others. Curators of history are tasked with consolidating the whole story into a digestible and accessible format. When I research and write, I certainly choose to leave out certain antidotes, images, and data in favor of more interesting flavors.

However, I am also troubled by this weeding out of memories. Isn’t the point of these public projects to quantify stories, give ordinary folks historic power, and democratize history? Zeitlin rationalized this practice by stating that visitors won’t mind the elimination because, “stories we eliminate are precisely those to which the contributors did not give significant time or thought” (p. 40). I have a hard time buying this. As a curator, you might find a story less provocative or interesting than others, but that can’t mean that all “boring” stories were written haphazardly and without meaning for the author.

I understand the need to present a clean and organized site that features the most engaging stories up front. I would do the same. But I don’t agree with completely banishing the less than impressive stories. There should be an archive feature built into the site, where older, less desirable stories can find a home. This way you can build an exciting website, while still honoring all the stories that have been shared.

Reflection on Conservative Readings

The political split in the class already seems to be causing some problems so rather than argue the individual points of each article and how they do or do not relate to the larger conservative worldview, I am going to keep my post to what I see to be the main issue…balance.

This week’s readings provided a nice counterbalance to what we’ve already read. I think it is somewhat disingenuous to assume, however, that the views and opinions expressed in a few blog posts are representative of the entirety of conservative thoughts and beliefs. In much the same manner, it would be wrong to extrapolate the liberal viewpoint by merely reading postings by Chauncey DeVega.

Several people mentioned the issue of sources in connection with this week’s readings. I think there is a general problem regarding sources with history posted on the internet…anything that appears “too academic” or complicated is going to be glossed over or ignored. The problem is not limited to this week’s readings, either. Despite his repeated claims of “empirical” evidence, Chauncey DeVega did not provide much in the way of substantiation for his arguments. I think that is a problem that public historians have to look for ways to address…how can we produce good history that is accessible to the public yet still meets the basic standards we should all ascribe to in terms of sources and an accurate, balanced presentation?

Finally, the “humor” article by Jack Hitt was a hit piece. There are more than enough stupid quotes that can be taken out of context on the liberal side to provide just as ridiculous a timeline. To try and pass misstatements and isolated quotes off as something representative of the larger conservative viewpoint does nothing to engender consensus and cooperation.

Conservative Historians Blogging

This week’s readings had its moments of insightful history/social commentary and I’m glad this topic was chosen.

Carlson’s article on the history of the conservative movement(s) from the 20th century was intriguing. It seemed as accurate as a short paper could be. I thought some of the “less-traveled” paths were a bit paradoxical. On paper some of these failed conservative camps sounded a bit communistic – specifically communitarianism. It’s interesting how these cultural philosophies sound really good in theory, but in practice it turns out much different. I guess that could be said about any political system.

Some of the other articles had less substance and were hardly historical arguments. Postell’s article about Lincoln and the Founding Fathers and the anonymous blogger’s article about Marxist teachers both had age-old fallacy: A is similar to C, B is also similar to C, therefore A is similar to B. My scooter is green, my lawn is green, therefore my scooter is a lawn! Obama likes Lincoln, Lincoln made a limited government comment once, so why is Obama trying to take my liberties?! It’s hard to get through these types of articles.

This is not a practice limited to conservative bloggers and only a few of the articles were that ridiculous. I thought some of the articles brought up good points and simply offered an opposing argument to some of the extreme topics placed in the classroom. Some of the articles, like Carlsons, and the “point of contention” blog bring up the fact that the rise of conservatism coincided with the U.S. emergence as a superpower. I think that’s a fair point that is worth repeating. I think we all could gain some understanding by looking back to the 1950s and say out loud what we thought was great about that time, and what we disliked. I think we would very quickly find out who is leaning conservative and who’s leaning liberal.

Thoughts on Readings May 6

I was looking forward to some intelligent debate this week. I was looking forward to well-reasoned arguments that reflected a pragmatic conservative approach to history, but what I found was a bunch of random information, complaining, and anachronism.

Allan C. Carson outlines a rather disjointed history of conservatism and defines conservatism using Barry Goldwater’s famous quote that conservatism attempts “to apply wisdom and experience and the revealed truths of the past to the problems of today.” However, it is seems that much of conservatism (evidenced through these articles) isn’t concerned with problem solving but is defined by reactionary rhetoric, blaming, and complaining. I didn’t find any reasoned arguments in the readings, even among those countering the conservative points. This is probably due to the fact that you can’t reasonably argue against a bunch of ranting. All of these conservative bloggers seemed to be just spewing out a bunch of information with no connecting or coherent statements linking them together. A strong argument is not a bunch of random facts and opinions, and this go for both Liberals and Conservatives! And this is the appeal of Conservativism, for many people, — it isn’t thoughtful or logic driven.

Conservative rhetoric is imbued with inflammatory and impassioned language which distracts from the lack of logical and coherent thought. This could be the reason that religious fervor fits nicely into Conservative arguments. There is also an insane amount of blaming and complaining that goes on in Conservative speech. David W. Almasi’s article regarding the Chavez monument is a ridiculous piece of this kind of pointless blaming. It is fairly well-known that Chavez (and Gandhi) were effective leaders but disturbed individuals, but David W. Almasi turns the endorsed Chavez monument into some sort of scandal, which it is not. A politician made a political move, wow… This is not earth shattering journalism.

The interpretation of history found in these articles is also more inflamed than logical, and seems lacking in critical analysis. Carlson doesn’t acknowledge that what he calls the “notorious 60s” was birthed out of the conservative 1950s, a time he praises as the ideal decade socially, economically, and politically for everyone. However, if the 1950s were halcyon days why were so many privileged white youth and unprivileged non-white groups so equally unhappy with it?

Carlson also states that a neo-conservative is a “liberal mugged by reality,” but this doesn’t really mesh with what I have seen from the Conservative camp. At the heart of Conservative rhetoric is a very narrowly defined concept of reality, or desired reality. This is why Conservatism has been accused of blatant racism, sexism, and elitism. This isn’t to say that Liberals are not guilty of the same thing, especially behind the scenes. In fact, Liberalists are possibly the most covert group of classists and racists currently existing in politics and the professional world; and this is part of the reason that so many working-class people and people of color are turned off by Liberalism. In terms of the Conservative “reality”, the fact that many Conservatives politicians have never personally experienced racism, sexism, homophobia, or classism places these things so far outside their “reality” that Conservative rhetoric starts to purport that they don’t even exist, or if they do exist, they exist as an inconvenience or as a product of overly sensitive individuals. Further these inconveniences, according to Conservatives, in no way are the responsibility of the government or society.

The other problem I had with the week’s readings was that the authors were constantly complaining about generalized things. Generalizing is why so many people, myself included, are turned off by Conservativism. For example, if you want to start attracting black voters, stop putting all black voters in the same category. This was a major problem in Kevin Williamson’s article.

This week’s blog writers also loved to be anachronistic. So much of this reading seemed to be a debate about what historical figures would be Liberal or Conservative today. Kevin Jackson opens his article with arguing against this kind of anachronism then proceeds to do the same thing! The point of this anachronism is to push their own agenda, but to what end? How is this problem solving? How is this engaged and thoughtful politics? So MLK would be a Republican today? Great! Now what?

Perhaps, there is still hope that Conservatives can move away from their angry, generalized, and inflammatory speech, so we can all sit down and have a logical debate. The problems in the world are complex, and a debate about them deserves more than a series of venting and blaming.

Identity Crisis

It was in a short video about the Spanish Civil War and Euskadi ta Askatasuna (ETA)—the Basque militant, and de facto terrorist, political faction—that I saw an interview with an elderly Basque man who had seen the violence and experienced the repression of Franquist Spain. In the interview he said something very interesting to me, and pertinent to the discussion of conservatism. (I’ll paraphrase, as I cannot remember the exact quote) The effect of the quote was “I think that a person who has something, who owns something, is naturally going to be a conservative, because he has something that he wants to keep.” First of all is the obvious reality of the quote, that a person who is a conservative has something to conserve. The second point is in relation to the readings, and in particular Dr. Carlson’s. That point is that conservatism boomed in direct correlation to a boom in wealth in the United States. Personally, I had not realized how reliant this country was on social systems prior to the industrial boom of post-WWII society until I began studying local history. Even through the boom there was a great deal of dependence on what could be considered communal systems. Though based solely on anecdotal observations, it seems to me that wealth causes division among humans. Weather it does so on a class level as Marx suggested, or merely at the individual level, it seems painfully obvious that there is a divide when wealth comes in the picture. Having said that, I still consider myself a conservative, despite my abysmal poverty, and an individualist, despite my recognition that I require community, and a Christian, despite my extreme disappointment with what I observe as practical Christianity in the United States.

Hi-ho Silver—to the readings…

(disclaimer: I must preface the remainder of my comments by forthrightly stating that I have numerous withholdings in calling myself a conservative, philosophical and practical as well as literate. I find many conservatives to be off-putting in how they go about stating their objectives, some in what their objectives are. I don’t like the fact that so often conservatives present themselves as soulless ignoramuses, preaching morality and practicing something entirely different. I am frustrated by the lack of practical application of many of their conclusions as well as their stubborn, stiff-neckedness toward any suggestion of meaningful discussion or compromise. Having said all of that, most of those sentiments are equally applicable toward the other side of the coin as well. I detest what I often refer to as “bipolarism,” which is not a reference to the disease, and bear resemblance to Hegelian Opposites. I DON’T LIKE THE TWO-PARTY SYSTEM! I think that Americans have been duped by the political forces that rule the land, and largely by an education system that perpetuates the discord via ardent support among the educators of a left of center ideal to a rather extreme degree. All this to say that I am a hard-core centrist with very strong antipathy toward any sort of real identification with any one particular perspective.)

I shall begin with what I thought was a true historical analysis without the political edge that I felt in many of the readings. I will devote an entire paragraph to the longest of these articles, and here it is: Dr. Carlson provided a well-structured and fair analysis of the history of conservatism. I thought it was rooted well in historical evidence, and supported by good sources. There, now wasn’t that nice?

Now on to the more fun stuff:

One element of politics that has always made me angry is the use of personally debasing statements to make a point. Case-in-point, Ken Taylor on The Liberal Lie The Conservative Truth referred to the “idiots on the left.” Now really people, not conservatism’s best side. Oh, don’t worry, the Left has their catchphrase cuts for the “Christofascists” on the Right too. It is in fact for this reason that I never went into debate. Every time I was in a debate and trying to stick to the facts and interpretation thereof, my opponent would start throwing out personal attacks, and it just seemed to defeat the purpose of the whole practice, especially when they would win—not because their interpretation was better, but because they were better at making me look bad. At any rate, back to conservatives…I don’t like that quick reductionism that many conservatives leap to. Conservatism can be defended and it can be intellectually valid, but it’s adherents are destroying it. They do so with a complete and total failure to acknowledge the need to compromise by carrying everything to its extreme through a logic that always fails to provide a holistic argument and totally reduces any and every issue to a liberal misinterpretation of the constitution. So this is intended as a cheeky swipe at conservatives using their own methods, but, seriously, through the readings this week, it was hard to miss how quickly each author jumped from addressing an actual issue to attacking the liberals and their disdain for the constitution (should that be capitalized? Like, if it’s not, am I just talking about someone’s general physical propencities?). The point is that conservatives, by toting the Hegelian ideal don’t really help the situation of American politics.

I would also like to address the issue of “Christianity” and conservative America. Despite my identification with both groups, it borders on offensiveness to me when a pastor/minister/reverend/priest/bishop—I specifically am singling out “Christian” leaders—uses his position and church as a platform for politics. Don’t get me wrong, I think that there are issues where “Christians” should draw their line and fight for it, but that does not mean that church leaders should influence their congregation from the pulpit. It was that very behavior that led to the health/wealth gospel, the Billy Graham era and Reganocracy. This is a really tricky issue, because so often in the world religious or philosophical circles overlap political circles in some sort of strange Venn diagram. Yet—and I cannot overstate this—Christians must learn to develop their own philosophies and ministers must stop preaching a political gospel. The level of politics in American churches today has so poisoned the church that an organization—and I believe that a church is not a place, but people—that ought to be a refuge has become circles of scorn for those with differing politics. It has given rise to a generation like myself who despises the church, but eventually realizes it is not the church they despise, but anti-Christian exceptionalism embraced by the church.

In the reading this week, as I often find in conservative politics, I saw this disturbing conflagration of church/politics. Or of Christian/politics, and it disturbed me as it usually does. While I believe that the church has a right, and a responsibility to its people to discuss morality, I don’t think it has a right to impose its morals as such upon the broader swath of society. While I may argue that certain moral decisions within the secular sphere would benefit from a Christian ethic, I try to limit my arguments to secular arguments. I will grant that this is not an exact or perfect practice, but it is a practice, and it is the only practice that I have found that allows me to remain honest to myself and my faith. I feel one of the most exceptional examples of the Christian/politics crossover was the article on J. E. Dyer’s blog that discussed Islam and tried to defend an exception to freedom of religion in its case.

Finally—and I swear this is the last point in an already wordy post—I want to point out the use of “State” and “State’s Rights” among conservatives, particularly in Dyer’s blog, The Optimist Conservative. A general trend I have noted among conservatives is a misunderstanding of what the word “State” means. I think this misunderstanding is aided by a federalist governmental system that overarches individual states. Generally, when the word “State” is used in politics worldwide, it is used to refer to an independently classified entity with an independent government and a people that are united under some degree of mutuality. The states of the United States, are only semi-autonomous, and as such, are not really states, they are at best, provinces. This reality might fly in the face of what hard-core libertarians would like to think is the ideal, but it is the reality. In the case of the United States, the federal government by-and-large is the only thing that may be referred to as state. This being the case, when the constitution refers to the separation of Church and State, it does not indicate individual states that may choose their own stance on religion within, but the separation of Church from Government, and Government from Church. In this case, the “State” referred to is the federal government, not municipal or provincial governments. It makes for a great difference in interpretation of the constitution and the Bill of Rights.

I’d like to conclude that while I am happy that we read some from the conservative side of the spectrum, I feel that for me it was just white noise. I read a good selection from many different sides of things on a regular basis and I find off-center extremes are not where I find the most identification.

Conservative History?

The history depicted in today’s reading reminds me just how much I dislike stereotypes of any kind. I am a self defined conservative woman and I do not approve most of what I’ve read here. I’m going to focus on the Lincoln article to save some time. I don’t think it would be a surprise to most who know me that I don’t really appreciate people taking Lincoln’s words out of context. Lincoln and his view on the Constitution and it’s writers is extremely complex. To say that “He respected and followed the text of the Constitution, rather than interpreting it as a “living” and evolving document or simply scrapping it altogether” would be a blatant lie. Lincoln understood the flexibility of the Constitution in times of war and at times completely ignored it. He committed many unconstitutional acts in his attempt to protect it. But I digress. Postell picked and chose what speeches to quote Lincoln from and ignored his actions. History without context is worthless. Instead, this history is purposefully narrow in order to support his point. Any and all history can corrupt itself if written this way. To corrupt history for one’s own purpose is upsetting to me. I think it defeats everything we have studied and worked towards as historians and public historians. If I were to create a museum exhibit of the Lincoln depicted in Postell’s work it would, by necessity, have to end at his election. The Lincoln of the Civil War would not support his supposition whatsoever. As historians and public historians we have to make sure that we’re telling the whole story no matter if we are red, blue, or purple.