We’re still in the early stages of digital history, and I’m optimistic that copyright issues will eventually get worked out for the most part.  Intellectual property has always been protected in some way with each new type of media. 

On the surface, it might seem like plagiarism has become easier, but really it is now infinitely harder- especially as more secondary sources become digitized and more start off in the world as born-digital sources.  Now, with programs such as turnitin.com, searching for plagiarized work is easier.

The tougher area, I believe, is with photographs, which historians use as sources all the time.  With the advent of digital photography, and the almost complete disappearance of original negatives, it is much harder to properly protect photographs.  It’s easy to copy and paste a picture, and use Photoshop to get rid of watermarks or manipulate the work in some way.  Historians of the future may have a difficult time trying to properly cite the original photographer from copies.  And, digital makes it much easier to transform a picture.  How can historians deal with that?  Can the integrity of any digital photograph really be trusted?  Of course, that topic goes a little beyond this week’s discussion.

In regards to secondary literature, some of the same problems exist, but it’s much easier to word-search a document to discover where somebody else may have plagiarized or manipulated an original work.  I’m not an expert in digital stuff, but as far as I know, there aren’t many similar things that can be done with photograph sources- or if there are, they need to get more attention.

However, Dublin Core, and probably most other forms of metadata for that matter, are still designed by librarians, not historians.  Some collections contain mostly books, periodicals, and other more common formats, but what about some of the unusual artifacts and sources that historians often come across?  Maybe some librarians would disagree, but I think it would be kind of difficult to fit some letters, posters, and other non-traditional primary sources into most metadata programs- even Dublin  Core.  Although, to be fair, I suppose no program that tries to be as all-encompassing and universal as Dublin Core could possible be able to properly include every type of source known to historians.  Some things are just odd balls I guess.

Even with some of the sources I have been trying to put into Omeka through Dublin Core (and it seems this might be true for others as well), it feels like I’m trying to force a square peg down a round hole, in terms of information and data.

And, of course, then there’s the other problem which others have identified about the problems with html code and syntax.  Minute mistakes in data transfer can result in major errors with a final product.  Even one character can be off, and the whole source might disappear into the depths of the internet (at least to the average viewer).

Yet, what about those studying social history; how will the internet impact how they find their sources?  It’s never been easy to find good sources for social history, specifically with first-hand accounts.  Letters, photos, and interviews are sometimes hard to find or are locked away in family attics.  To get the view and perspective of average people through history, as opposed to the big players, is always difficult, especially the farther back in time you look.

With the internet and its emails, tweets, face book pages, instant messages, personal web pages, blogs, photos, etc, one might think that primary source research for social historians of the future will be exponentially easier, as there will be so many sources.  But this is deceiving, since all of these born-digital sources are fleeting.  Most people, by far, make no effort to save these sources, and even if they do, technical failure or updates may cause them to disappear.

It’s an ironic paradox- so many sources, yet they’ll never be saved.  Many archivists are obviously trying to make an effort to save these born-digital sources, as the September 11 project demonstrates, but the public at large needs to be better educated on the benefits of saving their emails, tweets (well maybe not tweets), and other sources.  Ironically, the generation that has arguably created the largest number of written (or typed) records in the history of the world, may actually leave the least behind!

It’s true that one of the responsibilities of museums is ease of access, but museums are also supposed to help clear up common misconceptions and stereotypes about the past.  Social tagging is a step in the wrong direction since it is in direct contrast to that important duty.

Yet, even if museum professionals do all the tagging, it still doesn’t ignore the problem of oversimplification.

On another note, I found the Maine Memory Network site to be very nice.  I like how it allows user contributions, but with limitations.  For example, it allows people to comment on a piece in the online collection, or share something they know about it, but those viewer statements are not open for all to see.  Also the fact that you can create your own album on the site seems innovative and helpful.

So, social involvement and professional content on an online museum site are both good, but should be kept in largely separate spheres.  When they interact too much (although a little is fine), the professional side is bound to become diluted and dumb-downed at the expense of knowledge.

Echoing what some of the other authors said, though, I also have to agree that libraries must adapt and change in the 21^st Century.  The cell-phone dependent audience must be understood if traditional libraries are to survive, even when not in a traditional form. 

Yet, many new digital libraries are for-profit enterprises, and like the interviewee in the Cat Kong vs. Googzilla article, I have some worries.  A site like the National Archives one presented as a case study is a good source, and we know its motives.  Like other public institutions, its goal is to present information to the public for knowledge’s sake.  On the other hand, though, sites like Google Books and ancestry.com have wonderful sources, but their motives are different.  The primary goal of those sites is to make a profit.  What does that mean for the future of digital libraries?  For-profit sites still have good material, but is it ethical for any library, public or private, to charge for access?  Doesn’t that go against the traditrional mission statement of libraries?  Of course, digital libraries aren’t traditional.

As an undergraduate at CCSU, I did a research paper for Dr. Prescott’s HIST 490: Disability History, and for this exhibit I plan to expand on my research from that paper and turn it into a worthy exhibit.

The paper was about the use of images of disability during the early 20^th Century in regards to industrial safety.  Management promoted safety in factories, but their motives usually went beyond purely humanitarian reasons.  It’s true that accidents which resulted in the disability of workers were horrible and common, but for management it also meant lost time.  As a result, management used images of disability in negative connotations in order to scare workers into being careful, so they won’t get hurt and won’t cause lost time.  It was an effort to maximize production, but at the expense of those who actually were disabled. 

For example, management told workers that if they became permanently physically disabled, they would become ugly, could not support their family, and would be miserable.  Posters on walls and pictures printed in employee magazines were the most effective way to get this message across, and the images were often graphic and offensive.

These actions helped promote negative stereotypes of people with disabilities.  Although I didn’t go this far in the paper, I’m sure that these ideas from the industrial safety movement gave the general populace a negative view of disabled persons, and likely pushed any movement towards equal rights back for decades.

For the paper I concentrated on local manufacturers in New Britain, Hartford, and Waterbury, and I plan to do the same for the exhibit.  National Safety Council posters were also very helpful; and they were printed in the Council’s bulletin, which thankfully is in CCSU’s library.  I’m planning on having local students be my major audience, although anyone with an interest in local factories or disability history would also certainly have an interest in it as well.  It would be beneficial for students, though, because I will also be forced to provide context information on labor history in general, such as the importance of avoiding lost time during WWII.

The many copies of posters and other images will no doubt make up the bulk of the exhibit, and so the final product will be very visual in nature (something students will likely appreciate).  A skill I would thus need to know is how to properly design the site so that the visuals don’t overpower the text.

I’ll have no problem completing the project on time, since thankfully I’ve kept all my research from the original paper.  But I plan on going through some new archives to find more examples, and plan to contact and visit the Dodd Research Center, Hartford Public Library, and Bridgeport Public Library.  I’ll probably also see if East Hartford has any copies of employee magazines from Pratt & Whitney, particularly during WWII.  If I end up having too many sources and pictures, I’ll likely concentrate on the WWII era instead of the entire first half of the 20^th Century.

I liked how the Martha Ballard diary exhibit was set up, with assorted media and links to see the primary sources.  I’d like to try something along those lines, although I won’t likely have a video.  Podcasting might be possible, though, and I definitely want something more interactive than just looking at the posters, such as a quiz for students.

Podcasting apparently also looks like a high tech medium using low tech methods.  If it’s as easy as the tutorials suggest it is, then I might feel comfortable trying it, although I think I’d have to hire a professional narrator since my monotone voice can even put me to sleep.  I suppose that is a major issue with podcasting- how to make it interesting.  I guess historians won’t only need the help of computer geeks, but radio announcers as well now.

I know that like all of you I’m a history geek, but I still can’t quite understand why we have to package history into flashy mediums with constant sounds, images, and other stimuli.  Why can’t people just like history for history’s sake like us (sigh)?  Is there possibly a limit to how far historians can go to educate the public about the past before we trivialize and downplay history to an unrecognizable point?  Podcasting, facebook, twitter, YouTube…when should we just call it a day and come to the realization that some people simply don’t give a damn about history, no matter how hard we try?  Maybe the attempt is more important than the results, I suppose.

Cohen & Rosenzweig: http://chnm.gmu.edu/digitalhistory/appendix/

The report of the American Council for Learned Societies brings up some good information on what it calls “cyberinfrastructure.”  If done right, digital can be much superior to the old ways of finding things- but nobody is sure what “done right” means.  At the Digital History Conference at Yale (see below), many complained about what was lost with digitalization.  For example, some even thought the list of due dates for a library book was important to know (it’s a part of the book’s history); yet that is lost with digitalization.  Maybe in the future, even stuff like that can somehow be saved in the cyberinfrastructure.

After reading Anderson, I see how the internet can host so many new types of sources; and after reading Cohen, I see how difficult it will be to save all that stuff, and then somehow be able to find it.  But then there is the larger question of what is worth saving from all those new, “democratically” made sources.

The Rosenzweig article was particularly good, though ironically none of the images were working in the link.  The author brings up the point of how easy it is to delete digital sources, such as the Bert is Evil photos.  Yet he ignores the equally large point of how easy it is to insert things.  In the same manner that Soviets could delete enemies and traitors from photos, the image of Bert can be easily added to a photo of Bin Laden.  Now, it might be funny to us, but remember that the foreigner mentioned in the article had no idea who Bert was, and so innocently used the picture.  What will happen in the far future, when historians lacking our cultural context look at joke pictures that might somehow be saved?  A future historian, with as much knowledge of Sesame Street as that foreigner, may stress for hours over a picture of Bin Laden next to a puppet.  And think of the countless amount of similar material found across the internet- not all of that will disappear.  I guess this ultimately brings us back to the question of what is worth saving, and in what context to be made useful.

Links:

American Council for Learned Societies: http://www.acls.org/uploadedFiles/Publications/Programs/Our_Cultural_Commonwealth.pdf

Lisa Spiro: http://digitalscholarship.wordpress.com/2008/08/11/doing-digital-scholarship-presentation-at-digital-humanities-2008/

Dan Cohen: http://www.dlib.org/dlib/march06/cohen/03cohen.html

Roy Rosenzweig: http://www.historycooperative.org/journals/ahr/108.3/rosenzweig.html

Chris Anderson: http://www.wired.com/wired/archive/12.10/tail.html

Patrick Leary briefly mentioned the fact that Wikipedia, and all internet sources allow for easy skimming of materials, and have changed how we read; although it also forms connections and allows for easy sharing of ideas.

Wikipedia may be making things easier, but as Stacy Shiff said, it’s still a work in progress, even if it might be mighty and high-minded, it still needs work.  Larry Sanger would like to paint a picture of a perfect Wikipedia allowing for a democracy of knowledge, yet sometimes it can appear as an anarchy of knowledge.  He may not like “elites” controlling what we know, but that doesn’t mean the knowledge of scholars and intellectuals should be diluted by the masses.

Roy Rosenzweig defined Wikipedia as the antithesis of professional history: “A historical work without owners and with multiple, anonymous authors…”   Yet, as public historians, we must accept the role of Wikipedia in society, and understand how to properly deal with it.  As I said, Wikipedia is a good background source, but too many people depend on it too much.  To counter this, we must either educate people on the problems of Wikipedia, so they become less dependent on it, or instead make better alternatives.

Educator Jeremy Boggs has come up with a novel idea of actually incorporating Wikipedia in the classroom.  He has his students write articles for the site, and follow changes to them; the hope is that students will learn how easy Wikipedia can be manipulated.  In addition, the Thomas Jefferson Encyclopedia is an example of a Wikipedia alternative, researched, written, and edited solely by Jefferson scholars.

The Jefferson idea, though, still has a long way to catch up.  A quick search shows that Monticello.org (the encyclopedia’s host site) ranks over 200,000^th in visitors, while Wikipedia ranks 6^th.  Jefferson’s Wikipedia page is also the first result yielding by Google when searching “Thomas Jefferson.”

 Roy Rosenzweig: http://chnm.gmu.edu/essays-on-history-new-media/essays/?essayid=42

 Patrick Leary: http://victorianresearch.org/googling.pdf

 Stacy Shiff: http://www.newyorker.com/archive/2006/07/31/060731fa_fact

 Larry Sanger: http://www.edge.org/3rd_culture/sanger07/sanger07_index.html

 Dan Cohen: http://www.dancohen.org/2005/12/20/the-wikipedia-story-thats-being-missed/

 Jeremy Boggs: http://clioweb.org/2009/04/05/assigning-wikipedia-in-a-us-history-survey/

On Saturday, February 20, 2010, I attended part of a professional conference which, though held at ancient Yale University, dealt with a very modern topic- possibly too modern, actually.  Both speakers and attendees alike seemed eager and excited about the future of digitalization, yet there seemed to be an ironic undercurrent of uncertainty present throughout the sessions regarding this new wave of technology.  At a conference where the benefits of going digital took center stage, there still lingered below the surface a love for the old, boring, paper book.

Stuffed inside a small room which resembled a barn in the Whitney Humanities Center, a discussion on “the material object in digital culture” drew a capacity crowd which was forced to spill into the hallway.  The first speaker, Heather Ball of the City University of New York, fondly spoke of the pleasures of viewing an original Medieval manuscript in person, rather than online.  Evidently preaching to the choir, many others in the audience echoed Ball’s sentiments during the question and answer segment, which actually became more like a discussion as everyone by that point had become quite intimate with each other on account of the tight confines of the overcrowded room.  Behind the light tapping of laptop keys which provided background noise for the room, many of the old scholars present asked how undergraduates could possibly understand a manuscript if they couldn’t smell it.

The second speaker, Jessica Weare, of Stanford, sparked a lively debate on Google books.  She told of a time when an untrained Google Books digitizer removed a glued piece of paper from a book from the early twentieth century, which was “censuring” a passage.  The story nearly brought some in the audience to tears.  Many were critical of Google’s methods and its capitalistic tendency for quantity over quality; others, though, thought the scheme had benefits if properly conducted.  Google, after all doesn’t digitize a book’s smell.

For the second session, I attended a panel in the Whitney Humanities Center’s large auditorium.  In contrast to the previous crowded session, the auditorium was only about half full.  Everyone spread out, with some congregated into small groups, and others sitting alone, sometimes in their own personal row.  About a quarter present had laptops out, while the majority used old-fashioned paper to jot down notes on this new digital technology.  Dull sunlight peaked through big stained-glass windows, and the figurine of a medieval monk peered down below from the high ceiling.

A massive projector screen on stage allowed the presenters to show off their novel databases and computerized charts which were related to the session’s theme, “mapping history.”  A professor and graduate student from Stanford went through the Papers of Benjamin Franklin to map out where his personal, social, and official correspondence originated or arrived in the eighteenth century world.  Scott Nesbit, of the University of Virginia, used maps to create interesting charts, and Simon Wiles discussed the technicalities of database formation, yet both were a little slow to start on account of minor technical difficulties.

When all the presenters were done demonstrating their spectacular uses of digital history, the moderator, John Mack Faragher of Yale, decided to say a few words and ask these proponents of digitalization some very critical questions.  Reminiscent of the end of a comic roast, when the roastee was given a chance to fire back and have the last laugh, Faragher questioned the practical uses of some of these elaborate charts and databases.  He complained that many databases lacked permanence and could often be difficult to use.  It was as if the book wanted to have a chance to read its own eulogy at an event which increasingly looked like the funeral for a dead medium.

Considering this was a conference on digital history, though, Faragher also prepared a short digital presentation on the geography of Los Angeles, which included some photographs.  Having difficulties getting things started, he sarcastically told the audience “ain’t digital great.”  In his final remarks, he wanted to give some advice to a new generation of digital historians, warning of the importance to not sit at a computer all day.  To really understand history, particularly of landscapes and people, you must get outside and explore.  “Get off your ass,” he cried, “turn off your computer.”  With that, my limited time at the conference came to an end.

Conference website: http://digitalhumanities.yale.edu/pdp/