Jefferson's Newspaper

So, I really like the looks of this nifty little flowchart, though I’m not sure it’s logically consistent.  In fact, it kind of reminds me of the inscrutable maintenance manual that came with my Taiwanese scooter.   I’m feeling compelled to take it down and make some revisions, but I think it best to just move on to writing my little article about the challenges inherent in digital history at the institutional level.  So here it is…

Introduction

After reading through the latest issue of Perspectives on History (May 2009),  I’m thinking a lot about what exactly is meant by terms like “digital history” and “digital humanities.”  On the surface these seem like pretty intuitive ideas.  You can slap a “digital” in front of just about anything and the meaning conveyed is more or less “on the web.”  In general, the actual practice of digital history bears this out.  Every history professor has a blog, every city has its own digital archive (in Ohio, they seem to all be named “[yourCityOrState] Memory”), and every modern historical event has a commemorative website or two.  Increasingly, discreet areas of historical inquiry are also well-represented online.  Each of these has a value.  Some are well executed and well used.  Others are well meaning and… well… ignored.  The best projects engage both teachers and learners, as well as the general public, with tightly focused, organized and comprehensive research and presentations.  Many others struggle in ways that are predictable (notably aesthetic design, usability and information architecture, and an apparent failure to comprehend the strengths, weaknesses, and demands of the media they are working in).

Nevertheless, we want and need more of whatever digital history is or is going to be.  My impression is that many would-be digital historians jump into new and exciting projects without fully understanding what they are getting into and what it takes to realize their vision.  Most projects seem simple at the outset, but, as you can see from my totally mad flowchart, even projects with modest goals can be jarringly complicated.

Before I get into the nitty gritty I should point out here that I am not an educator — though I do plenty of staff training and instructional sessions.  Nor am I an academic in the conventional sense.  I have an undergraduate degree in History and a graduate degree in Library and Information Science, as well as a few years under my belt managing various oral, public and digital history projects, including some on-the-job training in website development.  My professional expertise in not in content creation, nor in technology, but rather in conceptualizing practical ways to bring the two together in an educational context.  With these qualifications and caveats in mind, I will attempt to describe what I see as the barriers to operationalizing digital history at the institutional level.

Note: I am operating on a university model in which professors set project goals, providing direction and instruction, and using class time, staff and/or student labor resources, as well as university or grant funding to achieve completion.  The end result being an online resource of some type.

Core Competencies for Teaching, Learning, and Doing Digital History

Content:  You need to know your stuff.  If you are creating a digital history exhibit about Content X, then all participants (those who conceptualize the project and those who populate it with content) must have a reasonably advanced understanding of Content X as well as an ability to communicate that knowledge.  The final content must be of publishable quality since it is more or less being published.

Technology:  Although it is often assumed that the current generation of students is more technically competent than their instructors, this is often not the case.  Just because a student brings a laptop to class and uses email and social networking sites does not mean he or she understand how to use complex software and publishing platforms.  Assuming that students will “pick it up as they go” misses the reality that technical learning requires the building of experience through use and training, along with ample time to explore, experiment and fail.

In most scenarios, students are the technological proletarians of the project, contributing the bulk of the content and spending the most time using the technology.  Thus, they need to know how to use the tools at their disposal.  Professors and other supervisors have the luxury of guiding outcomes and watching content amass, but also bear the burden of bigger picture and behind the scenes technological matters such as data security, workflow management, server and site administration, and perhaps even a healthy dose of coding, designing, and debugging.

Law and Ethics:  Digital history, like “regular” history, often involves collecting and analyzing primary and secondary sources.  Traditional history is typically filtered through rounds of vetting and editing before it reaches the public.  Digital history can be “published” without such constraints.  Professors and other supervisors are not always able to comb through all the content that students collect in the course of their research.  As a result, there is often a risk of unwittingly publishing someone else’s work.  Leaving the issue of blatant plagiarism aside, what students deem fair use and what actually is fair use can differ greatly.

In my experience I have seen many images taken from commercial websites (some with giant watermarks and embedded logos!) and embedded or reposted without attribution or permission.  Students must understand that they have a responsibility to not only respect relevant laws, but also to not do things that make the primary investigator look like a total jerk.  There are appropriate and inappropriate sources, and there are sources for which appropriate use depends entirely on the way and the context in which they are being used.  These issues are not self-evident and must be explored and codified at the outset.

Likewise, there are often ethical questions that should be fully addressed.  Consider the use of digital oral history files.  Due to their length, file size, and meandering nature; we often edit them down to excerpts or reframe them in new contexts such as film or video.  We do this for any number of reasons: to tell stories, to increase use and access, to accommodate bandwidth restrictions, etc.  But with each modification and recontextualization, we run the risk of betraying not only the historical integrity of the item, but also the trust of our subjects.  The mere act of cataloging an oral history in the library takes a new meaning in the digital age, when recorded political beliefs and entire life stories (sometimes in full text or streaming audio) are only a name search away.  The potential for harm cannot be ignored.

Organization of Information:  Surely one of the least discussed aspects of digital history.  Supposing your team has a strong understanding of content, is attentive to legal and ethical responsibilities, and is reasonably skilled at using technology;  a final gauntlet awaits.  Yes, I speak of the soul crushing demands of metadata and information architecture.

Historians, like others in the Humanities, pride themselves on weaving complex and idiosyncratic narratives, employing deep analysis and rich vocabularies in the process.  Librarians in contrast use plain and objective language to create clean, accessible resources that are predictably organized and easy to understand.   This famously boring approach to information is actually one of the most useful tools that libraries employ to create usable collections and resources.  Digital history projects are likely to involve any number of cataloging and metadata standards, which must be implemented consistently with the help of considerable documentation and training.

Information architecture is also important.  Just as metadata needs to be consistent, so too does the organization of websites and other interactive resources.  Navigation must be clear and intuitive, but defined according to project-specific needs and amenable to many different use scenarios.  Most of this is laid out in the planning and design stages, but must be continually monitored lest the system break down.  As a resource loses organization, it also loses value.

The Primary Challenges

Training:  Each of these core competencies requires some degree of training.  A common critique of digital humanities education has been its rotation between conventional history training (content mastery, research, writing, et al.) and “digital” training (technology, metadata, information theory, etc.).  This will be a necessary reality into the foreseeable future.  Thus, digital historians should expect pushback at the institutional level from those concerned with maintaining tradition in history education.  Furthermore, some history students will ruffle at the idea of being graded on such non-history competencies as the use of software, HTML, and Dublin Core.

Time:  Training takes time, as does the required planning and management.  Instructors need time to teach all that needs to be taught and have limited classroom time to do so.  Personal time is likely to become a consideration as well; as projects evolve, they can become unwieldy and demanding.  Other professional expectations (i.e. traditional publication activities) are often set aside, to the chagrin of tenure review boards. Students also have limited time in their day.  Most students today work at least part-time and also have family and social lives to maintain.  At my place of employment, the majority of students commute to and from full-time commitments at both work and school.  Unless a project has a regular paid support staff, time is certainly a major barrier.

Money:  Costs can add up.  Server space, domain names, web design, hardware and software, as well as administrative and other staff all cost money.  Though it is often possible to find alternate sources of finance (grants, fellowships, etc.), most funding is likely to originate at the institution.

Of course, it need not be this way.  At the risk of devaluing my own position as a facilitator, I suggest that most digital history projects could be accomplished cheaply and effectively by a small team of informed and devoted volunteers working outside of the institution.  Students often devise ambitious projects, but never follow through for lack of financial or intellectual support, time, and know-how.  A recent post by Dave Lester suggests the possible emergence of “digital history street teams.”  I really like this idea, which reflects a rising interest in DIY approaches to education and scholarship (the kids are calling it “edupunk” these days, and I heartily approve).   So while the barriers I outlined above are very real and require some serious thought, there are also alternatives for creative and motivated individuals and groups – both inside and outside the Ivory Tower.