Rachael A. Finch
Executive Director
Historic Franklin Masonic Hall Foundation
WG #8 – Economic Justice and the Ethics of Public History (Part II)
January 15, 2019
My professional experiences of the past decade could be considered its own case study for our working group topic of “economic justice and ethics in public history,” having worked with multiple partnerships as a consultant, and currently, as an Executive Director of a historic site in Franklin, Tennessee.
Middle Tennessee, particularly Franklin, enjoys a thriving heritage tourism industry with multiple historic sites tied specifically to the Battle of Franklin, November 30, 1864. Among the city’s planners, preservationists, site managers, local historians, and community leaders, catch phrases like “battlefield reclamation” and “public/private partnerships” are commonplace. However, battle lines remain drawn between those who continually benefit and those who negotiate for inclusivity over shared authority of financial resources, place my practice as a community partner and professional role on a political tightrope between ethics and engagement. I realize my case statement may be unique; yet, my personal experience may speak similarly to other practitioners grappling with where our own economic viability and ethic realities lie within our craft. To begin, I’ll do what public historians do best, tell a story.
Once considered by the National Park Service as a “lost battlefield,” Franklin, Tennessee, is now a leader in public/private partnerships for battlefield reclamation. Two hundred acres later, land once situated with buildings, a strip mall, restaurants, and faced with the economic reality of localized urban encroachment by proposed single family homes, is now green space, owned by the City of Franklin, complete with walking trails and interpretive markers. Franklin’s success story was, and still is, viewed as a win for public history; they accomplished a significant project together to achieve a common goal, shared authority of historic landscapes, backed by collective financial resources. Consequently, local nonprofits including preservation advocacy groups, historic house museums, government agencies, academic, and community leaders unilaterally leveraged a predominantly singular mission, centered on a narrative of “reclaiming lost battlefield land.” It was broadly believed this would interpretively enhance the landscape and, in doing so, powerfully leverage a battle narrative as the sole reason why Franklin’s story mattered. This decision, ultimately proved politically motivated, and relegated inclusivity firmly to the background, largely undermined the rich multicultural narratives central to why Franklin mattered ‘beyond the battlefield,’ yet was fueled by keenly marketed fundraising initiatives. Millions of dollars flowed into various groups to collectively lost battlefield.
Carefully crafted and articulately delivered, battlefield reclamation proved successful; provided funding saved dirt particularly at the battles’ epicenter, a cotton gin on land now known as Carters Hill Battlefield Park. Removal of structures and archeology raised funds not just for land, but also, rebuilding a known marker, a replica of the cotton gin, on the battlefield. It also meant confronting the reality of slavery. Messaging became skewed. Ethically, interpretation became compromised. How could a rebuilt cotton gin; a clear, painful representation of enslavement, be overlooked for a battle narrative? And, how would historic sites apply best practices for training current and future staff, identify known and unknown historic resources on the newly acquired landscapes, and collaborate with community partners to address an inclusive narrative? At the time, as a newer professional in our field, I looked to colleagues within the preservation community for cross examination of what quickly became an ethically challenged position. Several historians and community leaders were methodically marginalized to the background, just like Franklin’s Civil War history. It became apparent the minority held the power, negotiating all financials, interpretation, and reclamation decisions. And for nearly a decade, the minority controlled the majority, including an insular approach to shared resources.
Within the past few years, the broader, national push for interpreting difficult and diverse history drew the powerful minority back to the majority in the city. As conversations recalibrated and next steps reevaluated, the negotiations on interpretation of shared resources became the focal point. Opportunities to negotiate for diverse and inclusive history required careful conveying of ideas while maintaining an ethical, yet political position. Silent leadership, resilience, and building individual relationships strengthened my negotiating power with heritage groups, historic sites and preservation advocacy organizations, bolstered by their own boards and centralized agendas. Once combative, several groups relinquished their former power over the narrative including tourism; their eagerness to reclaim the full narrative could be negotiated by my recommendations. But, it is incumbent upon me as a practicing public history professional to remain ethically neutral and promote the benefits of blending heritage, history, and shared professional resources as an opportunity for transparent interpretation and site management for the betterment of any organization.
In Franklin, newly installed interpretive markers actively speak to the enslaved persons who lived, worked, and died on local farms and plantations, specifically tied to the battle. Battlefield reclamation is still ongoing; but, the African American story is taking on a new role not only on the battlefield’s open space but also at local house museums. These sites, though fairly new to a deeper examination of their ties to slavery and their enslaved communities, are researching, investing, and interpreting an inclusive narrative that is beneficial to visitors. As a consultant and now Executive Director, I encourage our local historic sites to recognize our collective history as a shared authority at the forefront for future site management and shared resources. Directing staff and boards to assess ownership of their mission and vision gives stakeholders an opportunity to apply best practices in preservation and affirm to an ethical responsibility to their site, visitors, and community.
As professionals, practitioners, and teachers of public history we should look for solution based approaches that may provide historic sites, house museums, and communities to recognize their unique opportunity to consider individual resources becoming one of many; a collective. As public historians, our goal should be to see sites saved, visitors educated, and communities strengthened. But, given the current realties faced by many historic sites and house museums, we should ask ourselves to the difficult questions and determine what may be unknown variables of collectively sharing resources. If so, will our answers lead to a singular negotiation of control over the sites and museums? Is there an ethical route to explore that would build ongoing responsive community partnerships, renew commitment to accessibility and sustainability of history through shared resources?