History is a reflection of the choices and values of human beings and I see the questions posed by this working group as an opportunity to reshape, or redefine, public history. In 2009 I participated in a working group entitled “Where is the History in Historic Districts?” where I described the role of the public historian as a mediator that interprets and lays bare the dominant values and operating assumptions that guide and shape the rules of narration and preservation; and the broader non specialist public whose lack of power and authority renders their voices and experiences as marginal. I argued that public historians should interrogate the lenses, sift through the models and critique the rules by which the historical enterprise is conducted. I believe this democratizing trend will enhance our scholarly work, because it will enable questions to be asked in an expanded forum of participants. As scholars we may yet learn more about ourselves, and proceed to generate fresh and productive guiding presumptions that inject life into our work. This is a hopeful change as the modernist academy confronts a sometimes hostile and suspicious multi-ethnic, multi-national and multi-vocal postmodern world that can heap scorn on the reign of the doctoral level “expert” as the sole acceptable voice in the conversational space. Postmodernity rejects meta-narratives, the monarchical rule of the elite expert, and the dominance of one mode of organizing the public discourse.
The time has come to practice what we say we believe in and to mirror with integrity the democratic values we claim to cherish. The intentional redefinition of public history to address the needs of our diverse publics recommends itself as an opportunity to “play well with others” in the sandboxes where we ply our trade. It is our best strategy. This however, is no small feat. Democratizing history is a colossal challenge that requires those with power to redefine and relinquish control over what stories are told, how they are told, and what is emphasized in the re-telling. The 2009 working group produced a collection of articles published in the Public Historian and I was pleased to submit a paper where I argued that much of the historical landscape reflects the perspective of the powerful and it is important that public history organizations participate with and engage the public in the discourse. “Our methods must reflect a collaborative, democratic praxis that simultaneously values everyone’s perspective. Our organizations must reflect the diversity that reigns in the broader community. Our boards and committee choices, celebrations, programs, and exhibitions must reflect and take seriously the varied perspectives that are present among our people.”[1]
The first step to building a framework of equity and inclusion is to revise our methods, models and claims. History isn’t a singular, isolated occurrence. There is no single story, yet the dominant narrative continues to hold sway. We must reframe how we gather evidence from original sources and be truthful about how much interpretation affects the retelling. Singular, sweeping narratives may be where we start and then the skillful professional work of teasing and probing and conversing with multiple voices will help our discipline to inform and layer our shared human stories. This requires trained historians to trust and partner with communities as they shape and frame their historical voices as they deem most fitting. When we speak of shared authority we must be willing to offer ourselves humbly and sincerely as community servants with specialized skills. This posture may allow heretofore never before encountered intimacies between scholar and non-professional communities that feels like real and fruitful teamwork. We are and can be guides and resources in mutually agreed upon areas of need but we are not by ourselves “experts.’’
At this level there can be a seamless melding of communities with diverse outlooks and strategies that can have an added benefit when decisions about employment come before our organizations. The more engaged the body, the increased likelihood that expertise will be found among the same diverse public with whom the side by side endeavors are a daily occurrence. This could mean that staff diversity can be a fact and not just an ideal to be striven for but as yet unrealized despite “valiant effort.” It is simply tautological that our organizations must employ a diverse staff. It isn’t enough for majority organizations to reach out to underrepresented or diverse communities while maintaining homogeneity. Equity and inclusion should not be limited to the work outside of the bubble. It should also include our staff, our partners, our collaborators, and of course our audiences.
~ Leondra Burchall, National Endowment for the Humanities
[1] Leondra Burchall, “Emphasis on the Public,” The Public Historian 32 (2010): 67.
Leondra’s case statement seemed like a good one to begin our discussion since it provides a nice overview of the issues and topics at stake. In particular, since many of us come from grant-making organizations and academia, I like the notion of a “mediator” role – one that helps move historical practice toward a framework of equity and inclusion. Do others feel their role is one of a “mediator” between ideas, projects, narratives, and communities?
The point at the end – that equity and inclusion need to be incorporated into our organizations themselves – also seems central to me. To build capacity and help provide power to marginalized voices, organizations and practices also need to change to be effective at reaching audiences we might not otherwise. Looking internally is probably equally important as looking outward.
A fascinating and thought- provoking case statement about how to redefine our view and of Public History. Something that jumped out to me was historians viewing themselves as “community servants.” Speaking from my own experience, I’ve found this a key to success in putting together projects which truly achieve the goal of shared authority. Going to the community organizations and individuals and asking what they view as important to their history leads to an easy establishment of trust, good working relationships, new and fresh ideas being offered, and a great deal of free reign to work with because of the trust established by heading to the community first. Too often, it is a temptation to get a bit too cocky when we see those degrees on the wall and assume we know what is best. As historians, we must remember communities are not just subjects to study, but living and breathing entities that have a vested interest in our work and are invaluable in the telling of a rich and inclusive narrative.
Insert a “practice” after the first and.
Hi all,
This is a great place to begin our online discussions, and I’m glad we’re starting from the premise of needing to democratize the field. Public historians consistently bridge the gaps of working with the public and the academy, and it seems that its our role to build relationships, find funding and academic support, and aim to hear underheard voices.
One key term and set of practices that should inform this conversation is trust. Leondra and Ian have also mentioned this as an important aspect to the discussion of this working group. Trust is the foundation of working with the public and becoming more public as a field. It helps to build meaningful relationships, and we trust that sharing authority can be even and mutual. As far as evaluations and checks/balances, trust also reveals some of the power dynamics inherent in our ‘providing’ and ‘mediating’, and historians also need mediating. The challenge is finding balance among participants, recognizing differences of experience and expertise, in order to find common ambitions for public history projects.
Thanks for pointing us toward the topic of trust, Minju. It’s something I think a lot bout in my work for MHC. As a grant making organization, a lot of our capacity building involved working with applicants to help them craft public history/humanities projects that will be competitive for funding. So there’s a trust built with applicants, although we typically receive many more compelling proposals than we can fund in a given year so it can sometimes be difficult to sustain and maintain that initial trust building work (and of course we’re up front about the fact that it is competitive and a review committee, not staff, make the final decisions). At the same time, when presented with projects that don’t fit the mold of what we’ve seen in the past, staff and grant reviewers need to be open and trusting of the ideas, expertise presented by individuals and organizations applying with new and exciting projects that may not match our own conception of public history.
From a grant-making perspective, I think this also gets at a larger issue, which is how to balance outreach with available resources. Is putting out a competitive call for applications the most effective way to “challenge the exclusive past”? How can we manage and maintain interest without the ability to fund everything we’ve helped to cultivate?
Although resource redistribution is a focus of our concern both grant-making institutions and professional associations have limited funds. Competitive grants were thought to be an equitable way to distribute available resources but we now recognize how polarizing competitive applications can be. Joe’s question asks us to sift through, and possibly critique or revise, our models. I query how we can “challenge the exclusive past” when grants are repeatedly awarded to the same groups? It may be fruitful to form partnerships with communities or groups we want to reach or cultivate; or, charge our grant applicants to “challenge the exclusive past” by partnering with underrepresented audiences.