Tuesday, September 10, 2013

The Bigger Questions

            Several other assigned class readings this week also caused me to consider the role of public history, though in a less personal and more theoretical way. Carolyn Kitch’s Pennsylvania in Public Memory: Reclaiming the Industrial Past examines the rising heritage culture of industry around the state of Pennsylvania. One point that really stood out to me was the idea that industrial public history can be considered marketing personal tragedy. The question of tragedy tourism is a touchy one I once examined as an undergrad studying the conflict in Northern Ireland. Should money be made through marketing the violence and heartbreaking tales of those that came before us? In both PA’s industrial history and in Northern Ireland, many of those who experienced the history first hand are still living, which makes the question that much harder to answer. Many public historians—myself included—believe that in order to tell the tales of many historic sites accurately, the “tough stuff” of history must be included. For example, the story of a historic house museum can’t be told without including information about the domestic servants, or slaves in some cases, who were an integral (though sometimes invisible) piece of the house’s daily running. In Kitch’s work, she works through the idea that because of the tragic past of industrial history in the state of PA, many of the former workers are being portrayed as heroes to today’s audiences.

            This point brings me to another reading, the prologue of Denise Meringolo's A New Kind of Technician: In Search of the Culture of Public History. Meringolo asserts that debates in public history need to move away from a definition of the term, to the value of history as a public service. I agree with this point; and the authors of two other articles bring up certain points that begin to address this debate. First, Ian Tyrell in his article: “Public at the Creation: Place, Memory, and Historical Practice in the Mississippi Valley Historical Association, 1907-1950.” Tyrell discusses many important questions in the field of public history through his study of the MVHA from its founding. One question that stood out to me as related to Kitch’s book was that academic history often forgets the parts of history considered unimportant, and how public history can help remember these forgotten pieces of history. As a historian more interested in social, cultural, and working class history, I find these “unimportant” pieces of history to be just the opposite: the very important pieces of history, that can reveal things that popular knowledge cannot. On this point, David Glassberg points out a danger of public history in his article “Public History and the Study of Memory.” Glassberg claims that representations of public history through museum exhibits, memorials, etc. are often deliberately ambiguous to satisfy diverse audiences. While at least a portion of the task of a public historian is to create dialogue amongst the public about history and memories, the task of a historian is to question what is already known about history. Public historians walk a risky line in presenting history to the public. How do you remain unbiased while still appealing to the largest audience possible? How do you remain objective in your perspective without isolating certain groups? And how do you tell socially relevant stories to audiences who have trouble imagining certain aspects of the past, like pollution, in the present day?

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