My four years as an associate at Borders Books and Music provided me
with an unlikely introduction to public history. Although I spent the majority
of my time cleaning fecal matter and reminding my teenage cliental that it was
socially unacceptable to fornicate in the young adult section, I did manage to
dedicate a portion of my time to assisting customers with their purchases. Most
of my customers were highly intelligent—if not entirely pleasant—individuals
with a voracious appetite for history. However, I quickly realized they were
only interested in monographs that reinforced their own biases. Whenever I
suggested relatively innocuous titles, they rejected my suggestions, claiming
they were not interested in “liberal history.” To my customers, history was
simply a collection of facts that commemorated the deeds of eminent men (and
sometimes) women; anything that deviated from this formula was potentially
treasonous. Judging by the reactions of my customers, I realized my future
career would most likely place me at the frontlines of America’s bitter culture
wars.
These attitudes have become increasingly problematic for museum
professionals attempting to create innovative and thought provoking exhibits.
As Talboys notes, we can no longer use material objects as show pieces,
depriving them, in essence, of their historical context. Instead, museum
professionals must place their collections in their historic context, enabling
them to “provide a unique focal point for contemplation and uniquely
multifarious starting-point for exploration.” At their best, museum exhibits
like All in the Family provide the
impetus to reflect on an era and the values and ideas the show represented.
While not everyone may approve of these iconoclastic exhibits, their benefits
outweigh their potential risks. However, at their worst, these museum pieces
become a fire storm of controversy, offending those with preconceived notions
of the “truth.”
Unfortunately, exhibits garner
more controversy than praise. The Enola Gay controversy, for instance, has
become emblematic of the corrosive culture wars that have divided the United
States. The exhibition’s detractors excoriated the exhibit’s creators for
presenting an anti-American narrative of the events surrounding the nuclear
attack on Hiroshima. In the minds of these detractors, the exhibit needed to be
thoroughly revised to avoid dishonoring the military and veterans. The staff at
the National Air and Space Museum—the exhibit’s sponsor—vehemently protested to
the contrary, noting they relied on the latest scholarship and sought (although
rarely acted upon) the advice of veterans groups to create an accurate
portrayal of the past. The removal of the exhibit from the National Air and
Space Museum represented nothing less than a capitulation to government and
private censorship.
As always, the truth lies somewhere in the middle. While the
Smithsonian’s curators were cognizant of the sensitivities surrounding the
Enola Gay, they created a narrative that was, in fact, biased. For example, while
the section entitled “Delivering the Bomb” praised the patriotic service and
dedication of the Enola Gay’s crew, the next section, “A Deadly New Threat:
Radioactivity,” essentially erased the previous exhibit’s celebratory nature,
focusing on the suffering of the victims of the nuclear attack. While the
Smithsonian’s opposite position raised some salient concerns regarding the
exhibits emotional impact, the staff of the Smithsonian did attempt to reach a
compromise, revising the exhibit several times; however, veterans organization would
not rest until the Smithsonian agreed to scuttle the exhibit in favor of a
decontextualized—and essentially meaningless—museum piece.
The question remains: How do public historians create engaging and
thought provoking exhibits while avoiding debilitating controversies like Enola
Gay? One potential solution lies in museum staff having empathy for potential
patrons. While this is no easy task, Talboys notes that it is crucial for the
success of museums. While exhibits designed to provoke patrons is commendable, it
has the tendency to overwhelm patrons who have never been exposed to historic
thinking. Acquiring the skills associated with historical thinking is no easy
task; it requires years of hard work and dedication, and not everyone will be
successful. For many, it can be quite painful to confront and study narratives
that fundamentally disagree with their worldview. As suggested by last week’s
readings, it may be more advisable to focus on the big picture, leaving patrons
with burning questions they will want to research on their own time. While this
will not solve all of the problems public historians must face in the front
lines of the culture wars, it is far better than resigning oneself to defeat. While
fans of Rush Limbaugh—and some of my former Borders customers—might be
unreachable—the majority of patrons are open to new narratives and ideas; the
challenge rests in public historians and patrons finding common ground to disseminate
these ideas while still commemorating the deeds of our ancestors. It will most
likely require actually responding to concerns, rather than simply consulting
and listening.
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