Ethics in Employee and Museum Collecting

Over the summer I interned in the Collections Department at the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum. It was an amazing experience and from that I learned many things regarding museum ethics. My first lesson came, unbeknownst to me at the time and realized much later, while I was being interviewed for the position. My future boss asked me if I collected anything to do with baseball. “Sure,” I answered, then I proceeded to discuss the baseball cards, autographs I have personally acquired at signings or at games, and general fan based gear that I collect. Everything is Red Sox in origin.

When I met with Sue MacKay, the woman who became my boss and is now the Head of the Collections Department, for our interview on museum ethics, she had just had every full-time and 1,000 hour employee fill out an Employee Personal Inventory Form. What this form entails is that all staff have to fill out everything baseball related that they have acquired over the year for themselves, things that the Hall of Fame Museum or Library collects as well. So the baseball ticket I have from the July 5, 2009 Red Sox game versus the Seattle Mariners, the game when Tim Wakefield was named to the All-Star Team for the first time in his career has to be claimed. That first year must have been especially hard because everyone had to itemize their entire collection; each year after that, people only need to update their collection. New employees have to disclose everything. Everyone also has to disclose if they have gotten rid of something from their collection and how. Had I been an employee and not an intern, everything I had listed and more would have to be disclosed in writing on that form.

Sue MacKay then goes through all of the lists to see if any employee has something that the museum might want or need. She said that it hasn’t happened, but there is a chance that depending on the item, the museum could politely suggest that it be donated. Once she is done going through the forms, she folds each of them up and puts them into envelopes, which are then sealed. They then go into the respective Human Resources employee files.

She said that when the policy was first enacted, in the late 1990s, a few did not understand why such a form was necessary. Usually it is against policy to collect the same thing that the museum you work at does. Baseball artifacts, however, are of a different breed of collections. They are current, many are easy to obtain, and they can be found all over; plus, new artifacts are created each season, with each playoff series, and possibly in every baseball game played. Baseball cards count as well. Once the this policy was explained, employees began to understand and now as they assess their new collections each year they sometimes donate things to the museum on their own.

If I was purely a collector, I could see where even the slightest possibility of my losing something out of that collection would bother me. People collect (usually) because they have an interest in or an emotional attachment to the things that they collect, and giving up part of that attachment is difficult. On an ethical standpoint, I clearly see why the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum needs to have an Employee Personal Inventory Form, or why almost any other museum needs to have a form like this. An employee from any museum ethically should question the acquisition of those things that the museum he or she works at collects, but especially so if that acquisition bars the museum from getting something significant or something that is one of a kind.  It also must be stated here that the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum does not buy any of its artifacts; everything is donated, whether the artifacts come from private collectors, the public, baseball teams, and baseball players. An employee or anyone able to purchase a potential artifact is all ready at an advantage over the museum that does not make purchases. That adds to yet another layer to this ethics discussion. It would be different to some extent if the museum had the ability to purchase items for the collection because it would put the museum and the employee-collector on a more level acquisition field, where the determining factor (other than non-employee collectors) would be price limits.

What works for the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum and its employees, as one can hope it works for everywhere, is that the employees understand the importance of disclosing their collections. They realize that the institution serves the public interest and that the public holds a trust in the institution to be careful stewards of the objects within. They believe in what the museum is doing and even donate their own artifacts to further the museum’s mission and values.  Everyone, from the President to the Maintenance staff are required to fill out the form, showing that there is no one beyond the reach of the ethics policy and that everyone is held to the same standard.

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Here is a section of the Employee Personal Inventory Form that I filled out as if I had to disclose the baseball related items I acquired over the year.

Tweeting for Justice?

Can a tweet confront hatred? Can tagging photos prevent prejudice? Can a Facebook fan page promote human dignity? Can a mobile phone strengthen democracy?

These were the questions posed at the December 5, 2009 “Un-Conference” hosted jointly by the United States Memorial Holocaust Museum and the Center for History and New Media. The questions, while heavy handed, are timely for both the Holocaust Museum and CHNM; the Holocaust’s primary function is to safeguard the legacy of victims of genocide, and CHNM has worked hard to expand social media among cultural institutions. Questioning the propriety of social media as a vehicle for ‘institutions of conscience’ and is only fitting. In the last year or so, the Holocaust Museum has embarked on a number of social media initiatives, including launching a Twitter account and posting archival photographs on Flickr.  These efforts have been moderately successful, but invited serious questions about the ethics of posting sensitive material online and encouraging responses from the public.

The intent is well meaning, but can social media promote good? Increasing numbers of cultural institutions are using forums like Twitter and Facebook, but the majority of these sites’ users are recreational. In a forum like that, is is appropriate for an organization like the Holocaust Museum to post photographic testimony to millions of people’s suffering? But as a museum that is partially funded by taxpayers’ dollars, are they not also obligated to make these resources public?

Additionally, the fundamental elements of social media are the democratization of information and shared authority. By posting photos or providing a virtual wall, the Holocaust Museum invites their online visitors to curate their experiences and, more importantly, comment on the institution’s mission and collections. Already, the Holocaust Museum has witnessed controversy and even hate on their social media forums. Inflammatory responses are a reality of social media, but they take on new significance for an institution dedicated to protecting the memory of a genocide. The Museum has struggled with whether to allow the comments to preserve its commitment to dialogue, or whether to remove ignorant or combative comments. To remove them is censorship, but to leave them is offensive to a great many people.

As more museums being using social media platforms to spread their message and make their collections more accessible, ethical quandaries are sure to arise. The future of sites like Facebook and Flickr as useful, productive tools for museums may depend on how these questions are resolved.

Locking Doors or Broadening Minds?

Through successful exhibitions, museums connect objects and ideas to individuals.  It is impossible to fully anticipate audience response.  Yet the importance of positive public reaction is undeniable.  People initially vote with their feet and subsequently vote with funding.  Federally funded museums, such as the Smithsonian, are particularly vulnerable to public opinion. While a portion of the Smithsonian’s operating budget is federally appropriated, the exhibits themselves are not federally funded.  As a “national museum,” the institution is shackled to the public and government regardless.  Should government-supported museums focus on broadening minds or should these institutions present the politically correct, historical narrative craved by some, despite the inaccuracies?

Federal museums have an obligation to their citizens.  Presenting any subject through rose-colored glasses is a disservice to the nation.  At a given moment any museum, no matter how expansive, cannot thoroughly and effectively represent the incredible diversity of an entire nation; even the Smithsonian cannot be all things for everyone.  Not all topics are comfortable.  The most difficult subjects are sometimes the most instructive and, should a museum dare to approach controversial topics without diluting them, enable Americans to have a clearer sense of their history.  Should curators at federally funded institutions try to “push the envelope?”  Absolutely.  Controversy is dramatic, exciting and draws people to exhibitions, even if they disagree with an exhibit’s overall message.  In the end, museums can never please everyone.  While curators should be sensitive to their audiences, handling individuals like museum objects – with white cotton gloves – is not acceptable.  By avoiding difficult topics, curators are anticipating public response and suggesting audiences cannot handle mature subjects. Steven Dubin writes in Displays of Power, “Worrying about someone else’s reaction means that you believe that you know what it’s going to be in advance” (p. 145).  Among museums, federally funded institutions are best situated to deal with difficult topics within the American experience, past and present.  If federal museums do not reexamine the history United States, who can (or should)?  A politically correct stance is often not neutral and continues to promote antiquated hierarchies of power within society.  Certain topics need a venue like the Smithsonian, which is better positioned than other museums to rigorously reevaluate our nation’s position within history and the world.

Please Note:  I have great respect federal institutions like the Smithsonian and the challenges they face. As a national museum, the Smithsonian is in a unique situation.  I am not implying that the Smithsonian does not presently educate the public or that it should become a venue to “bash” America.  The discussion above is largely based on opinion rather than fact.  It is meant to raise questions derived from my reading of Steven C. Dubin’s Displays of Power: Controversy in the American Museum from the Enola Gay to Sensation (1999).

Damned if You Do, Damned if You Don’t: Community Involvement in Exhibition Development

Reflecting on Gaelic Gotham: A History of the Irish in New York City, an exhibition at the Museum of the City of New York in 1996, curator Jack Salzman stated, “I know there are people who believe that these shows are to be done with the community.  I just don’t agree with that.  It seems to me that you wind up just trying to cater to community, and that the responsibility is to come up with the best and smartest show you can… If communities were always involved, then how do you ever get anything done?”[i] This argument is not surprising for a man who saw contentious controversy erupt over an exhibit that he helped develop.  The Irish community of New York was outraged when another museum curator asserted that the exhibit was not for the Irish community, but about them.  This occurred in 1996, three years before Stephen Weil’s manifesto “From Being about Something to Being for Somebody: The Ongoing Transformation of the American Museum.”  Since then, the museum field has realized that community outreach is essential.  But how do we make this a reality?  Is it possible to have community involvement and have a successful, well-received exhibit?  The Museum of the City of New York was “damned because they didn’t,” and audiences and Irish community members attacked Gaelic Gotham because of it’s lack of community involvement.

On the other hand is Our Lives: Contemporary Life and Identities at the National Museum of the American Indian (NMAI).  I do not personally believe that the NMAI was “damned because they did,” however the exhibition curators may disagree. I believe that the result of the museum reaching out to community representatives from Native tribes was successful.  However, in her article, “Collaborative Exhibit Development at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of the American Indian,” Cynthia Chavez Lamar discusses the issues that arose from the museum’s attempt at shared authority.  Community members are not museum curators, no matter how passionate they are about a topic. Is it possible to retain curatorial power and have a successful, well-received exhibit?

If the museum field is shifting focus toward the communities that they serve, what does that mean for the exhibition curator?  It is inevitable that museums can’t please everyone all the time, therefore, controversial museum exhibits will not soon be things of the past.

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[i] Steven C. Dubin, Displays of power (New York: NYU Press, 1999), 238-239.

Stewardship and historic houses

Even before the most recent economic slump, house museums throughout the country have been experiencing declining visitation and working with dwindling financial resources. The question of relevance and reevaluation is key, but what if the answer to “Is this house museum relevant to its community?” is “No”? And what if redeveloping a relevant experience simply isn’t feasible, practical, or affordable–as in the case of a “redundant” house museum, one that offers an experience found in one or more nearby house museums? What then?

Above all, the historic house requires responsible stewardship. While it may turn out that using a historic house as a house museum is not its best use, there are other adaptive options that can preserve the house–and the sense of place that its presence gives its community–for generations to come, even if visitors are no longer able to tour its period rooms. Some of these houses may be able to even continue to serve the community, just in different ways.

The National Trust for Historic Preservation’s Spring 2008 Forum Journal, America’s Historic Sites at a Crossroads, presents a few hopeful suggestions for house museums in this situation. One example is the merger of Cliveden, a National Trust property in Philadelphia, with neighboring Upsala, a former house museum that is now used as Cliveden’s education center. Apart, Cliveden and Upsala told essentially the same stories. Together, the sites champion preservation, education, and economic revitalization in Philadelphia’s Germantown community. “While museum visitation has remained consistent at 3,000,” David W. Young, Cliveden’s executive director, wrote in 2008, “the number of people served has increased by over 40 percent in the last two years.”

Another example presented in the Forum Journal is the revision of the John James Audubon Center at Mill Grove in Montgomery County, PA. Originally a house museum, Mill Grove has been adapted as an exhibition space and community center, with a new museum that uses Audubon’s art as a jumping off point in the larger picture of nature conservation. The old house museum’s biggest draw, Audubon’s bedroom, has been recreated, but otherwise the space has been completely reworked to suit its new mission: to learn about nature through art.

Finally, where a house museum may not be suitably adapted into a community or welcome center, perhaps it could be adapted into an office space–or even returned to its original use as a home. By placing an easement–a legally restrictive contract to maintain at least the exterior appearance of the house–on a former house museum, it is possible to protect the house’s historic character and to continue to contribute to its community’s individual charm. Historic New England’s Stewardship Program is one example of an organization that holds easements on historic properties, allowing them to be cared for by private owners while ensuring that their character and integrity remain intact.

Few dispute the values of historic preservation, or the importance of historic buildings in the fabric of a historic community. Being a good steward for a house museum is of paramount importance. An honest evaluation of whether or not the building is best used as a museum may be difficult to undertake, but the outcome can be positive for the house and the community alike.

Historic Houses as Sources of Empowerment

Although historic house museums are experiencing a decline in foot traffic as compared to other types of museums, it may be argued that these institutions hold a unique potential for empowerment. Empowerment for whom? And how can empowerment be cultivated when fewer and fewer people enter these buildings?

Historical house museums are a source of power if they are adapted to serve the communities in which they exist. If historic sites make connections between the original homeowner (regardless of time period) and present groups, the common humans experience will be evocative.

Most people understand the concept of “home,” and historic sites can uniquely adapt to become a home to a community. By developing programs which include and edify area communities, historic houses can serve as refuge and voice for the underprivileged, the down trodden and displaced. For example, many historic house museums are located in areas with newer immigrant populations. These newcomers are no different from the droves of people who have flocked to America throughout its history. Museum programs for consideration could include exhibitions and events representing these new immigrant communities. Programs as these help to establish concrete connections between modern populations earlier immigrant people. For example, similarities could be explored between a 19th century German immigrants and a 21st century Somalians. Common experiences such as immigration, language barriers, and prejudice could create organic and profound dialogs. Allowing locals an opportunity to see their culture in a museum will reap a feeling at home, establish trust and build pride in the site.

Events geared toward the community, recruiting volunteers from the neighborhood and utilizing shared authority will solidify a museum’s relevance. Some museums are incorporating farmers’ markets, music festivals, WIC programs, free days, and the list continues. These types of programs can make a historic house a haven within a community. Yes, it is a fine line between this type of historic house museum and a community center, so museums should always remember that service to their community is only one part of their mission. With that said, these adaptive measures can work to enhance historic sites and fuel departments such a collections and/or education to grow in strength by expanding their focuses.

It must be added, that indeed not all houses were created equal! Due to the over abundance of historic house museums many people view historic sites as unnecessary and outdated. An honest analysis based on criteria should be established to decide whether a house is worth saving. If the museum is empowering a community, serving the public and making historical connections that transcend time and space, it is worth saving. If a historic house is consuming federal or private funding and they do not serve the community, these houses should be considered for easement programs to maintain their historic value. Historic preservation of buildings is important, but not every historic site is worthy of being a museum!

Interview

For my class presentation, I interviewed Diane Lee, the Collections Manager at the Connecticut Historical Society.

Collections and You

People collect for a variety of reasons: interest, consumerism, fetishes, documentation of the past, and more. Museums collect to preserve, conserve, and interpret. No matter the reason behind the collecting the bottom line is that it happens.

Who cares about 17th Century Dutch furniture, paintings, etc that were collected by a former prominent family in the Albany area? The better question is not who cares but why should people care about these collections? Museum collections preserve the past so that we do not forget who we once were. At the Hancock Shaker Village in Pittsfield, Massachusetts their mission drives their collecting policy. They “brings the Shaker story to life and preserves it for future generations.” They have a difficult time of relating their collections to the every day visitor. They attempt to relate similar themes from the Shakers to modern day themes such as being green.

The Shakers made beautiful furniture, most people know that. When you visit the Hancock Shaker Village you walk into period rooms where the Shakers once lived and see artifacts that the Shakers once used. There is an eerie calmness in the air as you wander from room to room filled with artifacts but no people. How can Hancock and other historic house museums bring to life the stories of the past? There are interpretive paneling and interpreters at hand but that does not do it justice. We see the collections and we might obtain a small understanding of them but do we really see how their collection relates to us?

How can historic house museums change to better serve the public and relate personally each and every museum visitor? Are re-enactments the key? Are costumed interpreters what needs to be done? It all seems a bit dated. If we can find a way for every visitor to leave a museum with a better understanding of the collections then I believe that we truly are here for the public good.

Making Collections Accessible

Most museums with collections routinely keep up to 90% of their objects in storage at any given time. Considering the current trend of making museums more audience friendly, should museums then make their collections more accessible and open to the public? How can they do so in an engaging and exciting way?

I believe that museums must make their collections available to every and any one interested in them in order to successfully serve their communities. If most museums state in their mission that they desire to educate their audience, selectively granting access to their collections contrasts with this ideal. Restricting access to collections not only creates a barrier between the museum and its audience, but it also limits the spread of knowledge, therein weakening their purpose as a public trust.

With a little ingenuity, museums can overcome this barrier while keeping their objects and storage space secure. Some institutions have begun digitizing their collections. This method allows any one with internet access to browse and observe whichever objects are available. While this method typically only grants passive engagement, it does allow the visitor to examine and research objects they otherwise might not know exist. Other museums, such as the Connecticut Historical Society, offer behind the scenes tours of their collections or willingly offer to retrieve any artifact that a visitor is interested in viewing. The audience can then view the object while interacting with a human being and staff member.

While these approaches do limit the available context of an object, they are nevertheless an interesting beginning at incorporating collections into the concept of the audience-centered museum.

The Art of Manipulation

In essence, what museum professionals are practicing is the art of manipulation–we manipulate what they see, how they see it, what context we put it in, where we place things, how we place things, what they read, if an exhibit is conducive to interacting socially, what they can buy, what they can eat, and, I believe most importantly we manipulate objects to show people what we think is important about them.

Manipulation is neither good nor bad–although it has a more popular negative connotation to it, it’s like the worlds that Falk & Dierking point out in The Museum Experience; “Education” and “Entertainment” all have connotations to them that we usually adhere to. The book and its authors argue that museum professionals and visitors should widen their interpretation of those words.

However, the book actively promotes the manipulation of visitors to better enjoy their museum experience by giving them, in essence, what they want. While one could argue whether or not this is good or bad, I have to wonder whether or not museum professionals are actively aware to their own experiences, whether it be personal, social, or physical when they are designing content for visitors. Is designing museums for a specific response out of visitors a good thing? Is this manipulation or molding of visitors something that museum professionals should fight? Or, should we be learning the art of manipulation to better suit the visitor and museum’s need?