SAA 2017: the importance of professional ethics

Dragonfly at rest, Lan Su Chinese Garden, Portland, Oregon, 26 July 2017.

Greetings from Portland, Oregon, the host city of the 2017 annual meeting of the Society of American Archivists (SAA). It's late (at least by the standards of my internal clock, which is loosely set to Eastern Daylight Time) and I'm headed to bed in a few minutes. However, I'm feeling the need to share just one thing that plenary speaker Greg Eow (Massachusetts Institute of Technology) highlighted this afternoon. It's a quote from historian Timothy Snyder's new book, On Tyranny: Twenty Lessons from the Twentieth Century, and it should be of interest to any archivist or records manager who is alarmed by recent developments in numerous nations:

Professions can create forms of ethical conversation that are impossible between a lonely individual and a distant government. If members of a profession think of themselves as groups with common interests, with norms and rules that oblige them at all times, then they can gain confidence and indeed a certain kind of power.

Eow didn't include in his presentation the two sentences that immediately follow the above quote, but they, too, warrant consideration:

Professional ethics must guide us precisely when we are told that the situation is exceptional. Then there is no such thing as "just following orders."

Good night.

Update, 28 July 2016: post title changed to reflect content of post. ("Day one" is not a compelling title.)

SAA 2014: agency, ethics, and information

The joint annual meeting of the Council of State Archivists, the National Association of Government Archivists and Records Administrators, and the Society of American Archivists got underway this morning. Approximately 2,300 archivists, records managers, and allied professionals have swarmed the sprawling behemoth that is Washington, DC's Marriott Wardman Park Hotel, and the weather is unseasonably, gloriously cool.

Unfortunately, I'm a little under the weather at the moment. I spent part of the day in bed and wasn't particularly present at those events that I did attend. As a result, I'm a little hesitant about offering up the following sprawling recap of session 201, A Trickle Becomes a Flood: Agency, Ethics, and Information, which examined issues relating to secrecy, power, ethics, and regulation of communications systems in light of the recent disclosures of classified information by WikiLeaks, Chelsea (Bradley) Manning, and Edward Snowden, and the prosecution and suicide of activist Aaron Swartz. However, it was a thought-provoking session.

Hillel Arnold (Rockefeller Archive Center) opened by noting that we are surrounded by communications systems that are largely invisible and that the regulations surrounding those systems are even harder to discern. Archivists are generally pretty good at understanding the invisible: we know that organizational structures profoundly influence the creation and content of records, we realize that the historical record reflects the privileging of some people and the silencing or dismissal of others, and we're sensitive to the evidential as well as the informational value of records. In the digital era, however, regulation determines what's left for us to work with, and not understanding it means not being able to account for silences or furnish essential contextual information.

Regulation is premised upon the idea that the common good justifies some limits on liberty; however, some powerful actors may be able to use regulation to stifle competition, discipline labor, or otherwise act in ways that do not benefit society. It can take a variety of forms. External regulation may be engendered in legislation, policy, or technology (e.g., bandwidth throttling), and self-regulation may manifest itself in social norms or in user expectations. Arnold explored how characteristics of communication systems serve as markers of power. Archivists examining the role of these systems in shaping the archival record must be attuned to the following:

• Flow. Analysis of flow involves assessment of direction (one-way, two-way, multi-direction), volume, and speed with which information travels through a system. Broadcast radio is an illustrative example of the role of regulation in shaping flow. Radio was from the outset seen as a powerful medium, and the Radio Act of 1927 controlled flow via licensing, wattage limitations, and establishment of the entity that subsequently became the Federal Communications Commission. 
•  Structure. Analysis of structure involves examination of distribution mechanisms (hierarchical or geographically and/or technologically distributed) and standards (structure, content, and protocol). The United States Postal Service highlights the role of structure in shaping a communications system. Lower rate schedules for publications have long facilitated the wide distribution of newspapers and longstanding standards of privacy for personal correspondence have governed user expectations. At the same time, Postal Service regulations prohibit mailing firearms, explosives, and certain other materials, and the Comstock laws for decades barred mailing of materials deemed pornographic. 
• Commodity. Analysis of commodity centers upon identifying the thing(s) of value. Archivists are used to focusing on information, but we need to understand that the network itself or the relationships between users of a communications system (e.g., Facebook friends) may also have value. The landline telephone system exemplifies the role of commodity in shaping a system: “Ma Bell” levied service fees and sought, with remarkable success, to create and maintain a natural monopoly. 

Elena Danielson (formerly with the Hoover Archives) focused on issues surrounding secrecy and transparency and opened with a stunning piece of information: according to the 2013 annual report of the U.S. National Archives and Records Administration's Information Security Oversight Office, in fiscal year 2013 it cost the nation $11.6 billion to safeguard its classified information and to declassify information that no longer needed to be kept secret.

Danielson then articulated a point of view that, for what it's worth, I find eminently sensible: information wants to be free, but some secrets really need to be kept and the manner in which information is disclosed can lead to violence or even war. For example, in 1870 Otto von Bismarck successfully goaded the French into going to war by selectively editing and releasing an account of a conversation between King Wilhelm of Prussia and the French ambassador to Prussia. In 1917, the British released the Zimmerman telegram, in which the German government invited Mexico to enter into an alliance in the event that the American government entered the First World War on Britain's side, in an effort to draw the United States into the conflict.

In light of the the recent leaks of classified information by Julian Assange of WikiLeaks, Chelsea Manning, and Edward Snowden, Danielson articulated a set of questions that may help archivists and others seeking to assess the origins and impact of such disclosures:

• Was the information scrutinized before release? 
• Was the information released with the public good in mind, or was it done for some sort of gain – money, ego gratification, fame, political advantage? 
• Is the person who released the information willing to face the consequences? 

Noting that the digital era has placed us on an earthquake fault regarding secrecy, Danielson also detailed several other questions that we need to address:

• If governments want to regulate the flow of information, what happens when the government leaks its own information? 
• If information libertarians are committed to openness, why are they encrypting their own information? Why is secrecy okay for journalists and activists but not corporations or governments? 
• Does the Nuremberg Principle – the belief that the public good trumps the law – still hold? 

Ed Summers (Library of Congress), whose presentation is available online, explored a recent controversy – the much-maligned 2012 mood manipulation study conducted by Facebook and Cornell University – and the manner in which it illuminates how power shapes the archival record.

Summers highlighted something that I didn't know: one of the Cornell scholars involved in the Facebook study was previously involved in a research project funded by U.S. Department of Defense's Minerva Initiative, which funds social science research “areas of strategic importance to U.S. national security policy.” One of his colleagues is currently receiving Minerva Initiative funding to examine social media posts and conversations around the 2011 Egyptian revolution, the 2011 Russian Duma elections, the 2012 Nigerian fuel subsidy crisis and the 2013 Gazi park protests in Turkey and to identify individuals who were moved to act in response to these crises and when they took action.

Noting that the outrage that greeted disclosure of the Facebook mood manipulation study was propelled in part by broader concerns about the way that corporations and government entities such as the National Security Agency collect and use personal and behavioral data, Summers asserted that we need more regulations that limit the types of data that are collected and the length of its retention. In addition, corporations need to establish ethics boards that will openly discuss with users and scholars their data use and management practices. The negotiations that archivists have long had with donors are a good model for this sort of discussion. If, for example, a donor downloads a copy of his or her Facebook data and proposes giving it to an archives, the archivist and donor will work together to identify who can access it and when it can be accessed. The donor should be able to have a similar conversation with Facebook itself, and archivists are particularly well-suited to help facilitate these discussions.

Lots to think about here. However, I can't help but wonder whether we're fighting a losing battle. National security agencies and corporations have rarely paid attention to what archivists have to say about anything, and I suspect that things are going to get worse, not better. I could be wrong, and I hope I am; after all, events that took place forty years ago prompted dramatic changes in the laws governing the records of U.S. presidents. Even if I'm not, I don't think we should simply allow ourselves to be pushed aside quietly. It's better to die on one's feet than to live on one's knees.

Image: Hibiscus blossom, Marriott Wardman Park Hotel, Washington, DC, 14 August 2014.

Update: the documentary record and the rights of the living

Last week, I posted about a New York Times article that highlighted some thorny issues surrounding New York University's purchase of the papers of proto-Pop artist Larry Rivers. Here's the controversy in a nutshell: the collection includes films and videos of his naked or topless pubescent daughters. Rivers's younger daughter, who was an unwilling participant in this project, attempted to obtain custody of the films from the foundation that owned her father's literary and artistic estate. However, the foundation sold the entire collection, including the films, to NYU.

On Friday, the Times published a brief followup piece that seems to have fallen off the radar screen as quickly as the original article did. I found it this afternoon only because the tireless Peter K. posted the link on the Archives and Archivists listserv over the weekend. In essence, NYU, which was surprised to learn that the foundation and the Rivers family were not in agreement concerning the transfer of the films, informed the foundation that it did not want the films. NYU also instructed the foundation to examine the collection prior to transfer for "similarly problematic material" and urged it to reach a mutually acceptable agreement with Rivers's younger daughter.

The matter of the Rivers films popped into my head as I was doing various things over the weekend, and I have to say I'm glad that NYU has opted against taking them. I was under the impression that NYU was aware of the dispute but wanted a) to ensure that Rivers's artistic career was fully documented and b) to safeguard against having other collections picked apart by relatives, business partners, and others who lack the legal right to control the collections but wish to alter the documentary record nonetheless. However, even if NYU had been aware of the situation, these films really are a special case. As I noted last week, they may be art, but they may also meet the legal definition of child pornography in some states. Moreover, the person who is seeking their return is depicted within them -- in an extensive, intimate, and invasive manner. There's a world of difference between attempting to preserve one's own privacy and trying to obscure the fact that Grandma owned a house of ill repute, that Uncle Leopold bought a judge, or that Dad really should have become a friend of Bill W.

The documentary record and the rights of the living

Earlier this week, the New York Times published an article by Kate Taylor that I was certain would spark intense discussion in the archival blogosphere and on various listservs, but it seems to have gotten lost in the shuffle. I suspect that it was overlooked because it was posted on the front page of the Times late at night (we information-junkie insomniacs know that the Times posts lots of new stories on its Web site at or shortly after midnight) but very quickly disappeared into a less-than-prominent portion of the Arts section -- which, given the complex ethical issues it raises, is a shame.

New York University (NYU) has just purchased the personal papers of influential proto-Pop artist Larry Rivers. Rivers's connections to a host of significant New York literary and artistic figures are amply documented in his correspondence and other materials, and it's no surprise that NYU sought to acquire them. However, the collection also includes a series of films and videos comprising a project Rivers called Growing: every six months, Rivers filmed his pubescent daughters -- topless or naked -- and asked them invasive questions about their physical development. Emma Tamburlini, Rivers's younger daughter, asserts that she was pressured into participating in the project and that her experiences inflicted lasting psychological harm.

Tamburlini, who unsuccessfully sought to persuade the foundation that controlled her father's artistic estate to return the films to her, is now asking NYU to do the same. NYU has indicated that it would be willing to restrict access to the films for the duration of her lifetime and that it is willing to discuss the matter further, but the thought of the films' survival clearly agonizes her: "I don’t want [them] out there in the world . . . . It just makes it worse.” Moreover, her mother, who believes that Rivers was simply documenting his daughters' development, believes that Rivers wanted his daughters to have the films.

What a tangled mess. I have deep sympathy for Emma Tamburlini, who was profoundly affected by the filming and is by no means the first relative of a noteworthy person to feel that the archival record compromises her privacy or who wishes to destroy particularly painful materials: Stephen Joyce, who controls the literary estate of James Joyce, has become a zealous, litigious guardian of his family's privacy and freely admits that he has destroyed letters written by a mentally ill relative, and many other people who control access to collections of personal papers have used that control to safeguard their privacy.

Moreover, the films themselves are profoundly unsettling. The 70's were a different time, but Rivers himself stated that the project raised eyebrows even then and that his daughters were less than enthusiastic about participating in it. Taylor, who viewed at least some of the Growing footage, notes that Tamburlini and her sister looked "self-conscious" and that Tamburlini rarely spoke on film. As Tracy Clark-Flory wrote in Salon and Iris Carmon pointed out on Jezebel, Rivers's insistence upon filming his daughters unclothed and their lack of ability to give meaningful consent to being filmed both give one pause. Rivers's films may well be art, but they may also meet the legal definition of child pornography in some states.

At the same time, I understand NYU's position. NYU clearly values the intellectual content of the collection and is professionally obligated to care for it responsibly. Moreover, judging from Taylor's article, the Larry Rivers Foundation had complete legal control of Rivers' papers, and Rivers's widow and daughters were not involved in the negotiations that led to NYU's purchase of the collection. Turning over the films, disturbing as they are, to someone who has no legal claim to them may open the door to all kinds of similar requests -- and, in the process, expose NYU to charges of inconsistency or caprice.

I also have a fair amount of professional sympathy for my NYU colleagues, who are trying to untangle these difficult issues in the midst of a public uproar: the Growing films have been the subject of media attention, and several of the many, many readers who commented on Carmon's Jezebel post indicated that they had contacted NYU's director of libraries and head of special collections and provided information that would enable other readers to do the same. I'm sure that many of the people who contacted the director and head of special collections explained their concerns in a calm and carefully thought-out manner, but I'm equally certain that a few people didn't.

I honestly don't know precisely what should be done with the Growing films. I hope that NYU and Tamburlini can reach some sort of agreement concerning long-term access restrictions; most of us try to discourage donors and other interested parties to from imposing decades- or century-long access restrictions, but withholding access to these films until, say, 2110, might be the best solution for which anyone can hope. However, I recognize that the two parties may have irreconcilable differences and that that the films' content may complicate matters further. I do know that I'm glad that I'm not involved in the decision-making process -- and that I'll be keeping close watch on future developments.

New York Archives Conference, day one

Grewen Hall, LeMoyne College

Yesterday was the first day of the New York Archives Conference (NYAC), which is being held at Lemoyne College in Syracuse. One of the things I really like about NYAC is its informality: many people either know each other or know of each other’s work, and the atmosphere is intimate and convivial as a result.

Today was jam-packed with sessions and other activities. IT started with a plenary session led by Maria Holden (New York State Archives), who outlined how the State Archives has responded to a recent internal theft and left the attendees with the following advice:

• It is up to you to take ownership of security. It isn’t something that just happens or is the concern of a handful of people.
• Do not wait until something bad happens. Addressing security issues before trouble occurs helps to avert problems and makes it easier to manage change and secure staff support.
• Become with security standards and guidelines relating to cultural heritage institutions.
• Do your due diligence: develop policies and procedures, and document what you have done to improve security.
• Remember that security is as much about protecting the innocent as it is about protecting collections. Employees need to understand that good security practices help to ensure that they will not become suspects in the event that a theft takes place.

The “Everyday -- Ethics (or What Do I Do Now?)” session touched on a host of related issues, and all of the panelists made some great points.

• Geoff Williams (University at Albany, SUNY) asserted that archivists need to question whether they should use their own holdings when conducting their own scholarly research; any archivist who does so will have to figure out what to do when other scholars want access to the results of their research and determine what to do when other users want to see the records that they’re using.
• Kathleen Roe (New York State Archives) discussed the thorny issue of collecting manuscripts, ephemera, and artifacts that fall within their own institution’s collection parameters and concluded that the safest course of action is to avoid collecting anything that, broadly defined, falls within the collecting scope of one’s employer; this approach avoids both the actuality and the appearance of impropriety -- and frees one to develop new collecting interests.
• Trudy Hutchinson (Bellevue Alumnae Center for Nursing History, Foundation of New York State Nurses) discussed how her nursing background informs her understanding of archival ethics and how, as an undergraduate majoring in public history, she had been required to develop a written personal code of ethics. She has since updated and expanded this code, which she discussed with her current employer during the interview process, and would like to see all archives students develop such does. (This is a great idea for current professionals, too.)
• Patrizia Sione (Kheel Center, Cornell University) discussed a variety of ethical issues that she has confronted, and noted that she would like to see employers develop written policies relating to scholarly research undertaken by staff. She also emphasized the importance of working with donors to ensure that the privacy of correspondents, etc., is appropriately protected; doing so will ensure that appropriate access restrictions are spelled out in deeds of gift. Finally, she noted that archivists need to be sensitive to the ways in which the pressure to assist researchers with ties to high-level administrators can conflict with their ethical obligation to treat all users equitably.

In the next session, “Can We Afford Not to Act? Strategies for Collection Security in Hard Times,” Richard Strassberg (independent archival consultant) and Maria Holden (New York State Archives) outlined a wide array of low-cost security measures.

Richard Strassberg noted that the recession makes protection of collections particularly important: instances of shoplifting and employee theft are on the rise, and archivists and researchers face the same financial pressures as everyone else. He also noted that the increasing prevalence of online finding aids and digitized images has had mixed results: although they make it easier for honest dealers and collectors to identify stolen materials, they also make it easier for dishonest individuals to hone in on valuable materials.

He then outlined what he called “minimal level protection” strategies for cultural institutions, all of which require staff time but don’t cost much:

• Have a crime prevention specialist employed by the local or state police do an assessment of your facility.
• Establish links with the local police so that they know that you hold valuable materials.
• Have a fire inspection conducted (but make sure that your management knows in advance that you’re planning to do so -- the fire department will close your facility if it finds serious problems that management isn’t able to fix).
• Get a security equipment quote; even if you don’t have the money, the cost might be lower than you expect, and having the quote will give you a fundraising target.
• Do an insurance review and have your holdings appraised; doing so will help you in the event that you suffer a loss.
• Protect your perimeter by tightly controlling keys and, if possible, screwing window sashes shut.
• Avoid drawing attention to valuable materials. Don’t put up red-flag labels (e.g., “George Washington letter”) in your stacks and be cautious about what you display to VIPs and other visitors.
• Tighten up on hiring. Conduct background checks if you can, and carefully check references by phone.

Strassberg emphasized that these measures will protect collections from “conditionally honest visitors,” but will not guard against thefts by staff. Moreover, they are not sufficient for repositories that hold materials of particular interest to thieves (e.g., collections relating to politics, sports, Native Americans, African Americans, and literary figures); such institutions will likely have to invest in electronic anti-theft technology.

In the event that a theft occurs or is suspected, contact, in the following order: your supervisor (or, if s/he is the suspect, his/her boss), the police, the donor (if applicable and he/she is still around), and your staff. Staff must be cautioned not to talk about the theft with family, friends, or co-workers. Also, develop a local phone tree -- external thieves tend to hit all of the repositories in a region within a short amount of time, and your colleagues will appreciate being informed. Avoid sending out e-mail alerts; you don’t want to document suspicions that might be unfounded.

Strassberg concluded by noting that librarians and archivists must be trained to confront suspected thieves in a legal and appropriate manner -- or how to set the process of confrontation in motion by contacting security or the police. They also need to know that they cannot physically prevent anyone from leaving the research room; in New York State, they might be guilty of battery if they attempt to do so.

Maria Holden then focused upon internal theft, which is the most common security threat that archives face. Employee theft is a complex problem, and full understanding of it is hard to come by. Theft is motivated by a variety of factors: personality disorders, gambling or substance abuse problems, retaliation for actual or perceived slights, and feelings of being unvalued.

We need to create a work environment that discourages theft and to control when, where, and how people interact with records; doing so protects not only the records but also innocent people who might be otherwise be suspected of wrongdoing. There are several ways we can do so:

• Hiring should be done carefully and with due diligence. The references of prospective employees should be screened carefully, and their collecting habits should be scrutinized carefully; the results of these checks should be documented. Many archives compel staff to adhere to codes of ethics and sign disclosure statements re: their collecting and dealing habits. The code of ethics developed by the Association of Research Libraries might be a good model.
• A number of recent thefts have been perpetrated by interns and volunteers. Develop a formal application process for interns and volunteers, document the process, and supervise interns and volunteers at all times.
• Keep order in your house. There is growing evidence in the literature that disordered environments can encourage delinquent behavior. Order begets respect for collections.
• Keep collections in the most restricted space possible. The State Archives has looked at every space in which records might be found (research room, scanning lab, etc.) and then figured out when it’s appropriate to bring records into a given space and how long they should remain in it. Develop overarching rules governing removal and return of records to the stacks.
• Keep collections in the most secure space possible, grant access rights thoughtfully, designate spaces for storage, work, and research, and establish parameters for working hours; many internal thefts occur during off-hours.

During the question and answer period, Kathleen Roe made an important point: Sometimes, people start out honest, then fall prey to gambling or other addictions or personal problems. We have to make it difficult for desperate people to steal from our holdings.

Richard Strassberg also emphasized the research proves that most people are conditionally honest, i.e., they won’t steal from their friends. We need to create work environments that make people feel valued.

I took part in one of the late afternoon sessions, “The Challenge of the New: Archivists and Non-Traditional Records,” which focused on various electronic records projects at the New York State Archives. Ann Marie Przybyla discussed our new e-mail management publication, Michael Martin detailed our Web crawling activities, and I discussed the processing and description of a series of records relating to the “Troopergate” scandal.

At the end of the day, we went to a reception and a great tour of the LeMoyne College Archives led by College Archivist Fr. Bill Bosch. Afterward, I went out to dinner with my State Archives colleagues Monica Gray and Pamela Cooley, Capital Region Documentary Heritage Program Archivist Susan D’Entremont, and Nathan Tallman, who just graduated from the University at Buffalo’s library school and is a project archivist at the Herschell Carousel Museum. We had a great time, and all of us would recommend Phoebe’s to anyone visiting Syracuse.