Accessibility and Archives: “we lose the thread of who we are – and who we might become”
In this, the first of a two-part blog Philip Milnes-Smith offers a personal response to The Government’s vision for archives in England. While it appears in the Accessibility and Archives strand of blogposts, it may also be pertinent to discussions of inclusive Collections Development for other underrepresented demographics.
The subtitle of this blog is quoted from the new strategic vision for the sector which aims to place archives at the heart of society. There is much to like here (see below), but I do have some concerns. It is not just that the technological possibilities suggested as solutions in the Accessible strand have environmental consequences seemingly unrecognised in the Sustainable strand. When it suggests archives will “remove barriers to access as appropriate and champion the development of simplified search functions” who is deeming the resultant access appropriate (does it mean appropriate to user need, or the archive’s budget allocation, or existing user profile?) This is particularly concerning as the strand does not (explicitly at any rate) seem to mean Accessible to disabled people with divergent needs – even “simplified search functions” in catalogues that were unusually WCAG compliant would not improve the accessibility of the records themselves if someone can’t see them (due to visual impairment) or read (due to a learning difficulty or disability). The provision of tactile and Braille surrogates, or Easy Read versions of records might – but at a cost. That should not be the user’s, but most archives have not been resourced to follow the example of Manchester’s Disabled People’s Archive in actively creating surrogates of every item for disabled users of their collections.
Unfortunately, historically, archives haven’t been “about every single one of us”. With this year’s ARA Conference theme of authenticity in mind, it still bears repeating that while we can offer access to authentic records of the past, our collections are not well-placed to offer an authentic window into the past because decisions made then, and since, assigned value to some human lives but not others. These processes have not been meritocratic – in the context of this blog series, for example, some non-disabled lives will have been over-valued, and some (most?) disabled lives under-valued. This has led to ongoing symbolic annihilation, with disabled lives manifestly less valuable in the culture because they are not only disproportionately absent but discoverable only with difficulty.
The new framework says, “Inclusive archives represent the full diversity of human experience and ensure that all voices are preserved and recognised. They actively seek out and value records from underrepresented communities and others whose histories have often been overlooked, enabling greater wellbeing and a sense of belonging”. Using an Epistemic Injustice framework, helps us see that, for example, in a lunatic asylum the ‘inmates’ are assumed to have less credibility than the staff (even though they are the people experiencing what their keepers and carers have only observed and studied). This ‘testimonial injustice’ has ramifications for archives because patients’ words have not mattered as much. The archive may be about them, without anything (words, pictures or music, for example) offering their perspective, and nobody much noticing that this gap either exists or matters.
A second injustice is ‘hermeneutical’ (a fancy, academic word for conceptual). It has proved difficult, for example, to establish the alternative way of knowing that is the social model of disability (which was formulated by disabled people themselves) because the medical model of disability (conceived from the perspective of non-disability) was the one being wielded by those with power over disabled people’s lives. In a hospital or charity archive, the medical model will likely be the one preserved, partly because testimonial injustice means the surviving records are those of an administration rather than its users. This means disabled people are likely seen as subhuman objects of pity and care, rather than complete people with their own agency. They could be defined solely by their incapacity and valued only insofar as they can pass for non-disabled. There may be no sense of the premises making life more difficult, by not having step-free access for example.
As the new framework notes, “the workforce and collections in archives still lack diversity, limiting engagement and outreach with underrepresented communities, failing to offer career paths which attract and retain diverse talent, and missing opportunities to build societal cohesion.” If the people making disposal decisions (whether before records reach archives or in them) continue to lack lived experience of disability, and have grown up in a society that marginalises disabled people, how likely are they to value the archival evidence of disabled lives, or even to notice that there are perspectives missing or framing that will make it harder to connect with living disabled people?
Another model that may be of some use to think about is the ‘Epistemology of ignorance’. Here ableism can work as an ideology, with ideas of humanity (and what counts) being adopted by a society engineering gaps and silences rather than acquiring them by accident. If an organisation or state entity treated disabled people unfairly in the past, how findable will that be in the records that have been allowed to survive? It is not only in the context of decolonising the empire that clean-ups have been in operation, destroying and hiding evidence by which someone might have been held accountable. Whilst archives could potentially “hold individuals and institutions to account, including by providing crucial evidence in public inquiries and other legal cases”, any finding that there was no evidence found, is very much not the same as saying that there was never any such evidence, further eroding trust in processes as well as institutions.
With all this in mind, starting to work more closely with disabled communities is going to present challenges. Nonetheless, six years after ARA signed the Joint-statement-of-intent-for-the-heritage-sector.pdf and thereby committed to supporting “members to develop diverse collections”, it is important that this new sectoral vision states, for example, that archives will “ensure that more voices are heard, that collections are increasingly representative of their communities, and that everyone feels welcomed”. Similarly, “Through the records they collect, archives can show multiple perspectives and give a voice to previously unheard voices” and “promote opportunities for communities to become more involved through co-curation and volunteer programmes”.
However, what there is not yet widely available is guidance on how to do it. Many of us have, I suspect, been better trained to be passive Jenkinsonian keepers of what others hand to us. The two inactive working groups of the Diversity and Inclusion Allies (engaging with communities and inclusive collections development) ought to have a role here. Can you help us with sharing and developing good practice in, for example, engaging with and learning from disabled communities, ahead of and alongside building more representative collections? If so, please email diversityandinclusion@archives.org.
The second blog will reflect on the Collections Management and Development tools of Reviewing Significance.
Thumbnail image Photo by Nastia Petruk on Unsplash