In Preservation of Electronic Records (or the attempts thereof)

Before beginning with the topic of this entry (which can be discerned by the title), I must first begin by addressing my personal path to this topic.

My primary interest is history, or information as it relates to history--or assessing information from a historical perspective. Case in point, if you tell me Tesla Motors has potential for growth, I study the history of the company, its founders, and the origins of the name. Rather than accepting information as it is given, I read the background--seeking to find out what led up to this point, if only to determine future trends.

Consequently, I handle a lot of paper-based materials. Books mostly, but also magazines, newspapers, and archives. Yes, I also spend an excessive amount of time on the Internet. (I am human.)

The trick, you see, is applying the Internet concept to the past. To me, it was always symbolic of the present and future--simply because of its dynamic state and how it has been promoted as being hi-tech and fluid.

Even then, the first glimpse that I had where this could be a problem came with the first collection on which I worked. Along with the boxes of files and cup holders, the organization donated a desktop computer, and I was left with questions. For the organization, it was a dated model running on an older OS and containing information which was not relevant to the revamped/remodeled organization (which had changed its name and business strategy a few years before), but the files contained on the computer were still of historic value. For me, the question was accessing those files: what should I do? Understand, it took me fifteen months to process the physical collection. Debating how to handle the electronic side of the collection was yet another matter which I simply did not want to get into.

That same summer (2007), I visited the Library of Congress (LOC) for the first time. Attending a preservation lecture for junior fellows, I had a chance to meet with the then-director of the LOC's Preservation Directorate, and pose my question: How should the system be accessed and preserved? It was a two-part question, and the nature of it was something better suited for the Office of Strategic Initiative (OSI)'s National Digital Information Infrastructure and Preservation Program (NDIIPP). The initial response was focused more on the aspect of physical preservation--that of the hard drive for potential recovery of information than repeated recovery.

A few years later, after a going through my first laptop (but not my first computer), the solution came to me. Initially, I thought all the information could simply be relocated to a portable hard drive, and, from there, switched to high-density flash drives or passports. This solution (which I was using for my broken laptop) would salvage the files, but the execution of the files would require the use of older software. From what I recall, the back of the donated desktop had ports for USB connections, so it wasn't that old (though it probably ran on Windows 95 or 98). While emulators could solve future problems, Microsoft Word can open older files, so the question would really come down to the ability to open or access e-mail documents located on the computer.

Ultimately, it's a learning process, and it brings us to today. DARE, Inc. operated in the transition from paper-based correspondence to e-mails. I could handle their analog materials easily enough, but I elected not to bother with the electronic records--primarily due to time, but also because I was studying history, and there's a time frame with which historians and history students are supposed to operate.

Typically, the events should not be more recent than within the last 30 years, but that timeline is changing. Some now suggest 15 years is okay. There are several reasons for creating these...time barriers. For starters, the more distance we put between ourselves and the events which occurred, the more likely we are to produce material which is objective. There will be primary resources, secondary resources based on the primary resources, and a synthesis of both. Someone once told me it takes about three generations to sufficiently distance ourselves from the past (though the Civil War seems to be an exception to that rule).

Another reason to be cautious of more recent events is because they are fresh. This relates to the matter of objectivity, but from a different angle. Just as historians strive for objectivity in research, there is a concern that either when conducting research, information retrieved (interviews/oral histories) may be too biased and information distributed (books, articles, presentations, documentaries) may be received with hostility. So again, there is reason to be aware of the timing.

This practice of history is one reason I avoided processing electronic records. And yet, in other papers I used, I made use of electronic records. Granted, the records were digitized scans of analog materials written 50-60 years ago, but I was still making use of electronic materials. I suspect that with the rapid information available via the Internet--especially in the form of firsthand accounts (see blogs, Twitter, editorials, e-mails, etc.), historians must reduce that 30-year limit in order to sufficiently process the rapid influx of information. Otherwise, could history run the risk of becoming outdated? It's a matter of staying on top of the information as it becomes available. (And yes, I am aware of the contradiction I am presenting here.)

Now, applying this to the title (finally), I have, again,  spent much of my time processing analog collections. However, I also spent a few years creating digital collections (or engaging in digital curation) using CONTENTdm. Basically, I took material from analog collections, scanned it (photographs, slides, postcards, letters, etc.) entered the corresponding metadata and posted the information online in a collection. It's a bit more complicated than that, but that's what I did.

What I did not do is process how the collections I built + the e-mails I have sent + the digital images I have taken + the blogs I have posted + social network stuff I have done...all of which is but one person's contribution to growth of the Internet as a whole. Now then, you can also factor in everyone else who uses the Internet, and it is going to be a few billion people. Each site tends to document and save its own information--and it's not with nefarious intent. When you go back to your Gmail account, your stored e-mails and documents will be there. The same applies to Dropbox, LinkedIn, etc.

When applied to corporate or government affairs, there is a need to monitor and preserve electronic records. More than that--it's the law. It gets dicey, because it becomes a catch-22 of sorts. (More on that here: http://www.archives.gov/about/laws/fed-agencies.html.) So now the Federal government is charged with maintain and preserve records which, based on the current technology and media formats, have relatively short lifespans. I think the lifespan is around 10-20 years, and 30 years for optical media. Even highly acidic paper lasts longer than that. It's about tradeoffs:

Electronic records
Cons: short lifespan, system-dependent for access (require monitor, require executable files/software, require electricity)

Pros: efficient use of space, improved accessibility means one document can potentially be viewed anywhere

What local, state, and the Federal government encounter is an archival albatross of sorts, dangling from their virtual necks. As sure as they must work to ensure that government records are stored, organized, preserved, and made accessible to the public, the task of ensuring that these records remain preserved falls largely onto them. It becomes a race against time, and the public needs to be better informed about this challenge. (Improved outreach would help.)



Future archivists simply need to be trained for electronic records. For historical purposes, I spent time in special collections working with analog materials. While some analog materials may still pop up, and while archives and special collections no doubt have donated collections waiting to be processed, there is another debate on the horizon: analog materials physically can last longer. Digital records cannot (again 10-20 years). When a digital collection is donated, should archivists make it a priority to quickly transfer the digital records to a new server/hard drive to buy time? This would make sense.

Understand, those specializing in the field of archives are encountering digital overflow/electronic records management, and the scholarship present is finally picking up speed to address the issues. Though not a "new" format or even a new issue, what was once something of a drizzle became a tidal wave after 2000. In her presidential address, then-president of the Society of American Archivists (SAA), President Helen Tibbo, discussed the growth of digital records, and noted that the SAA had established the Digital Archives Specialist (DAS) certification program in an effort to help seasoned veterans and those new to the profession brush up or fine-tune their skills in preparation for dealing with the mass of electronic records eagerly awaiting processing and preserving.

For those not keen on the topic, there is a sense of urgency. Prior to 2000,  campaigns were a more "personal" experience"--conducted in person, over the phone, and via mail. What the Internet brought was celerity. Rather than using mail, phone, fax, or couriers, notes could be sent via e-mail, text, Twitter, etc. Just as sure as this practice picked up during the Bush Administration, it mushroomed during the Obama Administration--which fully embraced the potential of the electronic medium. Since 2008, political groups have worked to adapt to web 2.0, and not surprisingly, the practice has flowed through to various government offices which, if they had not been actively using social networking tools before, were most certainly using them afterwards--particularly because they had become an accepted professional practice and means of professional outreach. (Once it was realized they were no longer a trend or novelty, it was a matter of keeping up with the Joneses.)

How does this impact the role of the archivist? Again, it goes back to law. If archives are intended to preserve public record, make it accessible, and foster a sense of government accountability to the people, then archivists must stay abreast on technological advances and endeavor to find ways to integrate the practice of managing and preserving electronic records with the existing practice of processing analog records without sacrificing original context.

Preparing for the ACA Exam

For the past few months, I have slowly been preparing for taking the Academy of Certified Archivist (ACA)'s exam. I first became aware of it back around 2008 or 2009, and while my experience and education were on the cusp of meeting the requirements for taking the exam, I think the additional four to five years of professional experience and the (impending) second master's help out considerably. Part of me wonders if, after all of this, I would need the ACA certification. My thinking? It can't hurt.

I remember the first time I looked at the sample exam in the ACA's exam study guide. I could grasp the ideas, but it reminded me a lot of taking the GRE--particularly the verbal section. Unlike the quantitative section, where it is easy to discern the best answer (unless it involves finding the potential values or range(s) of a variable--which can take time), the verbal section can be tricky. Often, there are multiple "correct" answers. Again, it's about finding the best answer--and while scholars who designed the test have a firm notion of what is correct and...not-so-correct, I think it's a bit more subjective than that.

I also think that there should be some points for being on the right track versus being utterly wrong altogether. In baseball terms, there's striking out, there's getting a walk, a single, a double, and a home run. Batting average does not factor in walks, which are factored in on-base percentage, and slugging percentage will point out a player's ability to get extra base hits--but it won't necessarily show how often he (or she) gets on base.

The point is, if the designers of exams are going to give multiple "right" answers, but only one best answer, then I believe the other decent answers should not immediately be counted as wrong--because it dismisses the abilities of the test-taker. "Oh, he didn't hit a home run--he just got a double. It's still not good enough."

I just wish that the GRE would weigh the values of each answer. "That one is the best, so it's a whole point. That one is good, but not the best. It shows he/she has a clue, so it's a half point. Those two are pretty bad, actually, so they are not worth anything."

That said, the ACA's certified exam is designed similar to the GRE. It's about the best answer and, again, there are multiple right responses. Looking at blogs and study guides and feedback from other past participants, that seems to be the leading cause of frustration. A question will be difficult and the answer may be ambiguous at best. In a world of gray, creating a sense of black and white (or this is right and that is wrong) when both answers could either be right or wrong is something I question. I am unsure as to what kind of lesson it teaches.

Still, I have faith in the designers of the exam--that the questions are based on scenarios and points (which are addressed in the study guide) that serve as models for how an archivist should respond or react if placed in a similar situation.

That said, times are changing. The profession changes because the material placed in the care of archivists is increasingly switching to digital records. I would imagine that future tests would have to increasingly adapt more questions focusing on electronic records management to ensure that future members of the ACA are adequately prepared for the challenges their profession faces. Naturally, all of this makes me increasingly nervous as the test nears, but this is something to cover in another entry.

MPLP: A Love Story

My first venture into the world of archives began in the summer (or late spring) of 2007. Preparing for an internship in the North Carolina Room/Local History Room/Special Collections Room (NCR) of the New Hanover County Public Library, I was tasked with processing a collection. But which collections would it be? My intern coordinator on campus and my supervisor in the NCR had their own ideas. One project was three to four boxes and would take under a month to complete. There was another collection however, which took up 60 file boxes...

Naturally, my superiors elected to assign me the latter--and I am glad they did. From start to finish, processing the collection took approximately 15 months. Along the way, I continued working through graduate school, studying for the comprehensive exam, foreign language exam, worked as a teaching assistant, and used the information found in the collection as the basis for my thesis ( http://libres.uncg.edu/ir/uncw/f/shahs2008-1.pdf).

The collection itself was fairly organized, but weeding, rehousing, and cataloging were required. The survey or appraisal process took approximately three weeks. After an initial survey of the collection (which left me feeling a bit overwhelmed), a second, shorter survey was conducted to develop a better sense of familiarity and grasp the context of the collection.

When it arrived, the collection came in 60 boxes.

Some boxes contained no clear organization.

After creating a rough list for the contents of the collection, I proceeded to work box-by-box, beginning with organization and committees (minutes, annual reports, etc.) and then followed by the general collection, which was in alphabetical order. Initially, I tried to adhere to the key step for rehousing and archiving materials (remove corrosive elements like staples and paperclips and unfolding folded materials). After the second month, however, I realized that both the NCR's resources and my time would be better spent if I just focused on cleaning, organizing, and rehousing the records in acid-free folders and cataloging them in the blossoming finding aid.

As my mentor pointed out, the key was creating a usable finding aid and making the collection accessible to researchers. As an intern, I was putting in about 20 hours a week and could not dedicate more time than that, and if I wanted to finish the project and graduate on time, then I needed to focus on what was important: making the collection available. Later, while pursuing my master's in library and information science, I would learn that such practice was referred to a "More Product, Less Process" or MPLP. At the time, I just felt guilty--because it seemed like I was cutting corners to get the job done.

What should my priorities be? The first was to finish the project. That was paramount. While my internship effectively ended at the end of the summer of 2007 (at least in terms of receiving a grade), I had not finished the project, and I continued with the work through to the fall of 2008. It was my white whale and my albatross. The longer I worked on the project, arranging, rehousing and cataloging records and documents, the better my understanding of the organization grew, and I saw how it connected with the city, history, architecture, economics, and politics. After discussing the topic with my mentor and university faculty, I decided to make the collection the focal point of my thesis.

Suddenly, there were deadlines. If my graduation was tied to my thesis, and my thesis was tied to the collection, then the sooner I finished processing the collection, the sooner I could complete my thesis and graduate. While this did not impact the quality of processing the collection, it did force me to speed up the pace of processing and fine-tune the weeding, rehousing, and cataloging steps.

MPLP is pragmatic. It is a compromise which addresses two issues faced by archivists and records managers working in archives, museums, libraries, and special collections: the finite amount of time and money with which they have to work. MPLP is an answer to a field that is becoming increasingly stretched in terms of resources.

Some may view the use of this practice as an unholy compromise that invalidates the very practice or integrity of the archival field, but there are two qualities which come to mind: preservation of records and access to records. Both are vital, but within the field, it is acknowledged that NOTHING LASTS FOREVER. Molecules break down and materials will deteriorate and decay and information will be lost. Giving that information structure/organization and making it accessible, while ensuring that it remains well-preserved are key. 

By September of 2008, I had completed work on the collection and the rough draft of the finding aid. Because of my familiarity with the collection, again, it proved to be central to my thesis, and much of the primary sources were drawn from reports, speeches, minutes, and letters, found in the DARE, Inc. Collection. My thesis was completed two months later and made available online in 2009. Since then, it's received over 1,200 views and has been cited by historians and referred to by city officials for planning and preservation purposes. Had I not followed practices of MPLP, then that knowledge would not have been made available.

Ultimately, the DARE, Inc. Collection, as an internship, and an experience in processing archives was excellent. I am reminded of how people described Stanley Kubrick as an obsessive perfectionist who was notorious for an insane number of shots and retakes to get that shot which best captured his vision. In response to his critics, Kubrick simply said that he put so much effort into it because he could not discern when he was loving a film too much or too little. It's about effort and dedication and seeing things through, but at some point, we all have to be satisfied with a final product and let go.

That said, I do look back on "my first" with some head-slapping. I wished I had used group and series level description when creating the finding aid. Something seemed amiss at the time, but chalk that down as a learning experience.

Why an Archivist?

In mixed company at social events and parties, the following questions are bound to arise at some point:

What do you do for a living?

Where do you work?

What did you study?

They are not an attack on a person's worth as a human being, but a subtle quest to find common ground--a curious search for some...link. Once the response to these questions is given, the interviewer may respond, "Oh! I always wanted to do that," or "that sounds interesting," or "I am SO sorry for you." 

So, people can get a bit defensive and apprehensive just before they divulge that personal information. So where do archivists fit in all of this? Well, considerable scholarship has been written on the topic--trying to assist both seasoned and would-be professionals with the task of selling their profession to others.

Here's my take: it's ensuring the preservation of truth and accountability. 

I am going to cite two works here which capture this notion from respected scholars far more experienced in the field of archives than myself. John Fleckner, former president of the Society of American Archivists and senior archivist at the Smithsonian Museum of American History, gave a classic address which is often given to students as a required reading. In "Dear Mary Jane" (1990), Fleckner writes three drafts of a letter to a graduate student detailing why she should be interested in becoming an archivist and what drew him to the profession. In the third and final letter, Fleckner makes the argument for preserving truth:

As archivists who maintain the integrity of the historical record, we guard our collective past from becoming the mere creation of "official" history. Fortunately, today there is little threat to us from a centralized Orwellian tyranny. Yet the continuing struggles of individuals and groups neglected or maligned by the dominant culture remind us that central governments are not the only oppressors.

More recently (in 2007), Maureen Dowd wrote about "macho" archivists in an open-ed in the New York Times, which focused on former vice president Dick Cheney's efforts attempts to evade making materials of public record available for acquisition by the National Archives and Records Administration (NARA). The Archivist of the United States and NARA filed a complaint against the former vice president, and they were joined by the American Historical Association (AHA), Organization of American Historians (OAH), and Society of American Archivists (SAA)(see: Historians Sue VP Cheney Seeking Court Order to Preserve Records). 

Though this case is noteworthy in itself, it is not unprecedented, but merely highlights one of the valuable functions served by both archives and archivists--and one of the functions I value most--ensuring accountability. This quality can be traced back to the French Revolution and the establishment of the Archives Nationales--a centralized archives which contained records accessible to the public. (For more on the history and development of archives, refer to the writings of Ernst Posner.)

Ultimately, archivists serve as silent pillars who preserve the documents and records (bills, letters, receipts, memos, pictures, videos, speeches, etc.) which serve as evidence and testimony--thereby laying the foundation for accountability.

Foundations of Digital Libraries

Over the course of this summer, I will be taking two courses relating to digital libraries and digital collections at CUA, and though no a stranger to blogging (I've been doing this since 1999), I saw this as an excellent opportunity to fall back into the practice.

One of the courses I am taking is Foundations of Digital Libraries. Though the title of the course is about digital libraries, I engaged in a debate of semantics with my fellow classmates and the professor: what exactly is a digital library, and unless we properly define it and narrow the scope, how could we hope to have a course which focused on it.

As it stands, we are learning about digital project management, and the steps involved in planning a digital collection up to the creation of our own digital collections through the use of CONTENTdm. For me, this serves as a bit of a refresher. I worked with CONTENTdm for about two years before coming to the Library of Congress, and it is an excellent tool for developing digital collections. Plus, just as is the case with image manipulating software or word processors, once you develop proficiency with one, using other programs is not too difficult.

I enjoyed using CONTENTdm. While metadata entry itself was often time-consuming and involved heavy editing to provide just the perfect description or summary, I was drawn by the quest for more information--particularly when it came to locating information on mysterious photographs of the landscape. 

Then, that Sherlock Holmes (or Greg House) instinct kicked in, and I looked for clues--was it at a beach? Did the buildings look familiar? Were there any signs? If there were roads, were street names visible? Any kind of name helped, because then I could go to the city directories and go through the process of elimination and look for dates and streets and then cross-reference the city directory with maps and see if dates on the insurance maps indicated that, yes, a structure did exist in that location in that year matching those dimensions. 

Sometimes family files held clues. Maybe a local family owned a business, worked for a company, or resided at a particular address. 

Maybe a sentence or two of descriptive metadata would come of it, but the hunt for that information and finding it was, for some reason, immensely rewarding. (The itch had been scratched.)

I'm looking forward to doing that again next month.

The other class I am taking is called... let's see here... Digital Collections in Libraries, Archives, and Museums. This is a one-week course taught all day over at the Library of Congress. There's an emphasis on digital asset management systems (DAMS), but the structure and syllabus suggests that we will be seeing how local institutions (the Library of Congress, Smithsonian, etc.) digitize their items, enter metadata and go about preserving the digital content. I see this as both an excellent companion to the digital libraries course and also, because of the location, a great chance to network with others in the field of digital cultural heritage.