Out of sight, out of mind? Non-user understandings of archives in Aotearoa New Zealand

Here is my research paper on non-user understandings of archives, submitted to the School of Information Management, Victoria University of Wellington in partial fulfilment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Information Studies (February 2014). Enjoy!

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Abstract:

Research problem: Despite a significant amount of research on archival users, only a small number of studies have focused solely on the non-user. This study investigated non-user understandings of archives in Aotearoa New Zealand to learn about their awareness of archives, perceptions of accessibility and use, and views on an archives’ purpose and societal role. This included whether non-users valued archives and what this said about the democratic archival contract.

Methodology: A qualitative research design influenced by critical theory was employed. Eight non-user samples of individuals over the age of 18 were purposively selected within the population of Aotearoa New Zealand, covering variables of geographical location, socio-economic status, education, gender, age, and ethnicity. Three activist samples were also included. Data were collected by semi-structured interviews and analysed thematically.

Results: While their image of an archive was generally accurate and positive, participants had little knowledge of how they were organised. Archives were highly valued and viewed as accessible places for those who needed it, but with clear differences to other institutions. These differences prevented half of the sample with a need to use an archive from doing so. The archival contract was generally accepted, but was problematized in terms of access and cultural bias.

Implications: The findings support the view that understandings of archives greatly influence use. Although limited to a small and geographically specific sample, this study enables archives to know more about potential users, and design, target and implement outreach in order to raise awareness and increase use.

Keywords: Archives - Non-users - User Studies - Outreach - Awareness - Power

Introduction:
User studies in archival research have become a major topic over the last six decades (Chowdhury & Chowdhury, 2011, p.25). Despite one definition of user studies as ‘investigations of the use and users (including non-users and potential users and users) of documents, information, communication channels, information systems and information services’ (Hjorland, 2000), only a small number of studies have focused solely on the non-user. As a result, there is a distinct lack of information and research-based studies on archival non-users, including in Aotearoa New Zealand. It is simply not known how non-users perceive the accessibility and purpose of the country’s numerous archives.

The same can be said of the relationship between non-use and the often-cited societal outcomes of formal archives. How effective are objectives such as ‘efficient and effective government’, ‘trusted and accountable government’, and ‘nationhood and social cohesion’ (Archives New Zealand, 2010) if the archive is not used, or even valued? Such questions also problematise the democratic archival contract: the assumed ‘agreement between archivists and society’ (Hamilton, Harris & Reid, 2002, p.16). Is this agreement reciprocal?

‘If we accept the premise that archives play a public role in modern society,’ note Blais & Enns, ‘we must consider the perceptions people have of archives’ (1990, p.104). This study focuses on the non-user of archives in Aotearoa New Zealand, in order to contribute to the present knowledge gap around archival non-users and their understandings of archives.

Download the paper here to continue:
http://researcharchive.vuw.ac.nz/xmlui/bitstream/handle/10063/3397/thesis.pdf?sequence=2

Paper on the Victoria University of Wellington page:
http://researcharchive.vuw.ac.nz/xmlui/handle/10063/3397

Done

This is what finishing your Masters looks like.

anARCHIVE: mock-up of an information retrieval system

The latest assignment for my Masters asked students to create a mock-up information retrieval system (IRS) of a collection of our choosing. It was to take the form of a proposal, and include information on metadata standards, how information about an item (or surrogates in the lingo) is retrieved (such as search, browsing, recall, precision etc) and 10 examples using a wiki or other means to illustrate our IRS in action.

I chose to catalog my zine collection as I'm sure I'll need to do it for Katipo or some other group down the track. It was cool because I got to look at examples of zine libraries around the world and how they cataloged, described and provided access to their zines. I also got to pretend that a functioning anarchist archive in CHCH existed by using a wiki!

Here's my assignment in PDF form, complete with links to 3 example zine collections (Bernard Zine Library, Anchor Archive Zine Library, Salt Lake City Zine Library) and my mock-up IRS, anARCHIVE. I post it because good examples of zine/anarchist archives in practice are hard to find or light on information around how they do things (except for the examples I used, which were great). I also think the metadata fields I came up with are pretty good (although my lecturer suggested I could have used more administrative metadata on when the record itself was created, updated, that sort of thing). Might come in handy for any radical groups out there wanting to catalog their stuff.


View proposal online or download from Issuu:

anARCHIVE_mock_archive.pdf

AnARCHIVE wiki (not an actual archive!)

http://anarchive.wikispaces.com/

Where's the Section on Censorship? A Personal Encounter with Provenance

Some of my writing published by Archifacts October 2011-April 2012 (Journal of the Archives & Records Association of New Zealand).

On the eve of his execution in 1915, Joe Hill—radical songwriter, union organiser and member of the Industrial Workers of the World (IWW)—penned one final telegram from his Utah prison cell: “Could you arrange to have my body hauled to the state line to be buried? I don’t want to be found dead in Utah.”1 After facing a five-man firing squad Hill’s body was cremated, his ashes placed into 600 tiny packets and sent to IWW Locals, sympathetic organizations and individuals around the world. Among the nations said to receive Hill’s ashes, New Zealand is listed.

Yet nothing was known about what happened to the ashes of Joe Hill in New Zealand. Were Hill’s ashes really sent to New Zealand? Or was New Zealand simply listed to give such a symbolic act more scope? If they did make it, what ever happened to them? These were the questions I set about trying to answer late in 2009 as a first-time researcher, initially out of curiosity and then predominantly out of obsession. In the process I published my first book,2 learnt a great deal about the treatment of New Zealand’s radical labour movement during the First World War and gained valuable research skills. I also gained an awareness of the power of archives and the importance of archival theory.

Before I began my research on Joe Hill’s ashes I had only visited an archive once—way back in 2002 as a graphic design student at the University of Canterbury School of Fine Arts. Navigating Archway, reference interviews and the concept of provenance therefore, was an entirely new experience. It must have proved fruitful however for I now find myself immersed in a Masters of Information Studies at Victoria University, majoring in archives. The program has given me a theoretical lens into the past, facilitating some interesting reflection about my personal archival interaction. What follows is that reflection: my encounter with archives as a (inexperienced) user, the discovery and use of provenance search methods and grappling with archival gaps.

Archives, Archival Theory & Archway

New Zealand has a small but strong community of researchers focused on labour history. Yet much of this history “remains undocumented and unpublished. New Zealand work practices and cultures are relatively unexplored compared with other fields of social history.”3 Likewise, only recently have works appeared on transnational aspects of our working past—the transient nature of the early twentieth century workforce, interactions between national movements and the influence of ideas across borders. My work on Joe Hill’s ashes is a material manifestation of such migration and is reflected in part by the archival records I encountered throughout my research.

Joe Hill’s ashes, if they did make it to New Zealand as claimed by a long line of historians, would have arrived by way of post. On 20 November 1916—one year after his execution—Hill’s ashes were given to delegates present at the Tenth Convention of the IWW in Chicago. The remaining packets were then posted around the world on 3 January 1917. According to the minutes of the Chicago Convention, held at Wayne State University, no New Zealander was present. These records, and the fact that the New Zealand IWW had been receiving a steady stream of radical material in the post since 1908, seemed to suggest a postal possibility.

With the help of my friend Mark Crookston—who, at that time, was the Senior Advisor at the Government Digital Archive Programme (Archives New Zealand)—I began to canvas what kind of potential ‘hot spots’ could be present at the National Archives. Discussions with Mark also helped me come to grips with concepts like ‘original order’ and ‘provenance’ and prompted thinking about the postal systems of the past. However my initial experience with the physical archive was accidental. Due to its upgrade the Alexander Turnbull Library had just moved into Archives New Zealand’s Wellington premises—the ever-informative Bert Roth Collection having encouraged me to leave Christchurch and visit the capital. After finishing with the collection early I decided to make use of the Archives New Zealand reference room, and it was here that I experienced the uniqueness of archival principles and the concept of provenance firsthand.

My reference interview at Archives took place early on in my research, so my understanding of the postal system during the war years was still pretty limited. It was also my first archival reference ‘in the flesh’. As part of the Google Generation, my natural approach to Archway and the archivist was that of subject keywords, with a vague notion of their wider context. I quickly realised that simply punching ‘Joe Hill’ into Archway or asking for the ‘postal censorship section’ at the reference desk was not going to cut it. As we discussed my needs the archivist related them to the archive’s series system through looking into the records of the Customs Department. My subject-based enquiry became one of provenance, although I did not understand it fully at the time.

As a new user of archives I found this experience both confusing and fascinating. I had a loose idea of original order and provenance thanks to those late night, kitchen-based discussions with Mark, but I did not realise that description of records would be based on such principles rather than subject. Likewise, employing provenance was a new concept. Thankfully my introduction to archival theory in practice was made a lot easier due to the excellent service I received during that first visit. To cut a long interview short, the result of that experience left me with the seeds of a powerful search method that soon became crucial to my research.

The Power of Provenance

Provenance gave me a powerful framework to use when searching for possible documentation of Joe Hill’s ashes in New Zealand. I began to tease out ideas around records creation: who would have maintained the record/s I needed to uncover in order to show what happened to his ashes, and where would these records fit within the function and structure of its parent organization? If not explicitly described in a finding aid, where could they be located instead? This led me to gather contextual information about how censorship was instigated and operated during the First World War.

Censorship during the Great War has, unfortunately, been written about very little.4 The lack of information is probably due to the complex system of control put in place by the Massey Government and the confidential nature of its implementation. This confidentiality made an understanding of provenance even more pressing, as structural/functional information was simply not available.

Through the few secondary sources available and many hours on Archway I identified four key players with regard to wartime censorship: the Customs Department, the Post and Telegraph Department, the Army Department, and Sir John Salmond—Solicitor General of New Zealand from 1910-1920. Each was the creator of separate series of records, though provenance (and to an extent the administrative histories provided on Archway) helped make visible the relationships between them.

Legislation was the first signpost. The Customs Act of 1913 prohibiting the entry of ‘indecent’ literature into the country soon lead me to an Order in Council of 1915. This Order of Council specifically amended the Customs Act and addressed the material of the IWW directly, “prohibit[ing] the importation into New Zealand of the newspapers called Direct Action and Solidarity, and all other printed matter published or printed or purporting to be published or printed by or on behalf of the society known as ‘The Industrial Workers of the World.’”5 This legislation connected the Customs Department to the Post and Telegraph Department, and gave me a number of record series to research. For example, I found memorandums within the Post Department explaining the 1915 Order in Council and its implementation, highlighting key agents within the department’s structure to watch out for.

I then tried to focus on the relationships between these two record creators. Both Customs and the Post and Telegraph Department had a number of censors working within their ranks, the latter including the Deputy Chief Censor, W A Tanner. But I discovered that it was the military that managed censorship during the War. A number of key records (memorandums, reports on the British censorship model and how to apply it) helped me establish a sense of how censorship functioned: Tanner and other censors located across the country answered directly to Colonel Charles Gibbon, who was both Chief Censor and Chief of the General Staff of the New Zealand Military Forces. Censors were mostly officers of the Post Office and worked in the same building “as a matter of convenience”, but censors acted “under the instructions of the Military censor. The Post Office is bound to obey the Military censor.”6 It was therefore the records of the Army Department and a chain-of-command leading to Sir John Salmond that became a focus of my archival trawling.

Salmond, author of the stringent War Regulations imposed during the First World War and keen censor of socialist material, directed wartime censorship through Colonel Gibbon and his own Crown Law Opinions. When Joseph Ward, the Postmaster General, asked Salmond whether American socialist newspaper the International Socialist Review fell under the 1915 Order in Council, Salmond replied:

there is not sufficient evidence that the International Socialist Review is in any way connected with the Industrial Workers of the World. Nonetheless this publication is of a highly objectionable character advocating anarchy, violence and sedition. All copies of it therefore should without hesitation be detained…7

Similar correspondence between Salmond and various departments is archived in both Archives New Zealand and the Crown Law Library—painting a picture of a comprehensive system of censorship and completing the puzzle that faced me when I first visited Archives New Zealand. While subject keywords played a small part in locating information at a records level, provenance search methods made sure I did not overlook the key player—Sir John Salmond.

Further traces of IWW censorship are evident in a number of other records. In a file titled ‘Miscellaneous Administration Matters—Prohibited Literature—“Janes Fighting Ships”, Newspapers and other Printed Matters’, a worker at the Post and Telegraph Department reported the withholding of 8 bundles and 14 copies of IWW newspapers; while Salmond, in an Opinion to the Commissioner of Police, arranged “with the Post Office to have all correspondence addressed to [Wellington anarchist] Philip Josephs whether within New Zealand or elsewhere stopped and examined. It may be that such examination will show that Josephs’ is an active agent of the IWW.”8 In the same Crown Law Opinion to Ward referenced earlier, Salmond instructed that the International Socialist Review “should merely be detained” but that “all IWW publications should be destroyed.”9

Remains to be Seen

The outcome of my research is essentially about the records I never found—the lack of any record documenting the detention or transmission of the packet containing Joe Hill’s ashes. This archival gap—or what remained unsaid—suggested a pretty clear fate. In tandem with found documentation on IWW censorship, the overbearing absence of any records on Hill’s ashes themselves suggests that they never made it beyond the national border. The monitoring of correspondence that existed in 1917 alone is enough to warrant such a conclusion. That Sir John Salmond, War Regulations, and Orders in Council specifically targeted the IWW on a number of occasions (as further examined in my book) surely sealed the deal. It would have been a small miracle for the ashes of Joe Hill to see the light of day in the Dominion.

Yet I would never had identified this gap if I had not embraced the concept of provenance and delved into the functions and structures of the relevant records creators. Subject keyword searching may have turned up important records but, on its own, did not fill in the blanks.

Provenance gave me a tool in which to navigate the previously hidden relationships between the departments and their agents in charge of wartime censorship. It allowed me, as the user, to get a better picture of where the interaction between Joe Hill (through his ashes) and the New Zealand State may have taken place, and how the preservation of that interaction through time and space is due to archival principles such as provenance.

It is clear, having now spent a solid amount of time on Archway using provenance search methods, that provenance is a powerful tool for the user. The initial confusion around its meaning and the coming to terms with Archway is worth the potentialities they both uncover. What I gained from an understanding of the functions and structures of relevant record creator/s confirmed that ‘The Power of Provenance’10 is more than just a snappy title.

Endnotes

1 Joyce L. Kornbluh (ed), Rebel Voices: An IWW Anthology, (Michigan: University of Michigan Press, 1964), 130.
2 Jared Davidson, Remains to be Seen: Tracing Joe Hill’s ashes in New Zealand, (Wellington: Rebel Press, 2011).
3 Labour History Project, Membership Brochure, (Wellington: LHP, 2010).
4 By far the best source on the subject is John Anderson, “Military Censorship in World War 1: Its Use and Abuse in New Zealand,” (Thesis, Victoria University College, 1952)
5 The New Zealand Gazette, September 20, 1915.
6 Appendices to the Journals of the House of Representatives, 1917, F8-8.
7 J W Salmond to Comptroller of Customs, November 29, 1915, Crown Law Office, Wellington.
8 J W Salmond to Commissioner of Police, October 20, 1915, “Opinions – Police Department 1913-1926,” Crown Law Office, Wellington.
9 Ibid.
10 David A. Bearman and Richard H. Lytle, “The Power of the Principle of Provenance,” Archivaria 21 (1985-86): 14-27.

Participatory Digital Collections? Web 2.0 and Cultural Heritage Institutions in New Zealand

Been a bit slack on posting these up. Here's an essay from a few months ago, as part of my MIS studies.

Introduction
With the ever-developing digital realm comes the raised expectations of the user—a click of the mouse can purchase a pizza, book a holiday offshore, or access previously unattainable informational materials. As part of this development repositories offering digital collections, and specifically designed digital cultural heritage libraries, are increasingly common on the World Wide Web. Digitalised records—once seen in terms of preservation only—have opened the virtual door to the archive, increasing awareness and use.

Along with expectations of accessible digital collections, pressures of becoming more user-centric has meant cultural heritage institutions (CHIs) need to explore ways to encourage higher levels of user interaction, engagement, and participation: “our patrons are used to being able to review books on Amazon.com, comment on the musings of a friend as posted on their blogs, or contribute what they know about slavery in the antebellum South to a Wikipedia entry… they expect to be able to do similar activities when they encounter our Web-based content” (Daines & Nimer, 2009).

One way to do this is through well-designed interface, but it is primarily through Web 2.0 functionalities that CHIs can move beyond merely disseminating information to creating participatory virtual spaces. Interactive web tools are “changing the ways that archivists interact with their patrons,” and how patrons “approach archival research and how they view their archival interactions” (Daines & Nimer). As a result, if CHIs are to be sustainable and have a lasting impact in the ever-changing digital realm, the facilitation of participation should inform any digital project.

However, it seems the benefits of user participation is not fully realised by CHIs, especially in New Zealand. Although there are numerous digital libraries with a rich field of accessible content (such as the Alexander Turnbull Library’s Timeframes, Discover, and Papers Past; the University of Waikato’s New Zealand Digital Library; or the Digital Library of the Auckland Museum), the combination of access and user participation via Web 2.0 is relatively rare. This could be the result of managerial, technological, or financial barriers, or simply due to the young age of the field. As Sharma points out,

Academic literature addressing the use of Web 2.0 applications and principles by CHIs has only lately started moving beyond conceptual explorations of its meaning, benefits, challenges and implications for the industry… little research has been found that focuses solely on exploring the use of Web 2.0 applications and principles in online digital collections” (2011, p.2).

Whatever the barrier, their overcoming will facilitate egalitarian possibilities in the digital realm.

This essay hopes to highlight the concepts posited above, through the analysis of New Zealand three digital collections—Passchendaele Casualty Forms, Find, and Ceismic: Canterbury Earthquake Digital Archive. The first is managed by Archives New Zealand for a very specific user— genealogists—and is indicative of a use-centric digital collection, while the National Library of New Zealand’s Find is a finding aid for various digital collections that allows the user to tag digital objects. Ceismic is a very different digital collection, designed to capture and archive stories relating to the Christchurch Earthquakes of 2010 and 2011 that, due to its purpose, has a very interactive component and highlights the potential of user participation with digital libraries. These very different collections represent the wide range of Web 2.0 capabilities that, unfortunately, are yet to be harnessed by many New Zealand digital collections.

Digital libraries and the potential of participation
 According to The Digital Library Federation:

Digital libraries are organizations that provide the resources, including the specialized staff, to select, structure, offer intellectual access to, interpret, distribute, preserve the integrity of, and ensure the persistence over time of collections of digital works so that they are readily and economically available for use by a defined community or set of communities (2006-2008).

As well as ensuring access and use over time, digital libraries can serve other purposes. In the context of North America but with international relevance, The Association of Research Libraries argues that digital libraries can:

expedite the systematic development of: the means to collect, store, and organize information and knowledge in digital form; and of digital library collections in North America; promote the economical and efficient delivery of information to all sectors of North American society; encourage cooperative efforts which leverage the considerable investment in North American research resources, computing and communications network; strengthen communication and collaboration between and among the research, business, government, and educational communities; take an international leadership role in the generation and dissemination of knowledge in areas of strategic importance to North America; and contribute to the lifelong learning opportunities of all North Americans (1995).

However, digital libraries have the capability to go much further than search and access, facilitating “the creation of collaborative and contextual knowledge environments” that can “match and indeed dramatically extend traditional libraries” (Lagoze, Krafft, Payette, & Jesuroga, 2005). The advantages of technology means digital libraries can transcend the constraints of the physical environment, allowing collections to be collaborative, participatory, and user-centric.

As well as sound interface design, the development of blogs, social media, wikis, and tagging—referred to as Web 2.0—can be employed by CHIs to encourage user participation and collaboration. Theses changes in digital technology enable software developers and end-users to use the World Wide Web in new and innovative ways to what it was originally intended (Wikipedia). As a result, “Web 2.0 technologies have transformed the Internet into a participatory experience” (Daines & Nimer), offering “archives the chance to develop new and innovative ways of conveying their message,” as well as allowing users “a greater exploratory and active role, thus enhancing the learning experiences available” (Lester, 2006, p.88).

Blogs—websites formatted to provide diary-like entries of an individual or institution—and social media platforms such as Twitter or Facebook, can be used by CHIs to publicize digital collections while allowing for networking and questions from users. Tagging and collaborative websites (wikis) that allow users to add or modify content on a repository’s finding aids or records, aids both the usability of the collection and increases user participation—drawing on the users knowledge of certain collections and their own search methods to provide a wealth of new information.

Research has shown that Web 2.0 does in fact “engage users online and encourage the development of an active community”—systems that allowed users to tag or create and edit content had significant positive effects on the participation of the user when compared with non-Web 2.0 enabled systems (Sharma, p.7). Unlike Papers Past, users of the National Library of Australia’s Australian Newspapers can “interact with its collections through tagging, text correcting, and commenting”—the tagging feature was found to be a real crowd-pleaser (Holley, 2009, as cited in Sharma, p.9), creating the growth of an active community of users engaging with the collection.

Despite the positive effects of Web 2.0 CHIs, particularly archives, have been slow to implement it: “findings suggest that the cultural heritage sector has been comparatively slow in making digital collections Web 2.0-enabled though a large number of institutions have started exploring Web 2.0 for other purposes” (Sharma, p.69). Barriers to implementation are many, and includes the need to know the “audience and objectives before launching any Web 2.0 initiatives” (Daines & Nimer), the blurring of lines between the professional custodian and the user, issues of authenticity and intellectual property, potential obsolescence of Web applications (through technical or social factors), balancing participation with privacy, and crucially, winning over CHIs staff and management (Sharma, p.8).

A quick scan of the New Zealand environment confirms this claim. Many New Zealand digital libraries lack Web 2.0 applications—the only collections I found with wiki/comment capabilities were NZ On Screen (http://www.nzonscreen.com/) and the Audio Visual Archives (http://audiovisual.archives.govt.nz/exhibitions/). Even collections with a strong user-focus and an understanding of how and why the collection will be used did not contain Web 2.0 functions. An example of this is Passchendaele Casualty Forms, a digital collection managed by Archives New Zealand.



Passchendaele Casualty Forms
http://www.archives.govt.nz/exhibitions/passchendaele/main
Archives New Zealand

In 2005 the personnel files of those who served in the New Zealand Defence Services, namely in the South African War and the First World War, were transferred to Archives New Zealand (Lafferty-Hancock, 2006). Passchendaele Casualty Forms ensures these significant digitalised war records are available as an easy to use digital collection.

The collection’s home page greets the viewer with a simple interface and an explanation on the records original source and the selected files on show. The records are accessed through an alphabetically organized list of soldiers (of which there are close to 700). These are then displayed to the left of a generic description on how to use the hyperlinked finding aid (Archway) in order find out more on that particular soldier, or wider contextual information.

The usability of the collection is excellent. A clean and concise layout, coupled with an alphabetic menu and linear process enables the user to understand the collection, control the search system, and easily find the records on show. The viewer is given information about the records and what they contain (such as name, date of birth, rank, and the movements of the individual). This simple, informative interface allows for easy navigation, and ultimately, user satisfaction.

The collection’s interface suggests a user-centric premise, highlighting Archives New Zealand’s digital collection of personnel files and their availability to genealogists. In this sense, the collection management is rather successful in meeting its intended users—research into how genealogists search for information revealed that, “genealogists… wanted lists of names, or names indexes, or search engines that retrieved by name to facilitate their research” (Duff & Johnson, 2003, p.85). The alphabetical structure of the records and the encouraged use of names in Archway ensure these needs are met.

However the collection’s usability and simple interface comes at the expense of user participation—there is no space for comments or other participatory functions. The key features of online participation identified by Sharma—‘join, converse, collect, critique, create, and compare’ (p.50-62)—are not applicable to the collection, which is a shame considering the passionate and ever-growing community of genealogists. And while hyperlinks allows for further context, the user cannot tag records to enhance the search and retrieval process, or add their own context for others.


Find
http://find.natlib.govt.nz/
National Library of New Zealand

Designed by the National Library of New Zealand, Find is “a discovery tool that spans multiple catalogues and digital collections” (National Library of New Zealand, 2011), allowing the user to extensively search and access almost all of the National Library’s digitalized collections. These include Papers Past, Timeframes, Publications NZ, and Discover.

The home page is simple, easy to comprehend, and prominently displays a customizable search box as the main feature—allowing various entry-points into the collections. A sidebar menu contains links, login details, and a ‘User tags’ hyperlink, conveying that users can have some kind of personalized interaction with the collection from the beginning. An informative ‘Help Menu’ has been developed after detailed discussions with 27 Find users, offering a swag of valuable content.

Once the user is logged in they can view their search history in a ‘Favorites’ folder. Accessed items can also be saved to this customizable folder, allowing objects to be viewed, emailed or printed at a later date. Users can also ‘tag’ objects—adding unique keywords to items that can personalize search language and make “collections more accessible to the average user,” creating “a dialogue between the piece of art being described and the user” (Daines & Nimer). For example, on the description page of a 1970 photograph of Karori Mall, Wellington, users have created tags for the types of cars in the picture, adding a level of depth not given in the original metadata.

Find can tick the ‘join, collect, create’, and ‘compare’ boxes on Sharma’s list, although ‘converse’ and ‘critique’ are left to the private realm of emailed feedback. Having a publicly accessible wiki or blog would greatly improve the conversational aspect of Web 2.0 participation, as would more prominent menus on tagging and Web 2.0 in general. Nonetheless, Find is one of the few New Zealand digital collections that allows user tagging, and is more participatory than Passcehdaele Casualty Forms and many other digital collections.


Ceismic: Canterbury Earthquake Digital Archive
http://ceismic.org.nz/
University of Canterbury

Ceismic: Canterbury Earthquake Digital Archive has been initiated by the University of Canterbury to act as a “comprehensive digital archive of video, audio, documents and images related to the Canterbury Earthquakes of 2010 and 2011” (University of Canterbury, 2011). As an online collecting archive its content (and success) relies heavily on input from the user, and even though the project is at an early stage, already enables an impressive level of participation not present in other collections.

The aesthetically pleasing and functional homepage signals the library’s intention: easily accessible content by and for the user. The homepage itself is customisable—background images form a slideshow that can be changed by the user—and features links, information, and social media updates such as Tweets. Its three main collections—Quakestories, When My Home Shook, and Kete Christchurch—are all signified and easily accessible.

Quakestories, an online forum for the collection of personalised stories relating to the two earthquakes, allows the user to directly create for, and converse with, the collection. Previously collected stories are displayed which creates a conversation and a sense of community that typifies the best of Web 2.0 functionality. Similar to Quakestories is When My Home Shook, but this collection focuses specifically on the participation of children. Finally, Kete Christchurch is an online basket for collecting a range of materials relating to the earthquakes, from oral histories to photographs.

How the collected digital objects will be accessed and used, and whether Web 2.0 capabilities will be available in the final form of Ceismic is yet to be seen. However its current use of Web 2.0 is at a level of user interaction, engagement, and particpation not encountered in the examples cited above, firmly placing the user at the centre of the collection and beginning a conversation that should be fruitful for generations to come.


Conclusion
Digital libraries can be more than search and access portals to information. Through well designed interfaces and Web 2.0 capabilities, digital libraries and their collections can extend the role of the physical library—building communities, encouraging participation, and engaging users in informative and exciting ways. Collections that enable the user to join, converse, collect, critique, create, and compare have been shown to create positive effects for both the user and the CHI.

Despite this, many digital collections in New Zealand do not have Web 2.0 capabilities. The digital collections highlighted above are representative of the wider environment—little or no use of Web 2.0, or when it is used, falls short of a full Web 2.0 experience. The adolescence of Web 2.0, or issues of around the user, professionalism, authenticity, obsolescence, privacy, and acceptance could be some reasons for its slow uptake in New Zealand.

Yet these barriers are not insurmountable, and CHIs need to engage with Web 2.0 and its challenges: “Archivists need to actively experiment with Web 2.0 technologies in order to discover which of these tools will best meet our needs and the needs of our patrons. In order to make rational decisions about which technologies to experiment with, we need to understand what Web 2.0 is and how it can potentially be used to augment our services” (Daines & Nimer). User-surveys and a focus on a collection’s primary audience would go a long way in determining if and how Web 2.0 could be implemented; clear guidelines and boundaries around the user/custodian roles would highlight professional and authenticity issues; good policies and project management would counter obsolescence and privacy issues (or at least put plans in place to deal with them); and finally, research, advocacy, and awareness-building could help tip the balance in the staffroom towards Web 2.0 implementation. Whether they want to or not, CHIs need to deal with these barriers to keep up with user expectations. Or less politely, “harness the new collaboration or perish” (Daines & Nimer).




References:

Association of Research Libraries. (1995). Realising Digital Libraries. Accessed 10 December 2011 from http://www.arl.org/resources/pubs/mmproceedings/126mmproceedings

Daines, J.G., & Nimer, C.L. (18 May, 2009). Web 2.0 and archives. Accessed 11 December 2011 from http://interactivearchivist.archivists.org/

Duff, W. M. & Johnson, C. A. (2003). Where is the list with all the names? Information seeking behavior of genealogists. American Archivist, 66 (Spring/Summer), 79-95.

Holley, R. (2009). Many Hands Make Light Work: Public Collaborative OCR Text Correction in Australian Historic Newspapers.

Lafferty-Hancock, F. (2007). Public Records and Archives New Zealand. In A. Fields & R. Young (Eds.) Informing New Zealand: Libraries, Archives and Records (5th ed., pp.187-201). Lower Hutt, New Zealand: The Open Polytechnic of New Zealand.

Lagoze, C., Krafft, D. B., Payette, S. & Jesuroga, S. (2005). What is a digital library anymore, anyway? D-Lib, 11(11). Accessed 10 December 2011 from http://www.dlib.org/dlib/november05/lagoze/11lagoze.html

Lester, P. (2006). Is the virtual exhibition the natural successor to the physical? Journal of the Society of Archivists, 27(1), 85-101.

National Library of New Zealand. (2011). Help using this site. Accessed 11 December 2011 from http://find.natlib.govt.nz/primo_library/libweb/customised/find/help/what/

Sharma, P. (2011). Digital Collections and Web 2.0: Investigating adoption and participation. (Unpublished MLIS research project, Victoria University of Wellington, 2011). Accessed 12 December 2011 from http://researcharchive.vuw.ac.nz/handle/10063/1732/

University of Canterbury. (2011). Ceismic: Canterbury Earthquake Digital Archive. Accessed 12 December 2011 from http://ceismic.org.nz/

Wikipedia. (2011) ‘Web 2.0’. In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Accessed 11 December 2011 from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Web_2.0&oldid=429085115

'Walking the tightrope': article for NZLIMJ

The following is an article I wrote for the latest edition of New Zealand Library & Information Management Journal (Vol 52, Issue No 3 Oct 2011 ), on the balancing of archival principles with web technology.


The public library has been used by many, if not most, members of society—from toddlers to lifelong learners. Yet how many people have ever used an archive? How many know where their local archive is, or why it exists? Unfortunately (or thankfully, depending on one’s viewpoint), the use of archives pales in comparison to that of libraries and museums. The perception of archives, and those who staff them, remains squarely in the shadowy realm of dust and dank.

Yet the far-from-dim world of digital technology provides new opportunities to make potential users aware of archives, and encourage their use. Web sites, chat technology, and interactive web tools (referred to as Web 2.0) are “changing the ways that archivists interact with their patrons,” and how patrons “approach archival research and how they view their archival interactions” (Daines & Nimer, 2009). Digital technology can also improve the services already drawn upon by archival users (such as genealogists, historians, and students), and make them more effective.

Archives—to create awareness and promote use—have embraced some of this digital technology. Online exhibitions have become a common feature on the websites of archives, and virtual reference (including chat service) is being offered by many repositories. However the move from onsite to online has raised a number of concerns, from the loss of archival principles to the provision of far-from-effective service.

If the use of digital technology is to play an important role in the perception of, and access to, archives in the twenty first century, the implementation of that technology is increasingly pertinent. Regardless of their current shortcomings, archives need to continue to invest in digital technology—not only to avoid becoming “quaint anachronisms in a world of instant data communication, high technology, and rapid change” (Jimerson, 1989, p.333), but to provide effective service for current (and future) users of archives.



The Digital World Meets Archives
Effectively harnessing digital technology offers archives and their users countless possibilities. As Lester argues, “technological developments mean that the web offers archives the chance to develop new and innovative ways of conveying their message,” allowing users “a greater exploratory and active role, thus enhancing the learning experiences available” (2006, p.88). Both the access and use of the repository’s holdings can be improved through digital technology.

An archive’s homepage and its web presence (online exhibitions, themed websites for children, and social media) “offers greater prospects for promotion” (Lester, p.87). But it is the improvement of archival services that digital technology offers the most potential. Being online makes access available to reference services, collections and records previously off-limits due to geographical location or time restraints. “Many more people will have the opportunity to exploit the archive’s holdings, through research facilities such as online finding aids and email requests, and digitalised or transcribed representations of specific records” (Lester, p.88). For budding genealogists, busy historians, or students without means of travel, the digital realm opens a new door to the archive.

While historians conducting in-depth are likely to prefer browsing physical records (Duff & Johnston, 2002), the increasing number of non-academic users with less time or less needs would benefit more from web innovations (Cox, 2007). Genealogists using Archives New Zealand would find its digitalised records of the New Zealand Military Forces extremely helpful in their search for family activity during the First World War, while the in-depth administrative histories offered on Archway [Archives New Zealand’s finding aid] provide a great source of secondary information for students and others, at the click of a mouse.

Digital technology also empowers users previously on the margins of archival use. “Adaptive technologies” have the potential to “facilitate reference and access for handicapped patrons, including the visually impaired” (Cox, 2007). Optical character recognition for the blind, and other audio, visual and speech systems designed to enable further use by those with physical and mental disabilities, is just some examples of how digital technology could aid this often neglected demographic.

Similar interactive technology is also being used for the general user. The development of blogs, wikis, tagging and folksonomies—referred to as Web 2.0 technology—is increasingly employed by archives to encourage user participation and collaboration. Theses cumulative changes in digital technology enable software developers and end-users to use the World Wide Web in new and innovative ways to what it was originally intended (Wikipedia). It is also changing how archivists provide their services: “Web 2.0 technologies have transformed the Internet into a participatory experience,” technologies that could “radically re-contextualize [the archivist’s] work”(Daines & Nimer).

Blogs—websites formatted to provide diary-like entries of an individual or institution—“can be used by archives to publicize new items in the collection, as well as ongoing activities and events, while allowing for questions and feedback from users” (Perkins, 2011). The City of Vancouver Archive’s AuthentiCity blog, for example, uses photos, digitalised records, informative content and social media links to update users and promote further use.

Collaborative websites (wikis) that allow users to add or modify content about a repository’s finding aids, resources, and records, aid both users and archivists in innovative ways. Drawing on the users knowledge of certain collections, or their own search methods, provides a wealth of information for the effective use of an archive, with little effort to the archivist. “Reference archivists could take a similar approach [to reference librarians] in utilizing wikis to create a knowledge base of frequently asked questions” (Daines & Nimer), to the relief of the ever-busy archivist.

As well as adding content, allowing users to employ individualised keywords (‘tagging’) within online finding aids can enhance “the search and retrieval process as it allows users to implement their own natural language vocabulary and not be restrained by authoritative cataloguing terminology” (Yakel & Reynolds, 2006, as cited in Cox, 2007). In this way folksonomies “allow for another layer of access and description to be added to a collection, one which may establish connections archivists are unaware of” (Perkins). One example of this is the Polar Bear Expedition Digital Collection, a website which allows registered users to tag items.

However user participation through Web 2.0 also presents a number of pitfalls that archives need to be aware of. These include undermining the skills of professional content creators and archivists, the threat to “the authority and authenticity of archival collections” (Perkins), and the increase of user demands. As well as Web 2.0 tools, archives have to ensure that their general online services are effective. While digital technology can aid service, it can also perpetuate the problems experienced onsite, or worse, create a number of new issues.


Walking the Tightrope: Online exhibitions
According to Cook, public programming (including various digital technologies) taken to the extreme could “undermine both archival theory and the very richness of that documentary heritage which the new public programming would make available” (Cook, 1990/91). Too heavy a move towards the user from a materials-focus (and its related methods of appraisal, description and provision) could have major implications for the future of archives. Instead, Cook suggests a balance between increased promotion and core archival principles needs to be found.

Such a balancing act is particularly evident in online archival exhibitions. As Lester points out, if items are simply digitalised and made available without an emphasis on the archival principles of provenance and original order, or with no description of its context, the archival value of the record is lost (2006). Instead of simply downloading a digitalised record, or viewing it online as a stand-alone image, it should be accompanied by “the circumstances of their composition” in order to help the user determine “meaning, and why they were written” (Lester, p.93).

In order to combat the loss of context one would usually gain through the onsite exploration of collections, online exhibitions employ digital tools such as hyperlinks to point to contextual information, secondary sources, and finding aids to the record on show. Although “the virtual exhibition cannot provide an encounter with the ‘real thing’”, online tools can “allow the user to understand and be able to do far more than she or he could do in a physical exhibition” (Lester, p.95).

An Archives New Zealand exhibition, An Impressive Silence,[1] used video, hyperlinks and descriptive content to ground the records in the wider context from which they were created. Its free-flowing form and the rich historical information on offer provided an innovative source for students and others wanting to learn about New Zealand’s involvement in the First World War.

However the records themselves were pulled from their archival bonds without reference to provenance and original order. Apart from a title and an archive reference number, the user is not told who created the record, where it came from, and what else is the series. Such a neglect of archival principles, besides keeping Cook awake at night, illustrates the record’s loss of archival value when digitalised and displayed online. And although these issues are still present in a physical exhibition, the online exhibition’s use of digital tools gives the archivist a better chance of not falling short.

Passchendaele Casualty Forms, another Archives New Zealand online exhibition, takes a different approach. Focused more on records themselves, this exhibition displays Army personnel forms alphabetically in order to seemingly meet the needs of genealogists used to searching by name. “Genealogists… wanted lists of names, or names indexes, or search engines that retrieved by name to facilitate their research” (Duff & Johnson, 2003, p.85). Large digital reproductions of the records indexed in a way familiar to these users meets such a need. Yet in this case, the emphasis on the records far outweighs the contextual information given, and like An Impressive Silence, does not find the successful ‘middle line’ (Lester, p.93). Unfortunately for the user, neither exhibition utilized Web 2.0 technology, which could have added a unique layer of interpretation to the records on display.

Education, and not just of historical facts, is a major component to online exhibitions. As well as creating awareness around the topic on show, educating the user on how and why archives are organised in order to promote more effective use is equally as important. For a generation of Google users, the uniqueness of archival principles can be alienating. If online exhibitions are light on archival principles then they fail in the task of archival education, albeit in an aesthetically pleasing manner. In the case of online exhibitions, digital technology may increase use; but whether that use is effective is open to debate.


Onsite vs Online Reference
One aspect of archival service that has radically changed through the use of digital technology is reference. “Technology now allows users to submit their queries… at any time from any place in the world” (American Library Association, 2008). Users, wherever they may be, can now contact a reference archivist electronically via a website or email, or in real-time using instant messaging and other means.

Virtual reference provides a range of new opportunities for those previously cut off from the archive due to disability, geography, or time. As described above, digital technology (and Web 2.0) can facilitate reference service in new and innovative ways. However it also creates new headaches for archives. Not only does virtual reference create more work for the archivist, the archivist’s work is expected to be carried out ‘instantly’; that is, at the speed of which Internet users have come to except.

The digital medium itself also provides issues. During onsite reference, archivists employ a number of verbal and nonverbal cues to make the user feel at ease, and to determine the user’s information need. Complex question negotiation is used in order to effectively match the user’s real need to the repository’s holdings (Long, 1989, p.45), while instruction is provided so the user can “learn more about the collections by carrying out their own research” (Trace, 2006, p.134). A rapport between the archivist and user ensures these components are successfully met in order to be effective.

Such techniques, however, are difficult to replicate in a virtual setting. “Unfortunately, chat rooms are not as easily navigated as a face-to-face conversation” (Cox, 2007), and the lack of verbal cues creates problems during and in closing the conversation. To help make up for the lack of cues one would experience face-to-face, archivists use “text characteristics or characteristics of nonverbal cues such as punctuation, emoticons, font, capital letters or abbreviations” (Duff, 2011). These cues go some way in ensuring online users receive “the same communication and interpersonal skills” as other forms of reference (ALA, 2008).

According to ALA guidelines [there are no virtual reference guidelines as yet for archivists, an issue in itself], question negotiation is supposed to take place during remote reference. However time restraints, and the issue of writing versus speaking, can impact the quality of the exchange. I experienced this firsthand during a Library of Congress online chat—there was no reference interview, no question negotiation, and the process itself felt rushed. Compared to my onsite experience at the Macmillan Brown library, where I received a degree of question negotiation, the virtual reference was far from effective (and enjoyable).

Another major issue is instruction. Considering the difficulty most people have when confronted with the archival principles of provenance and original order, education plays an important role in the effective use of an archive. However this educational component can often fall short during virtual reference. A study by Duff & Fox found that “reference archivists spend almost half their time at the reference desk teaching onsite users how to use archival systems, however, remote reference services rarely involves instruction” (Duff & Fox, 2006, as cited in Duff, 2011). Again, virtual reference has a lot of complex issues to contend with if it is to ensure a service equal to onsite reference.


Conclusion
Nilsen argues that digital technology “is not improving or speeding up reference service… but perpetuating problems that have not been resolved in face-to-face-reference” (Nilsen, 2004, as cited in Cox, 2007). Likewise, exhibitions that do not strike a balance between interpretive information and archival principles fail to provide “a learning experience grounded in the content of the record,” at the expense of the document’s “archival significance and value” (Lester, p.96).

Having recently viewed of two online archival exhibitions, and experienced both onsite and online reference, Nilsen and Lester’s concerns seemed vindicated. The seeds of superior service were there, but issues with the digital technology I encountered meant delivery and service never fully bloomed.
However, issues concerning effective digital service are not the result of digital technology itself. Rather, it is the lack of effective education, investment and evaluation of the delivery of online services that is hindering the maximum use of digital technology by archives. Time, energy and funding would go some way in resolving the issues currently experienced in the digital realm. A key to this includes the training of staff in the effective use of digital technology: “only through up-to-date training” can archivists “expand their knowledge and refine their skills in response to the changes brought about by social and technological developments” (Luo, 2009, p.210).

Online exhibitions, blogs, wikis and instant messaging are all tools; tools (like appraisal and description) that need practice, training, and more practice. Archives and archivists should not be scared to get their hands, or in this case, fingertips dirty. New users and new technology demand it.
__________________________________


References
American Library Association (2008). Guidelines for Implementing and Maintaining Virtual Reference Services. Accessed 5 May 2011, from http://www.ala.org/ala/mgrps/divs/rusa/resources/guidelines/virtrefguidelines.cfm.

Cook, T. (1990/91). Viewing the world upside down: Reflections on the theoretical underpinning of archival public programming. Archivaria, 31 (Winter), 123-134.

Cox, R., & the University of Pittsburgh archives students (2007). Machines in the archives: Technology and the coming transformation of archival reference. First Monday, 12(11). Accesses 11 May from http://firstmonday.org/htbin/cgiwrap/bin/ojs/index.php/fm/article/view/2029/1894

Daines, J.G., & Nimer, C.L. (18 May, 2009). Web 2.0 and archives. Accessed 12 May 2011 from http://interactivearchivist.archivists.org/

Duff, W. M. & Johnson, C. A. (2002). Accidentally found on purpose: Information seeking behaviour of historians. Library Quarterly, 72(4), 472-496.

Duff, W. (2011). Module 7: Archival Reference, & Module 8: The Changing Face of Archival Researched. Accessed from http://blackboard.vuw.ac.nz/

Jimerson, R. C. (1989). Redefining archival identity: Meeting user needs in the Information Society. American Archivist, 52(3), 332-340.

Lester, P. (2006). Is the virtual exhibition the natural successor to the physical? Journal of the Society of Archivists, 27(1), 85-101.

Long, L. J. (1989). Question negotiation in the archival setting: The use of interpersonal communication techniques in the reference interview. American Archivist, 52(1), 40-50.

Luo, L. (2009). Effective training for chat reference personnel: An exploratory study. Library and Information Science Research, 31(4) 210-224.

Perkins, G. (2011). Web 2.0 and Archives (Daines and Nimer). Accessed 12 May 2011 from http://blackboard.vuw.ac.nz/

Trace, C. B. (2006). For love of the game: An ethnographic analysis of archival reference work. Archives and Manuscripts, 34(1), 124-143.

Web 2.0. (2011). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Accessed 18 May 2011 from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Web_2.0&oldid=429085115

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[1] An Impressive Silence is currently offline, but is expected to be made available once it is migrated to the new platform. See http://archives.govt.nz/has/impressive-silence-exhibition-currently-offline

Encapsulation: A Digital Preservation Technique

Another MIS paper, this time on a digital preservation technique known as encapsulation.

Introduction 
With the rapid development of both digital software and hardware comes the increasing problem of obsolescence: preserved digital data that will no longer be able to be read by future digital systems (and therefore future users). To resolve this problem a number of digital preservation strategies have been proposed, developed, and implemented—the two main strategies being migration and emulation. As Boudrez notes, “much ink has flown about the advantages and disadvantages of both strategies, but in essence, migration and emulation do not exclude each other” (2005, p.2). Practice has found that, indeed, use of the two strategies complement each other.

However there is a third element that can intertwine with migration and emulation, and is often a core feature of both—encapsulation. Although not a digital preservation strategy on its own, encapsulation works in conjunction with other strategies, and therefore, plays a significant part in digital preservation. This paper will define and describe encapsulation, discuss the context in which encapsulation operates and point to digital curation initiatives that implement it, and identify encapsulation’s advantages and disadvantages.


Encapsulation 
Encapsulation is a technique that “requires metadata to be bundled with, or embedded into, the digital object. The metadata allows the record to be intellectually understood and technologically accessed in the future” (National Archives of Australia, 2004, p.59). This technique aims to counter obsolete file formats by encapsulating or grouping “details of how to interpret the digital bits in the object” through the use of “physical or logical structures called ‘containers’ or ‘wrappers’ to provide a relationship between all information components, such as the digital object and other supporting information” (National Library of Australia, 2001).

On its own, encapsulation cannot preserve digital records: “encapsulation is not a method that prescribes how digital documents will be reconstructed on the screen in future or how accessibility is preserved” (Boudrez, p.4). What it does is ensure metadata about the object’s original relationships is packaged with it, to aid both preservation strategies such as migration or emulation, and future user interpretations (provenance, context etc.). Such metadata is important because “the various components of an electronic record do not form a physical entity, but are stored at separate locations (in a database, a file system or a combination of both) and as different digital objects” (Boudrez, p.4). Encapsulation is one way to track such relationships, convey important information—in the form of Archive Information Packages (AIP) in Open Archival Information System (OAIS) terminology (Lavoie, 2004)—and retain authenticity.

Digital signatures, or pointers to outside storage areas of information, are examples of how information is embedded or ‘bundled’ into the digital object via a ‘wrapper’. Analog instructions that are physically connected to the storage medium are also common. Yet there is no universal encapsulation methodology in use, meaning various repositories have developed their own approaches depending on need and ingest strategies. The jury is also out on what electronic metadata standards should inform the encapsulation process.

There have been attempts to resolve this, namely projects like the Universal Preservation Format (UPF) and the Digital Rosetta Stone (DRS). Encapsulation in practice provides further examples, highlighted by its implementation at the National Archives of Australia, the Public Records Office of Victoria, and the City Archives of Antwerp. A commonality of these examples is the use of OAIS standards to inform what kind of information needs to be embedded, and the use of eXtensible Markup Language (XML) schemas to create the required metadata.


Encapsulation in theory 
In the late 1990s a number of encapsulation models were formulated. The Universal Preservation Format (UPF), was developed in 1997 as a “data file mechanism that utilizes a container or wrapper structure. Its framework incorporates metadata that identifies its contents within a registry of standard data types and serves as the source code for mapping or translating binary composition into accessible or useable forms” (Shepard & MacCarn, year, p.2). Designed to be “independent of the computer applications used to create content, and independent of the operating system from which these applications originated and independent of the physical media upon which that content is stored”, the UPF model was an early recommended practice, arguing that “the Wrapper would be capable of describing and defining the content and its structure” (Shepard & MacCarn, p.2).

Another model put forward was the Digital Rosetta Stone (DRS) project, which took inspiration from the Egyptian Rosetta Stone—a tablet that enabled ancient hieroglyphics to be interpreted in modern times. DRS describes “three processes that are necessary for maintaining long-term access to digital documents in their native formats—knowledge preservation, data recovery, and document reconstruction” (Heminger & Robertson, 1998, p.1). This includes capturing metadata and other information to ensure that “we don’t lose our ability to read our own history” (Heminger & Robertson, p.9).


Encapsulation in practice 
The National Archives of Australia is one institution that uses encapsulation in conjunction with migration and emulation strategies. This process is described in Digital Recordkeeping: Guidelines For Creating, Managing and Preserving Digital Records (2004). Upon receiving data from the producer,

digital records are converted or ‘normalised’ using archival data formats. The archival data formats use XML standard schemas. XML provides a standard syntax to identify parts of a document (known as elements), and a standard way (known as a schema) to describe the rules for how those elements can be linked together in a document. Metadata is encapsulated within the preserved data object, and the whole package is stored in a digital repository. A special viewing tool makes the packages accessible using a form of emulation (p. 63).

Forms of migration, encapsulation via XML schemas, and emulation combine to ensure that digital records are preserved, meet accountability and legislative requirements, and the needs of the community (p. 14).

An early practitioner of encapsulation was the Public Records Office of Victoria (PROV), whose Victorian Electronic Records Strategy (VERS) developed the VERS Long Term Format. This “consists of an object (known as a VERS Encapsulated Object or VEO)” represented in XML and “signed using digital signature technology to ensure authenticity” (PROV, 2000). The XML encoding enables the contents to be inspected in the future by simple text editing software. Encapsulated metadata following the Recordkeeping Metadata Standard for Commonwealth Agencies Version 2.0 and specified in the VERS Metadata Scheme:

• structures the information contained within the VEO.
• documents the standards and specifications used in producing the VEO.
• contains a digital signature and sufficient information to verify the signature.
• describes the record or folder and its relationship with other records or folders in the recordkeeping system.
• contains information used to document the history of the record or folder.
• supports the management of the record or folder (PROV, 2003).

Similarly, the City Archives of Antwerp uses metadata and XML to encapsulate digital objects—drawing on OAIS frameworks that captures AIP’s and encapsulates all information into one container. This is carried out before ingest by the creator and/or archivist, and involves:

• migration of the original formats to suitable archiving formats 
• encapsulation of the original and migrated bitstreams in XML 
• registration and encapsulation of the essential technical and archival descriptive metadata 
• generation of a checksum to check the bit integrity 
• checking the quality of the XML-AIP's (Boudrez, p.13).

Encapsulation: advantages and disadvantages 
Besides the obvious advantage of preventing obsolescence, encapsulation ensures content and contextual information is stored together, minimising the risk of losing valuable information. Metadata stored in the object itself (instead of an external location), that can be easily transferred and migrated with the object means information integrity, provenance, and authenticity are more likely to be preserved. It also means the digital objects are “self-descriptive and autonomous: they identify and document themselves” (Boudrez, p.5). Encapsulation can also aid emulation (as the software needed to be emulated becomes more complex over time), and makes migration of digital objects easier.

The disadvantage of encapsulation is that it relies heavily on standards to maintain readability, which as Dave Bearman points out, “naively imagines standards lasting forever. No computer technical standards have yet shown any likelihood of lasting forever—indeed most have become completely obsolete within a couple of software generations” (1999). It is also not great for binary file formats because “there is usually too little space and an expansion of the fields could cause interchangeability and readability problems. The addition of metadata to binary files also requires a separate module or software tool for each format, because usually such a functionality is not supported by current computer programs” (Boudrez, p.5). In the case of VERS, this means the producer is restricted to providing specified formats—Text, PDF-A, PDF, TIFF, JPEG, JPEG-2000, and MPEG-4 (PROV, 2003)—adding another possible barrier to digital preservation. The VERS model was investigated and finally dismissed as a possible strategy for Archives New Zealand.


Conclusion 
Encapsulation is a common—but not universal—digital preservation technique that, although not a strategy on its own, informs and complements other preservation projects. Metadata plays an important role: indeed, encapsulation relies on various degrees of embedded metadata in order to be successful. This has the advantage of bringing all the relevant information about the digital object with it into the future, but because standards are not always ‘set in stone’, this very reliance on standards could also be to its long-term detriment. Nonetheless, the core element of encapsulation—preserving important contextual and functional information for future use—is an important one that should inform all other digital preservation strategies.



References
Bearman, D. (1999). Reality and Chimeras in the Preservation of Electronic Records. Accessed 22 November 2011 from http://www.dlib.org/dlib/april99/bearman/04bearman.html.

Boudrez, Filip. (2005). Digital containers for shipment into the future. Accessed 23 November from http://www.expertisecentrumdavid.be/docs/digital_containers.pdf

Heminger, A.R., and S.B. Robertson. (1998). Digital Rosetta Stone: A Conceptual Model for Maintaining Long-term Access to Digital Documents. Accessed 22 November 2011 from http://www.ercim.org/publication/ws- proceedings/DELOS6/rosetta.pdf

Lavoie, B. F. (2004). The Open Archival Information System Reference Model: Introductory Guide. Accessed 20 November 2011 from https://blackboard.vuw.ac.nz/bbcswebdav/xid-1082506_1

National Archives of Australia. (2004). Digital Recordkeeping: Guidelines For Creating, Managing and Preserving Digital Record. Accessed 23 November 2011 from www.naa.gov.au/.../Digital-recordkeeping-guidelines_tcm16-47275.pdf

National Library of Australia. (2001). Encapsulation. Accessed 22 November 2011 from http://www.nla.gov.au/padi/topics/20.html

Public Records Office of Victoria. (2000). Standard for the Management of Electronic Records PROS 99/007 (Version 1). Accessed 21 November 2011 from http://210.8.122.120/vers/standard/ver1/99-7-3s2.htm

Public Records Office of Victoria. (2003). Management of Electronic Records PROS 99/007 (Version 2). Accessed 23 November 2011 from http://210.8.122.120/vers/standard/spec_02/

Shepard, T., and MacCarn, D. (1997). The Universal Preservation Format A Recommended Practice for Archiving Media and Electronic Records. Accessed 23 November 2011 from http://info.wgbh.org/upf/

Tapuhi and Archway: A Review of Two Online Finding Aids

My paper for INFO534 (Masters of Information Studies) on two New Zealand Finding Aids.



1. INTRODUCTION
The purpose of archival description is to identify and explain the context and content of archival material in order to promote its accessibility (International Council on Archives, 2000, p.7). Repositories do this through online finding aids: tools that guide the user by establishing intellectual and physical control of the collection. They attempt to illustrate core archival principles such as provenance (keeping records from the same source together and separate from records from different sources), and original order (keeping or describing records in the order they were last used) to enable an understanding of an item’s context—why and how the records were created.

Finding aids vary in structure and functionality depending on:

• Visual design
• Arrangement and description, or system architecture (classic hierarchy or series systems)
• Metadata (standards, data content, and data values)

Using ‘censorship’ as a keyword search, this report considers the usability of two online findings aids—Tapuhi (Alexander Turnbull Library) and Archway (Archives New Zealand)—highlighting their visual design, system architecture, and use of metadata. It will also make recommendations for the improvement of usability.


2. TAPUHI
Tapuhi is the online finding aid of unpublished collections at the Alexander Turnbull Library (part of the National Library of New Zealand), whose role is “to collect, preserve and make accessible words, pictures and sounds that tell us about the history and cultures of the people of New Zealand and the Pacific” (ALT, 2011). Tapuhi covers manuscripts and archives, cartoons, posters, ephemera, and photography. However it will soon be replaced by ‘Beta’—a finding aid that combines all of the National Library’s materials into one database.

2.1. DESIGN
Tapuhi is far from flattering visually, with next-to-no aesthetic design, boring typography and stark white background. But its lack of flair is balanced by the ease of navigation and ‘findability’ such simplicity provides. A basic homepage with the option of searching particular collections successfully invites use, and there are many hyperlinks that explain the process. Within the finding aid hyperlinks are clearly differentiated and metadata is simple to view, eliminating the possibility of confusion or becoming ‘lost’ in the fonds. This simplicity fits the library’s role, ensuring almost anyone could use the finding aid without being visually offended.

2.2. SYSTEM ARCHITECTURE
There are a number of search methods within the user’s chosen collection, providing a variety of entry points (broad search, record title, date, name, iwi, for example). However these entry points are fairly hierarchical compared to a series system and consists of a classically structured database which models the types of relationships found in inventories, all focused on keyword searching. Rather than making archival principles of arrangement and description explicit, the system operates on a Google-like subject search methodology (arguably assuming that users prefer such systems or do not have knowledge of archival principles).

A broad search using the keyword ‘censorship’ resulted in many hits at the group and item level. Once a record is selected, the results can be explored through hyperlinks that lead to the series it belongs to, and further records by the creator (including the entire fonds). In this way the user can navigate quite easily, and get a feel for evidential relationships, provenance, and original order through Tapuhi’s extensive provision of metadata.

2.3. METADATA
Initial results use minimal metadata, showing title, date range, reference number and issue status. But once selected there is a good deal of metadata at the fond, series, and item level. Data content and values at the fonds level is comprehensive and includes:

• Title and date range
• Reference number
• Use information (restrictions, collection and issue status)
• Physical description, linear metres and quantity (folders and volumes)
• Context (arrangement and acquisition information, provenance, record types, general notes)
• Series and child records
• Subject keywords

Much of the data content is hyperlinked—enabling navigation to other records at various levels—and is quite specific, making metadata easy to interpret. At the item level 11 fields use similar as the fonds level values, less the subject keywords and full series links. However, there is no indication of what standard is used—something a number of libraries now make explicit (Wikipedia, 2011)—and it is unknown whether the metadata is reliable.

2.4 SUMMARY
Tapuhi is simple and easy to navigate, but at the expense of multi-directional searching. Its hierarchical and linear system suits a user with basic archival knowledge, items can be located easily, and its metadata gives enough detail to get a sense of arrangement and description. However access to the archive itself is non-existent: there are no links showing how to access or order the found record.

2.5. RECOMMENDATIONS
Thankfully, ‘Beta’ is better—it is well designed visually and has a ‘send an enquiry’ link on each page, allowing greater access to the actual archive. Side columns list various entry points and types of metadata, and a quick search suggests it is an improvement on Tapuhi.

3. ARCHWAY
Archway, the finding aid of Archives New Zealand, is different to Tapuhi in many ways. As New Zealand’s national archive, “many different people and organisations, including family historians, academics, legal researchers, professional historians and genealogists use the materials held at Archives New Zealand” (Archives New Zealand, 2011). Archway takes this diversity of users into account through a number of methods.

3.1. DESIGN
The visual aesthetic of Archway is subdued but thoughtful, simple enough to encourage use but not as stark as Tapuhi. Colour schemes play an important role to signify hyperlinks or retrievable information (gold), access (green, orange or red), and customised options (green). Because Archway can be used in a variety of ways, this design helps ground the user’s experience in what could be a very confusing process. A graph of the various levels of description and at what level the user is on is provided on every page. Key informational links such as ‘Searching In Archway’ are clearly labelled and easy to find.

3.2. SYSTEM 
ArchitectureArchway, too, begins with a keyword search. But the options for different entries to records are many, with advanced searches allowing the user to make use of Archway’s series system approach. There are seven levels (or types of descriptions) in Archway that enable full use of the archival principles of provenance and original order. A user can search at the records, series, organisational, functional, or agency level (and more), gaining important contextual information through its architecture and the administrative histories it provides. This process is very well described in the help sections, ensuring users of any level can make use of the finding aid.

How results are viewed can also be customised—as well as deciding on what level to enter, the user can order their results by date range, record title, department, access and location. Once customised, clicking a particular record on censorship then shows two tabs: ‘record information’ gives information on description, accession, and controlling agency—each hyperlinked to further information—and ‘ordering information’ gives reference numbers, access information and the option of ordering the record then and there.

3.3. METADATA
Archway uses metadata in different ways to Tapuhi. While title, date range, reference numbers, record type, accession and agency are provided on most records, they are not listed in a simple format. Apart from the title and date range, there is no metadata around the subject or content of a particular record. Instead, metadata content leads to more content through hyperlinks, especially at the series level, where broader context such as administrative histories and provenance is provided. In this way the metadata is more complex than Tapuhi and could effect ‘findability’, but the time needed to locate information drives home archival principles of arrangement and description—providing a wealth of contextual knowledge only implied in Tapuhi.

The data in Archway also serves another function—continued archival practice based on the continuum model. To do this Archway implements the Australian Series System and its related standards of metadata. This information, and information on the reliability of the content, is readily accessible to the user; for example, Archway points out that “the quality and completeness of this information does vary, and work is underway to bring it up to a consistent standard” (Archway, 2008).

3.4. SUMMARY
Archway is a complex and complete finding aid well suited to that of a National Archive. It balances the needs of a novice user with the competent researcher, and aids current archival practice for its host organization. Its series system fits archival arrangement and description, offering various points of entry and contextual information for the user.

3.5. RECOMMEDATIONS
Archway could be improved through the use of video and Web 2.0 technology. Video is a growing Internet tool with many organizations benefiting from its inclusion into their websites. It would allow the user to get a handle on Archway’s series approach and core archival principles, and provide richer search results. Web 2.0 would also allow users to see the comments and research trails of past users, and the use of tags could increase metadata and aid searching by subject.


4. CONCLUSION
The finding aids of two New Zealand repositories illustrate how differences in visual design, system architecture, and the use of metadata, produce a different experience for the user. While Tapuhi is simple and easy to use, it is restricted to classical arrangement and description and, despite ‘findability’, it is still hard to access the physical record. Archway, on the other hand, uses a series system that, despite the possibility of creating confusion, allows a wide range of users to partake in broad and context-rich searches. It is aware of its arrangement and description systems and the use of metadata standards, and suits the scope of a National archive. However both could still be improved, to the benefit of all users.


REFERENCES
International Council on Archives. (2000). ISAD(G): General International Standard Archival Description, Second Edition, Ottawa.

Alexander Turnbull Library. (2011). About Us. Accessed 25 October 2011 from http://www.natlib.govt.nz/about-us/role-vision/the-role-of-the-alexander-turnbull-library
 
Metadata. (2011, September 20). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Accessed 25 October 2011 from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Metadata&oldid=451465198
 
Archives New Zealand. (2011). About Us. Accessed 28 October 2011 from http://archives.govt.nz/about.
 
Archway. (2008). About Archway. Accessed 28 October from http://www.archway.archives.govt.nz/AboutArchway.do.