Anarcho-syndicalism in the 20th Century: free download

Damier's Anarcho-syndicalism in the 20th Century (which I reviewed here) has been released as a free PDF. It's a really good read—I definitely recommend it!

Download it here: http://libcom.org/library/anarcho-syndicalism-20th-century-vadim-damier

From my review:

For those who can read Russian, Vadim Damier’s two-volume study of the International Workers’ Association (IWA) is a comprehensive history of the worldwide anarchist labour movement in the early 20th Century. For the rest of us, Malcom Archibald has translated what is essentially a streamlined version of Damier’s larger work into English. Anarcho-syndicalism in the 20th Century is a broad survey of a movement often marginalised by Marxist academics, and is a welcome addition to the existing literature on anarcho-syndicalism. As Damier illustrates, anarcho-syndicalism was far from a outmoded, ineffective or petty-bourgeois movement — the practice of direct action and revolutionary struggle controlled and self-managed by the workers themselves extended to all countries of the world.  

It's time to get organised! Join Beyond Resistance

With the National Government steadily sweeping away what little crumbs of a living we have left, it’s time to get organised. Cuts to welfare, draconian earthquake laws, union busting and employment nightmares — all in the first term. What they get away with next depends on our ability to resist. And we don’t mean voting in Labour (who would do exactly the same).

If you are based in Aotearoa, sick of the situation we’re up against, and want to see a change, then let’s get together. By joining Beyond Resistance we multiply our skills and our strengths, and face the ills of our society collectively rather than on our own. Only in Solidarity can we truly effect change.

Contact otautahianarchists[at]gmail[dot]com to find out more, or check out our website on how to join. You can either join as an individual from anywhere in Aotearoa, or if there’s members nearby, you can join (or start) a Local.

It’s time for anarchists in Aotearoa to be heard!

Interview with Justseeds printmaker Dylan Miner

The Norwegian art quarterly Måg Magazine just published their new issue which includes an extensive interview with Justseeds artist and creator of the Joe Hill image for my book, Dylan Miner. View the issue online here.

Gardens and Forests? Two perspectives on archival outreach

Yet another MIS paper, the last for my 'Archives, Advocacy and Outreach' course, taught by Wendy Duff. For this paper we were asked to compare and contrast 'user-centred' and 'materials-centred' approaches to outreach.

The only constant in this world is change. However, from my limited knowledge of archives, change in that world seems at a pace slower than most. And probably for good reason. The core archival theories guiding acquisition, appraisal, description and preservation currently serve their purpose, and on the most part, serve it well. Yet there is a missing but equally important element: the ‘global south’ of archives that is outreach.

Outreach, also known as public programming, is one way that archives create awareness and promote use through things like public events, physical or online exhibitions, and educational or in-school workshops (to name but a few). Unfortunately, this aspect of archival work is either viewed as not important by some repositories, or they simply do not have the time or funds to spare. For many archives outreach is like a mid-winter tropical sojourn, a nice thought, but often unattainable.

 In spite of these difficulties, a change in perspective on archival outreach has come to the fore in the last 20-30 years. Writers such as Elsie Freeman, Randall Jimerson, Timothy Ericson, and others, have been pushing outreach to the forefront of archival theory. At the frontline of this push is the user, with an increased focus on their search techniques and their current (rather than future) needs. This user-centred approach not so much departs from the traditional archival viewpoint, but places emphasis on one of its key components: use.

However this change is far from accepted in the archival world. Writers such as Terry Cook—while supporting improvements in outreach—warns that taken to the extreme, a focus on the user instead of a focus on the records themselves could have dire consequences for the archival profession. For Cook, it is a matter of the message outreach conveys, and that message has to be the value of the record in its context.

Both the user-focus of Ericson, and the materials-focus of Cook, has important repercussions for archives and archival theory—not only in outreach, but the way records are used, and how they are appraised. It is these two facets of archival theory that concerns archivists such as Cook, and the focus of this text.

GARDENS & FORESTS: TWO PERSPECTIVES ON OUTREACH

“The archival profession has fallen short of the mark in promoting archival materials…” writes Ericson in Archivaria 31, “…it is the inevitable afterthought” (Ericson, 1990/91, p.114, 116). Archivists have become “preoccupied with our own gardens, and too little aware of the larger historical and social landscape around us” (Ham, 1981, as cited in Ericson, p.115). As a result, the promotion and use of archives for current users (and non-users) is far from what it could be.

According to Ericson and a number of others writing about outreach, this neglect of the record’s use, and those who use them, is the result of outreach playing second fiddle to acquisition and description. “Availability and use are last…when, in fact, they should be first. This may seem like a minor point, but the consequences are insidious. Outreach and use come last… something to be undertaken when all the rest of the work has been done” (Ericson, p.116). Naturally, when time and funding is stretched, those at the bottom of the archival ladder (such as outreach) suffer.

If the purpose of preserving archival materials is so that they will be used (Eriscon, p.114), then outreach should be tied to an archive’s mission statement, and sit alongside (or even in front) of other archival principles:

the goal is use. We need continually to remind ourselves of this fact. Identification, acquisition, description and the rest are simply the means we use to achieve this goal. They are tools. We may employ all these tools skilfully; but if, after we brilliantly and meticulously appraise, arrange, describe and conserve our records, nobody comes to use them, then we have wasted out time (Ericson, p.117).

This shift towards outreach and the user is what Malbin describes as being user-centred: “the increasingly widespread, mostly American school, which favours a user-centred approach,” including user-friendly finding aids and indexes arranged by subject (1997, p.70). According to this school, archivists should concentrate on ‘translating’ archival theory (such as provenance) into a form more understandable to the typical user’s needs (Malbin, p.70).

Lowrence Dowler echoes this trend: “use, rather than the form of material, is the basis on which archival practice and theory ought to be constructed” (1988, as cited in Cook, p.125). The value of records and the information they contain is not in the record’s context, but in “the relationship between the use of information and the ways in which it is or can be provided” (1988, as cited in Cook, p.125). It is this relationship that should define archival practice.

But for archivists such as Terry Cook, this shift in archival theory could undermine both it “and the very richness of that documentary heritage” which outreach would make available (Cook, 1990/91, p.123). Cook’s fears are not in making archives more accessible (something he supports), but in extending a user-centred approach to the two main archival functions of appraisal and description—in other words, what we keep, and how it will be found by the user. According to Cook, rather than making records instantly available, outreach needs to ensure the right message is being delivered. That message is the unique value of the record when viewed through the lens of archival theory.

This view represents a materials-centred approach, and arguably the dominant discourse of archival theory. For Cook, “archives are not just collections of individual documents but, rather, a blend of what is in all of them” (Malbin, p.71). Knowledge is gained through the record’s richness, the contextual significance of the record, and the collections in which they are found. Rather than “focusing on that isolated tree,” archivists, through educating users on the power of provenance, should lead their users “through the grand archival forest, with all its fascinating paths and interesting byways” (Cook, p.128).

 Cook argues that the key principles of archival theory—provenance, original order, context and the like—imply “a sense of understanding, of ‘knowledge,’ rather than the merely efficient retrieval of names, dates, subjects, or whatever, all devoid of context, that is ‘information’” (Cook, 1984/85, as cited in Cook, p.128). Records do not simply provide facts and figures, but offer a unique insight into the creator of the record and the larger society to which they belong. Treating a record as containing mere data or information negates its archival value.

Cook is concerned that if outreach is promoted at the expense of archival theory, then the current and future use of records is threatened. A user-centred approach to appraisal, while increasing service for today’s users, could be to the detriment of future use. And while outreach should not “be the tail unthinkingly following the appraisal and description dog, it is no healthier that [outreach] should wag the entire archival dog” (Cook, p.127).

USE, INFORMATION & KNOWLEDGE

There is no question that outreach should be prime and centre in the role of an archive. As well as ensuring that our cultural heritage is accessed by a wide variety of people in order to create new knowledge, outreach is needed for the very existence of archives itself—even more so a neo-liberal world overly concerned with outcomes and profit margins. As Tapscott and Williams, when discussing Web 2.0 and outreach, put it: we must “harness the new collaboration or perish” (2006, as cited in Daines & Nimer, 2009).

Outreach and public programming creates an awareness of the archive and what it does. It can aid current users and act as the catalyst for new ones. Online exhibitions, educational programs in schools, workshops and events, and innovative digital tools that bring archives to the streets (such as being able to text a number and find out information about that street or place), all aid in the use of archival documents. Outreach activities “teach people that archives are places to which they may come for information” (Ericson, p.119).

But does this use come at expense of archival principles? And if so, what knowledge is being gained? For Cook, if outreach is taken to its limit at the expense of the archival message, archives would be turned into “the McDonald’s of Information, where everything is carefully measured to meet every customer profile and every market demographic” (Cook, p.127). This is because ‘information’ and ‘knowledge’ is not the same thing.

In the same issue of Archivaria as Ericson, Cook quotes Theodore Roszak to describe the differences of information and knowledge: “information is not knowledge. You can mass-produce raw data and incredible quantities of facts and figures. You cannot mass-produce knowledge, which is created by individual minds, drawing on individual experience, separating the significant from the irrelevant, making value judgements” (as cited in Cook, p.128). The knowledge gained from records through their original order, their provenance, and an understanding of the societal context in which they were created, is threatened when a record is pulled from its collection and instantly served to the user “on a silver platter” (Cook, p.125). It may service their need, but at a price. That price is archival value.

Instead, archivists need to get back to the records themselves, and to the unique power of provenance. Although difficult for the Google generation to grapple, archival theory on record creation and description is important because of the uniqueness of archives: “archives are not like libraries, nor should they be” (Malbin, p.71). The power of provenance ensures the user is not limited to “a diet of fast food, of quick hits of facts, names and dates without context and without much meaning” (Cook, p.131), but a rich experience of knowledge making.

Cook argues: “every user from the genealogist looking for a single fact or a copy of a single documents through the most sophisticated researcher using ‘discourse’ methodology would benefit from this materials-centred approach to archives” (Cook, p.130). This is because the retrieval of information is not a logical, analytical and linear process, but a holistic, intuitive and creative one (Ketelaar, 1988, as cited in Cook, p.129). Therefore finding aids structured to the users current needs, or description that caters to subjects only, would hinder the holistic search process, fragment the organic relationships of archives, and endanger a record’s coherence. “In the rush to produce more sophisticated and more comprehensive finding aids better to assist the researcher, turning him or her into a one-minute expert, grave risks presents themselves to archivists and researchers alike” (Cook, p.126). For Cook, these grave risks also include how records would be appraised.

TRENDY CONSUMERISM OR PRAGMATIC ACQUISITION: USER-CENTRED APPRAISAL

“A deep and dangerous theoretical iceberg,” is how Cook responded to the extension of a user-centred approach to appraisal. For writers such as Freeman, however, it is more a case of bringing records above the surface in order to be used today, rather than a preoccupation with the explorers of tomorrow. Archivists need to “consider less the uses of the future and turn more to identifying the users and uses of today” (Gracy, 1986, as cited in Cook, p.125). Because of this eye on the future, the ‘products’ archives hold “do not supply what users want or, far more important, what they will actually use,” writes Freeman; “a look at how and why users approach records will give us new criteria for appraising records” (1984, as cited in Cook, p.126).

Knowing what the user wants or needs and acquiring records for that purpose, ensures the records are relevant, and above all, used. Archivists should “respond to the needs of users, rather than the expectations of archivists” (Blais & Enn, 1990, as cited in Cook, p.124). Although this would require a “radical rethinking” of archival theory, the advocates of such an approach content that the user, and archives, would benefit—through increased use and increased funding. In all probability, this would lead to an awareness and use of the archives not yet seen in its history.

However for Cook, such an approach is a disaster in the making. “Archivists do not (and should not!) want to acquire labour records this week, women’s diaries next week, or scientific lab reports after that” Cook, p.131). Appraising and collection records should never be based on “trendy consumerism” or the “transient whims of users” (Cook, p.130), because such an approach would destroy the unique value of archives—that is, the accurate reflection of the “functions, ideas and activities or records creators and those with whom they interact” (Cook, p.130).

Having a window on how a society functioned and the values that prevailed through the archival record, is the key to appraisal (and the very function of archives). Acquisition based on current use would provide a fragmented, rather than a holistic view on the period in question. Instead, it is better to develop criteria “to ensure that the records acquired reflect the values, patterns and functions of society today, or for older records, of the society contemporary with the records’ creators” (Cook, p.130). In this way “all kinds of research will be supported” (Cook, p.130).

Cook makes it clear that he is not supporting “cultural elitism” (Cook, p. 131), but ensuring that the uniqueness of records and the insights they provide are not negated by appraisal dictated by transient whims or quick-strike answers. Rather, Cook urges “archivists to step back from being superficial McDonald’s of Information or flashy Disney-Worlds of Heritage Entertainment, and step forward to providing all researchers with relevance, meaning, understanding and knowledge” (Cook, p.131). Because in the end, providing records in context in order to make knowledge is what an archive does best (even if it happens at a snail’s pace).

CONCLUSION

The seeds of change are taking root in modern archives. A user-centred approach is coming to the fore, lead by American archivists and writers such as Freeman and Ericson. This emphasis on the user and use of records has the potential to change the world of archives—from its public perception to the archival profession itself.

However, whether that change is for the better is open to question. For if change comes at the expense of key archival theory, then is the change worth it? If the goal of archives is facilitating use that makes sense of a particular period in question, and to create knowledge through an understanding of a record’s wider context (rather than accessing mere information), then the jettisoning of key archival theories is problematic, to say the least. Instead, archivists such as Cook reaffirm the power of provenance and a materials-centred approach in the quest for meaning and knowledge.

Perhaps the question archivists should be asking is: “how can we combine outreach with key archival principles, at the expense of neither?” For it is the combination of these components, rather than the privileging of one over another, that could steer change in the most beneficial direction. Instead of disregarding archival principles of provenance, original order, context and the like for more palatable translations for the public, archives—through education and outreach—should promote why such techniques are used, and the unique value they bring to research.

The last word on these two views of outreach goes to Terry Cook (sorry Ericson): “the user should also be led to information about the contextual significance of that document… that is informed public service; that is exciting public programming; that is making archival users knowledgeable rather than loaded down, however efficiently, with facts and copies of detached documents floating around devoid of context” (Cook, p.131).

REFERENCES

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

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

Ericson, T. L. (1990/91). Preoccupied with our own gardens: Outreach and archivists. Archivaria, 31 (Winter), 114-122.

Book Update: Justseeds blog post

By Dylan Miner over at the justseeds.org blog: Justseeds' friend and proprietor of Garage Collective, Jared Davidson has recently completed his manuscript for Remains to be Seen: Tracing Joe Hill's Ashes in New Zealand. Although not out yet, this amazing book studies the IWW in Aotearoa and looks specifically at what happens to Hill's ashes once they were shipped following his execution in Utah.

Jared asked me to do the cover illustration, which I happily obliged. Keep your eyes open for this which should be released by Rebel Press in the near future. Also, keep your eyes to Justseeds for this print becoming available for purchase.

Fee or free: Public library services in the face of economic hardship

Another essay for MIS. I think the economic section would be rather different if I had more space to bring in an anarchist critique of economics... maybe next time. Image by Mary Tremonte (http://justseeds.org).

INTRODUCTION 

As neo-liberal economics and the downward cycles of the capitalist system deepen, social institutions such as public libraries are beginning to come under the increasing scrutiny of those in power. Questions around free library services have crescendoed in parts of the developed world, and are beginning to reverberate throughout the offices of policy makers in New Zealand. In April 2010, the Tauranga City Council announced that it was exploring the introduction of user-charges for general issue books. Green MP, Gareth Hughes, quickly pointed out the irony of such an announcement coming during the United Nation’s Literacy Decade (Hughes, 2010, par.4). But irony doesn’t concern the powers that be in their quest for profits. So what arguments can be made for free public libraries the face of increasing economic hardship?

Advocates of user-charges often draw upon economic perspectives to justify their position. Yet the services and benefits of a public library cannot always be measured in purely economic terms. In response, the defenders of free public libraries often talk about its benefits in terms of their impact on society. Far from abstract or philosophical ideals without any bearing on everyday life, the social benefits of a free public library include equal access to information, and the building of community, social inclusion and social capital through a free public space. These benefits also have economic ramifications, as advocates of free public libraries are increasingly trying to illustrate.

The negative impact user-charges would have on society at large—or more specifically, the access to information, democratic participation, social wellbeing and economic activity—makes a strong social and economic case against the introduction of user-charges.


FEE OR FREE: A QUESTION OF VALUES

‘Free’ in New Zealand means “free access to the collections and information held by the library, free membership to LTA residents who already fund the library through rates, and the right to borrow library materials free of charge, except when those materials are due” (Chamberlain & Chamberlain, 2007, p.69). For most libraries, this is still the case. However over a quarter of New Zealand libraries have fees beyond the traditional costs of membership (usually the cost of the plastic membership card): “in Matamata, borrowers have to pay $1 a week to rent ordinary non-bestseller books” (Campbell, 2010, par.1). Advocates of user-charges would like to see this trend extended to most, if not all, public library services.

The introduction of user-charges can partly be explained by the prevailing values of Neo-liberalism: “policies and processes whereby a relative handful of private interests are permitted to control as much as possible of social life in order to maximize their personal profit. This includes the management and provision of social services” (McChesney, 1999, par.1).

As a result, advocates of user-charges often view library services and their benefits in a strictly economic sense—a supply and demand model where a customer (user) should be able to choose the information commodities and services they deem valuable, at a cost set by the market. Following this, “advocates of a ‘user pays’ philosophy believe that charges will indicate true levels of demand” (Chamberlain & Chamberlain, 2007, p.69), and that price is a measure of value (Casper, 1979, p.304).

However the business world of returns and maximum profits conflict with the social values of a free public library. Creativity, freedom, altruism and equality—although often imprecise and hard to measure— are “no less valid” (Smith, 1981, p.2). In contrast to the library as a place to purchase information commodities, advocates of the free public library hold that:

the publicly funded library… despite some current tendencies which have identified it as a purely recreational service… is the collective memory of our society and is part and parcel of the complex organization which feeds the culture through service to the individual. (Smith, 1981, p.7).

Yet modern libraries do more than just feed culture. Public libraries of today “engage, inspire and inform citizens and help build strong communities” by incorporating “community gathering places with cafés, associated council services, learning centres, lounge areas, community meeting rooms and parenting rooms” (Local Government of New Zealand, Library and Information Association of New Zealand, National Library of New Zealand [LGNZ, LIANZ, NLNZ], 2006, p.8). These are services unique to libraries not often found elsewhere.

Advocates of user-charges argue people should not pay for something they do not use—that libraries are for the benefit of the few (Casper, 1979). However the services provided by libraries are being used more frequently and by more people than ever before. In a New Zealand survey of cultural activities and spending, “public libraries were the second most popular cultural activity,” behind the purchasing of books (LGNZ, LIANZ, NLNZ, 2006, p.9). In times of economic hardship, use has increased even more. 81% of economically impacted Americans have a library card, are 50% more likely to visit their library at least weekly, and are nearly a third more likely to visit at least once a month (OCLC, 2010). During economic hardship, belief in the value of the public library to the community also increased by over 31% (OCLC, 2010, p.45).

When charges have been introduced, “the use of the library has declined so dramatically that some charges have been withdrawn or reduced” (Chamberlain & Chamberlain, 2007, p.70). In Ashburton user-charges were cancelled due a drop in patronage of around 40% (Campbell, 2010, par.16). User-charges directly affect access, which in turn, affects the use of library services and their social and economic benefits.


TO HAVE OR HAVE-NOT 

The neo-liberal paradigm ignores the benefits of modern (and future) libraries that cannot be measured in monetary terms, and threatens the values on which libraries were founded: equal access to information. The ability to freely access information is the cornerstone of a healthy and just society. “People, communities, and organizations need, for their physical, mental, democratic, and economic wellbeing, free access to information…” (LGNZ, LIANZ, NLNZ, 2006, p.7). Public libraries fulfil this need, and are a key part of ‘information democracy’ (LGNZ, LIANZ, NLNZ, 2006).

User-charges erode the fundamental right to participation in democratic life, by limiting the information needed for participation to those who can afford it. Dressed up in the rhetoric of choice, charges as a level of demand and price as a measure of value masks the fact that there are major socio-economic differences between the users (and non-users) of libraries. Two-thirds of New Zealanders earn less than two-thirds of the average wage, while the gap between rich and poor is the sixth biggest in the developed world (Oosterman, 2010).

A person’s income has an overwhelming impact on the access and use of library services. Mathews confirmed, “…the socio-economic status of the surrounding population is the most important factor in determining how much use will be made of the public library” (2001, p.3). Users with higher levels of income frequented the library more than others with lower incomes.

Income is also the major contributing factor to the digital divide—the gap between those with access to computers, the Internet, and online information and those who lack it (Warschauer, 2010, p.1551). A US study found that only 55% of those with household incomes under $30,000 used the Internet, compared to 93% of those over $75,000 (Warshauer, 2010, p.1551). In New Zealand, “lower-income households remain less likely than higher income households to use the Internet” (Bell et al, 2009, p.3).

The availability of information addresses these disadvantages, “by ensuring free and equitable access to collections for all community members” (NSW Public Library Network [NSWPLN], 2009, p.8). Through the Aotearoa People’s Network Kakaroa (APNK), libraries in New Zealand have successfully filled this role—facilitating participation in the democratic process, increasing library usage, and combating the digital divide by providing free access to computers and the Internet. A 2011 APNK Impact Evaluation found that 39% of those surveyed had visited their local council’s website at the library, people using the libraries increased by over 80%, and for 42% of the respondents, the public library was their only means of accessing the Internet (Brocklesby & Simpson-Edwards, 2011, pp.4, 5, 34).

It is clear that if user-charges were introduced, not everyone could afford to access information. Monetary barricades in the form of user-charges affects those already marginalised, and continues the physical and digital division of society along socio-economic lines. It would silence the voice of the ‘have-nots’ in the participation of democracy, and compromise the valuable role libraries play as the providers of information—both on site and online.


SOCIAL SPACE: SOCIAL WELLBEING 

As public spaces are increasingly privatised the need for a free public space is more pressing than ever before, especially for those excluded from social participation. Libraries provide a warm, inviting—and most importantly—non-commercial space that fosters social inclusion and community development, regardless of socio-economic status. The library as a ‘third’ space is a crucial factor for such development.

A survey of users in New South Wales found “the library’s value as a place that is a safe, harmonious, welcoming and inclusive environment was the most quoted contribution [to social wellbeing]” (NSWPLN, 2009, p.8). By acting as a neutral meeting space accessible to all, libraries promote acceptance and understanding of others not often found elsewhere.

Even in the digital age, the “online library has not become a substitute for visiting the library in person” (OCLC, 2010, p.97). This is because “the library building—the way it is designed, located, configured and maintained—has real significance in creating a welcoming and stimulating environment” (LGNZ, LIANZ, NLNZ, 2006, p.40).

The physical space of the library creates “social interaction among people with common interests who may never otherwise meet” (NSWPLN, 2009, p.8). This is of special value for immigrants and ethnic groups for aiding community participation and integration. Multicultural programs, reading and parent groups, literacy courses, literary events and exhibitions encourage interaction and wellbeing by creating social capital—the connections between people that improve quality of life and provide ‘life-chances’. Social capital also has economic benefits: “hhealthier lifestyles, and higher levels of educational attainment… in turn helps promote economic development” (Horton, 2006, p.504).

The uniqueness of the library as a free public space is illustrated by what happens when that space is no longer available. “One study in England that examined the impact of the closing of public libraries due to a strike determined that although nine out of ten users missed the library, only 9 percent replaced their library use with nonlibrary-oriented activities (Mathews, 2001, p.69). The library was missed because it was “a meeting point… a place to participate in social events [and] to meet or chat to people” (Proctor, Sobczyk, & Usherwood, 1996, p.27). For many, the library as a free social space is simply non-replaceable.

If “the overall social health of a society reflects the strength of voluntary and community associations within it” (Horton, 2006, as cited in Selwood, 2002, p.30), the libraries role in creating social capital should not be hindered by user-charges. They would alienate and eliminate a large number of users, especially new migrants or economically impacted individuals with a real need for such a space.


MONEY, MONEY, MONEY

Social institutions are constantly under the neo-liberal axe, especially in times of economic hardship. Funding is cut and libraries are closed, because in neo-liberal terms, they are financially unviable. However, evidence of a positive return on investment and the creation of economic activity illustrate that libraries are indeed economically sound.

Studies have shown that patronage of a public library significant aids the surrounding retail economy. One retailer noted a 10% increase in turnover after a library was established nearby, while another estimated library users spent $50 in their store per library visit (Brown & Morris, 2004, p.132). Library closures also have economic consequences. During the Sheffield Libraries strike, nearly a quarter of all users surveyed visited their local centre less often because of the library closure (Proctor, Sobczyk, & Usherwood, 1996, p.37).

A 2008 summary of Wisconsin Public libraries found they contributed $753,699,545 to the Wisconsin economy (Wisconsin Department of Public Instruction [WDPI], 2008). This figure does not include the range of economic benefits that arise from social interaction at a library due to the difficulty of measuring such benefits. The surrounding retail economy is also not included. If they had, the libraries economic contribution would be considerably larger. Far from a liability, the summary also found that return on investment was $4.06 for each dollar of taxpayer spent on libraries (WDPI, 2008),

A 2009 survey of New South Wales users found public libraries generated $810.2 million of economic activity—the equivalent of $2.82 for every dollar expended (NSWPLN, 2009). Benefits included supporting local businesses through access to information, increased tourism via library events, and employment for both library staff and those seeking it: the “survey found that 8.1% of respondents credited the public library as helping them obtain a new job or promotion and that 14% credited the public library as making them more productive in their jobs” (NSWPLN, p.10). Like Wisconsin libraries, these benefits equate to a return of investment of $4.24 per dollar spent (NSWPLN, 2009).

Free libraries stimulate and support the economic development needed in times of economic hardship. A decline in patronage due to user-charges would have significant economic effects, both directly (the surrounding retail economy) and less-directly (the wider economy). Libraries also save the taxpayer money: “in the event that public libraries did not exist, it was estimated that annual expenditure on government school libraries would increase by $24.4 million” (NSWPLN, 2009, p.10).


CONCLUSION 

Neo-liberal attempts to control and profit from social institutions conflict with the social values of the free public library and the benefits of its unique services. As a result, the introduction of user-charges in times of economic hardship would have a number of dire consequences—both socially and economically.

The access and use of library services currently enjoyed by those with lower incomes would be severely curtailed, minimizing democratic participation and fostering socio-economic divisions already prevalent in society. The privileging of monetary transactions and the move towards libraries as a commercial space also compromises the free and neutral public meeting space needed for social wellbeing. Introducing user-charges would also diminish the economic benefits of the library due to lower patronage.

Libraries are a core social service with wider benefits than monetary returns. Instead of a business model concerned with increased profit margins:

measurement of social institutions should encompass the extent to which they deliver superior performance, make a distinctive impact, and achieve lasting endurance. These measures are ones that rely little on how much or how often or who owns what, and rely not at all on becoming “more like a business” (Wilson, 2007, as cited in Collins, 2005).

It is clear free public libraries make a distinctive impact—on those who use them, and the communities who have them. It is also clear user-charges would have a distinctive impact—for all the wrong reasons.

—Jared Davidson


REFERENCES

Bell, A., Billot, J., Crothers, C., Gibson, A., Goodwin, I., Sherman, K., Smith, N., & Smith, P. (2010). The Internet in New Zealand: 2007–2009. Auckland: Institute of Culture, Discourse and Communication, AUT University.

Brocklesby, J. & Simpson-Edwards, M., (2011). Aotearoa People’s Network Kaharoa: An Impact Evaluation. Retrieved 13 April 2011 from http://www.aotearoapeoplesnetwork.org/content/documentation

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Horton, S. (2006). Social capital, government policy and public value: Implications for archive service delivery. Aslib Proceedings: New Information Perspectives, 58(6), 502-512.

Hughes, G. (2010). Read all about it—Tauranga library to charge for books. Retrieved 10 April 2011 from http://blog.greens.org.nz/2010/04/19/read-all-about-it-tauranga-library-to-charge-for-books/

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Extreme hardcore: birth of the blast beat

There's debate around who pioneered the blast beat first. Many cite Napalm Death (UK), but they were heavily influenced by extreme hardcore bands such as Siege (Boston, USA), among others. It would be fair to say that Swedish band Asocial are among the first, with their 1982 EP, How Could Hardcore Be Any Worse?

Other extreme hardcore bands around 1982/83 who used blast beats include Youth Korps (USA):

and DRI (USA):

A little later (1984) Siege was putting extreme hardcore on the map:

Worthy of a mention is Deep Wound (USA) who were pretty fast for 1983 (and feature future Dinosaur Jr members):

Gang Green (USA) gets overlooked but they too were super fast on their first EP:

Total Chaoz (Pre-Larm) from Holland are also worthy of a mention:

I'm sure I've missed a heap of bands (especially Japanese HC and other European HC bands), as well as those outside of hardcore who were using blast beats in the 1960's (Jazz musicians, for example).

So I wrote a book...

In between babies, work and now study, I've been quietly trying to find out what happened to Joe Hill's ashes in New Zealand. It's been a form of escapism which has rewarded me with new skills and new knowledge—plus it's been fun trawling archives. Now that I've come to the close of my research, it's going to be coming out as a book. Here's the blurb for Remains to be Seen: Tracing Joe Hill's ashes in 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.” His fellow ‘Wobblies’, remaining faithful to his Last Will, did one better. After two massive funerals, Hill’s body was cremated, his ashes placed into 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 is known about what happened to the ashes of Joe Hill in New Zealand. If some kind of ceremony had taken place, there are no oral or written records that recall such an event. 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 happened to them?

‘Remains to be Seen’ traces the ashes of Joe Hill, from their distribution in Chicago to wartime New Zealand. Evidence is provided to suggest Hill’s ashes were not scattered around the World on May Day 1916 as commonly believed, and draws on previously unseen archival material to examine the persecution of anarchists, socialists and Wobblies in New Zealand during the First World War. It also examines how intense censorship measures — put in place by the National Coalition Government of William Massey and zealously enforced by New Zealand’s Solicitor-General, Sir John Salmond — effectively silenced and suppressed the IWW in New Zealand."

Thanks to the peeps at Rebel Press, the thing is going to be published very soon. They've also been cool with me doing all the design myself, which is rad. Check back for more updates—hopefully there will be a bit of a book launch/tour (really an excuse to go to Wellington...), but in the meantime, here's a spread from the book.

Operation 8: the movie

nzherald.co.nz: If you're not paranoid, you haven't been paying attention. It's an old line, coined half in wry humour, half in deadly earnest, but it has a special pungency for Wellington filmmaker Errol Wright.

Wright and co-director Abi King-Jones have spent most of the last three years making Operation 8, a restrained, even sober survey of the October 2007 "anti-terror raids" and their aftermath, that patiently paints a disturbing picture of the use of state force to suppress political dissent.

Wright is aware that the undertaking will have attracted close official attention. He recalls driving along a remote road late one evening and noticing a car a couple of hundred metres behind.
"My cellphone rang," he says, "so I pulled over to answer it. And the other car pulled over 200m back. Then when I drove off, it continued to follow me."

The incident spurred Wright to write to the Security Intelligence Service asking what information it held about him. He shows me the short letter he received in response. Over the signature of director Warren Tucker, it declines to confirm or deny that the SIS holds anything. In doing so, the letter says, it relies on section 32 of the Privacy Act, which allows an agency to withhold information if its release could "prejudice the maintenance of the law".

"Which is a yes," chips in King-Jones.

"We have just taken the view that we expect there will be surveillance [of us] and we carry on. It's not a very nice feeling, but it brings you closer to the world of the people you are documenting."

The events of October 15, 2007 introduced the word "terrorist" into our domestic political discourse for the first time since 9/11 made it the century's most electrifying buzzword. More than 300 police raided 60 houses around the country, many in the Ruatoki valley in the heart of Tuhoe country.
The raids, which resulted in 18 arrests, followed more than a year of surveillance and related to an alleged paramilitary training camp deep in the forests of the Urewera ranges.

Within less than four weeks, the police case was in tatters: charges laid under the Terrorism Suppression Act 2002 were dropped after the Solicitor-General declined to prosecute them. He specifically defended the police action, but said there was insufficient evidence to sustain the charges, brought under legislation he called "complex and incoherent" and "almost impossible to apply to domestic circumstances".

The firearms charges that remain are scheduled to be heard - controversially before a judge alone, not a jury, for reasons that have themselves been suppressed - next month in Auckland.

Operation 8 - the film takes its title from the police codename for the 2007 raids - deliberately avoids using an instructive or tendentious voiceover. But it provides a pretty useful summary of a story which, its makers fear, has fallen off the public radar.

"I think a lot of people are saying 'whatever happened with that? Are they in prison?'," says King-Jones. "Other people think the whole issue was finished when the Solicitor-General made the decision. People want to know - and they need to know - what happened and why."

What's new about the film is that it gives a voice to those who have so far been voiceless. The opening shots, a helicopter-eye view of the forest, plays over the words of 12-year-old Patricia Lambert, caught in the raids on Tuhoe.

"I saw all these people in black," she says. "It was really scary."

Patricia ushers in the testimony of others in Tuhoe and elsewhere whose stories of police actions would be comical if they were not so chilling: unlocked doors kicked down; fences smashed a few metres from a wide-open gate; children and grannies in their nightwear, kneeling on wet concrete at gunpoint; officers yelling "you will be sent to Guantanamo!".

Meanwhile a gallery of talking heads including security analyst Paul Buchanan, law professor Jane Kelsey and lawyer Moana Jackson comment lucidly and disturbingly on the original actions and the conduct of the case since.

There is testimony from former cops too, including Ross Meurant, whose contribution lent the film its subtitle "Deep in the Forest", and a one-time undercover man who makes some troubling inferences from the size of a police application for a surveillance warrant.

Wright and King-Jones are aware of the charge that they sometimes appear almost to merge with their subjects. At one point, one of the more eloquent of those arrested, Valerie Morse, accosts Detective Sergeant Aaron Pascoe, the head of the operation, outside the Auckland District Court. "Do you really think I am a terrorist?", she asks.

The microphone she thrusts towards him is plugged into King's camera and I feel constrained to ask him whether he has crossed the invisible, but important, line between a documentarian and his subject.
"I think it's impossible to be totally neutral when you are making something. It's very difficult to understand what the environment is for being a political activist in NZ if you don't spend enough time finding out."

Adds King-Jones: "When you collect all this observational material, you get to know these people. It's an important part of the process because these people are in a way quite isolated because of what they have been through. You have to get over their very understandable suspicion. They are wondering 'Are you someone that can be trusted?' or 'What's your angle?', that sort of thing. You can't really separate yourself from your environment."

No one disputes that most, if not all, of the 18 have a history of activism. But the film raises concerns about the role police anti-terrorism measures can play in stifling the legitimate dissent that is the lifeblood of democracy.

Wright and King-Jones point out that what might be dubbed the "protest movement" has been sidelined since the 1970s when political dissent was commonplace.

"It's been really crushed in the last 10 or 20 years," says Wright, "and this was a further crunch."
In any case they are impatient with the notion of objectivity, a term commonly used by people who wish something had been slanted their way.

"[In the raid], 18 people were arrested, 60 houses smashed into, stuff turned totally upside down," says Wright. "The police got to present their point of view through the media and they called press conferences all the time. They have a whole full-time PR team at Police National HQ. They are very well-resourced to look after their own interests. And at the same time, you have these people who really have no voice."

So is their film a dispassionate or activist one?

"Both, really," says King-Jones. "It's about allowing the audience to hear and see something and take away from it what they want. They don't want to be banged over the head with anything. But you want to be able to take them by the hand and lead them somewhere and say: 'What do you think of that?'."
Unsurprisingly the pair are hoping for a good turnout at the screenings - and even a bit of noise. "It's an opportunity for people to take stock of where this country is going," says Wright, "and ask themselves whether we want this kind of country. Because if we don't rein it in soon we are going to be in too deep."

King-Jones: "I just hope that audiences will get a first-hand experience of the people who were targeted. If you are able to get a broader picture of where this has all come from, maybe you will go away from it being more aware of what's going on."

Operation 8: Deep In The Forest screens at the Paramount in Wellington tomorrow at 2.45pm and at Skycity Theatre in Auckland on Monday at 3pm and 8.15pm as part of the World Cinema Showcase.

New Archives video

New video from Archives New Zealand, describing a little bit of what they do, and why. Quite good really.

From Christchurch to Chiapas: Red Fed poster in Mexico

Over at Justseeds.org the team have just posted a few pics of some Celebrate People's History posters subverting the Mexican scenery — including my poster on the New Zealand 'Red' Federation of Labor (far right). Next time I'll have do do a version in Spanish!

Absence, Archives, and Assignments...

I haven't posted here in a while — the Christchurch earthquake, an obsession with my research on Joe Hill, and becoming a student has meant this wee blog has been neglected. Sorry blog.

I'm going to be posting up essays and things from my Postgrad Certificate (eventually Masters) in Information Studies. I'm not sure if anyone will find them interesting, but hey, it's better than them sitting on my desktop.

Here's assignment number one: to critically review two online Archive exhibitions at Archives NZ.


Exhibition Review
With the growth of archive advocacy, archives across the globe are employing the use of online exhibitions. Like the museum sector before them, the power of the object (the record) and the access to our collective heritage is being promoted in the virtual realm. Unlike the museum sector however, archival exhibitions come with a number of concerns unique to its field. These include principles of original order, the loss of archival bonds, the importance of the record’s context (provenance, integrity, authenticity), and the level of interpretation provided.

This essay aims to highlight the formalist and analyst approach to interpretation as identified by Peter Lester (Lester, 2001), through the examination of two online Archives New Zealand exhibitions. Both ‘Passchendale Casualty Forms’ and ‘An Impressive Silence’ deal with New Zealand’s involvement in the First World War, but in very different ways and with very different results.

Passchendaele Casualty Forms

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). As well as general records pertaining to each soldier, casualty forms are also included. ‘Passchendaele Casualty Forms’ makes a selection of these records available as an easy to use online exhibition.

Upon ‘entering’ the exhibition, the viewer is greeted with a brief explanation on the series’ original source and the selected files on show. The records are accessed through an alphabetically organised 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 Archway (Archives New Zealand’s finding aid) in order find out more on that particular soldier. In Flanders Fields, a poem by John McCrae, serves as the solitary contextual information alongside the records.

The usability of the exhibition is excellent. A clean and concise layout, coupled with a linear process, enables the user to easily find the records on show. However this comes at the expense of a choice-led experience through the exhibition, and the possibility of user interaction. There are no hyper links to outside contextual information, and the user is confined to exploring the records as determined by the structure of the exhibition; that is, alphabetically. There is no space for comments or other participatory functions (commonly described as Web 2.0).

The lack of contextual information and the relatively linear format would suggest that ‘Passchendale Casualty Forms’ is an object-focused exhibition, employing a ‘formalist’ methodology (Lester, 2001, p.93). The records are essentially left to ‘speak for themselves.’ This may be appropriate given the kind of emotional response viewers could have to such records (especially family members) and the sheer amount of records on display. But as a result, the exhibition fails to locate the subject at hand within a broader historical framework, concentrating solely on the records themselves.

This object-focus is made clear in the title of the exhibition and reinforced throughout its opening description. The viewer is given some background information about how the records relate to the Ypres-Passchendale sector of Belgium during 1917-1918, and that many of the casualties on show are buried at Tyne Cot Military Cemetery. We are also told what the records contain, such as name, date of birth, rank, and the movements of the individual during their service.

What we are not given is any information about the Battle of Passchendaele, or how events at Passchendaele sit in wider relation to the First World War. In fact, the First World War is not mentioned at all. Nor is the reason for New Zealand’s involvement in the First World War, including who and what caused so many casualties amongst the New Zealand forces.

This lack of wider context assumes the viewer has prior knowledge of the Battle of Passchendaele and indicates the exhibition’s target audience: genealogists, researchers, and war historians. Yet some basic background information on why these young men were in Belgium, and what they perceived themselves to be fighting (and dying) for, could have personalised the records and placed them into a wider framework of understanding. It would also have made the exhibition (and the records) more available to a larger audience.

Because of the lack of contextual information, the exhibition offers limited interpretation of the records or how they contribute to the larger topic of the First World War. But if one takes a moment to examine the records and use the Archways finding aid provided, the viewer can gain access to a wealth of contextual information not explicitly described. It is the records, the facilitation of self-driven research and the use of Archives New Zealand via Archway that is the exhibition’s strength.

The records consist of two personnel forms: Form B.103 and Form NZR.2, which are described in Archway’s Series Description. The series from which the 700 records come from is hyper linked in the initial text of the exhibition. It is here the viewer is given a history of the records: who created them, how they are arranged, and how they came to Archives New Zealand. The integrity of the files is also described — we are told that sometime before transferral the records were integrated from two sequences into one.

The records themselves are reproduced relatively well and are filled with a variety of information (which makes up for the lack of contextual information). The enlargement of records, however, is limited to one zoom. Nonetheless, the viewer can still get a sense of the individual’s life during their service, such as where they served, if they were promoted, and how they were killed. Evident is the fact that many of these soldiers were wounded more than once. For example, Mathias Becks of the Wellington Infantry, was wounded on 24 June 1917, and then killed in action on 4 October 1917.

How the records are displayed raises a number of questions about the archival principle of original order. For example, the records are displayed and arranged by page, yet the pages are not displayed in any particular order — both the records of an individual and across the collection. The front and back of Matthias Becks’ B.103 Form are not displayed together; instead, the first page of his NZR.2 Form divides it. In some cases the front page of a form is displayed at the bottom of the page, rather than at the top. Likewise, the records of some individuals start with the blue B.103 Form while others start with the white NZR.2 Form. This randomness of display is to either preserve the original order of the physical records, or the result of haphazard uploading on the part of the exhibitors. The lack of contextual information means we do not know the reason for such arrangement.

The information provided does not explain the reason why the casualty forms of the Ypres-Passchendaele sector were selected for display, or how the 700 records from that sector were chosen for digital reproduction. The viewer is not told how many more records from the Ypres-Passchendaele sector are available, or whether records from other sectors are as available as the records on display.

This formalist method of interpreting the records suggests the premise of the exhibition and its intended audience: the highlighting of Archives New Zealand’s acquisition of personnel files and their availability to genealogists, researchers and war historians through Archways. In this sense, the exhibition is rather successful in meeting its intended thesis.

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. Instead of being given the reference number to each file, the viewer is prompted to enter the individual’s name into Archway in order to find out more. This prompt appears to the right of every record on display. In the case of Matthias Becks, entering his name in Archway furnished an additional digital file not on display in the exhibition.

What this highlights is that Archives New Zealand has more records to access, that they are easy to access, and most importantly, that the user can do it themselves. It promotes the use of archival material and archives, Archway as a functional finding aid, and fulfils the mandate of Archives New Zealand to show “public archives are accessible and used” (http://.archives.govt.nz/about).

That genealogists can easily access these records online or through Archway is the standout feature of the exhibition. While the documents themselves do not evoke reservoirs of resonance, ‘Passchendaele Casualty Forms’ is an excellent online resource for family wanting to learn more about their loved ones, and succinctly promotes the value of the archival record and archives in general.

An Impressive Silence

In contrast to the formalist method taken in ‘Passchedaele Casualty Forms’, ‘An Impressive Silence: Public Memory and Personal Experience of the Great War’ employs a range of interactive tools to mark the 90th Anniversary of the end of the First World War. It offers a wealth of contextual information, analysis, and interpretation. Originally a physical exhibition, the online version uses a vast array of records to cover a number of perspectives, while the exhibition itself is organised in a way to promote both a user-led experience and the aesthetic strengths of the records. However, like ‘Passchendaele Casualty Forms’, the exhibition is not without its faults.

The opening description of ‘An Impressive Silence’ presents a number of questions and perspectives, acknowledging the “differing attitudes visible during and after the war” (http://exhibitions.archives.govt.nz/animpressivesilence). The interpretation provided by the exhibition goes some way in highlighting these attitudes, challenging normative views on the Great War and providing a balanced analysis. The first section, ‘Off to War’, includes traditional information around New Zealand’s entry into the Great War, but also includes overlooked anti-war perspectives of anti-militarists and conscientious objectors. Records are provided to further illustrate their oppositional viewpoint.

In doing so, the exhibition is both evocative and didactic, contributing to a more in-depth understanding of the First World War and those returning from it. Covering the challenges and concerns of those coming home from the war is the exhibition’s intended thesis, and while more information on the records would have helped enrich its analysis, ‘An Impressive Silence’ meets its mandate in an open, entertaining and engaging manner.

‘An Impressive Silence’ takes “the ‘analyst’ approach, in which meaning and ideas become the focus of the exhibition” (Lester, 2001, p.93). The context, and in turn, the records, are used to illustrate its central theme. There are five sections of focus ordered chronologically, each with its own theme, home page, contextual information, sub-menu, records, and related links. In turn, each sub-menu has its own records and information, ranging from recruitment and propaganda to the physical and mental costs of the war.

The user can navigate through these menus in any order they please, visit the many hyper links to outside information within the text, and use interactive media such as audio and video. An interactive timeline at the bottom of each page, a gallery section that alphabetically databases the records, and an excellent search function, adds to the user-led experience.

The pitfalls of too much choice or too much content can often accompany such an approach. Studies around online museum exhibitions have shown that when users are faced with too many options, they can be overwhelmed, “skim[ing] the available choices, and select what appears to them to be the first most plausible choice. Even if a more likely choice appears later on in the list of possible choices, few users will have the patience required to find it” (Marty & Twidale, 2004). ‘An Impressive Silence’ seems get the balance of choice and content just right. That the exhibition can be read in a number of ways rather than in one linear process avoids the issue of skipping a crucial part of the narrative. In other words, the exhibition doesn’t have to be viewed from start to finish in order to gain something from it.

Unfortunately, the user’s gain in personalised navigation and in-depth information is the record’s loss. The records are visually exciting, engaging, evocative, and begging for their own descriptions, yet they are completely devoid of contextual information. Apart from a title (often cut short due to graphic design constraints) and an archive reference number, the user is not told who created the record, where it came from, and what else is the series. Records are pulled from their archival bonds and displayed to represent the text, and not the other way round. As a result and in contrast to ‘Passchendaele Casualty Forms’, the records become “mere props to the story”, easily replaceable by “an illustrated publication or leaflet” (Lester, 2001, p. 93).

For example, there is a number of visually striking recruitment posters throughout the exhibition. But in order to find out anything about the creator, the viewer has to squint at the fine print on the poster itself. For viewers of an artistic bent, information around the size of the poster, its print medium and whether there are more posters by the same artist would go a long way. For users of archives, knowing what other posters are contained in the series or where one can find similar posters in the vaults is also important.

Having the option of viewing each record’s context, in a pop up box or in the gallery section, would have produced an even more rewarding online experience. While the records do generally fit with the theme of each page and the narrative provided, a degree of meaning is lost when the object is not put into its own context. Doing so may have swamped the viewer with too much information, but if structured well, it could have also created even more interactive learning opportunities — meeting the needs of specific audiences in an original and intellectually rich manner.

Conclusion

The Archives New Zealand exhibitions reviewed above illustrate two different approaches to interpreting archival records online. The ‘formalist’ approach in ‘Passchendaele Casualty Forms’ places emphasis on the object, making the archival record readily available but at the expense of analysis and interpretation. ‘An Impressive Silence’ employs an ‘analyst’ methodology, providing a wealth of challenging and informative context that engages the viewer, but neglects the record. Both have their strengths and weaknesses, and both are appropriate for their intended audiences.

Lester argues that “the best approach is to take a middle line between these two methods”, so that the viewer can derive their own meaning and engage with the “social, cultural and economic factors surrounding the record’s context and use” (Letser, 2001, p.93). In the two exhibitions above, the middle ground, unfortunately, remained untouched.


References

• Archives New Zealand: About Us (2000). Retrieved March 19, 2011, from http://archives.govt.nz/about

• An Impressive Silence: Public Memory and Personal Experience of the Great War (2008). Retrieved March 18, 2011, from http://exhibitions.archives.govt.nz/animpressivesilence/

• 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.

• 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.

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

• Marty, P. & Twidale, M. (2004, September 6). Lost in gallery space: A conceptual framework for analyzing the usability flaws of museum Web sites. First Monday, 9 (9). Retrieved from http://firstmonday.org/htbin/cgiwrap/bin/ojs/index.php/fm/rt/printerFriendly/1171/1091

• Passchendaele Casualty Forms (2011). Retrieved March 17, 2011, from http://www.archives.govt.nz/exhibitions/passchendaele/main

Bibliography

• In Flanders Fields (2011, March 18). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 23:06, March 21, 2011, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=In_Flanders_Fields&oldid=419523735

• School of Information Management. (2011). Module 3: Public Programming and Archival Exhibitions. Retrieved from http://blackboard.vuw.ac.nz/