Post 6: The Speed of Sound (or Technology, in this case)

It took a lot of control on my part to resist the temptation of making this blog post just a list of all the ways Facebook has changed from the version that Joanne Garde-Hansen analyzes in her 2009 article “MyMemories? Personal Digital Archival Fever and Facebook”. I’m not going to do that because it would maybe be a little bit tedious and boring to anyone who isn’t me. However, I thought the article was a great read, and helped me get into the mindset of examining social media tools from an academic perspective, rather than the blasé and somewhat brainless approach that I use in my daily life.

The idea of social media as a functioning archive is a bit weird to contemplate, given that it’s so embedded in everyday life. I’m one of those horrid people who wakes up by scrolling through my feed first thing in the morning. I thought that Garde-Hansen’s idea of Facebook as a form of database archive was an unique way of thinking about it: “One would like to say that Facebook’s emphasis upon memory, both personal and collective, allows for, an escape from history and, therefore, linearity, order and narrative” (141). I’m not sure I agree with Garde-Hansen, but that may be a function of the fact that the Facebook I use daily (multiple times a day, if I’m being honest) is pretty different from Facebook 2009. I don’t think that Facebook is an escape from history. The mere fact that my Wall (which hardly anyone refers to it as anymore; I think it’s most commonly known as your page or profile nowadays) is set to be scrolled through in descending linear order, and can be navigated as my Timeline implies that there is an inherent temporal structure in place over the information.

While I think that it is possible to view my page out of order, the primary and most prevalent impulse is to try and view something like social media as a narrative – especially since we’ve now begun to reach a time where there’s enough of our “personal histories” available in the database to constitute an archive of ourselves. Nothing on Facebook is quite as frightening as the new-ish “On this Day” feature, which can (and does) notify you of your activities throughout the years of your account’s life. Facebook remembers and reminds you of details from your past, whether you want it to or not: “users will not be sheltered from the fact, nor forget, that this digital space may well forever store memories they would prefer to forget. (148-9)

I especially liked Garde-Hansen’s idea that “the interface that Facebook has created to its database is supposed to be about telling stories, beginnings and endings, developments and organisation” (142), especially since I just read somewhere (can’t remember where, and frantically searching through 3 prior weeks of my readings turned up futile so I gave up after half an hour) about how social media is just the middle bit of the narrative on constant loop, always offering a doorway into the middle of a treadmill that allows neither forward or backward movement. The contesting problem of the innate desire for a narrative frame set against the inherent lack of one in daily life is a concept that some of the more renown philosophers spend the better part of their lives thinking about; its a bit absurd to think that something as basic as Facebook can serve as a manifestation of this struggle. Absurdity doesn’t make it untrue, though.

Garde-Hansen ends her article by proposing that “communicating our life stories online leaves us with more questions than answers” (148), which I completely agree with. My own burning Facebook query is something that Garde-Hansen sort of gestures to, but put bluntly is this: considering the idea of cultivating your Facebook presence by deleting posts that you don’t like or adding “artificial” events or details, or refusing to undertake these activities and instead letting your Facebook profile develop “naturally”, what do these different impulses mean for Facebook as an archive? Many people will dramatically change the content of their profile if they’re job hunting, or will cull pictures of their younger, more awkward selves (how glad I am that my prepubescent self did not yet know of the digital archive!) Can we still consider Facebook, and other social medias such as Twitter, Instagram, etc as true archives if we are the highly biased curators who wield a rigorous ruler of what we want or do not want preserved? Food for thought.


Garde-Hansen, Joanne. “MyMemories? Personal Digital Archival Fever and Facebook.” Save As…Digital Memories. Ed. Joanne Garde-Hansen, Andrew Hoskins, and Anna Reading. London: Palgrave MacMillan, 2009. 135-50.

I know I said that I wasn’t going to analyze how Facebook has changed, but I can’t help it. Garde-Hansen’s article itself as an archive of what Facebook used to be is just too amazing. Here’s what I thought was most amazing: “Sometimes users create mini-archives of photos that are added to and shared by multiple users on a specific theme, for example, an archive of bad hair cuts from the 1980s, and these stand as testament to a collective memory of a cultural moment” (142). I don’t know anyone who has a personal photo album titled Bad 80s Haircuts as the article suggests, but this is a prime example of something that still exists on Facebook – today it would probably be hosted on some clickbait-y site. Some things never change, even if technology advancement surpasses the speed of sound, or even light – things like the hilarity of horrible 80s hairstyles.

Post Five: Some Thoughts on Retroactive Morality

At work the other day someone was talking about UBC’s retroactive parking ticket laws. Since most of the legal battle went down from 2006-2010, way back when I was precocious preteen, combined with the fact that parking ticket battles are pretty petty, I knew next to nothing about it. Hearing my coworker talking about it peaked my interest for some reason, and I did some digging. Basically, the University towed some guy’s car and made him so mad that he filed a lawsuit stating that they did not have permission to ticket and fine people for parking infractions. The legalese of University’s argument was difficult to understand, but an article in the Phoenix explained it really well:

Initially, the university argued that the City of Vancouver had given them the power to issue fines in the same way a municipality does. The night before the trial, it began instead falling back on the idea that almost anyone who parked at UBC-V entered into an implicit contract to park legally. However, the judge ruled that they did not have the ability to enter into those kinds of contracts (Andrew Bates, 2009)

The ruling found that the University didn’t have the right to enter into an “implicit” contract, meaning that the tickets were no good and they would have to pay them all back. The solution to this loss of face and money was provided by the provincial government, who created a retroactive law that made all the tickets legal again.

UBC’s Museum of Anthropology

The reason I’m delving into this arguably boring argument about parking tickets is because one of the readings I did this week for my archives class reminded me of the nuances of my coworker’s rant about the unfairness of retroactive parking tickets. The article, by Krisztina Laszlo, talks about this concept in archives called “[s]alvage anthropology” (300), the colonial outlook that shaped the way much of today’s archives were formed because at the time of collection it was the collective worry that these cultures were almost dead (after a long and arduous battle of trying to forcefully smother them through assimilation). Laszlo’s article is borderline press-release-polite, and while I found her tone a bit infuriating, what really ticked me off was the passive acknowledgement of some incredibly problematic issues.

The phrase that really got me thinking about things like retroactive parking tickets was this little gem:

[M]useums recognize that First Nations hold moral (if not legal) ownership of physical objects…One of the key distinctions that the UBC Museum of Anthropology makes to promote the idea of cultural copyright is the difference between the physical legal ownership of a thing or record, and the cultural and moral ownerships attached to records and objects. (Laszlo 301)

So, the MOA recognizes that some of the cultural objects that they own don’t “morally” belong to them, because they were taken without that culture’s permission. Like a long, drawn-out court case ruling turned over by a retroactive law, the acknowledgement of whether an object morally belongs to an institution that still feels they can lay legal claim doesn’t hold much water for me. If you can understand that it morally is not yours, it seems that maybe the legality of your ownership should raise some red flags. Acknowledging that you’re wrong doesn’t make you right.

When I go to class on Tuesday, we’re going to look at some fonds in the MOA. Looking through the descriptions online, only one of the collections is from the perspective of the subject; the rest are colonial interpretations. I wonder if it’s enough to merely recognize the context of the archive, but I guess I’ll find out on Tuesday. I’m not sure I have another solution, anyways.

 


 

Admin. “University of B.C. has no legal right to issue Parking Tickets/Collect Fines.” fightyourtickets.ca. April 19, 2009.

Bates, Andrew. “UBC suspends parking fines due to lawsuit.” The Phoenix. April 7, 2009.

Laszlo, Krisztina. “Ethnographic Archival Records and Cultural Property.” Archivaria 61 (2001): 299 – 307.

Magraken, Erik. “BC Court of Appeal Reverses UBC Parking Fine Class Action Lawsuit.” BC Injury Law. February 10, 2010.

Yonson, Neal. “Judge, Jury and Tow Truck Driver.” UBC Insiders. May 24, 2010.

 

Image by moa.ubc.ca