Great Moments in Information Science History (continued)

What better way to end the old year than to revisit the past to see how far mankind has progressed? In a year marked by idiotic political statements, terrifying mass shootings, and overall global lunacy, let's remember how it all got this way. This rare comic, recently discovered in the True Archives archive shows exactly how much we have to owe to the great men and women of Information Science who are steadily robbing us of our ability to read, think, and act. Happy New Year to one and all, and we hope you make a resolution to read more, and browse online less!

The Distance Between

Have you ever noticed how politicians from the same party as the retiring incumbent take great pains to differentiate themselves? It's a fascinating dance to watch because the candidate wants to keep all the voters who are satisfied with the sitting office-holder while at the same time picking up votes from those who have become disenchanted. The more unpopular the leader is, the more the candidate distances him/herself, yet still feels the need to remind the electorate that things will "kind of" remain the same.

This is also the dance of the Biblioposer. Faced with the obsolescence fostered by a steadily growing illiterate tax base, librarians around the country are embracing the "we-are-more-than-books" mantra in a pathetic attempt to maintain relevancy. However, when push comes to shove at fundraisers or public forums in support of their buildings, they quickly fall back on their time-honored role as the custodians of the codex. It is becoming harder to maintain that position as the shelving melts away to make room for more computers, and the Information Scientists work hard to make sure the illusion of "research" is promoted with the use of their online databases. Is it not time to call a spade a spade? If the new library ethic is getting out of the building to meet with researchers wherever and whenever, then why are we worried about the library building any more? If you are going to make sure your customers use computers to answer their questions, then why do we feel like we need to build newer, and more expensive, book warehouses?

Send the books to the archives where they will be safe, and let the empty shelves in libraries speak volumes about the distance between the actual and the ideal.

Lowering the Bar

Recent developments in the American political world are a disturbing reminder of the Information Science threat. Millions of voters whose only source of "facts" are the photoshopped memes they see on Facebook are actually going to choose our next President. This is not a new development, however. The evil ones who work overtime inventing search engines that give idiots the illusion of intelligence recognized the political benefits from the very start!

The Handwriting is NOT on the wall!

As much as we try to deny it, there is little doubt our addiction to digital toys is lowering the collective intelligence of the planet. Our latest entry in the growing body of proof for this conclusion can be found in Scientific American. Here we have a compelling argument for taking notes with simply a pen and paper, yet our elementary schools are rapidly jettisoning the instruction of handwriting in favor of showing third graders how to “keyboard.” Somewhere Information Scientists are smiling at the new generation of slavish Eloi who cannot remember anything other than which button to push.

There was a reason why children were taught by rote in the old days. Reciting the multiplication table to the teacher’s snapping fingers was a way to embed a useful bit of knowledge into a pliable young brain. Those who have argued against this method of teaching frequently decry the use of memorization without understanding. Here at True Archives, we wonder how much understanding is taking place when a child uses a keyboard to find out what seven times seven is.

Stealing a March, or Just Plain Stealing

If anyone at this late date needs evidence that smart phones are making people stupid they need look no further than the latest crime fad in American cities. Brazen bicycle thieves have taken to targeting screen obsessed pedestrians who gaze blankly at their hand-held computers. The thieves simply wait until the victim is totally absorbed with the latest baby goat video and snatch the device while riding full speed past the unsuspecting browser. By the time the slow-witted screen junky is aware their toy is gone, the thief is blocks away peddling so fast you could play checkers on his coat tails.

In the past, did we see people so absorbed with a novel that they walked down the sidewalk reading a book? Not often, and there is a simple reason for this. Reading print takes concentration, time, and reflection. It is not easily done while in stride along the footpaths of the concrete jungle. But little snippets of text, spelled phonetically and abbreviated almost beyond comprehension to readers of real English, are exactly what the Information Scientists thrive on. Creating an entire generation of people who cannot spell, cannot compose a sentence, and cannot even pay attention is the goal of these electronic tyrants. It is not the thief on a bicycle that one must guard against, it is the thief of your memory.

Impolite Society

Were you ever caught passing notes in class during the fourth grade? Do you remember the humiliation of the teacher calling you out? Maybe she even took the note and read it aloud; all the more embarrassing if you had written of your distaste for the instructor. We had to learn to pay attention in the schoolroom or face the consequences, so most of us took the lesson to heart and gave up the practice of clandestine communication.

Apparently few, if any, members of the internet generation ever had this experience, because this childhood misdemeanor is constantly practiced these days in the meeting room, or at the lecture hall, or at the conference speech. At True Archives, we have long noted the insidious effect of little electronic devices on the memory of mankind, but after recently returning from a professional conference we are now convinced that the Information Scientists are eroding our basic sense of etiquette as well. While seated within an auditorium full of bright, young professionals ostensibly gathered to listen to a bright, erudite speaker, all we could see reflected on the audience’s faces were the glow from their "smart” phones, laptops, and two-way wrist radios.

The shortened attention spans that the Biblioposers consistently deny growing among their users is plainly evident in their own behavior. Unable to be in the present moment, they literally twiddle their thumbs while someone is speaking either checking their email, or sending snippets of the speaker’s words to their colleagues located in the next row or across the world. This is not only a testimony of diminished cognitive ability, but it is also just plain rude. We wonder what it would be like were these self-appointed electronic dispatchers used their voices to concurrently comment on the speech. Would not the cacophony of mutterings drown out whatever the speaker had to say, and expose the whisperers for the rude boors that they are? Here at True Archives we challenge the internet junkies to put down the toys and listen, if they still can.

Faith, Hope, and Charity

We all know about faith and hope, especially when it comes to our household trash. We separate the plastic bottles from the newspapers, and the cans from the compost, and we faithfully place the residue in the appropriate collection bins in the hope that they will be duly recycled and come back to us as useful products. (This is different from the faith you have in your toilet; that’s more like a agreement that whatever you put in it must never, ever, EVER come back.)

In what passes for a “library” in today’s digital era of illiteracy, we see an interesting exercise in recycling. There once was a time when citizens could take old books to their public library with the assurance the titles would be evaluated for inclusion before their final disposition was decided. No more. In today’s ultra-modern temple of Information Science, old books are only so much more clutter that must be dealt with. The increasing frequency of “used book sales” demonstrates the main function of the contemporary Biblioposer Building, aside from makerspaces and read-to-a-dog kennels, is now the recycling facility for a given community's books. People bring them in, they are temporarily stored, sales take place every few weeks, people pay the Biblioposers for the discards, take them home, and then bring them back to start the process all over again. Think of it as a tax-supported used book store where the inventory is donated gratis.

Here at True Archives we wonder how our beloved libraries became little more than specialized Salvation Army stores, but then we glance around at the ear-bud wearing, glazed-eyed, internet-addled youth of today and we have our answer. If mankind is ever to rediscover deep reading in the future, is it not the duty of archivists to preserve something to read? Otherwise we can “faithfully” pile the despised codex next to the used toasters and discarded Salad Spinners at Goodwill and only “hope” they are used for something more than fire starters and furniture stabilizers.

Nonattention to Detail

Once again we find empirical evidence of the Information Science evil. In a recent study (touted by Microsoft, no less) we learn that the average human attention span is decreasing as more of our brethren and sisteren become obsessed with their electronic toys. In a pathetic attempt to put a optimistic spin on this appalling news, Time magazine has summarized “On the positive side, the report says our ability to multitask has drastically improved in the mobile age.” Oh yes, we are all very comforted by knowing the average teenage driver can careen their vehicle down the interstate while simultaneously looking at pictures of Justin Bieber on their “smart” phones.

One would hope that libraries might take proactive steps to stem this rising tide of stupidity, but the Information Scientists who rule over our former storehouses of knowledge continue to pander to the lowest common denominator. By reducing all inquiries to filling in a Google-ish blank box on a computer monitor, the Biblioposers are encouraging the flabby intellects of the next generation to simply allow a machine to do their thinking. The advantages of this type of research for the "right now" generation is that it requires LESS than the eight second limit for them to remember what they were looking for in the first place.

At True Archives we say “Bah, Humbug!” to these efforts, but we look around at the slackjawed masses unable to tear themselves away from their handheld computers and know the battle has already been lost in the library. It is high time we rescued the remaining books from the aquarium of goldfish people and place them in the archive where they belong!

Great Moments in Archives History

Occasionally at True Archives, we discover artwork that needs no introduction or interpretation. Imagine our surprise when we discovered this important historical record documenting the dawn of Information Science evil.

Turning Tables on the Turntables

In the early days of hip-hop music, actual vinyl records on turntables became musical instruments as DJ’s and rappers dragged a needle across the grooves to produce the trademark ripping sound in cadence with the chanting words. We don’t know who invented the technique, but it is likely the practice came from a perception that the vinyl records were expendable and worthy of their individual destruction just to make the sound. Now that ripping sound can be generated digitally, of course, and it has made its way into the techno genre as well, but we wonder if the subliminal message regarding obsolete media and its disposable nature is somehow being absorbed by millions of angry robot music affectionados.

A real consequence of this attitude is the endangerment of books in libraries all over the world. As Information Scientists continue their nefarious campaign against the codex, the perception of the book as an obsolete format grows daily. When books are considered expendable, and their value is seen as negligible, we at True Archives shudder to contemplate future trends in popular music. Who is to say that the sound of shredding paper might be the next trademark sound of rappers, beat poets, and punk rockers? Tearing pages out of a book while keeping the beat of a given composition is a frightening possibility as barbaric Philistines take to the recording studio in the next musical fad.

Perhaps not all is lost, though. If we can just convince them to use the telephone directories that seem to show up on our doorsteps several times a year we might be rid of that plague. After all, who needs a phone book when everything is online now....

E(g)AD!

It started as a localized outbreak. People who had previously seemed hale and hearty suddenly became ill, usually with terrible results. Part of the problem with containing the outbreak came from the curious practices in the disposition of the departed’s effects, where traditional methods were deemed dangerous and needed to be wiped out to prevent the spread the virus. Soon, the problem became global.

No, we are not talking about the Ebola outbreak; we are instead referring to the widespread threat of Information Science that archivists have dubbed "EAD," (which stands for "Endlessly Aggravating Drudgery.") This descriptive format for the online presentation of archival inventories was foisted on an unsuspecting profession about twenty years ago, and while it has recently shown signs of its impending demise, Encoded Archival Description is still plaguing pusillanimous parchment processors in manuscript repositories around the planet. But, like all things digital, the EAD format is beginning to show its age. In a medium where mayflies outlive most software applications, the same Information Scientists who developed EAD are now casting about for the next digital hula-hoop. Item level description, the painstaking burden of creating online tools to give the illusion of research to the "right now" generation, will soon eclipse any attempt to enforce a new standard of inventory display designed with hopelessly arcane language and procedures.

The problem with these electronic fads is not the time wasted in conforming to standards that will not last as long as a Larry King marriage. The real crime is the ever changing medium in which these tools are set. Like embossing a piece of Jello, these same inventories and search machines will only be temporary as Information Scientists invent new vexing ways to format them. Not content with one method, they will invent a dozen more, ever while insisting that we catalog individual pieces of paper. In that way lies madness, and archivists need to draw a line in the sand if they expect to process any meaningful amount of paper backlog in the future.

The Missing Chords of Memory

Can't find your car keys? Perhaps you are not having a senior moment but rather experiencing the greatest threat mankind has yet faced: the shortened attention span wrought by internet overuse. As more sophisticated hand-held toys (Two-Way Wrist Radios, Eye Phones, etc.) present their slavish owners with the illusion of universal knowledge, we see people slowly losing the ability to think, and more importantly, to remember. As the most simple tasks are turned over to machines, memorization powers are being reduced to knowing which button to push to answer questions as basic as "Where am I?" to the more complex "What am I?" Don't take our word for it. Once again Nicholas Carr at the Atlantic magazine sounds the alarm for anyone who has taken their ear buds out to hear it. You can only wake up and smell the coffee if you actually know how to make a cup (or drive through Starbucks while checking your email).

But the Information Scientists are not content with your addiction to picture wrist watches. They want to wipe out all alternatives. Just look at your local library and the shelves that seem to grow ever more empty even while unprecedented numbers of citizens are donating their codex collections to the same institutions. American libraries are becoming little more than free DVD rental stations who periodically recycle the printed heritage of a given community through monthly book sales. And this is also part of the great forgetting that Mr. Carr talks about, because people will eventually forget the purpose of a library, if they have not already. It won't be long until the books vanish entirely; those who have personal libraries will hoard them and seem like bizarre cat ladies to their neighbors, and on their passing those who clean up the place will simply roll up the dumpster rather than call the Public Information Center (yeah, we used to call it a library.) The time has come for frank talk about the codex and its future. That future is in the archives.

The Wizards of Odd

In perhaps one of the most memorable scenes in the most watched movie of all time, the Wizard of Oz is revealed by the little dog Toto to be nothing more than a concealed carnival huckster who projects a powerful image of omnipotence to Dorothy and her friends. “Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain,” he booms through his broadcasting apparatus, “The great Oz has spoken!” Often used as a metaphor for grandstanding charlatans, this scene is absolutely perfect for illustrating the relationship between the Biblioposers and the Information Scientists.

Once upon a time in libraries, people with a question approached a special desk where knowledgeable personnel would troll through a vast number of printed resources to answer the inquiry. In today’s world, most people simply type their question into “Google” and seem to be satisfied with whatever drivel is served up between the advertisements. If they do consult a human, it is more likely to ask directions to the bathroom than to verify the pablum they got on the television screen. And this happens in spite of the few remaining volumes of reference works behind the desk that give the atmosphere reminiscent of the profession of yore. The presence of these books behind the sage are, indeed, a powerful symbol of their incredible wisdom. Pity they are little more than the flames and smoke projected by the "Great and Powerful Oz."

Yet the Biblioposers cry out, “You need us, you ignorant louts! We are the arbiters of what is true, and what is not, on your little picture telephones! Approach us with awe for our vast knowledge of information!” But bring your little dog with you. Pull back the curtain and see what is really there. Nothing more than a cadre of computer jockeys who, drone-like, type endless streams of metadata for their front man to parrot. And those reference books? Before they are all tossed, why not send them to the archives where they will be preserved by people who really care about print media? Archives are the only true libraries left, and like Dorothy says, “there’s no place like home.”

A Fable Agreed Upon

We noted the other day that two balloonists who crossed the Pacific were touted as having "made history" by the media. The feat was certainly unique, but at True Archives we have to question the claim of "history" being made by the two daring aeronauts.

History has become one of the more abused words in this nightmare we call the digital age. Those who have never picked up a book (yet who have logged untold hours watching Ken Burns films) consider themselves well versed in "history." People who go into hock to purchase the latest mind-numbing electronic toys have their credit "history" checked. A television network that wallows in such visual tripe as "Swamp People" and "Pawnography" has the nerve to call itself the "History Channel." In recognition of this fetid semantic stew we decided to check on the meaning of the word "history" in the Oxford English Dictionary (yes we used the online version; who ever said we are consistent?) and here is the first definition listed:

A written narrative constituting a continuous chronological record of important or public events (esp. in a particular place) or of a particular trend, institution, or person's life. Common in the titles of books.

Now did the intrepid balloonists mentioned above actually compose a written narrative whilst sailing through the air over Hawaii, or were they simply jotting down notes into an iPad or something? If the latter, which is highly likely, they no more “made history” than you did when you typed your last 140 characters into Twitter to describe your lunch. Real history is a NARRATIVE, and it is published in BOOKS, which used to be kept in LIBRARIES.

Of course, libraries like that are...wait for it..."history."

The Bell Tolls For Thee

One of our founders at True Archives has had occasion to travel to three international conferences on archives in recent years, and the hardest thing to find at each one was a session dealing with actual three-dimensional, information-bearing objects. Most presenters spent their time talking about “metadata” and insuring the “authenticity” of electronic records, but actual presentations on how one arranges and describes hundreds of cubic feet of file boxes (a task which is still very much a part of the profession) were almost completely absent. It's as if our colleagues are uninterested in anything they cannot see on a TV screen.

The reason for this is simple. Information Scientists have infiltrated the archival profession and are slowly poisoning the minds of impressionable young graduates just entering the occupation. Just look at the so-called “education calendar” of courses offered by the Society of American Archivists and you will see the unmistakable fingerprints of Information Science. Course after course dealing with zeros and ones, and nought dealing with actual objects. The result will be a cadre of young archivists who will have never suffered a paper cut, or who have even read a document handwritten in cursive. They won’t know a real record even if it “bytes” them.

It is a shame how these fiendish Biblioposers have obliterated the once proud profession of librarians, but now they come for our own colleagues. To paraphrase Thoreau, “wherever an archivist goes, Information Scientists will pursue him and paw him with their dirty institutions, and, if they can, constrain him to belong to their desperate odd-fellow society.”