Project Development & Copyright

My final project has undergone some refinement in the last week or so.  After examining the features (and limitations) of GeoCommons, I decided to narrow down the field of relatives to that of direct ancestors and their immediate families who were born or died in the United States; this left me with close to 850 people / 1,700 data points, a much more manageable figure.  Unfortunately, GeoCommons has proved to be very picky when it comes to what information formats (especially dates) it does and does not understand, which has slowed my progress significantly.  Nevertheless, the preliminary maps which I’ve generated seem to indicate some interesting trends.  In particular, the migration pattern appears to ‘rebound’ at several points; my ancestors settled along the East coast, then moved inland, then shifted back to the coast, though not always returning to the original coastal locations.  Further examination will hopefully produce some reasons for this trend.

I’ve long found the subject of copyright regulations to be a confusing and frustrating one; while on the surface it seems rather straightforward (i.e. ask if it isn’t yours), the exact levels of legal protections and restrictions provided in seemingly very similar instances can vary wildly.  This is particularly complicated where online works are concerned; a copyrighted piece of data can easily become separated from the information providing ownership information, raising the specter of a situation wherein usage can neither be allowed nor attained.  In the area of scholarship, the issue is further muddled; deciding which academic thought up which particular idea first is extremely difficult to determine.  While I’m generally in favor of open access between researchers, credit should always be given to those whose works contributed to the final product.

Digital Tools & Final Project Idea

Aside from the Feltron Reports last week which I couldn’t access and Lawrence Lessig’s piece which proved to be similarly unavailable, I found the various readings to be intriguing examples of current digital resources or tools that can aid us in the creation of our own digital scholarship.  Unfortunately, many of these works seem to suffer from a lack of either easy academic applicability or effective user interface, which appears to complicate their actual use.  Making wordles or scatterplots is fun, but aside from their visual appeal it is difficult to see their use in a professional academic publication; the data is presented in an interesting way, but one which can be difficult to extrapolate or precisely quantify.  On the other hand, sites like HistoryWired contain a great deal of useful information, but all too often present that information in a confusing or inconsistent manner; the artifacts shown on this particular Smithsonian site are difficult to locate, and their organizational criteria is unclear (gunboat in Transportation, not Military section, etc.).  Avoiding these sorts of pitfalls in producing our digital works is essential, as a poor interface or a pretty-but-vague sorting tool can all too easily render an otherwise exceptional research project effectively worthless.

At the moment, I’m working on basing my final project on genealogical data gathered by my family over the course of many years.  Currently, the list of ancestors and relatives runs upwards of eleven thousand names, and digital sorting and research tools could provide some very useful results.  While I’m still working out how to transfer the data from a specialized genealogical format to one which could be entered into digital search programs, I’m thinking of producing a map (or maps) showing the progression of places of birth or death from individual to individual over time.   Places of birth for relatives born in each time period (perhaps 20-25 years per) would be represented by different colored dots, which when viewed in sequence would show a sort of migration pattern within my family.  It would be interesting to see whether the geographical dispersal of my family narrowed down consistently, or went through periods of significant displacement or even expansion; the changes noted between European-born and American-born ancestor patterns could also be useful.  As always, I appreciate any and all comments or suggestions.

Slavery and Economics

Comparing free and slave-owning states and the communities within them in the years leading up to the Civil War has the potential to reveal a great deal regarding their similarities and differences.  In the case of The Difference Slavery Made by Thomas and Ayers, the nearby counties of Augusta and Franklin provide upon careful examination some surprising revelations.   The distinct North-South divide in cultural and economic particulars, so often used to clearly delineate the ‘Modern’ North from the ‘Stuck in the Past’ South, proves upon closer view to not be nearly as universally accurate as once thought.  Despite the presence of slavery in one community and its absence in the other, the two areas seem to have maintained very similar characteristics; this is particularly intriguing when it comes to economic factors.

The Themes in American History class which I took last semester dealt extensively with the issue of slavery and its effects on our country’s development.  I found it very interesting to learn that, contrary to popular opinion, using slaves wasn’t actually noticeably cheaper than paid workers.  While slaves provided ‘free’ labor, they first had to be purchased (often at very sizable price), then food, housing, clothing, and a host of other goods and services had to be provided by the slave-owner.  Coupled with the very real risk of a slave escaping (and in effect making their owner’s substantial investment worthless), these issues in effect brought the profitability of slavery down to a level roughly comparable with using paid workers.

Though slavery had very real and noticeable effects on social realities on communities in which it was present, the economic situations seemed to be remarkably similar regardless of this distinction.  This in turn brings up the very important question of why slavery persisted for so long; if it didn’t provide a substantial economic advantage, then why did its use continue for such a long period of time?  In my opinion, this choice may have had more to do with societies being so used to slavery that a change was viewed with no small amount of apprehension, but a definitive answer may never be truly agreed upon.

Graphs, Maps, Trees, and other fun stuff

Franco Moretti’s ‘Graphs, Maps, Trees’ was a fascinating read; he has developed or expanded upon ways of looking at history which, though often strange at first glance, prove to have very intriguing possibilities.  The ability of people to now examine what would have been, until recently, unfeasible volumes of information opens up many potential new paths.  Being able to process the data required to accurately chart the evolution of British novelistic genres (pg. 19), or the correlation between human genetic and linguistic development (pg. 71) with any sort of speed necessitates the use of computers; the 10 million Clinton-era White house e-mails mentioned in class can only be effectively analyzed digitally.

Just as with any historical research technique, those presented in Moretti’s book remain vulnerable to being misused or misinterpreted.  The map charting the locations of protagonists and the objects of their desire in Parisian novels (pg. 55) is potentially useful, but in and of itself is just a collection of data points; picking out accurate interpretations remains a human task.    Similarly, the rise and fall of the novel (pgs. 6-12) appears to have some similarities across national borders, but the existence of actual causal similarities cannot be proven by the charts alone.  Nevertheless, Moretti clearly demonstrates the potential of new abstract methods for examining literary history based upon quantitative history, geography, and evolutionary theory.  Granted, not every historical researcher will find all of his models equally useful; my personal research style doesn’t really relate all that well to his section on circular narrative space.  Despite differences in individual preferences, it is both well written and useful.

I really enjoyed checking out the Time Magazine Corpus of American English.  Being able to access close to a century’s worth of a magazine’s writing and search out particular topics or phrases  has great research potential, and  I can certainly see using this or a similar corpus search system in the final project.  I’ve been trying to develop some potential project ideas, and after seeing this system I’m currently thinking about some sort of research into the evolution of racial epithets from common derogatory use to their being viewed by larger society in a negative light.

For example, having talked a great deal with World War II vets, I am very familiar with the ‘jap’ epithet; while not one of the most extreme terms, it is one which has an easily charted developmental history.  Using the Time Magazine Corpus, I could see its progression, which proved to be rather illuminating.  While the ‘jap’ term underwent an unsurprising jump in popular use following the Pearl Harbor attack, it was used on a number of occasions both before and well after World War II.  However, the term’s use long before WWII tended to be as a mildly disparaging identifier, which had more and more negative connotations attached to it as war approached; on the other hand, the term decreased quickly in use (though far slower than the post-Pearl-Harbor jump), and relatively soon was mostly used in quotes from the war itself or from surviving veterans.    It’s an interesting find, and one which I intend to examine further.

Issues with the ACLS

I read the American Council of Learned Societies’ piece on Cyberinfrastructure, and while I found it interesting, I really wish they had included a clear, concise definition of what ‘cyberinfrastructure’ actually was.  It is the ‘layer of information, expertise, standards, policies, tools, and services shared broadly… but developed for specific scholarly purposes.’  It is ‘more specific than the network itself,’ but also ‘more general than a resource developed for a particular project, a range of projects, or… a particular discipline.’  It lies between a ‘layer of base technologies’ and a layer of ‘software programs, services, disciplines, and communities of practice.’  From this, I gather that cyberinfrastructure is a layer, it both is and isn’t something developed for a specific project, and it encompasses a dazzling array of different factors.  Labeling it something simple, like ‘the physical systems and organizational services required for digital scholarship to function’ would have been far easier to swallow.

The American Council of Learned Societies placed a great deal of emphasis on the importance of cyberinfrastructure having inter-system operability, but the members don’t seem to propose much regarding how to implement this, nor how the myriad problems involved should be handled.  Making multiple disparate systems uniformly compatible requires changing the individual systems, and deciding which one way is correct, along with persuading the others to spend the time and effort required for the shift, are likely to be problematic issues at best.  This is especially problematic when ACLS also wants this cyberinfrastructure to be open to experimentation and evolution; in an open scholarly system, determining who will have the final say in what changes are implemented could be quite contentious, especially considering that any major change could result in significant changes in how the entire cyberinfrastructure operates.

Wikipedia as a Source

I like Wikipedia; I find it to be a great resource for a vast array of information, and it is very straightforward in its operation.  That said, I’m not about to ever rely on Wikipedia information for scholarly research.  I use Wikipedia to answer basic questions fast, when speed is more important than iron-clad accuracy.  If I need to know right now the location of Waziristan, a list of the world’s highest waterfalls, or a recap on the latest political fiasco, Wikipedia is the place for me.  However, while I may visit Wikipedia for ideas or suggestions in my academic studies, I simply cannot confidently base my work on information taken the ever-changing nature of the site.

Wikipedia is a wonderful online database, and the history covered in its innumerable pages tends to be quite accurate; this is clearly explained in Professor Rosenzweig’s article.  The presence of the ‘Recent Changes Patrol’ and ‘Personal Watchlists’ he mentions remain formidable barriers to those who would permanently alter Wikipedia pages, but the risk always exists.  Though a page dealing with a subject like 9/11 understandably is under a great deal of scrutiny, the majority of pages receive far, far less attention, and a dedicated problem poster, if they were careful, could change them in ways which might persist for a long time.  In the end, the greatest strength of Wikipedia is also its greatest liability.  Anyone can post, but they are essentially anonymous, not under any sort of obligation to explain themselves or their opinions.  If information I gain from a book turns out to be incorrect, I can place the blame on the author.  When it comes to Wikipedia, I have no one at which to point the finger other than myself.

Bunny Shoes and OJ

The selective editing or misrepresentation of images is a major problem, both for historians and the world in general.  We like to believe the things we see, but our eyes can be tricked, and our attentions drawn in false directions.  The article by Roger Bruce underlines the importance of being able to identify the authenticity of vintage photographs, and the difficulties which this entails.

I was reminded by this reading of a series of photographs which appeared during the trial of OJ Simpson.  Generally, the mere mention of his name or the events of his trial is enough to result in an afternoon of heavy self-medication, but I found this particular photo series interesting.  Shoeprints found at the crime scene apparently came from a specific kind of shoe, one which Simpson denied ever wearing.  After a photo turned up clearly showing him having worn that type of shoe in the past, one magazine jokingly published a series of that same photo, retouched with Simpson wearing clown shoes, bunny slippers, loafers, high heels, etc.  Though humorous, these photos looked very real, which hit me as a very big warning to carefully question what I saw in pictures from that point onwards.

New Project Idea

A few days ago, I was debating how to handle the myriad financial and logistical complications inherent in my original project proposal, when I stumbled across a new idea which, in addition to being far more affordable and immediately implementable, had the advantage of being directly related to one of the factors which first piqued my interest in the history field.  So, here goes:

I grew up in southern Maine, and from a relatively early age I became aware of a multitude of large derelict concrete towers scattered along the coast.  These structures, I eventually learned, were spotting towers for a vast array of fortified artillery positions which guarded harbors across the country from the turn of the 20^th century through the end of World War II.  Though long abandoned and neglected, the towers and concealed artillery batteries were once at the forefront of defensive technology, and their role in American military history deserves to be fully researched.  Unfortunately, what online resources regarding this area currently available are very narrow in scope (often only dealing with a single fort or battery), and little standardization exists.

My project will be an online interactive timeline showing the evolution of coastal defense systems in the United States.  The format for the site will be similar to that of the Aquae Urbis Romae site, but overlaid on current satellite imagery.  The locations of the artillery positions will be shown, along with their ranges and arcs of fire.  As the user advances the timeline, the batteries will appear and disappear, giving a clear picture as to the defensive infrastructure in existence at any particular point in time.  The site will serve as a resource both for those with a casual interest and researchers looking for ground-level information.

The greatest advantage for this project lies in its low cost.  Records regarding the position of coastal defense facilities are relatively straightforward to locate, and designating site locations require little more than a handheld GPS and some legwork.  For those batteries which lack thorough documentation, simple survey tools will provide the fields of fire.  The online site itself will, at least at first, have quite small data requirements, as it will be more or less a series of data points and shaded arcs.  The project can start small, covering a single city or region, then gradually expand if interest and support grow.  In addition, other defensive structures can be located and included, such as radar sites, submarine nets, bunkers and the aforementioned towers.  If feasible, photos (both current and period), architectural drawings, personal accounts, and even 3D renders could be added to the sites.

It is conceivable that, should a source of significant funding be located, the period of time covered by the project could be expanded to cover both earlier fortifications and Cold War era defensive missile sites; however, the difficulties of locating long-erased sites (in the case of the former) and dealing with government secrecy issues (the later) would make this a sizeable long-term goal.

As before, I welcome any and all suggestions and critiques.

Beating the clock

The creation of data storage mediums which can stand the test of time (or at least a substantial fraction thereof) has been a long and difficult path, with an effective, cheap, and reliable method still beyond our grasp.  We’ve managed up to this point to more or less score two out of three in this regard; acid-free paper is quite durable and inexpensive, but bulky, while technologies like HD-Rosetta store massive amounts of information practically indefinitely, but with a price to match.  Even if we were to discover this elusive medium, its existence in and of itself would be no guarantee that the data it holds would last, as the final determining factor lies within its human users.  No archive is immune to an owner’s decision to dispose of data which they see as useless or extraneous, nor can mechanical faults or careless operators ever be completely negated.  In this matter, I fully agree with the assertion in Digital History that the basic operational principles which guide the storage of historical resources are far more important in the long run than individual technological developments (pg. 225).  If we forget these long-held and proven techniques, no glittery computational wizardry can ever fully pick up the pieces.

Project Development

I’m very interested in the potential applications of 3D scanning technology to the history field.  I find the technology itself fascinating, and I’m considering a number of different ways in which to put it to good use.

At the moment, there are thousands upon thousands of museums in the United States alone, and very few of them have the resources necessary to effectively utilize high-quality 3D scanners.  For my project, I’m thinking of proposing the creation of a digital archive which, when coupled with the scanners themselves, would provide 3D scan processing and storage for these museums.  Depending on the individual circumstances, the scans could either be made available to researchers and other interested parties, or isolated from all but those with access given by the museum in question.  These scans would have many different uses, including fraud protection, repair due to damage or object degeneration, research, and duplication for educational props.  Care would have to be taken with objects which carry copyright or other legal burdens, and proper electronic security would be vital.

While the initial start-up cost for this resource would be sizeable, as 3D scanners with real-time color and texture mapping (such as the Handyscan 3D line) can run upwards of $70,000, but the cost to each individual museum would be far more manageable (or free, if substantial private or government support could be acquired).  A test run with a less-advanced system (i.e. NextEngine, going for around $3,000) could be used as a proof of concept.  In addition, due to advances in scanning technology which I don’t even pretend to understand, certain types of 3D scans take up surprisingly little archive space, greatly reducing the support architecture required.

So, thoughts?  Love it?  Hate it?  Want to bury me in a ditch and steal the idea?  I welcome any and all suggestions and critiques.  Thanks in advance.