Andrew Lemon
Historian

I have been asked to speak briefly: between the main courses, perhaps I am a sorbet to refresh the palate, or the pickle in the sandwich between the ham, or the relish in the roll.

I have had a role in each of the organisations or institutions represented at this seminar – a role to relish. It has been a walk-on role, a speaking (but not a major) role. I am a graduate and postgraduate of the history department at the University of Melbourne. At a tender age I became an archivist in the Archives Section of the State Library of Victoria, and was there in the period in which it became the Public Record Office in 1973. I became a professional member of the Australian Society of Archivists when it formed in 1975 and a member of its first executive, editing Archives and Manuscripts until 1979. After leaving archives and working as a freelance historian I became a foundation committee member of the now defunct History Institute, Victoria, which was a very useful connecting body between historians, university history departments and organisations (such as the Public Record Office and the State Library) whose operations affected historians. I was a member and later president of the Friends of the State Library of Victoria, and subsequently had three terms on the Library Board of Victoria. For ten years during the 1990s I edited the Victorian Historical Journal for the Royal Historical Society of Victoria, and I have also been a member of the Heritage Council.

These roles played havoc with my productivity in my career as a professional historian, but they have given me a continuing education and a particular insight into the way all of these institutions have fought their way through the challenges of the past thirty years. I have been a customer or user of the collections of the State Library, the Public Record Office and the Royal Historical Society of Victoria throughout that time. As for my connection with the Law Department – that is pretty spurious, I confess, but I can claim one link. When I worked in the state archives I understudied Bill Russell who had amongst his duties responsibility for the law records. We visited many country courthouses and in several cases rescued decaying records which sat in conditions similar to those mentioned by Howitt more than a century earlier. I mastered the intricacies of criminal trial briefs, depositions, inquest papers and registers of courts of petty sessions. I marvelled at the painstaking work of mice and rats who could nibble their way around delicious parchments, while leaving the inky writing as a tracery ready to disintegrate when moved.

It is a long time now since I have worked directly as an archivist, though the skills and experience are continually put into practice in my historical research. But at this distance I have developed some considered views about archives in general, Public Record Office Victoria (PROV) in particular, and the way in which we regard and treat our state collections. I have scope here only to give you the baldest summary of those views.

• I am heartened to see that those whose profession is archives have increasingly recognised that their purpose is cultural in the broadest sense, not just administrative, and that they no longer are attracted to the bizarre idea that archives have nothing to do with history. In this regard, PROV’s programme of exhibitions and publications is admirable and effective.
• The Public Record Act 1973 was an important and constructive piece of legislation in Victoria but it was predicated on the notion that state archives were something distinct from cultural organisations, and the language of that act takes care to avoid describing them in cultural terms. But I have maintained that archives, libraries and historical collections have more in common than the things that differentiate them, and therefore they need to act in concert and cooperation: as this seminar today perhaps affirms.
• The separation of archives from libraries may have been a necessary developmental step but was analogous to adolescence. Difference needed to be asserted then. The challenge now is to recognise and work with the things we have in common. I recognise that it is highly unlikely that the required resources would have flowed if archives had stayed part of the State Library, and archives may have lacked administrative clout. But we also need to acknowledge that there was a large cost in waste and duplication of effort (such as computer systems, reference collections) and an additional burden of inconvenience placed on researchers. At last we see signs of greater cooperation between these related institutions.
• The community of interest between archives, libraries and historical museums collections is demonstrated if you visit their web sites and search engines. In most instances a customer or researcher goes to these sites seeking information and is only marginally interested where the information is held, though for each of the institutions the collections are paramount.
• The researcher does not always realise it, but archival provenance is the researcher’s comfort or guarantee concerning the authenticity of the information – it gives evidence of context. The item in isolation is much more prone to misinterpretation or fraud than the item in context.
• Archives are only worth keeping, or worth the effort, as a cultural resource. The rationale that we retain records for legal, administrative reasons is only part of the story. History proves that records can be used to extract all manner of useful information, even if it is not readily apparent at the time. We have a capacity now to process vast amounts of information that would have been impossible to imagine processing thirty years ago. Therefore, despite the proliferation of information, the balance should be swinging towards keeping more rather than less, using technology where we can to keep this manageable. Archivists trying to second-guess the ways in which records might be used in the future will continue to make grave errors. Much broader thinking is needed around the whole question of the principles behind disposal.
• Archivists need to extend their role as advocates for records, in the way that for example Heritage Victoria and the Heritage Council see themselves as advocates for heritage, or Parks Victoria as advocates for parks: they need to define their role as active custodians of the record, not passive.
• In 2000 when I spoke to the archivists’ conference in Melbourne I referred to the damage being done to records through council amalgamations and the privatisation of government bodies. Anecdotal evidence since that time suggests to me that despite the existence of the Public Record Act, much that was of value has been lost or degraded. In the same way as an environmental impact assessment is demanded for new developments, archivists need to argue for an archival impact assessment for administrative rearrangements, reshuffles and privatisations. These so-called rationalisations have embedded costs that have often been ignored. Any such change to administrative arrangements needs to come with funds for trained staff, storage space or, for example, negotiations with other affected parties (such as local history societies). Traditional archives may rot and moulder for decades, but the greatest risk to archives always comes at the time when they are rearranged or moved. Months and years of work can be wasted by carelessness or ignorance at that point.

Ultimately the two greatest assets of any cultural organisation are its collections and its expert staff. If these are nurtured, the next asset follows – the support of the community. As someone who has worked at the base level at the old archives section, can I presume to speak for those who have worked behind the scenes? Few people are more anonymous than the rank and file archivist yet, for some reason, in my experience the profession attracts some exceptional minds. Unfortunately in my time there, the Archives Section of the Public Record Office deteriorated into an unhappy working environment. It did however accommodate some extraordinary colleagues who became lifetime friends: some who went on to great success elsewhere, like Bill Russell and Doug Bishop, others who won’t make it past a footnote in a history, if that, like the brilliant Douglas Misso and Bill Wambeek (both sadly deceased), and yet others who made a contribution in other spheres such as Paul Harris, the film critic, and Judy Cordingley, the woodworker (and my wife!). That is now a long time ago. They and their largely anonymous successors are the ones whose work really makes all the difference. It is a marvel, and most encouraging, to see what has been achieved from what was, in the nicest sense, a pretty amateurish organisation thirty years ago. I salute those who have looked after and guided PROV since that time, and wish it the success and community support it deserves.

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