If someone were to ask how being an archivist has helped me, the answer would be that it has allowed for a greater understanding of the enormous power of documents. Power for the benefit of administration and, therefore, institutions, businesses and people’s rights. Power to preserve memory. Power to avoid forgetting and, also, power itself because documents, archives, are an extraordinary tool for the future. Allow me to briefly expand on these ideas.
What has always struck me about people with serious memory disorders, Alzheimer's for example, is not only their inability to remember the past, but their inability to imagine the future: their condemnation is to live only in the present.
If we take this into the social sphere, it paints an extremely disturbing picture.
Can we imagine a society condemned only to exist in the present? A society
without memory, prevented from being able to construct its own future? We
know that individual memory is memory not only because it remembers but, fundamentally, because it forgets. However, humanity, since ancient times, has fought against collective amnesia by building repositories of memory, which ensure that future generations are able to imagine their future. Archives accumulate millions of memories from the past which, over the centuries, preserve the memories of those who have preceded us and who generously offer us the permanent adventure of inventing our future.
It is documents that allow us to know what others have already known, to see what others have already seen, to think what others have already thought. And those who will come after us will know, see and think many of the things that we now know, see and think. This is the antidote for preventing the peril of inhabiting an amnesiac world.
After all, are we to defend oblivion? Are we to be in favour of amnesiac amnesties in the face of aggressive violations of human rights? Or, and Trudy Peterson knows a lot about this, should we go to the archives and the documents to find out what happened, who was responsible, who suffered the consequences and, from there, open up to reconciliation? If you like, it is as simple as this: documents allow forgiveness, but also prevent forgetting.
We’ve just seen it: documents are the stuff of memory, even in this age of intangibility. And one could even say that they are Memory’s memory. And, for the most part, this memory has historically been in public hands. This circumstance has meant it has regulated, free and universal access. Will it be the same in the future? Are we not transferring, for the benefit of a few private companies, perhaps too unconsciously, the ownership, management and the policies of access and use of this vast body of knowledge that we are collectively creating?
And, of course, there is the big issue of hyperinflation in documentary production. Allow me to give an example of this in just one of the areas that have been the subject of my professional work: photographic heritage. From 1840 to 1860, just over four thousand daguerreotypes were made daily in the United States of America. In August 2017, Business Insider estimated that the still images produced worldwide that year would reach 1.2 trillion, or three thousand, two hundred and eighty-seven million, per day.
It is clear that, in the face of this new reality which affects documentary production as a whole, continual review of our professional role is required. I am convinced, however, that we will be able to respond to the challenges that we face, though we need to continually adapt our methodological tools because society demands it.
Future. This is a word I have repeated quite a few times in this speech. We should have no doubt about it: those of us who take care of the past must be at the vanguard of the future, precisely because it is up to us to preserve our present. And this is no joke, because without documents there is, and there will not be, knowledge. Perhaps everything would be better understood if, adapting an old Hindu proverb, we would convince ourselves that archives are not a gift from our parents, but a loan from our children.
I must end by expressing my deep gratitude to the Emmet Leahy Award Committee for this undeserved recognition I have received.