In The Lowell Experiment Cathy
Stanton explores how historical sites are constructed. Lowell, Massachusetts,
once an expansive industrial city, was hit hard by de-industrialization and has
since attempted to revitalize its economy through culture-led redevelopment. An
anthropologist by training, Stanton turns her critical inquiry onto the
historians, staff, politicians and visitors who have determined what happens at
Lowell. Stanton’s aspiration is that Lowell’s historical sites be used to
foster “a fuller consideration of capitalism in our lives.” (57)
I have two primary criticisms of The
Lowell Experiment. The first is that Stanton denies any meaningful
discussion about the potential uses and interpretations of the Lowell sites by
assuming that the conversation necessarily will revolve around a critique of
capitalism. Capitalism has played an integral role in Lowell’s past and there
is certainly room for discussion about working conditions, gendered jobs, and
organized labor. However, the type of focus that Stanton would like requires
that the visitors have a firm grasp on what capitalism is opposed to other
systems of economics (a feat that I am not convinced the American education
system has handled well, if at all) and possibly detracts from some of the more
intimate, human elements of the past that makes places like Lowell attractive
to visitors.
The second critique is that though she provided some poignant criticisms
of the Lowell sites and clearly explicated what she would like to see for the
future, Stanton is vague about how to realistically apply criticism in
practice. This became clear when Stanton discussed the Acres tours. The Acres
neighborhood was historically and is presently inhabited by poorer, blue
collar, immigrant workers. Stanton uses the tours to criticize the manner in
which the parks anachronistically emphasizes the positive precisely because tours
of this neighborhood illustrate the level of disconnect between the present
immigrant population and the park’s staff and visitors. While Stanton is right
that both history and the present have not always been positive, she dismisses
a comment by one of the tour guides that I wish she had addressed. Namely, that
the guide felt it would be disrespectful to Acre locals to go into their
neighborhood and remind them (and a group of strangers) of all the problems
they face on a daily basis. Where and when sensitive topics are brought up is
essential to the dialogue that Stanton wants to create. Questions of how to start the dialogue, how to reach out to the community, and how
to involve local civic organizations are not discussed.
This critique of Stanton is ironically a critique of critical history in
a broad sense and encourages me to turn to David Blight’s article “It You Don’t
Tell it Like It Was, It Can Never Be as It Ought to Be.” Blight makes a clever
allusion to One Hundred Years of Solitude
that questions if we, as historians, have become so obsessed with our past
failures that we feel the need to over-compensate by reading critique into
everything. Slavery and Public History shares
a collection of thoughts, yet one common thread is that the practical side of
presenting sensitive and at times controversial topics is just as arduous and
time consuming as it is rewarding. As a result, I tend to view The Lowell Experiment as a foundation
from which to start to think about, not just critique, but how critique can
transform into something more tangible.
Readings:
Readings:
Horton,
James Oliver & Lois E. Horton, ed. Slavery and Public History: The Tough
Stuff of American Memory. Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press,
2006.
Stanton,
Cathy. The Lowell Experiment: Public History in a Postindustrial City. Amherst:
University of Massachusetts Press, 2006.
