Valuing the archive for research and learning and teaching in geography

Abstract

I have been thinking a lot about the efforts individuals and organisations go to so that archival resources are collected, catalogued, shared, and analysed and their insights then disseminated.

Some of my thinking pertains to the fact that at least 140 articles in this journal draw on rich sources of archival data. For example, writing about school retention in Melbourne between 1951 and 1985, Teese (1987) drew on the Archive of Pupil Statistics of Victorian Departmental Post-Primary Schools (1946–1985), Department of Education, housed at the University of Melbourne. His argument that structural and socio-spatial inequities in educational attainment were entrenched remains salient (and see Smith et al., 2019). What would revisiting the archives with the benefits of additional data and QGIS capabilities now reveal? Or, for instance, in work on processional walking, Louise Platt and colleagues considered archives spanning two centuries related to the Manchester and Salford Whit Walks in the United Kingdom. Combined with interviews and observations in the present, that archival work enabled them to draw several “empirical insights into how dwelling emerges from a movement through place which, in turn, cements a being in place” (Platt et al., 2021, p. 106). In a decade, how might one revisit work such as theirs to consider what, by then, would be a new archive of newspaper articles about the impact of COVID-19 on such events or on walking practices more generally? These are but two instances of archival work in the journal, but they show how our authors engage with rich sources of data and information available to us.

Some of my thinking on the value of the archive is oriented to my own projects, in which historico-geographical resources have often been central—and that goes right back to my doctoral years and the influence of Michel Foucault (1986, p. 23), who pronounced that “the anxiety of our era has to do fundamentally with space.” In doing so, he acknowledged all manner of quotidian domains that might be sites for such angst. His own focus, however, was upon those spaces that “have the curious property of being in relation with all the other sites … as counter-sites … in which all the other real sites that can be found within the culture, are simultaneously represented, contested, and inverted … heterotopias” (p. 24).

Again, by way of example, in my current work on the geographies of drowning and the drowned, I regularly “enter” the archive, a heterotopian space, and in it can find references to all manner of outstanding resources. Take the Hive, a convict ship built at Deptford in the United Kingdom in 1820. Working remotely, I can learn that in 1834, it sailed for Australia with 250 male convicts aboard and can establish that it foundered on the New South Wales coast on 10 December 1835 and that convicts and crew were rescued by both Indigenous people and colonisers and I can learn that the one person who drowned—attempting to rescue a younger shipmate—was John Edwards, boatswain. Using scale as an heuristic device, I can then think through all of the ways in which that one instance ramifies out to empire and into the geographies of the body and can do so by making up my own mind about the evidence before me. Certainly, I could—indeed should—also read exemplary work by Nutley and Smith (1994) about the archaeological significance of the wreck site and how it informs contemporary policies on cultural heritage preservation. Thank goodness for digitisation. But, also, thank goodness for the capacity—once again—to travel to archives to secure rare documents that have not and may never be digitised and, in addition, where possible to “ground-truth” what one finds.

Well, so what? Simply this: Many insights in the pages of the journal rest on arguments based on archival labours, and many of those insights are carefully deployed in research that shapes how we think and how we act in the present and future, and those are powerful and important aspirations. Yet, how much of our learning and teaching effort is directed to providing students with core skills in archival research? Gone are the days when we might assume that undergraduates in human geography at least would be taking complementary subjects in history. Gone are the days when we can assume that geography departments or units are teaching the history of geographical thought. What are we losing by not building archival method skills into subjects that are focused on the present and future tense—in every sense of that word? Worth pondering, I think.

We have some fascinating offerings in this fourth issue of volume 60, starting with important work on extinction narratives as they relate to Adani coalmine and the black-throated finch (Hine et al., 2022). That article is followed by two different takes on disaster—one based in contemporary Australia and focused on insurance claims (Bourova et al., 2022) and one historical and centred on the long-term demographic effects of extreme weather events (García-Hernández, 2022). Robson et al. (2022) provide an important analysis of the ways in which local government is engaging with ideas about planetary health—not least in terms of climate change. Martin and Strengers (2022) show how use of a card game can elicit insights from participants in a study on everyday practices and renewable energy generation—which also touches on concerns about climate change. That work is followed by a comprehensive analysis of Australia’s Chinese diaspora in which Tan and Liu (2022) argue for nuanced understandings of demographic change to inform “retention strategies in Australia concerning diaspora groups that can enhance economic and social inclusion.” While much of the diaspora to which they refer is based in cities, different change-dynamics are examined by Plummer and Argent (2022) in an incisive work about the wool industry and path dependence and relative resilience of four rural local government areas in Western Australia. Then, in an article that shows the importance of research-informed learning and teaching, Roelofsen and Carter-White (2022) report on results from a 2-year research-teaching project embedded in a postgraduate course on heritage management that includes virtual field trips to sites of profound trauma.

These several original articles are rounded off by our final special commentary on COVID-19 in which Morgan (2022) considers a systems perspective on opportunities for better health outcomes in Tasmania. As readers will know, we have published several such commentaries, and these are to be brought together in a virtual issue with editorial commentaries by Dallas Rogers and Matthew Kearnes in 2023. Associate Editor Clare Mouat and I are also working on a new round of COVID papers that Clare has championed under the title “legacies and anticipatory geographies of the pandemic,” and we anticipate several papers to be published from the call we made earlier this year.

Last but by no means least is an evocative commentary on hopeful tourism in the Anthropocene (Westoby et al., 2022) and a thoughtful book review by Martinus (2022) about ordinary cities and extraordinary geographies. We hope you enjoy these offerings.

Finally, in other news, on 1 December 2022, we will be launching our virtual 60th anniversary issue, and the team is excited about being able to curate an editorial pick of 10 years of work between Volumes 51 and 60. That month also marks the final in Steve Turton’s unfailing service to this journal as Associate Editor, and we thank him for all he has contributed to the team. Warm congratulations to him, too, on the pending publication of his new book Surviving the climate crisis: Australian perspectives and solutions, which we will return to in 2023.

We are also delighted to announce that, in this issue, we launch a new look for the journal that includes new cover art and a move to a sans serif font to better provide for those for whom serif font proves problematic. Considering diversity includes considering neurodiversity after all. So you will see some articles in one font and some in another … worry not! The transition is in train.

And finally, we are proud to share that the journal has been blessed by the addition of four Indigenous editorial board members: Bhiamie Williamson, Michael-Shawn Fletcher, Miri (Margaret) Raven, and Corrinne Sullivan. My deep gratitude to them and to senior editorial board member, Richie Howitt, for conversations leading to this crucial outcome.

Stay safe and well.