History isn’t negotiable
On Oct. 1, 1916, readers of The New York Times opened their newspaper to find a robust defense of the Southern term “youall.” On the counsel of a Kentucky linguist, the Times defended using “you-all” (or most likely in modern times “y’all), saying the colloquialism was “necessary” and should “leave its confined Southern home and be adopted into the American language.”
As proof the term serves a “good” purpose, the paper offered up this sample sentence: “You-all burned our homes and ran off our ‘n----rs.’”
In true 1916 style, the paper believed it was the first word of that sentence that caused offense, not the last word.
Such language was reprehensible, and it’s undoubtedly the type of ugly slur the Times and other newspapers, including the Journal and the Sentinel, likely wish they could wipe from their archives. Newspapers also would use antiquated terms such as “moron“to describe people with mental disabilities.
For those in 2017 who are easily “triggered,” reading old newspapers is an emotional minefield. But these old papers provide a valuable service — they are a vivid time capsule of America’s values and standards at any given point in history. No matter how much we’d like to go back and deny such language and behavior was acceptable, it always will be there in black and white.
But as more newspapers and media outlets move more content online, that permanency may be in jeopardy. With digital publications, records can be retroactively altered or erased altogether. Suppose there’s a term in use today that one day falls out of favor — what’s to keep a future digital publisher from simply reaching back into the archives and disinfecting stories of the offending term or concept?
If history becomes elastic, there’s no telling how it can be manipulated by either government officials or interest groups to suit their purposes. The term “Orwellian” is thrown around a great deal, but the idea of government throwing inconvenient information down the “memory hole” is taken straight from George Orwell’s dystopian “1984.” (When Donald Trump finally declares, “We have always been at war with Eastasia,” we will know the transformation is complete.)
Further, while legacy media outlets most likely will protect their digital content while they exist, there’s no guarantee large media organizations are going to be the ones providing most of the news in the future. If journalistic ethics require leaving old stories alone, start-up media outlets may not honor traditional rules of publishing.
And, of course, that assumes those traditional newspapers even continue to exist. Even though the Milwaukee American newspaper went belly up in 1857, we can still go back and read hard copies of the paper to get a fuller picture of early city life. But if a modern digital news operation shutters its doors, it may very well take all of its content with it, leaving future historians and their readers poorer.
Being able to go back and tinker with history will further weaponize these battles. Mark Twain’s “Adventures of Huckleberry Finn” may see future digital copies rid of its offensive racial terms; Ernest Hemingway’s “The Sun Also Rises” will be scrubbed of its passages referring to Abraham Lincoln by a gay slur. Past news will all be negotiable.
The enthusiasm for tailoring past history to fit a narrative is why curating online content for future generations is so important. Ironically, those looking to whitewash the past are proving why it shouldn’t be allowed. History tells us how far we’ve come, not just who we are today.
Christian Schneider is a Journal Sentinel columnist and blogger. Email cschneider@jrn.com. Twitter: @Schneider_CM