ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ

Original article can be found at������
Originally published on July 13,��2018��By Patty Limerick��

History ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ and I are old friends. Thirty years ago, still a newcomer to ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ, I gave the keynote speech at the society’s annual members meeting. Over the years, to use��the classic��Western phrasing, I have not been a stranger to that organization; my deepest mission in life is reaching members of the public to persuade them to find value in history.��

Before my role as ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ State Historian became reconfigured, I had four intense months to observe the inner workings of the state agency and nonprofit that manages the History ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ Center located in downtown Denver.��

I am not a person known as uncommunicative or secretive, but I have nonetheless confined my criticism of History ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ’s operations and actions to a small circle of friends and colleagues.��

Maintaining public silence is no longer tenable. Personal and professional integrity demands a more forthright approach and a more open statement of my disappointment in and my hopes for the performance of the state historical society.��

So here we go.��

The current exhibits, as well as the ones on the near horizon, do little to provide historical��understandings��of issues that concern Coloradans today. On the contrary, most of them register in a genre we would have to call “history lite.”��

Hence, my current hope: that History ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ’s leadership will join me in a spirited public discussion of the ways that historical thinking can serve as a remedy for the bitter polarization and antagonism of the Trump Era.��

Is it practical and fair to ask a state historical society to offer such a remedy?��

�۱��.��

But History ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ has not stepped forward to provide that service to the state’s citizens.��

Two weeks ago,����four years after it underwent a major reorganization. In the double feature of a long-form article and a radio interview, the reporter Ann Marie��Awad��explored issues involving management, budget, workplace climate, and high levels of staff turnover. The report noted accomplishments in, for instance, balancing the institution’s budget, but it brought attention to other matters that might evoke concern among ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ’s citizens.��

An opportunity to unite��
��

Two and a half years ago, I had a crystal-clear vision of what I would be doing in the hot summer of the midterm election year of 2018.��

Right about now, I would be joyfully writing to invite you to visit a new historical exhibit called “Parting Ways with Partisanship: The Up-and-Down Story of Civility and Collaboration in Purple ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ.” Even better, in the opening weeks of this exhibit, I would be hosting a series of lively discussions with pairs of prominent Republicans and Democrats who had forged friendships and alliances that permitted them to work together on common causes.��

When I was appointed as the ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ State Historian, I was theoretically given the authority to direct the planning of exhibits and programs at History ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ; this celebration of our tradition of bipartisanship led my priority list.��

I was already alarmed by the intensity of the nation’s polarization. Since then, and accelerating with President Donald Trump’s inauguration, polarization has acquired a fearful intensity. Our need — for institutions and organizations capable of and willing to provide us with historical perspective on controversial issues — grows ever more urgent.��

However, not long after my exuberant priority list for exhibits came out of the chute, it came to a halt. (Indeed, the story of the evaporation of my authority over History ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ’s exhibits is breathtaking in its tedium. We can save this story for the unlikely day when Denver Post readers express interest in a tale rich in detailed summaries of meetings and memos.)��

Rather than making a purposeful effort to advance the cause of civil conversation in these troubled times, this state institution has been forfeiting and bypassing multiple chances to present exhibits and programs that would convene people who hold clashing positions on current issues and mobilize historical perspectives to invite those disputants into productive conversations and even into alliances. Even more important, it is passing up opportunities to provide��the majority of��citizens with a chance to hear well-moderated discussions that would help them figure out what they think.��

Instead, separately and collectively, the current exhibits evoke the word “jumble.” From “Denver A to Z” to “ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ Stories,” from “Legorado” (a mash-up of ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ’s landscape constructed from Legos) to “Zoom In:��the��Centennial State in One Hundred Objects,” History ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ leaves it to visitors to walk among disjointed fragments from ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ history and to guess where they might fit in a bigger picture of the state’s history.��

With an exhibit on the history of beer in ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ in preparation, “history lite and effervescent” seems to be maintaining its central place on the menu. Given that History ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ’s most consistent visitors are young children on school field trips, there is something mystifying in the decision to create a major exhibit on the history of a beverage with many festive dimensions but also with unmistakable connections to human tragedy. Will some parts of the exhibit feature the miseries of alcoholism? Will touch-screen videos present representatives from Mothers against Drunk Driving telling their stories of loss?�� At the least, very careful thought will have to go into preparing the script for tour guides and docents to use as they conduct��fourth-graders��through this complicated dimension of ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ’s — and humanity’s — history.��

While the beer exhibit looms on the horizon, the disordered character of past exhibits lingers in the museum. Four years after the budget-crisis-induced regime change, newer exhibits still appear as compilations of pieces from unrelated jigsaw puzzles, placed next to each other as if proximity would give them coherence.��

Reckoning with a troubled institutional past��

The current leaders of History ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ might, with some accuracy, claim that the jumbled quality of exhibits was an intractable inheritance they received from their predecessors. And yet, as all readers who remembered to strap on their irony detectors are now thinking, when a historical society struggles to reckon productively with its own institutional past, observers will find the phrase, “physician, heal thyself,” begging for attention.��

Leaders of History ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ, you have inherited your own difficult legacy from the past. It is truly your privilege and honor to deal with this legacy in a manner that sets a model for your fellow citizens.��

Why not, for instance, display an honest and forthright statement everywhere in the building?��

“As you may have noticed on your visit to this museum, it’s hard to pull the pieces and parts of ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ history together. But we’re giving it our best shot! Email or text or Tweet or write us on��Facebook, and��tell us where you’re seeing connections we may be missing!”��

Why not hold lively and forthright public forums to explore ways in which History ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ could move beyond “history lite” and offer programming that would unleash the full power of a state institution to illuminate the historical origins of our dilemmas today?��

Why not position this state to set an example for a troubled nation by sponsoring and maintaining a vigorous and consistently civil conversation on the complicated heritage we have received from the people of the past?��

Performances of good-natured, productive airing of differences are not, to use a vanished phrase, a dime a dozen in American life today. But I am certain that History ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ could — over the next years — provide dozens of those occasions, with costs that will exceed a dime, but will pay off in many ways.��

Fellow citizens, I fully understand that there are many difficult issues demanding your attention. But if you think historical perspective might help us in reducing the tension and friction of our times, then please consider joining my cause by attending my proposed public discussion to explore the great promise and potential ready to be unleashed at History ŷ���ڱ���Ƶ. If you believe that historical perspective might help us in dealing with our conflicts and dilemmas in these trying times, I welcome your company on that and many other occasions.��

And, now back to you, leaders of this important state agency: These are tense and troubling times, but don’t let that frighten you. Or, to put this invitation in more folksy terms, “Come on in, the water’s fine!”��

Well, actually, launching��a mutual commitment to forthrightness, let’s rephrase that.��

The water’s rough, tempest-tossed, and troubled. But that’s��all the more��reason to serve our fellow citizens by jumping in.��