You Work in Archives—So What Do You Do?

If you’ve read this blog for any length of time, you might have picked up on the fact that I’m a history enthusiast. In fact, I even have a history degree. What you might not know, though, is that I use said degree in my work as an archives assistant. (That’s right, contrary to popular belief, history degrees aren’t just for teaching. Not to downplay history teachers at all—I have two pretty awesome ones in my family!) 

So, in other words, I work in archives. Even if you did know that, you might still be wondering what exactly I do—or anyone does—when working in archives. If so, you’re not alone. I am asked frequently, “So…what do you actually do?” Hence, this blog post. Today, I hope to give you a very abbreviated explanation of what archives are, what archivists (pronounced ARK-uh-vists) do, and why it matters to you.

Let me start by clearing up the common confusion about digging around in the dirt, hunting for ancient artefacts or skeletons. That’s not what I do; an archivist is not an archeologist. And while archivists can—and often do—work in libraries and museums, each of those entities involves a separate profession with a different, although similar, focus and standards from the archives profession. I like to think of archives, libraries, and museums as cousins—related, but not identical.

Archivists have their own profession that, like any other, has standards, guidelines, and ethical codes that govern its work in addition to societies and scholarly publications that help shape it. And just as archivists are distinct from librarians and curators, archivists can be distinct from each other as well. They can come in a variety of breeds (aka specializations) or can wear all the specialization hats at once, and they can work in a variety of types of archives—religious, corporate, public (government), academic, family, community, etc.

The most succinct way to describe what archival professionals do overall, though, is that we identify, sometimes gather, preserve, and provide access to records that have lasting or “enduring” value. These records are housed in the archives, but they themselves are also referred to as archives. So the term “archives” can refer both to the place and to the contents of the place.

Probably the most well-known archives in the United States (thanks to a degree, I’m sure, to the film National Treasure) is the National Archives that most famously houses the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution. Those are some pretty obvious examples of documents that have enduring value, but there are so many other things that warrant being preserved.

Think about why you keep things in your own life—you keep contracts to have proof of an agreement and its terms; you keep letters (in archival terminology, known as “correspondence”) that are special to you because of your relationship with the person who wrote them; you keep owner’s manuals because you might need to refer to them if an appliance malfunctions; you keep photographs of your grandparents because your kids never met them; and the list goes on. In short, you keep things for “future reference,” whether that reference is practical or sentimental.

Archives are the same way. At the most basic level, they are things that someone has decided to keep for a future use—whether or not the specific nature of that use is presently known. And that “someone” can be the creator of the items (e.g. the person who wrote the letter, took the photograph, etc.), an heir or successor of the creator, or an archivist.  

When materials (i.e. documents, photographs, etc.) are donated to an archives, whether by the person who originally owned them or someone else, it’s part of the archivist’s job to evaluate (or “appraise”) the items to determine if they should be kept. Archivists are in the business of permanent preservation, so you can imagine how quickly it becomes necessary to be selective with what is kept in the first place, due to limitations of both space and resources.

Once materials (often called “records” for items documenting official functions of an organization and “papers” for items created in a person’s personal life) are transferred into the archives’ possession, archivists take steps to preserve them from deterioration. This can include removing rusted paperclips, rubber bands, or other attachments that will cause damage to the paper over time, placing the materials in acid-free folders and boxes, and storing the materials in appropriately climate-controlled areas.

Another important part of archives work is what’s called arrangement and description. Archivists understand that the context surrounding a record—including its immediate physical context—is just as important as its content. For example, the significance of a handwritten poem is diminished if it is separated from the letter in which it was enclosed. In addition, the way a person organizes his papers reflects something not only about the papers themselves but also about him as a person.

For these reasons, archivists try as much as possible to maintain what’s called “original order,” i.e. to keep things in the order in which they were kept by the person who created or used them. This order can be kept physically (among the materials themselves) and/or “intellectually” (within the description of the materials). Sometimes, though, materials come into the archives in no discernable order, sometimes even literally dumped loose in a box. In these cases, archivists have to create order out of the chaos, deciding how to organize the materials in a way that will make sense to those who will use them.

The next step (which, in reality, happens concurrently with arrangement) is description. Archival description can take various forms, but essentially it means creating some form of tool to help people find specific materials in the archives. These tools can be simple inventories or complete “finding aids” that include information about the materials, where they came from, who created them, how they were arranged and why, and who arranged them.

My current position heavily involves this arranging and describing work. But there’s another “hat” that I wear, and that’s the reference hat, i.e. helping people physically locate and use the materials in the archives. This involves answering calls and emails and helping those who drop in with a research question.

See, there’s no point in gathering and preserving records if no one ever uses them. All the work that archives professionals do is for this foundational purpose—for researchers to discover, for students to explore, for city planners to verify, for families to uncover their history, for citizens to keep governments accountable, and so much more! And that, in short, is why you should care. Archives are open to you!

Even if you didn’t know that they were out there, you can discover the treasures they hold just like anyone else can! And even if you never step foot in an archives or explore archives that have been digitized and are readily available online, they make a difference in your life through the work that others do using them. If you’ve ever read a book, been influenced by the outcome of a court decision, gotten a passport, walked into a building that was remodeled, or watched a movie, chances are pretty good that archives were somehow involved in making each of those experiences what they were for you.

Archives hold information that solves problems and answers questions; they provide evidence that proves arguments; and they encapsulate our collective memory, helping to ensure that our society doesn’t suffer from crippling and dangerous amnesia. Without record of both the good and bad things that have happened, we cannot see where we’ve been and know how to move forward in a constructive, positive way. Without glimpses into how people have lived, loved, and learned in the past, we lose an invaluable opportunity to grow in empathy and understanding for our fellow humans in the past and the present, too.

I’ve only scratched the surface here, but I hope I’ve given you a taste of the world of archives—a world that is really just a microcosm of the larger world—and a glimpse into what I do every day. And I hope I’ve whetted your appetite, maybe enough to go exploring some archives on your own! Just think of a question and look in the archives for the answer. And if you need any help, your friendly archivist is only a question away!