Blog Post #9: Interactive Visualization / Bill Ferster's ASSERT Model

In taking from the book’s own description in his preface of Interactive Visualization: Insight Through Inquiry, “interactive visualization permits the modeling of dynamic expressions of data and information that draw from a number of disciplines to inform the final representation, including design, psychology, perception, computer science, statistics, human interface design, and literature.”[1] In this form of historical interpretation, users are invited to interact with primary sources presented to them in a manner that encourages individual understanding – an aspect I have always found important to implementing public history tools to the larger subset of information visualization. Moving into the introduction of Interactive Visualization, the breadth of what this digital history subset has to offer is dutifully covered – from computer-generated simulations of the Voyager trip to the use of radial networking maps – to help the reader understand where the field was, and where the field is going (contributing to the timelessness of the book’s information.)

It is also here where Ferster introduces many key terms and concepts important for interactive visualization, as well as his ASSERT model:

·       Ask a question

Here, the researcher is tasked with crafting solid questions, off of which the rest of the ASSERT model will fall into place. The authors outline the importance of understanding your audience, their knowledge desires and technological capabilities and having a navigable scope of interest. Ferster also provides several methods (the three-part query and graphical mapping) of generating palatable questions for research – which I find useful not only for digital humanities but just the research process in general.  

·       Search for evidence to support the question

Sources take on a variety of forms, and Ferster breaks down each category of source materials to help better contextualize what an interactive visualization can offer historical interpretation. Just as a thesis topic relies on available source material, so does a prospective visualization. Some evidence will be more effective than others.

·       Structure that information to answer the question

The way in which your chosen data is selected and then structured is integral to formulating a successful interactive visualization. Here, the authors also note useful applications that will help organize and structure data for you, such as Excel and Google Docs. I will say it was comforting to recognize technology I already use on a daily basis being used to create concrete digital projects!

·       Envision ways to answer the question using data

Now that you have your question and the data you are going to use to support it, envisioning ways in which this information can be presented is your next step. Tufte’s 6 Fundamental Principles for Analytical Design provide excellent starting points for envisioning your visualization (such as tracing causality or the original intentions of the documents provided).

·       Represent the data into a compelling visualization

Here we can exercise usability and aesthetic expertise to showcase our questions and data structures. In understanding the various practices of interpretation and perception, digital historians can work to create strong, user-friendly, visually and emotionally captivating projects that support the individuality promoted by interactive visualization. I enjoyed how in-depth this chapter was, even delving into color schemes and the effect certain hues have on the understanding of the subject material.

·       Tell a meaningful story using the evidence to answer the question

Put everything together. This chapter explored the narrative treatment of the data to be visualized, through an understanding of the narrative flow, basing storytelling and representations. Good visualizations house good data sources and research methodology, but also employ meaningful storytelling to answer the lingering “so what?” question.

I particularly enjoyed the chapter on accessibility; while the ASSERT method itself promotes user stability and open interpretation; open access is an entirely different beast to conquer. The authors discuss the implications of the Section 508 Act on historical visualization and the need to implement accessibility for disabled users, as well as provide alternative forms of information dissemination so that all audiences can access that information.[2] This specific need for accessibility is one well-suited for interactive visualization, as the modes of representation are much more variable than those provided by traditional monographs.

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[1] Ferster, Bill, and Ben Shneiderman. Interactive Visualization: Insight Through Inquiry. Cambridge: MIT Press, 2012, pg. xiii

[2] Ferster, Bill, and Ben Shneiderman. Interactive Visualization: Insight Through Inquiry. Cambridge: MIT Press, 2012, pg. 246.

Blog Post #8: Digital History Project Review - Take One (Draft/In Class Presentation)

 Cold War International History Project Digital Archive

https://digitalarchive.wilsoncenter.org/

The Cold War International History Project Digital Archive, founded in 1991 and maintained by the Cold War International History Project of the Woodrow Wilson Center for Scholars, focuses on acquiring and translating various Cold War documents from archives around the world – uncovering new sources as global archives release documentation to the public, offering fresh new insights into the history of international diplomacy and relationships. These efforts to provide public access to emerging documents allow students, scholars, and the interested public to “reassess the Cold War and its contemporary legacies,” an indispensable resource for historians researching twentieth-century international relationships and the insights of the conflict on a global scale.

In March of 2013, the Wilson Center for Scholars instituted a new digital archive collection dubbed Digital Archive: International History Declassified, an archive that housed more documents than the original CWIHP site did, while also facilitating the addition of more documents expected to be declassified as time went on.

Source materials include a wide array of Cold War topics, such as the fall of the Berlin Wall, Chinese global diplomacy and approaches, and the impact of the Chernobyl Nuclear Accident – while also providing various sources on lesser-known aspects of the Cold War, such as the history of the Brazilian Nuclear Program, diplomatic implications of the 1988 Seoul Olympic games, and even documents on the existence of ice hockey during the height of the Cold War. Documents come from over one hundred archives worldwide and are translated by CWIHP scholars from twenty-four different languages.

With such an impressive scope of topics covered, the site also features several different search mechanisms that make the site extremely navigable and user-friendly. In simply browsing the collection, users can choose to explore documents by location, where a world map featuring hyperlinked regions takes the user to a page with only sources related to the selected region.

Documents by location.

Users can also explore global documents by year, in which they are presented with a clickable timeline, and then also by most common subjects. The archive has also created several different collections where various document types related to a specific subject, such as “Local Nationalism in Xinjiang, 1957-1958” are grouped and organized chronologically – users can then click on the specific document they want to read or sift through detailed summaries of each different source within the collection. The archive also provides thematic databases; users can choose a theme, navigate through a timeline of events, and parse through research material related to the theme they have chosen (such as Nuclear History or Chinese Foreign Policy.)

Documents by year or most common subject.

This user-friendly navigation is the archive’s most useful feature: the site provides an excellent tool not only for historians researching niche aspects of the Cold War but also for teachers and professors as an educational tool. The simplicity of the search mechanisms, while also extremely thorough in possibility, allows the site to access a large public audience. Nonspecialists, unsure of what keywords to search for, can make efficient use of the project’s curated collections and hyperlinked maps and timelines. Furthermore, on the site’s homepage, columns for the most recently added documents and newly created collections allow visitors to see the firsthand acquisition of newly declassified documents and the implications these documents have for larger historical themes and narratives.

While the archive is a highly beneficial tool for historians and the public alike, the curated collections and themes sometimes feel unfinished – with such important topics, like Yuri Gagarin and the First Human Space Flight having only 20 applicable documents, and South Korean Nuclear History having only 26 – mostly consisting of texts that have always been widely accessible. As time goes on, however, and more declassified materials become available for translation and acquisition, these collections and themes may become more full-figured; this one issue is possibly out of the archive’s hands, simply because they are working with what is currently available to them.

The archive’s about section claims that “the Digital Archive is a resource where students, researchers, and specialists can access once-secret documents from governments and organizations all over the world,” and the project does just that – and more. In providing public access to sources, translating foreign documents, and housing such navigable, palatable search mechanisms, The Digital Archive: International History Declassified provides anyone with an interest in Cold War implications and relationships the ability to research these narratives to the fullest extent possible. Expectantly, this archive will only continue to grow as more classified documents become available to the public, and this efficient online format perfectly facilitates this anticipated growth.

Blog Post #7: Spatial History / The Spatial Turn

Spatial history applies methods of spatial analysis to study the human past – spatial history “makes space an explicit part of analysis” and encourages quantification and systematic empirical analysis to historical questions. At the root, spatial history is a form of doing research; it can generate research questions that would often go unasked in lieu of traditional history.[1]

The “Spatial Turn” in history refers to the use of spatial history tools to establish new research questions about human experience, while also referring to the need to study space as an integral part of history altogether.[2] As it stands, traditional history methodologies have cultivated a lackluster understanding of space and its inherent relatedness to the human experience – understanding historically accurate boundaries and physical geography will reveal dimensions of historical reality not yet revealed through our current modes of analysis.

Examples of these unasked questions are provided in the three case studies we read about: “Teaching the Salem Witch Trials,” “Scaling the Dust Bowl,” and “Geographies of the Holocaust.” “Teaching the Salem Witch Trials,” considers the geographic explosion of witchcraft accusations, allowing room for questions of economic discourse and interpersonal workings that often get overlooked for the traditional, broad analysis of the trials at large.[3] Using computational tools and GIS technology, interpretation from various different data forms permits large-scale cross analyses that establishes a larger narrative picture – in this case, familial records, gender statistics, and economic backgrounds posed better nuanced questions about the Salem Witch Trials.

In “Scaling the Dust Bowl,” this same amalgamation of different data sets and geographical information challenge the traditional explanations of the Dust Bowl (overplowing by farmers) by visualizing the space where massive dust storms took place, leading to conclusions that illustrate many counties faced extensive dust storm damage, even if the area was not prone to overplowing.[4]

Finally, in “Geographies of the Holocaust,” widescale analysis of various different data sets – most notably to me, Nazi blueprints of concentration camps – again provided nuanced details of the Holocaust and the space in which it took place.[5] Questions of reality versus ideality pop up in response to the visualization of camps versus what they should have looked like, and patterns of planning and implementation can be analyzed by historians to establish a better narrative picture.

In studying place and space, and in utilizing GIS and other computational tools to visualize the subject at hand, these projects show how the turn towards spatial history has facilitated a more detailed look into well-studied historical questions – and created more in the process.[6] Traditional methodologies lacking a focus or inclusion of space may not understand questions of geographic effect, and therefore would not provide the most detailed narrative possible. GIS allows for the analysis of different, larger data sets (which traditional methodology makes difficult to do) and permits these new questions and perspectives to arise.

Furthermore, the visualizations created by GIS technology are a massive win for teaching history. Monographs and books may not always house the best representation of data and narrative argument – maps, graphs, charts, and other visualization tools can place people directly within the environment they are being told about – some GIS creations are animated and can display patterns of human history in real time, some are manipulative and movable by the user, and some included hyperlinks to related information so that the user can learn more about what is in front of them.[7] For education, especially at the K-12 level, visualizations and digital tools like this are integral towards encouraging historical understanding, as well as promoting the need for more digital interaction in analog subjects like history.

As with any new methodology or technology, there are always downfalls to consider – in GIS, one being the cost to house computational software capable of analyzing large data sets, the innate error of results being reflected as more accurate than they are, and data will only be as accurate as the set it comes from.[8] Where traditional methodology relies on interpretation and analysis for conclusions, GIS relies on sheer data and then its subsequent analysis, the conclusion of which is not reliant on each other. However, this error of reliability is not endemic to spatial history of GIS technology and affects traditional history as it stands today.  Overall, spatial history requires a focus on space in order to analyze historical narratives, calls for empirical standardization and quantitative analysis: marking a great, thorough addition to the profession that will only move history and historians further into the digital age.

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[1] Anne Kelly Knowles, “Introduction,” Social Science History 24, no. 3 (2000) pg. 452.

[2] Anne Kelly Knowles, “Introduction,” Social Science History 24, no. 3 (2000) pg. 452, 453.

[3] Benjamin Ray “Teaching the Salem Witch Trials,” In Past Time, Past Place: GIS for History, edited by Anne Kelly Knowles, 19–32, (ESRI Press, 2002).

[4] Geoff Cunfer, “Scaling the Dust Bowl,” In Placing History: How Maps, Spatial Data, and GIS Are Changing Historical Scholarship, edited by Anne Kelly Knowles and Amy Hillier, 96–121, (ESRI, Inc., 2008).

[5] Anne Kelly Knowles, Tim Cole, and Alberto Giordano, “Introduction,” In Geographies of the Holocaust, 1–13, (Indiana University Press, 2014).

[6] Richard White, "What is Spatial History?" Spatial History Lab 1 (2010).

[7] David Rumsey and Meredith Williams, “Historical Maps in GIS,” In Past Time, Past Place: GIS for History, edited by Anne Kelly Knowles, 1–16 (ESRI Press, 2002).

[8] William Thomas III, “Is the Future of Digital History Spatial History,” (2004).

Blog Post #6: Reviewing Digital History - The American Historical Review

The reviews in the AHR Exchange were a great step towards implementing digital history into the rigorous peer review process of the historical journal – by asking reviewers to follow the same guidelines they follow for book reviews and providing a method of publication on discourse and discussion on digital humanities, the AHR has presented a routine for digital history review that seemingly had not existed before.

Before discussing the reviews of the digital history projects, I will provide my own. Digital Harlem: Everyday Life, 1915–1930 provides an apt, interactive overview of the spatial and temporal relationships that permeated Harlem during the timeframe – specifically about everyday life as reported in newspapers, police reports, and case files. The site allows the user to delve into specific areas and topics, generate results based off entered parameters, and read pre-constructed informational themes about life in Harlem to a specific degree or encounter; overall, I found the site incredibly interesting as a visual source bank. One is free to interact with visualized source materials in order to come up with their own conclusions.

Slave Revolt in Jamaica, 1760–1761: A Cartographic Narrative, in the same way as the Harlem project, visualizes a historical event through an animated thematic map, allowing the user to consider the strategies and impacts of the slave insurrection. Users can click certain dates on an interactive timeline that provides an animated visual of slave movement, as well as an accompanying source material that provides written insight as to what was happening at that moment. You can follow along with the movements of the slaves – an excellent way to showcase historical themes that get lost in words but are better spoken in visualizations.

Just as the structure of a book review promotes, the reviewers of the digital history projects focus on the arguments of the projects, quality of and analysis of source materials, presentability, and use of evidence by the projects’ designers.

In his review of the Harlem project, Joshua Sternfeld takes issue with the lack of concrete conclusions provided, as well as the inherent focus on crime and police reports. He claims that this focus relegates daily life in Harlem solely “on street corners and avenues,” rather than as a complex place of many historical agents and changes.[1] He feels historians should view the project in good light for its use of digital history tools, but that the translation of a monographic focus when combining multitudes of data should pose a cautionary concern for historians looking to use this newfound medium.

This lack of concrete conclusions is conversely applauded in Natalie Zacek’s review of Slave Revolt in Jamaica, 1760–1761: A Cartographic Narrative, where she notes that the interactive nature of the map, along with the access to archival grade sources, allows for users to exercise an agency over the narratives presented that is rarely seen in traditional history projects. This, along with the website’s accessible language and navigable landscape, make the project perfect for a versatile audience – both academic and public.[2] Both project creators responded with the same desire to allow for users to establish their own conclusions based off the materials provided, believing that the accessibility of the internet should only mean better accessibility and shared authority to historical information.

This accessibility is further touched on by Jessica Marie Johnson in her AHR interview – concerns over source accessibility and the periphery of history on the matters of social justice only make sharing authority with the public over historical narratives even more important.[3] This specific issue of accessibility, shared authority, and the perceived lack of conclusions discussed by Sternfeld were my main concerns during the readings. As a student on the public history track, we are ingrained pretty early in our studies of the power that shared authority and source accessibility can have in promoting civic literacy and historical engagement. Traditional history methods have unfortunately failed to reach the public audience – historians have long grasped at the authority of determining the narrative conclusions of the evidence they interpret. I believe that digital history projects provide the most compelling, far-reaching way we can allow an audience, a user, to view source materials, understand spatial and temporal themes in a visualized presentation, and then cultivate their own conclusions based off of the information they have parsed; what Sternfeld views as detrimental is actually an incredibly important asset of getting history outside of the ivory tower.

Overall, the inclusion of digital history projects within the AHR and its rigorous review program is a great step in allowing the digital method to find a place within the profession altogether. The closer we get to a consensus of acceptable digital practice, the closer we get to a solid profession.

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[1] Joshua Sternfeld, "Harlem crime, soapbox speeches, and beauty parlors: digital historical context and the challenge of preserving source integrity," The American Historical Review 121, no. 1 (2016): 143-155.

[2] Natalie Zacek, “Reading the Rebels and Mining the Maps: Digital Humanities and Cartographic Narratives,” The American Historical Review 121, no. 1 (2016): 167–75.

[3] American Historical Review, “Jessica Marie Johnson on the History of Atlantic Slavery and the Digital Humanities,” AHR Interview, published through Libsyn, February 17, 2021. https://www.historians.org/publications-and-directories/american-historical-review/ahr-interview.

Blog Post #5: The History Manifesto: Historians and Longue Durée Scholarship in the Age of Big Data

 In The History Manifesto, coauthors Jo Guldi and David Armitage put forth an intense call to action for historians to return to the longue durée style of historical analysis, using trends and big data to inform policy decisions and future prognostications. The authors claim that historians trended toward the “Short Past” in the 1970s, covering time spans equivalent to the average life expectancy rather than the centuries and long-term themes that preceded this turn toward the short term (with reference to the Annales School and Fernand Braudel).[1] Furthermore, the authors argue that historians have lodged themselves with the ivory tower, producing micro-monographs targeted for a specific, elite, academic audience – ultimately failing to produce answers for contemporary challenges and removing themselves from an important seat within public policy making. By returning to the longue durée method of writing history, historians will 1) be able to answer contemporary issues and 2) better engage with society and policy.

Personally, I did not entirely agree with the arguments presented – one reason being the perceived lack of current historical engagement with the public, another reason being the glaring misuse of evidence to support their claims. As a student on the public history track, reading that there is little to no interaction with the public regarding historical analysis felt blatantly…. wrong? Public history was built on the foundation of moving outside of academia, outside of the ivory tower, and engaging with the public in navigable, digestible words and positions. Historians do not just work in the university, but they are teachers, museum curators, archivists, librarians – all public-facing, sometimes governmental positions. One method of public engagement that public historians use is microhistory, simply because it is digestible and sometimes more relatable than a lengthy monograph is, especially to the general public. Guldi and Armitage do credit microhistories with spearheading important movements in attending to lost narratives and lesser-heard voices that were ignored by Rankean and early Annales methodologies but claim that contemporary complacence with microhistories as THE form of university-produced history is detrimental to future prognosis, policy-making, and the study of history altogether. Conversely, the data they provide regarding short-termism (Ben Schmidt’s “What Years Do Historians Write About?”) concludes the opposite trend – more and more university dissertations have covered longer time periods than what the authors suggest.[2] This does not support their argument for a retreat from the longue durée – and their disregard for microhistory as an important mechanism for focusing on important small events that do, in fact, aid to the big picture, is disharmonious with their argument altogether.

Reading the AHR Exchange and the decisive criticism from Deborah Cohen and Peter Mandler did elicit some agreement from me. Both authors discuss this data discrepancy, note the inherent discourse within Guldi and Armitage’s arguments, and condemn the book’s seemingly pigeonholed and narrow view of the history profession. In the critique, they note that manifestos are usually “rallying cries to lead soldiers into battle,” but that “historians are not soldiers,” and as such should not be expected to adhere to one specific dogma – rather, historiography is itself proof of mixed-modality and methodology, which keeps the profession alive within several different stages.[3]

In terms of the response from Armitage and Guldi to these critiques, the Manifesto authors refer to Cohen and Mandler as mere “hanging judges,” and reinforce that their use of Schmidt’s data is apt because data can be interpreted in different ways.[4] However, Schmidt himself interprets his data to suggest the same conclusions as Cohen and Mandler do, which makes the Manifesto authors’ claims and arguments hard to digest – especially when they are pushing for good, trustworthy, superb history to be done. Good history is built on good evidence, and the empirical issues reflected in the first version of the book are too cumbersome to overlook. Even with the revised figures, the authors will find trouble in supporting the main argument of their books when the data they are using continues to suggest the opposite of what they want to prove.

The History Manifesto, while not without error, does provide an important example of open-access publications and the quick revision that can result. In making the book free to read and encouraging discussion about the topics presented, the authors do well in exemplifying the public discourse they heavily argue for in their book. Moreover, in response to their peer’s critiques and worries, the authors revised the book, at a much faster rate than print publications would be able to accomplish, allowing for the quicker dissemination of accurate evidence to replace inaccurate evidence. The History Manifesto certainly got people to talk about the profession at large and leaves the topic open for continued discussion and debate.

Questions for discussion:

1. Were Deborah Cohen and Peter Mandler too harsh and judgmental in their critiques of The History Manifesto? Is there a line crossed between academic professionalism and emotional pillory?
2. The critique was not sought out and as such does not follow the AHR Exchange’s guidelines for book reviews (mainly discussing the book’s central arguments, strengths, and weaknesses, etc.) Do you think that, without adhering to the guidelines normally set forth by the AHR, the critique is weakened?
3. Do you agree with the critiques’ central arguments – that the Manifesto authors manufactured a problem of short-term history in the discipline in order to point out the advantages of long-term history, and that the misuse of empirical data ultimately negates the book?

 

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[1] Jo Guldi and David Armitage, The History Manifesto, (Cambridge University Press, 2014), pg. 10.

[2] Jo Guldi and David Armitage, The History Manifesto, (Cambridge University Press, 2014), pg. 39.

[3] Deborah Cohen and Peter Mandler, "The History Manifesto: A Critique," The American Historical Review 120, no. 2 (2015): pgs. 530-542.

[4] David Armitage and Jo Guldi, "The History Manifesto: A Reply to Deborah Cohen and Peter Mandler," The American Historical Review 120, no. 2 (2015): pgs. 543-554.