Autopsy.Past

There is a past to everything.
In South Africa we have a Past. 
And until someone invents a memory wiping device that won't turn your brain to pudding, we dealt with the Past in various ways.
Here was one way, here is another.

And recently this happened:

Libraries, particularly Public Libraries have remained insulated from the ramifications of dealing with the Past, and except for a notable few people,  no one has decided to take a long hard look Back.

Sometime ago a thesis was released and made available publicly on one of the local university websites.

The thesis takes a  good long hard look at the Past of the Cape Town Public Library Service between 1952 and 1972. Now I don't review books because my tastes literally change every second, like a bibliographic goldfish and its 7 second memory (unproven). So this is not a review but rather a commentary of the thesis and a story of a librarian who had to deal with her Past in a real concrete way.


Let's start off with this from the thesis:

"Librarians are not concerned with distinctions of race, class or creed. Their object is
to provide facilities of the most useful kind to all members of the public – not only
those who can read, but to all those who can be persuaded to read (Varley, 1950)."

If you are swelling with pride - don't. It's a premature swell.
Ms Laishley documents that although the above statement was the official line, based on minutes and the like, there were consistent attempts to bar persons of color from libraries that were exclusively for white people.

By 1961, the following was implemented in line with the governments Separate Amenities Act:

" It listed what had been accomplished to implement separate facilities in the library
service including:

• The provision of new and separate libraries in non-White council housing areas and library depots in factories employing non-White labour;

• The provision of two traveling libraries giving alternative service to non-Whites in predominantly White areas;

• By drawing to the attention of all new or re-registering borrowers the appropriate clause in the Ordinance and advising them where the alternative library service is to be found

• Visits to school principals and advising them of the position;

• The employment at predominantly White libraries of White professional staff only;

• The employment and supervision at predominantly non-White libraries by non-White staff only.

• At the head office non-Whites, although they may be professionally qualified, do not do professional work such as cataloging, as this would involve working with White staff (City of Cape Town, 1961a)."

 Consider this: all the libraries on the Main Road in Cape Town - Woodstock, Rondebosch, Claremont, Wynberg had a twin library that was only for people of color, with less books, less amenities and just less of everything.

The hardships of the 1980's and the fiscal toll of separate facilities closed some of these separate amenities and now they only exist in the memories of those who worked there.

Censorship, Ms Laishley tells us was carried out with ruthless efficiency by librarians.

In Cape Town - Books were most likely burnt.

"From interviews with staff, none could recall the burning of books although all remember

the list of books sent to branches that had to be returned to head office:

     'Banned books were kept in the chief librarian’s office and books had to be taken off
     the shelf and returned to head office and were kept in a cage. Banned books could be
     requested for study. I did not know about burning books (Jansen, 2013).'

    'Banned books weren’t destroyed but were kept in a locked cupboard. The cupboard
    was there when I started in 1970. Not sure if all banned books were kept. There
    might have been books burnt but I didn’t know about it (Epstein, 2013).' "

Ms Laishley looks lastly at the treatment of staff in the Library service during apartheid, and this brings me to the itchy little festering sore driving my brain to distraction.

Organizational memory lasts longer than human beings because policies (which tend to hang around much longer) shape behavior and that behavior in turn informs the way in which people relate to each other in that organization.
Old patterns of behavior become embedded in the organizational DNA, passed down or up to people who pass through the organization, and in turn carry that behavior on to other places.
What I am trying to say, is this:  
Institutionalized behavior doesn't disappear overnight without some major intervention like the TRC did for the South Africa, or the first Democratic elections in 94.  It was necessary so forthcoming generations could not only have a barometer for how shitty things could get, but it could serve as basis for tackling new battles.

The Library Organizational Memory is like any organization, slow to change without intervention. Changing policies doesn't necessary have the same effect when dealing with an organization with so many disparate parts.  The Library service did not have its TRC nor did it have its Rhodes Must Fall.  And rationally, I would as a librarian question the need for anything like that since Librarians are evolved understanding individuals who can see the crap when its tossed their way.

But as librarians we're also stickler for the rules. 

We find solace in keeping to the policy, it is our shield that protects us from harm - from our own need to question. Following the organizational rules, no matter how bad is an act that we would condone. 

Hold on you might say.
I'm a librarian (of a certain age) I didn’t oppress anyone, I followed the rules and when things changed I changed too. We don't need to acknowledge past organizational behavioral patterns, it not necessary because we are enlightened.

Right?

I have a story:

A library worker that worked in a library in the Southern Suburbs of Cape Town once described to me her typical work day in the 80's, the late 80's into the early 90's.
She would get in at 7, and sign the register. 
Once the register was signed she went to the colored work room (a windowless room) and put her bag away and put on her blue overall. She and the other 11 colored persons would start shelving, taking instruction from the white librarians as to what they needed to do. Some of the librarians were notably younger than the coloured staff.
This library would open at 10, so they would shelf the books until then and then go to the colored work room where they would sit around a table and mend books for the rest of the day and listen for the bell.
You see, every colored staff member was assigned a number, and when that particular staff member was needed to tidy up some shelves or look after a child, the librarians in front would ring the bell. Each ring of the bell corresponding to the number assigned to that worker.

The librarian who worked at this library (Number 8) went on to eventually become a Senior Librarian (post 1994 of course), and once a month she would go to a management meeting and have to sit across or next to the Head Librarian of that library who rung the bell to call her.

There are other stories of course, some cautionary tales others downright horror stories, but the consistent theme in all these stories is that the victims of such appalling behavior are still working in the Library service.

Ms Laishley hopes to continue developing a paper based on her thesis  I can only hope that when she next writes about this particular subject she will document a profound if late "sorry" if not a heartfelt "please tell me your story" that originates from within the organisation in question.

I leave you once again with a quote from a her thesis:

"Shireen Osman mentions an incident at head office when colored staff members were waiting for a meeting and a white librarian came in and turned off the lights without saying anything.

         'We were sitting in the dark and had to open the curtains, they thought it was funny...

           (Osman, 2013).'

         'When you went to [head office]. you greeted everyone but not all greeted back- they
          looked at you -  Who are you?'  Those were the early years.
          (Osman, 2013).' "