Museumsziel: Wohlbefinden

 

Wer auch immer "Wohlbefinden" versprochen hat, besonders klug gewählt ist dieses "Motto nicht. Es passt eher ins Verständnis vom Museum als Freizeitkonsum und verschiebt den Schwerpunkt von der gesellschaftlichen auf die individuelle Erfahrung. "Wellness" statt (altmodisch gewordener?) Bildung. Das ist eine Verschiebung, die stattgefunden hat und noch stattfindet. Statt "Lernort" jetzt "Oase". Warum nicht? Nehmen wir ein sehr ähnlich klingendes Wort. "Wohlfahrt". Das ist das, was der Staat der Gesellschaft geben soll, das "Glück aller", das, durch eine Verfassung garantiert, auch durchs Museum allen zuteil werden soll, sofern sie Staatsbürger sind oder sein wollen. Als solche selbst für ihre Wohlfahrt sorgen. Fürs "Wohlbefinden" genügt der Bürger als Konsument. Statt der "Bundeslade der Nation" (Beat Wyss, gibts jetzt den Wochenendurlaub in der Therme.

A question raised by the French Revolution and answered by Hollywood: does democracy need museums ?

Gottfried Fliedl

1
We all seem to know what a museum is or should be. As this painting by the French Painter Hubert Robert shows, it is a room, a space, an architecture, where people come together to see artworks. What we see is a crowd of men, women and children, so to say a public, consisting of very different people.

What the painting shows us, seems to be exactly what we expect of a museum: to be a sphere of unlimited access to a public, which also seems to be unlimited in a social sense. Everybody is allowed to come to the museum and everybody can make use of art or culture in that house and space named ‘Museum’. Everybody seems to be welcome to see things, to enjoy or to learn from them.
But the painting by Hubert Robert is rather a political manifesto or social utopia because the Grande Galerie of the Louvre, as shown here, first became a museum in 1793, and in reality the Gallery was at that time in rather poor condition.
Robert’s painting promises the realisation of something, which had been claimed for decades, but even under the French kings was never realized: a public museum with cultural artifacts owned by the public – this means, by the state, by the nation -, and created for the benefit, education and entertainment of the public.
Till 1793 France had in difference to some European capitals no royal Gallery open to the public, as Vienna or Florence had, and had no collection owned by the state as the British Museum had had since 1753.

What the painting shows is not an illustration of reality, but an idea, a promise, being realised just at the time of the French Revolution. It is often said that the founding of museums during the French Revolution is only a consequence of the elder royal politics –about 110 paintings were shown during some years from 1750 on in the Palais du Luxembourg. This means to see Revolutionary Museum as nothing other than the fulfilling of a political and museological tradition of the 18th century and of the French Kingdom.
And this is just the way the story is told for instance by the Louvre in it’s present historical department. But what differentiates it from the few public European Collections that existed at the time is the enormous and important political and social role not only of the Louvre-Museum but of all museums founded during the French Revolution, for instance the Musée des Monuments Français, the Musée d’ Histoire Naturelle or the Musée d’ Art et des Metiers.
These museums are not based on continuity, but on the contrary on discontinuity. To make use of parts of the kings palace, the Louvre as a public museum was at that time not the realisation of the idea of a royal gallery but an act of violent occupation with great symbolical power. And the creation of the museums was based on the confiscation of the property of the king, of  the aristocracy, on the secularisation of the property of the church and on the iconoclasm during the first months of the Revolution.
It is the first time in history, that the idea of the museum is based both on the common ownership of cultural property and on common enjoyment of this property.
The opening of the Louvre – I am citing Andrew McClellan, one of the historians of the history of the Louvre during the revolution -, “was tied to the birth of a new nation. The investiture of the Louvre with the power of a revolutionary sign radically transformed the ideal museum public. To the extent that the Louvre embodied the Republican principles of Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity, all citizens were encouraged to participate in the experience of communal ownership, and clearly many did.”
The time of the Revolution is one of deep social and political crisis. 1793, the year of the opening of the Louvre, is the year in which the king is executed. It is not only the end of the French Monarchy and Kingdom, but it is also the dawn of Modernity and Democracy.
The contemporaneity of political crisis and the founding of museums is surprising  and demands an explication. There can be no doubt of this contemporaneity: The Museum in the Louvre opened on 10th of August 1793, the same day as the Fête de la Régénération, a mass procession performed the rebirth of the French Nation, a sort of birthday-ritual with the participation of thousands of inhabitants throughout the City of Paris with all deputies of the revolutionary parliament.
This day was also the day of the anniversary of the escalade of the Castle of the Tuileries, the occasion of the fall of the monarchy and accusation of the king and the beginning of the climax of the Revolution, the Grande Terreur.
It is surprising that the Museum as an institution steps into the centre of cultural and social identification exactly at this time. The museum seems to be able to offer a new representation of commonness and identity by its narration and collections. And the museum seems to be able to tell unifying stories and to offer common objects.
There is another surprising contemporaneity we should pay attention to:
At nearly the same time, the body of the king was put to death on the Guillotine, and thus a new body was invented. It was invented in the discussions of the Assemblée national and in her committees on the dialectic and contradiction of Iconoclasm and the wish to protect historical and artistic goods from being demolished. What was discovered in  these debates is a – so to say - holy good, possessed and protected by the nation, the patrimoine (heritage), a new word, invented in the debates.

The body of the king was not only the body of a certain private man, it was the symbol of the French Monarchy and Kingdom, a representation of the power that held society together. At that historical moment, this principle of power is abolished and a new representation has to be created. And one of this new principles and symbols is cultural heritage: the patrimoine. (In Italy I beni culturali, in Great Britain heritage, in Austria or German Erbe and so on…).

2
What I would like to suggest is, to understand the museum less as an architecture or room where people could view cultural goods. For me a museum is instead a social space, in which are circulating phantasms, ideas, wishes are circulating – for instance of identity and origin, citizenship or unity, but also class, race and gender differences circulate.
The way in which we are thinking and speaking of museums is still based on the ideas of the Age of Enlightenment and the French Revolution. Since that time the museum has become a sphere of public discourses based on a common good, on a sort of holy treasure owned by the public. The Museum takes care of protecting cultural heritage and handing it down. The Museum reflects the need and desire for national identity and it builds up a canon of cultural goods, which seem to be eternal and indestructible and insofar also untouchable.
As such an idea sprung up around 1800 in France and in central Europe, one that was and still is an absolutely rare and unique practice, unknown in every other culture in the past and present.
Isn’t it a rare and strange ritual, to store things for an indefinite duration only for the purpose to come together from time to time to view them ?

The dynamics of creating such a strange and yet central place for modernity and modern states lies in a dialectic of break and continuity. In French Revolution all traditional ways of representation broke down and new ways of representing of power were needed. Democracy in general is characterised by a lack of visible and objective representation.
The place of power changes continuously and nobody (‘no body’, even no longer the body of the king, as it happened in France) is able to represent power. From this time on new ways of representing of national identity, power and collective cultural values were needed.
The museum is from this time on not only a showcase or collection but it is also a social space, where people collect themselves and represent themselves as a nation. The Nation is defined - among other things -, by the possession of a untouchable and eternal “holy treasure”, as the French museologist Bernard de Loche said.
One of the answers to the new and peremptory question of identification in  modernity was and still is the museum -: a place for collecting things, but also for people to collect themselves aroundround goods.
What we can observe during the French Revolution is an enormous accumulation. Huge depots, archives and collections were compiled from the annexation of the possessions of the king, of the nobility and of the church, later on as an effect of the vandalism and the art loot in Europe during the Napoleonic time. But what we also can observe, is the creation of a public discourse on heritage (patrimoine) and identity.
Thing, as a word, not only means object but also assembly. This assembling at museums expresses the desire to have a thing, an object, able to represent collective identity, a thing, which ‘makes us ourselves’. But such a ‘thing’ can hardly be found, and normally its an ‘image’, an ‘imagination’.
A society’s identity and memory could hardly be possessed like a ‘thing’, but, as an assembly the museum is, or could be a space for permanent discourses on what “we” are, about who “we” are and who the “others” are.
For instance, in that intelligent and witty way in which the National Museum of Australia raises its central question in its mission statement: What does it mean to be an Australian ? The answer to what collective identity is, what this public good, represented by museums, is, can’t be given, it is a question that has to be raised constantly. This never-ending discourse is the task of a museums within a democratic society, this is the civilising role of museums.

3
Recently a US-American action film out of Hollywood by the Disney Company, a film for young boys and, by the way not a very interesting adventure story, raised some of the questions, I am considering here in its subtext.
Made in 2004, the film begins telling the fictional story of an immense treasure up to the first days of the American Revolution. This coincidence makes of the treasure a – so the title of the film - National Treasure (in Italy the film had the title Il mistero dei templari), a treasure once protected and hidden by the Founding Fathers of the United States. To make it possible to discover the treasure later, they left behind a sort of invisible map on the backside of the American Declaration of Independence.
The script of the film is based on two storylines: the story of a fictional treasure, told at the beginning of the film, and the hunt for it and the narrative of the foundation of the United States of America and of the key document of this foundation, the Declaration of Independence.
The hunt follows therefore two treasures: one is the fabulous treasure, protected and hidden by the founding fathers and the other treasure is an idea: the idea of Democracy, laid down in a document, the certificate of the birth of a nation from 1776.

 The central idea of democracy is, as the Declaration of Independence shows, the voluntary decision of free people to unite and to be able and willing to renew this decision from time to time.
One of the crucial scenes of the film shows us the two heroes visiting the original document in its showcase in the National Archives. The historian reads to his friend a certain passage. This passage speaks of the case of loss or even abuse of democracy and of the threat of despotism. In this case, says the document, everybody doesn’t even have the right, but the duty to abolish the government. “But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right (this means: the people’s right, the right of everyone. GF), it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security.”
That means, that in democracy, no one has power permanently, no certain person, no group, no institution. This also means that in a certain sense there is always a crisis in democracy. In western democracy, the power shifts constantly, at least at periodical elections. And therefore democracy has a problem representing itself, embodying or symbolising it’s own political and social identity.
This lack of visibility or representativity seems to tempt one to find a compensation, a certain thing, which is able to represent commonness. What seems to be desired is therefore a common object, which is able to guarantee collective identity.
Let me offer an example. As a result of the restitution politics of the Austrian Government a group of paintings of the famous painter Gustav Klimt, which were in the Austrian Gallery, an National Museum, have been given back to a descendant of the family, which owned the paintings and was a victim of Aryanisation.
This restitution provoked a public debate that lasted for months. It was considered for instance, to raise public and private money to keep the paintings ore some of them in Austria. It was interesting to see, that these paintings acquired a status they had never before, the status of a national treasure. And their loss, was thought of as severe and incurable damage for the Austrian Self.
Both objects of the film National Treasure, the declaration, the text and the hidden treasure, the collection of goods and values can be understood as common objects. Both represent the genealogy and identity of the nation, and both have the same status: In the same way, the hidden treasure must be found, discovered, to fulfil the common mission of the nation and the declaration must be discovered, in a never ending re-reading of the text, of its meaning, a remembering of its mission.
The hidden map on the back of the declaration, the central plot of the storyboard of the film, connects the two stories and the two objects. Reading the text again and again means finding the treasure.
There is a common object, but to only possess such an object is of less importance. What is of importance is to reread the text of the object, which is to say: to reread the object itself.
This is my central consideration on the function of museums, the question first raised during the French Revolution and also raised in the Hollywood-movie: what is able to symbolise, express or objectify the common sense ?

 The answer given by the movie is full of irony and surprise. After the treasure is really found, in a cave deep in the earth under an old cemetery connected with the earliest history of the USA, this means under the graves of the ancestors, what do we as visitors expect now ?
What will happen with the treasure ?
None of the heroes raise their right to possess the treasure privately. One of the young heroes, a witty historian, able to follow all the traces of American History along its lieux de memoire, gets as a young, pretty and blonde girl in return; and the prize for the second hero, the typical American computer-freak, able to solve all the technical problems of treasure hunting, is a red Ferrari cabriole.
And the treasure ? It is handed over to museums. But not only to American Museums, but to Museums all over the world.
Nevertheless there is a discourse in the film on common objects of a certain nation, of the USA, it speaks of an ambiguity, which was also at the centre of the museums discourse of the French Revolution. It is the ambiguity of National and Global museum, of possessing a collection as national treasure or as world heritage.

The Louvre was a national Museum, its first name was Museum Français, but the paintings and the sculptures collected and shown in this museum didn’t really represent the French Art History. The Louvre was from beginning on a museum of all the classical periods of history of art.
The contradiction between the idea of a universal museum representing the fruits of global human skills and ideas on the one hand and the possessiveness in a juridical sense of all these goods by only one nation, was solved by the proud and glorious idea of France as the first state and society bee freed by Revolution. This ideology – criticised already during the Revolution itself – legitimated a systematic art loot by Napoleonic troops in occupied states and cities. This art loot made the Louvre definitively the leading museum of the world.
In the end, when the treasure is discovered and rescued, the treasure-hunters decide to hand all the wealth of heritage over to a dozen of important museums all over the world. This ‘democratization’ of culture means that this heritage is not and should not be able to represent a certain nation, and that the ‘treasure of civilisation’ doesn’t belong to anyone but should be enjoyed by everyone.

4
The Film National Treasure not only has two narratives, it also has two messages: democracy seems to need a material representation of commonness and togetherness. One way of representing this is a museums collection understood as a common object. And the other way of representing this is a common text, permanently reread by the community.
In my understanding of museums both ways of representation correspond to each other. A collection as a mere accumulation of things is of no importance if this object  is not reread permanently by a community.
The museum is not, as normally thought, only a place of heritage, of things, of collections and exhibitions. The museum is a social space for raising never ending questions on identity and power, difference and togetherness, memory and future.
The museum at which I am working now, the Joanneum, was in the years of its foundation, from 1811 on, a vivid public place. A place where people not only were allowed to come together and to see cultural goods. The museum was created as a public sphere in its own right. The museum offered not only space for the public, but it actively encouraged and performed the public sphere. The museum was – till the Revolution of 1848 – a sphere of constant discourse and economic and cultural development and experience for the whole country of Styria.
Nevertheless I don’t plead for the reiteration of an old model, this Museum Joanneum is one of the historical examples that encourages us to get a modern perspective on an old institution.

What does society demand from museums? (Part Two)

What does society demand from museums? Vortrag, Micheletti Award Conference and Award Ceremony - Quality in Museums, DASA Dortmund, April 2011. Gottfried Fliedl

IV. The museum in modernity: the right to enjoy cultural heritage and the socialising force of cultural heritage

I have appealed several times to something that I call the notion of the modern-day museum and I just said that the activities of Hamburg's museum fans take place within the framework of this notion and can appeal to it. 
In the historiography of museums emphasis is normally placed on the continuity of a development of collecting and exhibiting from the early modern age to the present. But together with many other researchers I see a crucial break in the development between about 1770 and 1810. In this period there developed the notion of the museum as the location of a common, state-sponsored and state-protected stock of cultural assets. In other words the notion of a heritage which is preserved, studied and enjoyed and for which a special architectural and social location is created to do this: the museum.
Since the foundation of the British Museum in 1753, and quite definitely since the foundation of the Louvre, that legal notion of the common ownership of collections has therefore been a central structural feature of the museum. As a complement to the legal notion of common ownership there emerges at the same time the social notion of the museum as a place of collective identity. Of patrimoine, in France, beni culturali, in Italy or heritage in England.
In order to highlight the incomparable cultural dynamism of this dual notion of material and spiritual ownership, of ownership and identity, I would ask you to consider briefly the notorious, but for our purposes unbeatably illustrative brand name of an Italian criminal organisation: "Cosa Nostra".
The idea of common ownership of cultural goods, of an asset which in a certain way helps create community and which represents the community, emerges in a special historical situation. The religious and old politico-social means of endowing life with meaning imploded and had to be replaced by new ones, and one of these legitimising and meaning-endowing entities was (national) history. The ancient unifying bond of community, religious faith and belief in a king, the guardian of this religious idea, had to be replaced.
This changed the relationship to cultural heritage. One began to collect, to preserve and to cultivate. In the France of the revolution they began to nationalise the royal possessions, to annex aristocratic collections, to secularise churches and monasteries. There arose an enormous store which could then be used to feed the museums founded by the revolution.
With the founding of a number of great museums something like a common object is created, collections of culturally and historically significant items around which the community can form and collect – literally and symbolically.
Perhaps you consider this reference to the idea of cultural heritage in the age of bourgeois revolution and enlightenment to be empty theory. But follow me back to a certain date in the year 1793 and just see what happened on this day in Paris.

We write the 10th August 1793, the anniversary of the storming of the Tuileries, the event that is regarded as the definitive end of the monarchy in France, the day from which Louis XVI became a prisoner and accused.
On this day three events are being consciously planned and synchronised which make it in the eyes of today's historiography the day on which the people of France declared themselves to be a national and democratic society.
It is the day of a festival, a document and a place.

The festival is La fête de l'Unité, the Festival of Unity. We should imagine it as a kind of procession culminating in a ceremony which took place on the ruins of the Bastille. The deputies from all the départements in France drank from a cup water flowing from the breasts of an Egyptionesque statue of Wisdom.

The document is the Constitution, the first democratic-republican constitution of France. It is solemnly declared on this day.
The place is the Louvre, since the middle ages the palace of the King and the structural and symbolic insignia of an absolutist power. On this day the royal palace becomes a public museum.
All three events together constitute the French Nation on the basis of a democratic, judicial and symbolic act.

Like the other events the opening of the museum in the Louvre was also  – and I quote Andrew McClellan, the historian of the history of the museum in the age of revolution - “tied to the birth of a new nation. The investiture of the Louvre with the power of a revolutionary sign radically transformed the ideal museum public. To the extent that the Louvre embodied the Republican principles of Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity, all citizens were encouraged to participate in the experience of communal ownership, and clearly many did.”
What is being talked about here is not the experience of art, not collection and exhibition, but the socialising function of the museum.
The importance of Clellan's formulation and the level of aspirations established with the museum in the Louvre only becomes clear if one returns to the Constitution declared at the same time. The right to universal education is rooted in this, as is the state's obligation to enforce this right: "Education is the need of all. Society must exert all its powers to further the progress of general reason and to make education accessible to all citizens", are the words of article 22 of the Constitution.
This state guarantee forms the core of the welfare state perception of politics, in other words also of cultural policy and museum policy. But: The participation of all is not the goal, it is one of the essential conditions for attaining the goal. And this is, literally in clause 1 of the Constitution "…. general happiness".
From our understanding of a welfare and social state, the awareness of the perspective of our community as can be found in the first constitutions of the United States and France and the associated declarations of the human rights has largely been lost.
Education is not only the acquisition of knowledge or experience of art, but active participation in public affairs, a civilizing process through which the individual and the community, citizens and the state generate themselves so to speak. And participation is not mere access to cultural institutions and definitely not customer status with a service provider. Participation means a public actively producing itself and becoming actively involved in public affairs.


The notion of the museum in modernity  is thus inseparably linked with the notion of democracy. But for reasons of time I am unable to pursue this line of thought any further.
How aridly and pathetically the talk of a service provider, of the museum customer and of his needs seems, and even more so the stubborn self-misconception of the museums themselves and of the museum policy that goes no further than seeing the museums' public nature in making them accessible to the general public.
But going way beyond this, what lies embedded in the concept of the museum in modernity is the self-justification and self-reflection of society as being more democratic, although the museum is one of the many places where that sphere of the civil public can develop in which 'common affairs' can be negotiated freely and without constraint and ideally also without consideration of any social barriers. The public realm is that in which the welfare state concept can first be realised and it is an essential condition of democratic socialisation – including in the cultural sphere. Museums are, like other institutions, highly precious vessels in which this public produces itself, develops and emerges. This public is necessarily discursive, analytical and critical, since only in this way can the permanent negotiation take place with which the citizen can identify with the community and the latter can 'form' itself – in a process without closure.

V. The museum in modernity: a civilizing ritual

When Carol Duncan and Sabine Offe speak of the civilizing role of the museum, in essence what they mean is this social process. In order to move from these ideas to a criticism of the museum and back to the question of the "good museum" a few explanatory remarks are needed.


 "The myth of the Enlightenment" Sabine Offe writes " is based on the notion of the knowability, presentability and shapability of the world and its controllability through human reason. The museum as a place of education displayed the hopes and illusions involved in the narrowing of the western civilisation process and long-term changes in standards of human behaviour and sensitivity. Potentially all museums were thought of as places were the public could form a picture of the world by looking at objects from nature and art and from the ordering of history in terms of artefacts whose past significance seemed to be trend-setting for the tasks of the contemporary present and future."

 In this understanding he museum is not exclusively conceived of retrospectively and merely as an archive, not as a place for the guarded and protected slumber of things , as a wide-spread curatorial role model would suggest, nor is it exclusively an agency of knowledge that didactically imparts lessons.
The museum is a place of self-description and self-interpretation in an individual and social respect. The ritual of the museum served to introduce civil norms, which were appropriated by public ritual performance, rendered visible as being generally binding and practised. They served to dramatise the "self-description" and "self-interpretation" of civil society and its members, to present a civilisation which they were supposed to create at the same time.  


"But", and I quote Sabine Offe once more, "that's not all, that is not the end of the museum's function. What is ignored here is the ambivalent relationship intrinsic to these rituals towards the living everyday reality. They have a latent function which is not taken up by the "civilising" function. As such they represent a wish-fulfilment of civil society which is reflected not in how it is, but in how it should be and would like to be. But 'civilising' rituals in the museum create – like all rituals – counter-images which refer not only to social values and norms, but also to quite different real social experiences. They take up a theme which is concealed in a distorted form. They not only testify explicitly to the ideal picture but implicitly also to the nightmare images of civilisation. For museums, all museums, represent not only what there is to see, but also what has to be removed from the public discourse and perception or what remains concealed, a history of social violence." (End of quote)
My experience is that museums do not perceive their own reverse side, or not sufficiently. But to the extent that something is suppressed, remains masked, it acts all the more strongly on the practice of the institution as something not seen through. Museums seem to tend to celebrate culture and history in a triumphant and affirmative way, instead of penetrating them analytically.
From this I conclude the need for museum work to become self-reflective, critical towards its own actions, towards the methods of presentation, the mediation, the collecting, in short the entire repertoire of activities which constitute the institution of the museum.
Here a potential for self-reflective practice opens up for the museum, one through which it could enlighten itself and its public about itself and could render what is distorted, concealed and suppressed visible, legible and speakable.
Museums would have to take a big step, jump over their own shadow and question their manipulative and hegemonial function. After all museums are also, as Carol Duncan has described, "sites that publicly represent beliefs about the order of the world, its past and present, and the individual's place within it. [...] To control a museum means precisely to control the representation of a community and its highest values and truths."

VI. Museums need reflectivity

An example: the heart of the permanent exhibition in the Jewish Museum in Vienna was an installation of holograms showing fragments of earlier Jewish life. They were arranged around an urban space, and whoever entered this space experienced how the things, street views, portraits, ritual objects, buildings, industrial products emerged and disappeared in front of his eyes, an effect of holograms as the observer moved forward and back, bent down or turned around in front of the holograms.
The curator responsible for this part of the exhibition, Felicitas Heimann-Jelinek, explained the installation like this: "The medium of the transmission hologram deals with (the) disappearance, with the fact that history withdraws from us. Furthermore it questions the absolute starting point of the historical object just as it does the concept of a 'true' historical reconstruction. No exhibition can make clear what Austrian-Jewish history actually was to its full extent."

'Disappearance', the ephemeral nature of the 'images' of a hologram also does not admit a phantasmatic expectation directed at the museum: that it could through the permanent securing, fixing of things also secure and preserve memory and historical truth permanently.
The installation thus reflects the memory of the museum destroyed in the Nazi period, a memory violently broken off. The museum conveys to us – with purely visual means – that we cannot without further ado take possession of a history, not even in a museum.
The work of an exhibition, as I indicate here in outline, lies not only in its documentary function, not only in the imparting of knowledge, but primarily in expounding the problems of the historical experience in a museum context.
This involves a very high quality I believe; to do something like this is demanding, challenging, and it demands of the visitor not that he consume, but that he challenge himself, that he wish to know something, not that he remain a spectator, but that he behave actively towards himself and his history. Achieving this is certainly not only a function of museums concerned with Jewish culture and history.

VII. Summary

There is evidence that the debates on museum quality are concerned too narrowly with an almost exclusively business management approach, heading towards a narrowing of the museum concept to an organisation where economic profitability is demanded and the social objectives are extremely unclear. The rich and complex options which such a uniquely hybrid cultural institution as the museum possess are misunderstood and pared down to the ideal of satisfying consumerist needs.
Against this I propose a museum concept this can be derived both from the history of the institution and from current social demands.
In my view quality is not a feature that can be established and fixed once and for all, but rather the articulation of demands directed at the museum and the monitoring of their fulfilment.
The quality of museums must be a matter of discussion and dispute, in a process which may hardly come to a standstill and in a discourse which must be conducted actively and energetically, not solely by the museums themselves, but primarily by them.
High quality museums exist where museum criticism exists, in the museums themselves, within the museum community and the museum association and in the communities which carry the museums financially and socially and which need really the museums.
Good museums arise not through control, but through criticism.
High quality museums exist where social groups demand something of the museum and museums are smart enough to respond.

Part One

What does society demand from Museums? (Part One)

What does society demand from museums? Vortrag, Micheletti Award Conference and Award Ceremony - Quality in Museums, DASA Dortmund, April 2011. Gottfried Fliedl

I. Quality is not measurable, it is the product of contention

The qualities of a museum are not objectifiable features of the institution and its practices which can be measured against criteria that can be fixed once and for all.
Quality is defined in a social environment which encompasses the institution and organisation as well as the visitors and users, but also the social ambience, in other words the public, politics, cultural policy or the historical culture of a society and the museum's typological or media peculiarities.
And this is certainly not an exhaustive list. One of the significant features of the museum is that it has so many. It is a 'hybrid'. It consists of the oldest media of image and script and is able to integrate newer and the newest ones, such as film, video or the internet. And I am not only talking here about the media, about the architecture, about the collection, about the organisation and so on.
Quality is constituted between rigidified cultural practices, rapidly changing expectations, different demands and immanent institutional intentions and structures. It is made up of both individual actions and expectations, such as curatorial decisions or interests and expectations, on the one hand, and of social notions aimed at the museum on the other.

Attempts at a standardising intervention in quality are limited from the outset to measurable and countable aspects of the museum. But there are only a few of these, such as visitor numbers, budget figures or exhibition areas. At the same time this involves general characteristics of organisations, and precisely not that which constitutes what is special and unmistakable in a museum.
What is quality specifically as regards a museum is not fixed and cannot be fixed, it is fluid, moving, erratic. It is not essence and not a regulatable standard.
Quality is not a feature of museums but an expectation directed at it, an ongoing process in which expectations and the fulfilment of expectations are balanced out. Quality doesn't need measurement, but criticism. And quality arises through criticism, not through control.
In principle I see two possibilities for developing a museum criticism. By analogy, for example, with film or theatre criticism, from the area of tension within which expectations, interests, the medium and its history, its aesthetics and its technical conditions exist. And secondly from the history of the institution, from the logic of development which the museum has assumed. I may respond productively to this history, affirming it or rejecting it. But what is not possible in my view and also not desirable is to forget and ignore this history.
Quality can therefore now, today, become determinable from what we expect of the museum, what we need from the museum, but also from what the museum once was or what it has perhaps not become in many respects and still could become.
Quality is not a standard whose attainment can be monitored, but quality is for me the interplay of museum work and expectations and demands directed at the museum, something which can be debated and about which it is necessary to argue.

II. Quality is a discourse without closure

Taking two current examples with which I have been occupied in recent times I want to show that criteria for quality have to be negotiated in a social process of which it can hardly be said at any point that it is has come to an end.
Museums can establish their objectives, for example with help of a mission statement or a statute. But this will and should not obviate the need for them to occasionally review and modify these objectives. Or they are smart enough to incorporate the process aspect of their institutional identity in the mission statement itself. As the National Museum of Canberra has done, whose programmatic statement contains questions such as: "What does it mean to be an Australian?"
And now to my two examples. A few months ago the government of the city of Hamburg resolved to adopt a package of savings involving cuts in the cultural domain, including the closure of a former regional and urban district museum. A community movement emerged to protest the politically ordered closure of the Altona Museum. This community group recently submitted a petition with much more than 20,000 signatures to the newly elected senate of the city putting forward demands not only to the government but also to the museums. One of the demands was for the government's to be responsible in future only for the legal supervision of the city's historical museums and not the specialist supervision. This would make the museum politically more independent and autonomous in terms of specialist matters, but the community movement also articulated its interests in relation to the museum. It insists on its right to get involved.

This idea may make museum directors and curators feel very uncomfortable, but Hamburg's museum citizens are operating precisely within the framework which makes the notion of a modern museum so fascinating. They use the museum as social and cultural representation venue and one for self expression, as a place for negotiating historical and current questions, a place of knowledge and of the design and trying out of identities.
What I mean by this will probably become clearer if we look at my second example. About 15 years ago the Jewish Museum of the City of Vienna was founded, formerly the oldest Jewish Museum, founded at the end of the 19th century by the Jewish community in Vienna, but then destroyed during the Nazi period.
A new museum management appointed a few months ago ordered hastily and without discussion that the permanent exhibition be terminated, an exhibition which was renowned on account of refinement in terms of museology and historical theory.
Today the Jewish community is no longer the body that sponsors the museum and it has been replaced in this role by the City of Vienna, although it is represented in the supervisory board and invariably carries considerable weight.

After the permanent exhibition had been terminated, a dispute was ignited in which the professionalism of the management was vigorously questioned by prominent representatives of European Jewish museums. An extremely unusual case because normally such open criticism is not expressed within a group of museums linked to one another in their specialist interest. And this was of course a debate on the former, considerably above-average quality of a museum which included the hitherto still open question of the quality the subsequent permanent exhibition would enjoy.
But the dispute also centres on different notions of what a Jewish Museum could be at the beginning of the 21st century. The old permanent exhibition posed the question of the recallability of history irrevocably damaged and rendered precarious by the Holocaust, and turned this into an ingenious installation dealing directly with the subject. But now there are also currents within the Jewish communities which more strongly take as a theme today's changed living conditions and wish to liberate themselves from a fixation on the Holocaust. The new management appears to wish to follow this line.
At the moment I am interested not so much in the factual questions, but in the mechanism of the debate, of the dispute, of the planning. After all what is involved here is more a number of notions of quality which are dependent on interests and projections, on experiences and knowledge of several groups.

III. The museum as a service provider – a change in paradigm without reflection

Perhaps in view of these two examples you will understand why I argue against a certain perception of quality that has become so popular in museum circles and among politicians.
I mean that notion of quality which is cultivated in the methodology and practice of quality control. Quality control seems to have become fashionable in Germany and Switzerland, but hardly at all in Austria as yet. I see at least four problems, two methodological and two connected with museum policy, discussion of which would be highly desirable.
First the two methodological questions: clearly there are very different levels on which one can talk about quality. A museum can be appreciated because of the quality of objects, e.g. its collection of paintings; but it can also be considered famous and significant as a lieu de mémoire of museum history, like for instance a tolerably preserved "cabinet of arts and wonders" of the 16th century; or again it may be currently very important as a social venue for a community, as a place where there is an engagement with high-conflict social or cultural questions. These are three completely different levels and the assignment of quality relates correspondingly to completely different aspects.
I don't see that and how it would be possible to do justice to the normative and qualifying process of quality determination. At the museum where I work I have learnt what the limits of benchmarking are. Apparently identical classes of figures turn out to be unsuitable for a comparison because they can signify very different things in relation to highly different museums.
I have already mentioned the second methodological problem, the extensive lack of quantifiable features specific to the museum which could be used to measure the museum.
Thirdly: control always assumes a subject of the control that pursues intentions and an object that is controlled. This is a hierarchical situation with unequal distribution of power. The questions therefore arise as to who desires such a control, with what intention and to what purpose, how transparently the control proceeds, how clear the criteria, methods and objectives are and who the acting individuals or bodies are – and what competence is assigned to them.
It seems clear to me that the desire for quality control has to do with the general socio-economic development. There is a hardly questioned imperative to achieve organisational and economic efficiency. "Thrift" prevails like a law of nature in public administration and also affects the museums. The museum where I work will this year lose 25% of its public funding and in the coming year its budget is to be cut further.
Quality control is a tool of precisely this state administration. And it is a tool which is used to execute exclusions: museums which do not meet the criteria can "justifiably" be closed down or their fund-worthiness will be questioned.
That is why in quality control criteria are central which serve the purpose of the state control intention described, such as visitor numbers, public payments, own funds, concern size etc., but never, normally not the educational or museological quality of museum work.
It becomes evident that the methods of quality control are not neutral. What is recorded is reinterpreted as the yardstick for success or failure. Figures which only make sense in terms of business management suddenly become the benchmark for the quality of a museum. What could only be an incentive to monitor and optimise organisation and operational sequences becomes the 'meaning of the museum'. Government policy and administration, the media, the general public and quite dramatically also the museums themselves now make profitability the measure of all things.
Here it is therefore no longer a matter of methodological questions. Rather it is a matter of a change in the social function of the museum.

What is becoming apparent is a perception of the museum as a service provider and of the visitor as a customer. This not only fails to correctly recognise the relationship between the museum on the one hand and the general public on the other. The museum would then only be a producer of commodities, such as catalogues, or of services, such as guided tours which are provided for a fee or occasionally free of charge, but overall so as to cover costs.
This is a fundamentally incorrect perception of the character of the public and the educational notion of the museum within the context of the idea of a welfare state society. The state then no longer has to see itself as a guarantor of the conveyance of education and knowledge, but only as a the guardian and regulator of operational rationality and thrift. It is possible to observe, for example, how state funds are no longer seen as essential maintenance in a socially meaningful function, but as subsidies. It is as though a museum is a commercial concern aimed at maximising profit.
I think that it is underestimated, also and precisely in museums themselves, what kind of rupture is taking place in the history and self-perception of the museum. This is a change of paradigm which completely disappears behind the fine adjustments of quality control, a change of paradigm which is caused – not only but also – by this rupture.
What is happening is nothing more nor less than the replacement of a social perception of the museum by a commercial one.
What really angers me is the impertinence of selling us service orientation as customer orientation, and wishing to hold this up as a kind of value added or progress in relation to previous development. Service orientation is justified and recommended as a way of meeting the interests of visitors more effectively.
As though the museum would not be conceivable in its own right without the response of a public, which also goes way beyond what we call visitors. This is not only not an evident case or progress, but on the contrary – what we see here is destruction. And namely destruction of that notion of a civil and democratic public not restricted to simply "being there" in consumerist fashion, but involving participation in public affairs and being a structural feature of the museum in modernity.
Approaching "customers" in the form of a service means instrumentalising them for the purpose of ratings, acclamation and revenues, seeing them merely as passive consumers of something offered. The notion of the public education museum assumes, however, the active and productive participation of citizens in their affairs, including in the cultural domain and in and through the museum.

Part Two

Wir wurden nicht gefragt (Texte im Museum 26)

Micromuseo Lima - Aktives und lebendiges Instrument in der politischen und sozialen Entwicklung

Ein ambulanter Ort, an dem angesichts der „grossen musealen Leere“ (dem Fehlen eines Museums Moderner Kunst), nicht einfach nur kompensativ eine private Initiative einspringt, sondern ein  Raum für „kritisches Denken darüber, was Musealität sein kann in einem Land der Dritten Welt wie Peru.“ Dieser Raum ist das Micromuseo in Lima. An ihm ist nicht das Gebäude, der Ort, an dem es sich befindet, wichtig, sondern die Projekte und Interventionen, z.B. im öffentlichen Raum, die unter diesem Namen initiiert werden, und mit denen für ein neues Kulturverständnis geworben wird.
Das Projekt entstand nach einer großen politischen Krise, in der kurzen Phase der Demokaratie „mit extrem hoher Inflation, verzweifelter Sinnsuche, politischem und kulturellem Extremismus und avantgardistischen Strömungen.“ Von Beginn an wurden die „etablierten Vorstellungen von Museen in Frage“ gestellt, z.B. durch die Wahl alternativer Orte, wo man Museen normalerweise nicht erwartet und in Zusammenhängen, um die sich Museen nicht kümmern.
Zu den Mezhoden des Museuo gehört das Mischen der Genres und Ausdrucksformen, der Artefakte und Kunstwerke, es geht um eine ‚Materialsammlung’ ohne Hierachie, um jene Ausdrucksformen der verschiedenen Alltagskulturen, die ein „aktives und lebendiges Instrument in der politischen und sozialen Entwicklung“ sein soll.

„Ein Ziel von Micromuseo ist auch die Ermächtigung des Lokalen. Wir sind gegen die Praxis eines internationalen Museums-Franchising, wie sie Guggenheim betreibt. Wir bestehen vehement auf der Bedeutung des Lokalen. Das ist kein territorialer Chauvinismus, sondern ein engagiertes Verständnis von Kultur als lebendiger, unmittelbarer Expression.
Ähnlich, so scheint mir, dem hier im Blog vorgestelleten ndrangheta Museum in Reggio Calabria, ist auch hier ein Museum der Ort, an dem sich die Hoffnung auf gesellschaftliche Veränderung kristallisiert, die Hoffnung auf Überwindung der Gewaltförmigkeit von Gesellschaft und Poltik. Das „Micromuseo will nicht in die Geschichte eingehen, sondern die Geschichte selbst ändern.
Das lange Gespräch von Eva-Christina Meier mit dem Gründer des Micromuseo Gustavo Buntix ist nachzulesen in: Die Tageszeitung online, 6.2.2010. "Eine Art Weimarer Republik". Die Postmoderne in Peru. Gespräch mit Gustavo Buntinx, Begründer des ambulanten "Micromuseo" in Lima.

'ndrangheta - Museum in Reggio di Calabria. Das Museum als zivilisatorische Agentur

Was es nicht alles für Museen gibt! Ein 'ndrangheta - Museum, ein Museum, das zivilgesellschaftliche Öffentlichkeit gegen die kalabrische Mafia bilden und organisieren soll. Gegründet im vorigen Jahr und getragen von der Stadt, Provinz und Region Reggio sowie von der dortigen Universität.
Hochinteressant scheint mir das - ungewöhnlich ausführlich (auf der Webseite) - dargelegte und ambitionierte Konzept.

Der Ausgangspunkt ist der identitätsbildende Wunsch der Zugehörigkeit, und der, so wird argumentiert ist sowohl in der Außenwahrnehmung als in der Selbstrepräsentation mit der 'ndrangheta verknüpft - keine kalabrische Identität ohne diese Organisation.
Dieses doppelt codierte Image Kalabriens, seine Geschichte und sein Mythos, das stellt sich dem Museum als Aufgabe. Sowohl der long term als auch die Synchronizität dieser Geschichte und Mythe liegt im Rechercheinteresse des Museums, aber das Projekt ist wesentlich ehrgeiziger: es geht um den transformierenden und akkulturierenden Prozess, mit dem diese Mythologisierung wirksam wird, vor allem bei der Jugend.

This is the framework around the initiative of the Museum of ‘ndrangheta and the functions it will perform: as an archive of memory, it will be a place where the symbolic reach of the ‘ndrangheta phenomenon can be defined with precision; as an economic enterprise, it will be an institution capable of translating a complex subject into several languages; as “center”, the museum will indicate a “permanent emergency”, in order to avoid the silence that surrounds and favours all types of mafia.

Worum es sich dabei dreht, ist der Aufbau einer starken Gegenidentität, die, so die These des Museums, deswegen kaum ausgebildet sei, weil die 'gut arbeitende Akkulturierung' der 'ndrangheta sich fast unsichtbar und lautlos bilde und weiterbilde. Die 'ndrangheta werde deswegen weitgehend ignoriert, ja man habe nicht mal richtig Angst vor ihr, stattdessen gäbe es eine 'Vor-Angst', vor allem eine 'Pre-Omerta', eine Verschwörung des Schweigens.
Dabei ist man sich der Tatsache bewußt, daß das Primat der Bekämpfung der kriminellen Organisation bei der Polizei liegt und außerdem, daß es sehr schwierig sei, unter gegenwärtigen ökonomischen und politischen Bedingungen, kulturelle Modelle zu entwickeln, die Enthusiasmus und Zustimmung erzeugen könnten.
Was über das Museum erreicht werden soll, ist offenbar nicht mehr und nicht weniger, als in die Narrationen und Rituale, in die Mythologie und das Geschichtsbewußtsein einer Gesellschaft einzugreifen, um das zu verändern, was - derzeit - 'nicht gesehen wird', gewissermaßen eine Erinnerung an das, was 'wir nicht sind'.
Folgerichtig zieht man in dem Grundsatztext den Schluß, daß eine solche Ambition Folgen für das Selbstverständnis des Museums haben muß. Neu ist das nicht, was man an dieser Stelle liest, aber vor dem Hintergrund des gesellschaftspolitischen Ziels erscheint der museological turn, den man vollziehen möchte, besonders dramatisch. Im Grunde bedeutet das, daß das Museum eine Art von Gegenöffentlichkeit organisiert mit partiell subversiven Qualitäten aber hoher ethischer Selbstlegitimierung.

In a museum context, the problem becomes this: does an object that is displayed express the logic of those who made it, of those who selected it and decided to exhibit it, or of those who observe it through the glass? Who decides what is important to display? Is a museum an intellectual operation directed at an audience of experts or it can become a centre for the promotion of culture also for the inhabitants of the place? Who owns the copyright for memory? Finding answers to these and other important questions raised in this context means to take part in an International debate. It also means to connect to wider circuits and insert a place into them that is usually “far away”: Calabria. This part of the Mediterranean must not be betrayed in its specificity, it must not be observed through the looking-glass of a superficial modernism that would reject folklore out of hand in the hope of changing what we have been. We have to find ways of narrating ourselves because existing often means to be able to narrate yourself.

Fällt damit das Konzept nicht unweigerlich auf die autoritative Perspektivität der meisten Museen zurück? Wie kann es eine derart starke Botschaft entwickeln und vermitteln ohne gleichzeitig nur (s)einen Blick zu verabsolutieren? Hier fällt die Antwort eher zurückhaltend aus.

Greenblatt, the museologist, speaks of a museum that can invite to resonance or wonder. A museum functions, in our opinion, when resonance and wonder are well designed by the curator who has to be aware of the fact that he cannot represent a culture, but that he can offer many possibilities to visitors - to their aesthetic sense, their intelligence, their emotions – that, well combined, can give account of many aspects of a culture.

Und wenn dann, als Abschluss, auf Multimedialität gesetzt wird (Multimedialität als etwas, was dem Museum schon immmer inhärent ist und nicht einfach nur als technische Apparatur gemeint), dann spitzen sich die Zweifel an der Verhältnismäßigkeit von Ziel und Mittel zu.
Dieses Mission Statement oder ideologisches Grundsatzpapier bleibt erstaunlich - als durchdachte und avancierte theoretische Grundlegung und als gesellschaftspolitische Ambition. Wenn es gegen Schluss heißt, A museum exhibit a society but at the same time it is a product of that same society, dann hat man in Reggio nicht weniger vor, als ein Museum als gesellschaftliches 'Organ' zu implementieren, das diese Logig zumindest auf Zeit oder partiell durchbricht und einen die Gesellschaft verändernden und meliorisierenden 'Zivilisierungsprozess' intiiert.
Das war aber immer schon die zentrale Idee des bürgerlich-aufklärerischen Museums.

PS.: Am 11.3.2010 erschien in der taz ein Interview mit zwei der Initiatoren des Museums, in dem die aktuelle Situation beschriebn wird