What memory? Whose memory?

The (fairly) recent controversy surrounding the Liberty Bell Center on Independence Mall in Philadelphia (for two perspectives, see the National Park Service's website and the Ad Hoc Historians Press) provides an excellent example of the debates surrounding monuments, popular memory, and history. The two chief questions in debates like these, what gets memorialized in public space and who gets to make that decision, still lack, as far as I know, good answers.

To sum up the facts of the Liberty Bell controversy: a local historian, Edward Lawler, Jr., discovered that the proposed site of the new home for the Liberty Bell is the same spot where the first presidential mansion, occupied by George Washington and John Adams, once stood. So far so good. Lawler also discovered that that, under Washington, the mansion's grounds also had slave quarters where Washington's eight slaves lived (though an emancipation law was passed in Pennsylvania in 1780, it detailed a gradual plan of abolition, and slaves remained in Pennsylvania into the 1840s).

Many, including Philadelphia African-Americans and the group of historians linked above, urged the National Park Service to, at the very least, mention the fact that slavery once existed at the place where the Liberty Bell, international symbol of freedom, would now rest. After some initial reluctance, the NPS agreed to some sort of memorial to Washington's slaves.

But the question of whether to acknowledge slavery at the Liberty Bell is not the key issue. Most people would, I believe, wholeheartedly support such a presentation.

The problem lies in formulating an appropriate process for determining what memories should be preserved in physical form. It's not as easy as just saying that "the whole story" should be told. It is impossible to ever capture the totality of the past. Details are lost (see a previous entry on the slipperiness of memory) and excluded. Suppose, for example, I discover that my great-great-great-great-grandfather owned this same plot of land in Philadelphia and ran an apothecary there. Would I be justified in arguing that my ancestor's shop was a part of the history of that site and should be memorialized? If we're working under the principle that the "whole story" should be told, the answer has to be yes. Such a solution is immensely unsatisfying unless we want all historical sites to become a mere clutter of relics and facts.

Another possibility is to publicaly recognize those portions of the past that are deemed culturally significant. The problem then becomes who gets to decide what counts as significant? It should come as no surprise that different groups within society are going to have different conceptions of what aspects of the past are worthy of being remembered. It's entirely plausible that the American Pharmacists Association would think my hypothetical apothecary tremendously important in the history of dispensing drugs in America.

Assigning responsibility to academic historians seems like one possibility. But they already have outlets for their opinions on history in myriad conferences and journals. Public presentations of history need to have the input of the public. I'm just not sure exactly how you do that.

Addendum: I forgot about this post by Tim Burke over Cliopatra that touches upon some of these issues.