Memorializing the First White Child

So, I’ve been researching my genealogy and discovering all sorts of cool and crazy things, some credible (distant grandparents among the first settlers on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, others arriving on the Ark & the Dove, and even a book about one family member that was fascinating, Robert Cole’s World) and some other grandparents that are quite possible, but hardly believable, at least to me, including  connection to William Cecil, Queen Elizabeth’s advisor, as well as to the Plantagenet family. But, that is another story, about genealogy in the digital age.

Anyway, as I traced another line in the family–the French-born Thibaults–I discovered my peeps were likely among the earliest settlers of Quebec, including Louis Hebert who is seen in Canada as the nation’s first settler “to support himself from the soil” according to the Canadian Dictionary of Biography. Even more fascinating, perhaps, Hebert’s son Guillaume married Helene Desportes, who was reputed to be the “first white child” born in New France.

The term “first white child” struck me as odd and interesting. So, I spent way too much time over an afternoon exploring the curious practice of memorializing, in monument or other material cultural expression, the “first white child” born on a colonial frontier. Turns out there is a tradition of this, according to Wikipedia. Seems crazy to me, so I did some internet research (spending much too much time on this.)  Firstly, I checked the corpus of print and did a phrase search, to figure out when it emerged. See the NGram below. Smooth it to 10, and some trends emerge even more clearly. (By the way, this–and the image search below–are perfect examples of how digital humanities research techniques can be incorporated into the basic work and questions of scholarship.)

Clearly, the revolutionary era, the 1850s, 1880s, and 1920s emerge as strong peaks. I have been speculating all day what this might mean, even as I did an image search on “first white child memorials.”  And, wow, did it yield an extraordinary number of images, leading me to conclude that these monuments are everywhere.

In today’s postmodern era it is easy to view this only through the lens of colonial theory. Indeed, it is hard not to acknowledge that first white children are an expression of colonial ambition, empire, and the racialized frontier of “civilization.”  Looking closer we see these dynamics at play as well as a distinctly human social historical narratives. At the most visceral, environmental level, European procreation on the frontier was an aggressive act of survival, like tilling the soil, erecting the walls of a house or fort, or laying political claim to land. This is also a distinctly gendered expression, capturing women’s vital roles in building colonial empires. Indeed, historically, giving birth has been dangerous labor, often unacknowledged as work (i.e. its reproductive verse “productive”) that reflects the complex roles that women play on the borders, the frontiers between Europeans and natives peoples.

Historiographically, I asked my self about the peaks in the Revolution, the 1850s, 1880s and again in the 1920s and 1930s. Memorializing the first white child in places in the US would seem to correspond to a period of national formation of inventing traditions, marking those births signaled the first step in a process. The second would seem to correspond to movement westward, including early efforts to stamp whiteness and civilization on a place. The 1880s corresponds with early professionalization efforts among historians and the upsurge of national memorialization that occurred after the Civil War. The 1920s and 1930s reflect a similar period of interest in the folk history of communities, as well as efforts to document such narratives. I need to go back and review Mystic Chords of Memory and see if I can tease this into Kammen’s broad periodization.

Even so, I would love to hear what you think about this phenomenon, either theoretically or historiographically. Where might I look to make some sense of this phenomenon.

a Modest Proposal for DHNow’s new publishing endeavor

I love the idea behind Digital Humanities Now, and find the responses on the twitter stream about it both informative and interesting. The main concern has been with the mechanism for publishing. How is the stream of information, articles, ideas, posts, etc. being sorted? How do the editors work? Is it popularity based? How will the algorithm allow things to float to the top? All great questions.

But, nobody is asking what I view as an equally important question in open peer review. How can we make peer review work better? And, specifically, how can we make open peer review work better? Indeed, at least part of the value here is in openness. But don’t some of the same concerns we might have about the editorial stream also work on the peer review side. If the peer reviewers are drawn from a small coterie of individuals who are  most engaged, we will surely get a process that reflects their particular interests. Of course, this happens with all peer review right? But, if peer review as it is now constituted introduces some editorial bias, shouldn’t we imagine an open peer review process that works against such bias?

More to the point, how can we valorize peer review as critical to the entire endeavor of scholarly publication. We produce knowledge not as lone individuals, sequestered in archives. We produce knowledge within broader communities. Digital humanities has extended and built those communities, threatening all the traditional boundaries. Yet, too often, our concerns focus on the most obvious ways we contribute to those communities: by being individual ‘thought leaders’ and scholars. How about the more modest but vital ways that we work in building knowledge as collaborators, reviewers, and evaluators.

Hence,  I make a  modest suggestion.

I recommend, to our friends at Digital Humanities Now and Press Forward, as well as other open peer review publishers, that they consider some form of incentive, perhaps badges, as a way to a) incentivize peer review, b) diversify the pool of peer reviewers, c) create a sort of validated process for peer reviewers’ CVs that is recognizable (and, thus, tradable.)

Think about it. I have 3 hours a week to do professional service. I have many ways to perform this service. How, especially as I think about tenure and promotion, would I prioritize those choices. Presently, my choices are based on a time/cost calculation. I should do something that advances my argument for promotion/tenure. Thus, those activities that are most easily recognizable to my colleagues might make there way into service. Participating in open peer review is undeniably a good thing, but it will not necessarily be recognizable to my colleagues. In fact, they might resist my counting this for anything. Indeed, such folks already view blogging with suspicion because it is publishing without validation. Those same folks would view open peer review with equal suspicion. Imagine the criticism: peer review before you’ve established your reputation. Anyone can engage in this type of service. … yada, yada, yada …

Points and badging or some clear acknowledgement of value-added to this process strikes at the heart of that argument. It states clearly that a person has added to the process of producing a validated scholarly work. It is a clear marker of effort, investment, and engagement. It can be put on a CV and compared.

Likewise, there is another aspect of a badging system that might work to build the “reputation” of the endeavor (DH Now but an open publishing really) beyond the DH community.  Namely, by providing incentives, it widens the pool of potential contributors. It opens the process further. It builds a broader investment in the outcomes and process itself. It strikes directly at one of the sharpest and best critiques of any peer review–too narrow, not enough qualified participants, etc.)

I’ve written this as a stream of consciousness in response to a twitter conversation with Tom Scheinfeldt and Sharon Leon. So, it has all the errors you’d expect. But, I am convinced that there is the kernel of a good idea here for digital publishing.

I would describe that core this way. We believe that open peer review is the future. We often emphasize ‘open’ as key to succeeding as we should. However, we also need to emphasize the ‘peer review’ part. How do we make this aspect of the equation as critical a part of the formula as the front-end stream of inputs. I would argue that we should elevate and extend this important function. We could do this, for example, by badging. (And, I am sure there are much cleverer ways as well, including creating algorithms that measure the impact of the peer reviewers.)

Regardless, open peer review surely will work best if we emphasize and prioritize the “review”  portion of the equation, making it as important in its rewards as it is in our rhetoric.