More on library worker solidarity: Librarians need to make amends.


Two young children push a dolls carriage and carry signs in support of their parents’ strike. Their signs read “Strike!” and “I Need a Healthy Diet!” flickr photo by Kheel Center, Cornell University Library shared under a Creative Commons (BY) license

Since I last wrote about library worker solidarity last month, something has really been weighing on my mind about ways to actually achieve worker solidarity in libraries. I’ve asked other union librarians about this, and the lack of answers is kind of telling. When librarians organize and unionize- just like every other union – the focus is on their situation. Eventually, they might look to other librarians but it’s still the profession sticking to its class. But what about other workers and their unions, particularly those in our libraries? The strike this week across the UC system put this into focus again for me, as many aspects of campus and library services were disrupted despite efforts to minimize its effects. When we were told there would be no mail pickup, or when I had people cancel meetings, I rolled with it (and though good on them).

Librarians – you need to look at your whole organization.

And then the obvious…. Librarians – we need to do better in supporting our colleagues across the organization in their struggles for an equitable workplace.

This seems pretty obvious, but I think we as professionals (and often academics) have behaved in a way that puts us apart from other kinds of library workers that has been quite divisive and damaging.

The classic example is how librarians talk about deprofessionalization. We’re not staff, we’re professionals. Which makes many rightly bristle – aren’t all of our colleagues professional? Just because a library’s administration created a position that probably should have been classed a librarian but wasn’t, you still need to support the people in that position. It’s not their fault the job that was open doesn’t have the same rights, responsibilities and privileges that a librarian would have. One way to do that is to work to get them those rights and support them in that way.

At a time when my union is bargaining for a new contract, it’s made me wonder how can we meaningfully support our colleagues in other unions achieve more equitable contracts and working conditions? The quick answer is to show up and support them when they strike.

The long answer is that librarians need to eat crow and apologize for past slights and insults. We need to begin with reflection and self education. Recognize the importance and dignity of all work, and embody that belief. Libraries are complex systems and operations that need lots of different kind of workers to function. When I hear librarians laughingly plead ignorance about bib records because why should they actually need to worry about them, it’s embarrassing and offensive. (And also reflects the deprofessionalization of tech services…) So think about what you are going to say and be careful with how you say it. I know for a profession of people who tend to be driven by words, we can often be very pedantic and precise with our own, but also carelessly punch down. So much that I think most people don’t think they’re going to do it.

I will probably have more to say about this in the future, but I just had to get this out today.

Library workers – let’s talk about solidarity

Interior of Townsville library, ca. 1948 (8808717962)

This month UC-AFT is kicking off contract bargaining for UC librarians, so I have organizing on the brain. In a lot of the discussions I’ve had with people on campus and beyond, the issue of “professionalism” has come up a lot. Which in turn makes me think about the historic tension between librarians and paraprofessionals. It’s probably a galaxy brain level moment – but where’s the solidarity of library workers across the board?

I understand the nature of the work is often different for librarians versus library staff. There has been many bytes typed out about the deprofessionalization of librarians, and the tiered system many libraries use to differentiate roles. It could be argued this once meant that librarians, the MLIS wielding professionals, were basically management whose interests did not align with the paraprofessionals and library staff (even though many of them too have MLIS degrees). Or is this a reflection of many “professionals” that they don’t need to be organized because management will respect them because of their lofty positions? I don’t know, but it’s really dragging library work and our organizations down. Library workers need to organize for fairness and respect across the board. Every role is hugely important – from the mail room, to the people who handle tech processing, to students who shelve books, or those running data management programs. We all need to be in a good place to function, which means we need to consider the rights and treatment of all library workers.

One of the biggest obstacles is us though, and acknowledging the power dynamics and historical slights. There’s a reason the stereotype of haughty librarians looking down on paraprofessionals exists and we need to come to terms with that and address this. I think that sort of reflection of the profession will no only help with a better sense of solidarity within library work but also free us from stupid and outdated professional mores that are inherently exclusionary and discriminatory. Because librarians typically have more sway in their organizations, and we are expected to participate in the wider professional community, and most of all because we haven’t always looked out for staff that we need to be the forefront of this change. We need to have these conversations in our circles, and make sure we bring the voices from all library workers to the table. We need this cultural change.

Gaining perspective today by reading about yesterday.

Pat Brown campaigning in 1966
Pat Brown campaigning in 1966

I’m finishing up Pat Brown‘s 1970 book Reagan and Reality and I’m already raring to tear into his follow up Reagan: The Political Chameleon. It’s been edifying reading Brown’s take on California politics and Reagan leading into the 1970 election for a number of reasons. I mean, I learned about the mini-memo! On many levels I agree with Brown’s philosophies, though not entirely, and his care in understanding systemic problems and the need to address change holistically is refreshing. A lot of his arguments about anti-intellectualism in politics and the public are a little too spot on now, but that just shows how far we haven’t really gone. I also think Brown would have been really good at snarking on Twitter, though it would probably be beneath him.

The main thing though is that I’ve learned a lot about incidents in California during the late 60s. Like the time Sate Senator Nicholas C. Petris (who represented my district!) introduced SB1291 – a bill to ban the vehicles with internal combustion engines in 1967. This didn’t make it out of the assembly (and Reagan for sure would have vetoed it), but it signaled a start of California taking air quality from transportation seriously. Something the state (and MPOW) is still fighting. And this obscure, failed piece of legislation only came to my attention because I’m reading a slightly obscure book that failed to convince the California people not to vote for Reagan in 1970. I guess this weird curiosity has made me a slightly better librarian.

Now I need to read up on steam cars.

Career growth shouldn’t be traumatic. We need to nurture not haze.


Colman Park, 1950 flickr photo by Seattle Municipal Archives shared under a Creative Commons (BY) license

Yesterday somebody reminded me of a significant and traumatic episode in my early career. I was fresh out of library school, less than a year into my job as a professional librarian, and in the hustle phase. You know, the phase where you present at any conference that will have you on pretty much any topic that seems plausible because you need to establish yourself? There’s also a bit of “well, everybody does this, right?” So I felt very fortunate that an elder, more experienced librarian wanted to work with me on a presentation. Until we worked on it and did it. It was kind of a disaster because it turns out that person was a flake and not really a collaborator. I learned a lot from the experience, but not what I thought I would have (or wanted). The whole thing stressed me out because I felt like we let everybody down, that I was a failure, and it was going to be hard to recover from. Years later, I can say I don’t think any of that is true but I still wince when people bring up this person’s name and get a faint queasiness that reminds me of how miserable I felt immediately after our session.

This then made me think of all the other experiences like that. A lot of my learning through life has been a case of those in charge throwing me in the deep end, letting me figure it out on my own, and giving me some praise if it turns out OK. The missing piece though is that not only do I get the opportunity to do big things, I also get the pressure of doing big things essentially in isolation with minimal support or oversight. I always felt like if I messed up it would be the end of my career and my library. The stakes were always high and I was a wreck. But I was also able to get through these situations, grow past them, learn some things, and kind of move on.  I mean, yes I was able to physically weed by hand 80,000 items and split the collection for a stack shift/move in 3 weeks while the other librarian was on vacation for 2 of those weeks, but I still have a dead patch on the back of my hand from nerve damage from that as a reminder of how terrible it was.

One of the big lessons I’ve learned is that this is a really terrible way to help people grow professionally. I’m not saying people shouldn’t be given opportunities to tackle big things and do good work. I’m saying if people are given those opportunities they need support and guidance, and a feeling that if things go badly it’s not on them alone. It shouldn’t be an after the fact thing, it should be throughout the project. As I move into “mid career” territory and start mentoring and giving advice and guidance to newer professionals, I am keenly aware that there’s a need to support and give room, but also prevent unnecessarily traumatic events. Just because I was able to not drown doesn’t mean other people need to be treated the same way.

I guess this is extra frustrating when I see librarians eating their own in this way because you’d think since we’re knowledge workers, we’d be better at passing on our knowledge. I guess we are, but only if the new generation suffered the way we did? No thanks.

On memos, details, nuance, and information

GOVREAGAN

Memos have been in the news a lot lately, what with the whole Nunes memo fiasco going on. It’s four pages long, which makes it kind of lengthy. The Democrats’ rebuttal should be released if and when the White House approves it, but apparently it’s longer than Nunes’ memo, which means President Trump probably won’t read it.

Memos have been on my mind a lot lately, even before the Nunes memo bubbled up. They are a huge policy tool used to distill complex information into a digestible chunk that’s easily consumed and oft repeated. It’s like the paper form of an elevator pitch. Of course there should be a long form report and analysis to back up the memo should the need arise, but decision makers (and the public) don’t have the time to go through that. There’s an art to conveying a large body of work and discourse into a one or two page overview and not have it be reductionist. I don’t know when the best time to do this in the research process, but there needs to be time, money and energy allocated to do this. It’s a key step to moving from research to policy and implementation.

The Nunes memo, the whole TL;DR culture, fake news and anti-intellectualism seem tied up. As we as a society focus on hyper productivity and outcomes, it’s assumed there’s no time for reflection and learning. There’s probably a correlation to the lack of sustained funding for longterm research, everything is results driven. And not just results for the future, but results for today and tomorrow. It’s exhausting.

So why do I have a picture of Governor Reagan on this post? Because the “mini-memo” is his legacy (and his longtime advisor William P. Clark). I learned about this while reading Pat Brown’s Reagan and Reality, where Brown spends a page contrasting how much work he put into educating himself before making decisions, compared to Reagan’s reliance on the memos. (Brown was the California Governor before Reagan, lost to him in the 1966 election, and was admittedly biased. If you want to read some early liberal venom toward Reagan, definitely check out Brown’s book.) Here’s a more sympathetic view of Reagan’s use of “mini-memos”:

Reagan frequently came under criticism in the press for seeming to have a shallow understanding of some issues, a result of misstatements at news conferences; his slip-ups appeared to reflect his style of running California, with his tendency to delegate authority to subordinates and rely on the four-paragraph “mini memos” to gather information he used in making decisions. His aides, however, defended his reliance on the mini memos as an effective management tool. “Some people joked about them,” said Caspar Weinberger, who served Reagan as State Director of Finance and was later Secretary of Health, Education, and Welfare under President Nixon, “but they were backed up by more information. The Governor sought out more information when he needed it. The memos were a very effective way to take a large problem and present a kind of distillation of it that focused the discussion. Then the Governor would apply his own Judgment to the problem,”

It’s kind of wild to think there was a time when people would actually read the report. I’m not buying it, but I am more aware of the power of a memo.