[Third in a series] – 1 2 3 4

In any kind of media translation, there is a loss of nuance. For example, consider the four ICT typically used to populate a digital archive: an audio recorded conversation resides out of context, a photograph lacks motion, text lacks nonverbal cues, and video – which addresses some of the deficiencies of the last three examples – lacks spacial dimension. Even though the technologies used for collecting these forms of media has improved in quality over time, they are still imperfect cataloging tools, especially in regard to capturing sophisticated social experiences such as a storytelling performance comprised of songs, anecdotes, aphorisms, nonce words, and so on. One may possess a high definition digital video recording of a performance, but much of what makes the performance culturally valuable is lost in translation from live action to digital media. For example, unless special instructions are given to the camera operator to record the reaction of the audience, viewers may miss out on important social cues (what is surprising, disdainful, humorous, etc.). Also, without a knowledge of present affairs, community history, the local environment, social status of the storyteller, circumstances under which the story is being performed, and other factors, a recording of an oral performance – even if it is in high definition – may look good, but won’t be particularly useful as part of a functional digital archive used for passing on a full range of cultural knowledge.

The argument above identifies one of the shortcomings of employing ICT in cultural revitalization efforts and begs the question of their efficacy. Add to this argument the problem of interfacing the database (ICT are often text based and written in a language that is foreign to the indigenous end user). Supposing these obstacles could be overcome, the effectiveness of ICT is still hampered by the nature of the hardware used to access the information. How does one access information stored in a digital archive when the keyboard employs a foreign alphanumeric system.
Indigenous communities and their program partners can minimize obstacles by implementing carefully considered systemic safeguards. The first order of consideration is the nature of the technology and to what degree it will interact with the knowledge system to be cataloged. To continue with the example of a storytelling performance, one might begin by conducting an assessment of the complex relationships visible in the cultural infrastructure surrounding the performance of a story and of the suitability of the technology chosen to record it. This involves “recognising the depths of interdependence of technical networks and standards, on the one hand, and the real work of politics and knowledge production on the other” (Bowker and Star, 34). For instance, a database that uses Western-style metadata tags such as author, title, and copyright may not be the most suitable for documenting oral performances. A system that allows for flexibility depending on the cultural and informational needs of the community would be more appropriate. Doing so recognizes that “classification remakes and alters information by constructing a particular context for it — gathering, scattering, and juxtaposing topics in relation to each other,” (Olsen, 233) and puts the indigenous community in charge of how that new knowledge gets constructed. One such system is the Text, Audio, Movies, and Images (TAMI) fluid file management and database system, “which bears with it no western assumptions about knowledge or the ecology, and which maximises the possibility for the user to creatively relate and annotate assemblages of resources for their own purposes.”

Although TAMI puts the indigenous community in control of classification, the database is still text driven which, as noted above, can cause access problems. A possible solution involves using a Unicode font substitution and key layout replacement.

One final example of how to reduce the impact of implicit Western values embedded within ICT is to shift emphasis from digitally archiving cultural resources to creating what Ranganathan calls “circles of knowledge.”  A circle of knowledge is “a relevant and expanding body of knowledge identified by the members of the circle”  (Ranganathan, 6). Similar to the TAMI, existing knowledge would be gathered using text, audio, videos, and still images. The indigenous community would select the manner of collection depending on the nature of the knowledge to be acquired. Instead of simply archiving data, however, what distinguishes this concept from the TAMI is that it assumes that “not all aspects of living traditions of indigenous knowledge can be captured as ‘artefacts’ using digital technology” (Ranganathan, 7). The shortcomings of a digital archive are overcome by building into the process a layer of social networking that allows a user to seek not only information, but living human knowledge resources.  As Gerolf Weigel states: “It can be more effective to link people with relevant knowledge directly rather than accumulating knowledge in ‘stores’” (22). A user might for example query the database to find out which local village has the relevant knowledgeable person to assist with a water purification system.