The loom where we weave memories

The threads that compose us (02 of 24)

[This post is the first of a series. All posts can be viewed on my website. This particular post is related to this one, belonging to the series “Conversations with the machine”].

“Los muchos caminos” (“The Many Paths”) was the title of the conference with which I opened the Congress of Librarians of Panama, last August 13, 2024. A text that kicked off a professional meeting where I aimed to emphasize the many and varied activities and tasks that librarians can pursue today.

Not only did I present the idea of the librarians’ “many paths”, understood as “many options, many possibilities, many horizons” — an idea that, as librarians with highly technical and often limited training, we are not always accustomed to — but I also introduced the concept of “weavers of memories”. And the notion of “documents as threads” belonging to a larger weaving…

…and of librarians, archivists and museologists as weavers. Active, involved, committed, responsible… Working on a loom, taking sides and positions, tending to those threads, and creating textiles and stories with them. Opening doors and windows to new landscapes of knowledge and memories.

I did not want to limit myself to the well-trodden paths, or to the boring and numbing discourse of what is always said. I went a step further: I added a “rebellious” touch to each of the points I addressed that day. Because… why go through the lives of those listening to me and not take the opportunity to touch them, to shake them up, to unsettle their foundations, to leave a mark and an imprint?

And what better way to do that than a bit of subversion, of radicalism, of militancy and activism, from the trenches…? Why not, if what we — managing knowledge and memories — is nothing less than politics in the broadest sense of the word? Why not, if “information is power”, and that power could be harnessed for social change, in pursuit of justice, equity, and sustainability…?

Needless to say, these were the points that attracted the most attention. It was those “rebellious” additions to the menu that provoked the most comments and opinions. Because libraries, archives and museums — what I have come to call “knowledge and memory management spaces” — are often seen, by default, as “neutral” grounds: places where information is stored, preserved and accessed in an aseptic and objective way, without bias or inclination.

Passive places that are there but do not arrive anywhere, that receive but do not always go, that attend but sometimes do not understand.

Repositories. Warehouses.

Cemeteries?

And all of that is a myth — one that serves the status quo far better than it serves truth or justice. Every decision made in these institutions — what to collect, how to classify it, in what language to do it, what to purchase, what to make accessible, who to allow in and who to keep out — carries with it an inherent bias, a reflection of the power dynamics present in society. Those of us who work in these disciplines and carry out these tasks know this, although, for various reasons, we are not always willing to accept it.

Much less to discuss it.

I suppose that is why when someone puts these ideas (and this possibility of critical thinking and constructive debate) on the table, they gain the attention of any audience. And I firmly believe that it is necessary to do so. By recognizing that libraries, archives and museums are neither neutral, aseptic, objective, nor passive spaces, we can transform those places: from being passive participants in society to active agents of change within those same societies.

The work of libraries, archives, and museums cannot focus solely on preserving the past. It must also be about challenging the present and shaping the future. This requires an intersectional approach: we must understand that the hegemonic system is not a monolith, but a tangle of power structures — ethnicity, gender, class… — that we must confront at all levels. It means putting the community at the center of our work: not as a passive recipient of our services, but as an active co-creator of the knowledge and memories we manage.

Most importantly, it means taking a radical and critical approach to everything we do. The rusty mantra of “neutrality” needs to be discarded. It’s time to face the fact that our work is deeply political, whether we like it or not. From the way we classify and categorize knowledge to the way we interact with our communities, every decision is a political act. The question is: are we going to use that power to keep things as they are, or are we going to use it to resist?

We can adopt decolonial and anti-hegemonic positions to help build and extend a valid social and cultural resistance. To achieve the longed-for epistemic justice. To seek, even if only a little, a long-neglected equity.

We can develop intersectional positions. The dominant system occupies all aspects of knowledge and memory, and the responses of resistance and struggle must do the same: transversal, transdisciplinary, plural, diverse, innovative…

We can adopt community-centered methods, such as grassroots development. They are essential, because all our work would not exist if it were not by, for, and with the community.

We can integrate critical thinking as our tool of choice. To accept what is said without further analysis or questioning is to give space to hegemonic dominance. Rebelliousness, nonconformism, and constructive criticism have to be at the very root of everything we do, especially when we talk about knowledge and memory management.

We can turn memory into a path of resistance. Because our social memory is not something of the past: it is the living fabric on which we build our identities, our histories and our present dreams and struggles. Knowing where we come from and why we are here, we have a chance to know what we are for and where we can go.

And to all that, we can add a non-linear narrative — after all, we are talking about weavings, which are complex matrices that extend and intertwine through all directions of time and space — and aesthetic and sensorial dimensions.

In such a scenario, many values are at stake: critical sense, social responsibility and justice, pluralism, independence, integrity, resistance, resilience, community… and openness. Openness because our world, as we well know, is always evolving, changing.

As does the society we serve.

Will we encounter problems, barriers, gaps? Of course we will. The idea of “neutrality” is still out there, training limitations are still evident, institutional red lines mark the field, lack of promotion discourages us, shame limits us… And to that we can add the poverty of our concepts, the stereotypes about critical perspectives that “are not librarianship”, the resistance to change…

But these are paths, other paths, that are interesting to follow. Perhaps necessary. Because… why go through the world and not take the opportunity to be touched, to be shaken, to let our foundation be moved, so that the world leaves its mark and footprint?

It is time, then, to weave useful and powerful memories. Memories worth remembering.