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(Note)
First published in "Archives and Manuscripts", Journal of the Australian Society of Archivists , Vol.30 No. 1, May 2002, pp 30-46. This article
explores some issues of perception, presentation,
governance and guardianship for cultural institutions,
and in particular the crucial importance of a custodial
institution's name, by using the National Film and Sound
Archive experience as a case study which illustrates the
risks of radical renaming. For consistency, I refer to
the institution throughout by the name adopted in 1984 -
and by its diminutives, NFSA or the Archive. Anything
else would be too confusing. In particular it
considers: Other
dimensions apart, these are professional issues with
implications for all custodial institutions. Further, the
national and international stature of the NFSA as an
exemplar means its policy decisions are influential, so
they merit study and scrutiny. The National
Film and Sound Archive (NFSA) had occupied the former
Australian Institute of Anatomy building since its
separation from the National Library of Australia
(NLA) in 1984. The
following year the Archive's foundational
report, Time In Our Hands (TIOH) recommended that
the still-unfinished 1931 building be extended to meet
the future needs of an enlarging
organisation.[1]
By the time this was achieved 15 years later, staff had
grown from the initial 15 to 200-plus, the annual budget
from $1 million to some $16 million, and the collection
to about 1.5 million items. Headquartered in Canberra,
the NFSA also had offices in Sydney and Melbourne and a
presence in the other capitals. On 21 June
1999, some 500 guests assembled to mark the opening of
the new building extension by Prime Minister John Howard.
The honours were done, the metaphorical ribbon was cut.
But the evening's main event, it transpired, was a
surprise. It was announced that the National Film and
Sound Archive had been renamed. Henceforth it would have
both a marketing name, ScreenSound Australia, and an
institutional title, The National Collection of Screen
and Sound. The new identity was a 'move forward
the first step in a long term effort to increase
recognition of its work, and more importantly, take it
successfully into the 21st
century.'[2]
Amid the polite applause, however, it was obvious that
many did not comprehend what had just
happened. As they left,
the guests were given a letter from the Director thanking
them 'for joining us in celebrating the launch of
ScreenSound Australia, the National Collection of Screen
and Sound'. It declared 'we are now positioned for the
future' and promised: The genesis of
the NFSA can be indirectly traced to the National
Historical Film and Speaking Record Library, created in
1935 as part of the Commonwealth National Library (CNL).
The CNL is the parent of today's National Library of
Australia (NLA), National Archives of Australia
(NAA) and Parliamentary Library. The NFSA became
an entity in 1984, when the NLA's National Film Archive
and Sound Recording functions were transferred to the
guardianship of its portfolio Department and reorganised
as the National Film and Sound Archive.[3] This
government action was the outcome of a decade of external
activism calling, ultimately, for an autonomous archive
to protect Australia's film, broadcasting and sound
heritage.[4]
The problem was not just the perceived 'Cinderella'
status of the work within the NLA, but the real-world
difficulties for a national audiovisual archive
developing an appropriate ethos and identity inside a
book library, with a book library's perspective and
priorities. Australia was late following a world trend;
NFSA's ultimate creation was as much cultural statement
as administrative action. Then, as now, its great
strength was a support base within Australia's film and
sound industries, among the oldest and proudest in the
world. Early in the
NFSA's life, its Advisory Committee was charged with
preparing TIOH, the vision and blueprint for the
institution's future. Among other things, it reviewed and
endorsed the Archive's name, and recommended enabling
legislation.[5]
The NFSA's subsequent development from 'country cousin'
into one of the world's best and most influential
audiovisual archives is an extraordinary
story.[6]
So the evolution of the descriptive name, National Film
and Sound Archive, encapsulates both its
institutional and cultural history, and Australia's
relatively recent emergence into global visibility in
this field. Custodial or
collecting institutions characteristically have
descriptive, translatable and timeless names which
indicate their status (eg local, specialist, university,
national), their country or region, and their
professional descriptor (library, archives, museum) -
allowing, of course, for variant terminology in different
languages. This formula provides instant peer and public
recognition: thus the State Library of Victoria, National
Museum of Australia (NMA), National Archives of
Zimbabwe/Singapore/Australia and National Library of
Vietnam/New Zealand/Laos etc. Deviations from this norm
tend to be for particular historical or cultural reasons
but the professional descriptor identifies the nature of
the institution.[8]
The words library,
archive and museum do, to some, sound musty
and conservative: to others they are powerful terms,
laden with values and prestige. They are also very
practical labels: the key by which researchers find these
institutions in directories and web searches. Institutional
names have strategic, educative and informational power.
They create a public image, declare alignment with a set
of professional values, establish status relative to peer
bodies nationally or internationally. They claim a unique
'place' in the grand scheme of things - there can, for
instance, be only one National Gallery of
Australia.[9]
Descriptive names also, implicitly, declare a
mission. They are a point of reference and a
unifying symbol for stakeholders. Film, sound,
broadcasting and general audiovisual archives follow the
same self-descriptive conventions. The professional term
archive or archives is embedded in the
names of all of the movement's major associations, which
group under the general descriptor audiovisual
archive.[10]
Variations in terminology - such as screen instead
of film, broadcasting instead of radio
and/or television - depend on the
history, context and nuances of such words in individual
countries: the choice is not a casual or simple
one. Public
institutions seem to alter their names for two
traditional reasons. The first is change of status,
function or circumstances, like mergers or separations,
rendering the existing name incorrect. The second is
incremental change in the interests of standardisation or
to clarify status - which Australia's 'club' of national
custodial institutions have been doing for some
years.[11] Changes are
not made lightly because the names of public
institutions, like schools, churches, military bodies and
other anchors of society, are effectively public property
- they embody continuity, history, values and 'ownership'
by their adherents and supporters.[12]
The formalising of names in legislation recognises their
long-term significance and, because statutes cannot be
quickly amended, it serves to inhibit frivolous or
ill-considered change. Without consultation or due
process, change becomes an act of
dispossession. In 1998 the
audiovisual archiving world was astonished by the
decision of the British Film Institute (BFI) to absorb
the well-known National Film and Television Archive into
the generality of the institute as BFI Collections.
Founded in 1935, the NFTVA has been the model and mother
of archives worldwide, including Australia. Professional
sources saw the change as a management drive to
depersonalise well-known departments, and ensure
government funds were given to the whole institute, not
specifically NFTVA, which could no longer be separately
identified. Apparently, as
key expert staff and corporate memory departed, donations
of films and money declined, because donors are less
willing to support a faceless bureaucracy than an
identifiable archive. The name, National Film and
Television Archive, defines role, status and mission; BFI
Collections has many possible meanings. Currently BFI
Collections' National Film and Television Archive is a
permitted phrase, though to describe the collection only,
not staff.[13] Conversely, in
1995, London's Imperial War Museum had renamed its
'Departments' of Film, Photographs, and Sound Records as
'Film and Video Archive', 'Photograph Archive' and 'Sound
Archive' respectively. Elsewhere, others have recently
moved in the 'archival' direction: for example, the
Hungarian Film Institute is now the Hungarian Film
Archive. Around the
time of the BFI decision in 1998, there was a confluence
of circumstances in Canberra, when consultants were
called in to review the NFSA's 'positioning' and
visibility. Its complex kookaburra logo also required
graphic simplification. Canberra staff had become more
aware of visitors mispronouncing the name: 'National Film
and Archive' or 'National Sound and Archive', or
'Australian' instead of 'National', were
common variations.[14]
From the viewpoint of precision, the name had never
included television or radio even though
these had always been major parts of the collection, so
did the name need revising as well as the logo? When the
National Archives headquarters moved house, phone company
Telstra cut off the NFSA's phones instead, thus confusing
the NFSA with a sister institution. In late
February 1999 it was decided to review the name as part
of 'repositioning' the Archive. The same consultants were
involved in a process which led to the choice of a new
name and logo. On 9 March, NFSA staff were formally
advised of a project to 'examine, and possibly change,
the Archive's branding - this is its name and/or logo and
general presentation'.[15]
Impetus built. Staff were invited to suggest alternative
names, although there was no subsequent poll or other
evaluation of the suggestions transparent to staff. The
exercise majored on presentational ideas rather than
professional issues, and it was not based on any corpus
of readily available discussion material on the
implications of name changes.[16]
Not surprisingly, many of the name suggestions aimed at
clever acronyms ahead of descriptive
substance. There was
limited external consultation. During March a market
research company ran interviews and focus groups with
selected stakeholders to assess general perceptions of
the Archive, including views on its present name. It
later emerged that some participants found this a
disempowering experience.[17]
Given the compressed timeframe, the new name itself was
evidently not tested with stakeholders, nor the planned
changes canvassed with the overseas professional
community. The opening of
the Archive's building extension had been seen as the
platform to announce the changes. Originally set for the
end of May, it eventuated on 21 June. Decisions on the
name were made some weeks ahead of this, but kept
confidential within a small executive group: staff in
general learned the new name only hours before its public
announcement. With the adoption of the two-tier title,
ScreenSound Australia: The National Collection of Screen
and Sound, collection replaced archive as
the professional descriptor, avoiding nominal confusion
with the National Archives of Australia. Screen
replaced film, ostensibly embracing
television too. Here some international
context may be useful. In the
language of audiovisual archives, film has not, on
the whole, been superseded by screen. Both words
have multiple associations, film often covering
other moving images including television, which uses film
terminology like 'footage' and 'filmed'. Screen
can pertain to objects broader than moving images,
or reflect other associations. For example, the name of
the Scottish Screen Archive, a subset of the
government funding agency Scottish Screen,
reflects its ownership, not its holdings.
Collection is a professional term meaning 'a set
of items selected individually'. It can also describe a
component or department within a larger entity, but not a
discrete organisation. The descriptor archive or
archives serves to describe (depending on context)
a place, an institution or its contents, and reflects
alignment with the global profession, its ethos and
standards. Nevertheless,
the Archive's Annual review 1998-1999 (pages 4 and
6)[18]
stated that and then, with
finality, cited as a major outcome the By moving away
from a descriptive name as its public identity, the
change took the NFSA in the opposite direction
from the national custodial institutions' long-standing
trend towards descriptive name standardisation.
This trend was reaffirmed by the National Museum when its
chairman, Tony Staley, was quoted in the Sydney
Morning Herald of 13 September 2000, over a year
after the NFSA's name change: Yet if the
NFSA's name change to 'update' its image and 'increase
marketing potential' was a logical step, why
wouldn't the same logic apply to the other institutions?
Why not change the National Library, for instance, to
InfoMax Australia or the National Archives
to archives.com? If there is a good answer to
that question, it must bear on the rationale for moving
the NFSA from a standard to a non-standard
formula. What is that
rationale? No statement on the subject was released when
the change was announced, and subsequent public
explanations have been brief and not necessarily
consistent. This lack of explanation is a notable
departure from past practice, for the NFSA has long been
an exemplar in the development and publication of
comprehensive operational policies and ethics statements
covering all aspects of its work. Yet on the renaming,
the longest exposition so far published appeared in the
Spring 2000 issue of News from the Archive, and is
here quoted in full: You may
have noticed in our last newsletter and this one that
we are using our formal name, National Screen and
Sound Archive. This name contains the two
important descriptors of the organisation, namely
National and Archive. We are the
national organisation in our field and we are an
archive. Our
marketing brand name and logo, ScreenSound
Australia, is a contraction of the formal name. It
replaces the previous shorthand for our organisation,
namely NFSA (an acronym meaningless to the broader
public and difficult to recall). This branding is
another step in a long-term effort to increase
recognition of our work among a wider audience (such
as educational and youth markets). We are
still the same national audiovisual archive, playing a
key role in documenting and interpreting the
Australian experience and actively contributing to the
development of the audiovisual industry. But now we
have a name that reflects that role more accurately in
a way that will help raise awareness among all our
audiences, especially younger audiences. The assertions
invite many questions, for they are disputable and no
supporting evidence is cited. But in this Spring 2000
statement, no mention is made of the formal title
announced in June 1999, The National Collection of Screen
and Sound. What had happened to the NFSA's
'completed renaming' to 'take it successfully into the
21st century'? To seek the answer, let us
explore the reactions, and consider how they
matter. Perhaps some
long-term supporters among the departing guests on that
June evening wondered why one of Australia's major
custodial institutions, having just fulfilled a
foundational dream, had suddenly dumped its hard-won and
well-established identity to start over again - even
retrospectively redefining the evening's event as a
'celebration' of same. An unsuspecting constituency,
caught off balance, soon found it had little to
celebrate. As the news sank in over the following months,
reactions ranged from laughter to puzzlement, concern and
disbelief. One year on, in July 2000, a commentator
voiced this assessment: There had been
a growing tide of complaints. The Annual review
1999-2000, page 14, noted that 'out of a total of 99
complaints received, ScreenSound Australia's change of
name and the relocation of its Sydney office provoked a
total of 73 Staff have worked very hard to communicate
the rationale for these two changes and complaints have
steadily decreased'. The Review does not, however,
record the 'rationale' communicated by staff. In early
2000, a survey by the Friends of the National Film and
Sound Archive logged similar numbers of written
complaints. Beyond this, it is understood there were many
informal complaints, comments in visitors' books, and so
on. The marketing
name ScreenSound had proved, after all, not to be
unique: it turned out to be both a technical term for a
film or television sound track, and an existing name
already in use three ways in Australia for, respectively,
a recording studio, a profession and a piece of sound
mixing equipment.[21] So stark had
been the identity switch with new name, new logo and new
corporate colours that many people did not link the
ScreenSound name with NFSA at all and assumed it
was a different organisation.[22]
Sales of videos, CDs and other NFSA products, having
risen steadily for years, dropped by nearly
half.[23]
The imminent ScreenSound
Foundation and the Treasures exhibition, announced
at the June 1999 launch as part of the new initiatives,
had failed to appear as promised. A spokesperson had
reportedly stated that the Archive would gradually change
its name back.[24] Meanwhile, in
early 2000, the new body, Friends of the National Film
and Sound Archive, had been established, pointedly
adopting the original name. It released a discussion
paper and charter.[25]
It sought immediate formal reinstatement of the
professional descriptor archive. But it also saw
the name change as indicative of larger, underlying
issues about the Archive's direction and called, among
other things, for renewal of closer ties between Archive
and constituency. Fears that the
renaming signified reorientation and commercialisation of
the institution had been fuelled by the controversial
relocation of the Archive's Sydney office to the new Fox
Studios site in November 2000. Producer Glenys Rowe
voiced the concerns of many filmmakers: The annual
conference of the Screen Producers' Association of
Australia (SPAA) in Sydney provided opportunity for the
Archive to respond to such apprehensions, and an open
letter from the NFSA Director had appeared in the
conference daily newsletter a few days later
to: By early
2000 the Archive had responded to feedback by
replacing its formal title, The National Collection of
Screen and Sound, with National Film and Sound
Archive as the secondary name on its logo block, creating
a linkage between old and new identities. But in yet
another shift, National Screen and Sound Archive
took this place in July 2000 when it was designated
the formal name of the institution. The Archive
had conducted a limited survey of stakeholders, inviting
(among other things) comments on the renaming, although
the results appear never to have been published.
Likewise, Archive publications apparently did not devote
any space to reviewing or debating the issues raised by
complainants, or explanations given to them. From reading
the newsletters, one could easily conclude that the
changes had been well-received - and thereby, perhaps,
feel less inclined to voice one's own misgivings, given
the cumulative effects of repetition and
reinforcement.[28] In general,
the name ScreenSound took some getting used to as
members of the public found it hard to
grasp.[29]
Complaints from stakeholders, here and overseas, focused
on its lack of meaning and its evocation of a corporate,
commercial or regulatory organisation, not a public
institution or an archive.[30]
It conveyed no status or dignity: a slick, 'trendy'
formula that would date, and would be missed in web
searches for archives. There was criticism of 'secret'
process, of Canberra-centred thinking, and of change for
its own sake. There was fear of hidden
agendas. Beyond these
reactions, there were larger professional implications.
Dropping its self-descriptive public identity,
notwithstanding the later, subordinate reinstatement of
the word archive, isolated the NFSA in a
professional no-man's-land. It was nominally distanced
from the international audiovisual archiving movement in
which it is an exemplar, as well as from the national
movement of which it is the putative leader. As a leading
professional educator it sent contradictory signals to
students and staff. It appeared to leave the 'club' of
national custodial institutions, and thereby abandon its
place in their spectrum of responsibilities. Attention
previously focused on a descriptive name, mission and
profession was now being turned towards a brand
name. Today's
framework of libraries, museums and galleries originated
in colonial times, so well-established state institutions
formed a strong basis for the development of national
networks, which include professional associations and
kindred institutions. But the NFSA, like other
audiovisual archives, is a product of the 20th
century and lacks a comparable support structure in its
own country. A big fish in a small pond, it is always at
risk of introspection and groupthink, reliant on
international networks that are less immediate and
accessible than local ones. So it is traditionally
vulnerable to geographic and professional
isolation. The renaming
seems to have increased, not diminished, that isolation.
'Are we still an archive?' one staff member asked me soon
after the change, as the 'a-word' rapidly became
politically incorrect within NFSA as well as its parent
government department. It has only gradually, and mostly
informally, reasserted itself, because the new name
invites the logical question, 'What is
ScreenSound?' Professionals
draw on corporate history for inspiration, and for their
sense of vocation and continuity. Many institutions value
this heritage enough to document and publish it.
Custodial institutions do not spring out of nowhere: they
have beginnings and struggles, they develop collections,
fight battles, advocate standards, wrestle with funding,
mould perceptions. This is especially true in the
pioneering field of audiovisual archiving - in which NFSA
has a very proud history, described by one authority as
'miraculous'. It has informed and inspired archivists
well beyond Australia. Timeless names
symbolise and give entrée to corporate history.
NFSA's renaming is a fracture, a blockage to that entree.
Discussion and celebration of its history is made more
complex and difficult by the change of reference points,
especially if the change suggests substance that is not
really there. The advent of the National Film and Sound
Archive was a watershed, marking major advance and policy
change. Was the advent of ScreenSound Australia anything
more than cosmetic change? Did it really benefit the
institution? Yet it becomes hard to speak, present, or
write without revisionism, projecting the new name
backwards in time, stealing the past. Examples abound in
policy documents, reports, publicity and so on, too
numerous to recount here. Rewriting history to gloss over
name changes can skate on thin ethical
ice.[31]
There is a public and professional expectation of fair
dealing and honesty by government. Consider, for
example, this statement on page 5 of the Archive's
Annual review 2000-2001: Whatever
agenda the last phrase foreshadows, the rest of it
obviously contradicts history, not to mention the
Annual review 1998-1999, just two years earlier,
quoted above. The Archive's website has carried the same
incorrect information since at least January
2001. The re-naming
mattered deeply to the Archive's stakeholders, among them
academics, collectors, producers, clients, students,
actors, technicians, writers, professionals, and the
interested general public. Committed stakeholders are
discerning: caring about their institution, they respect
transparent consultation, but do not expect to be ignored
or manipulated. Their support gives them moral
'ownership' of the institution and what it stands for,
and therefore, of its name. For, in the end, to whom does
the institution belong? Staff? Government? Council?
Stakeholders? The general public? Future Australians? A
public institution may be 'run' by an administration and
a board, but in Australian democracy such people are
stewards and guardians, exercising a duty of care over
the national patrimony - intangible assets like its
identity, philosophy, ethos and collective knowledge, as
well as tangible ones like collections, databases, and
buildings. By
encapsulating its history and values, an institution's
name should be a unifying symbol for its supporters.
Unfortunately for NFSA, its new name has become a symbol
of division.[32]
While the changes are, it has been stated, aimed at
enfranchising young people who may not know about the
Archive, they come at the price of disenfranchising
existing stakeholders. Where people are free to choose,
many have declined to embrace the changes. Where they are
not, conformity may have come at the cost of zeal and
respect. For still
lacking is a comprehensive explanation for the original
changes, later variations, flow-on effects, and of the
way the change process was managed. It would be
instructive to evaluate the success or otherwise of the
renaming against its originally stated objectives.
Custodial institutions are rational places, basing their
work on well-understood professional principles,
standards and philosophies. It is axiomatic that they be
accountable to their constituencies for their decisions,
choices and policies, and be ready and willing to expound
on their rationales, including the rationale for their
names. This is the stuff of articles, conference papers
and so on; it is where institutions interact with their
stakeholders and publics. While we await
such expositions on the rationale of ScreenSound,
inevitably the vacuum will be filled by myth,
speculation, or, worst of all, discreet avoidance of
discussion lest it be unwelcome. This is not the
atmosphere in which the ethos of archiving - scholarship,
intellectual rigour and the search for truth - can
flourish. For the
Archive the need for a transparent, logical and
consistent rationale is greater than for any of the other
members of the 'club' of national custodial
institutions.[33]
The reason is that the
Archive's identity and status cannot be checked against
enabling legislation or a public charter since, alone
within the 'club', it has no such backing. So in the
context of the renaming, absence of a publicly accessible
rationale leaves the name itself with a more than usual
workload. The institution's status, role and professional
character, its functions, its nature cannot be taken from
documents on which its authority is founded, nor from a
body of transparent statement and argument it has issued;
it cannot even be taken from an articulated procedure
within the Archive, but must rest on just the
name. The Archive
still has no legal personality: it is merely a division
of a government department, and under direction. So any
debate about its names - formal, marketing or otherwise -
is ultimately academic. They may have legal status as
trademarks of the Commonwealth, but otherwise they are
just tools of administrative convenience.[34]
They could be changed again as easily as they were in
June 1999 or July 2000. In other major
libraries, archives or museums a radical renaming
proposal would face checks and balances like governing
councils, professional associations, stakeholder groups
and possibly Parliament, if amendment to an act or
regulation was entailed.[35]
But for the NFSA there is no automatic mechanism to apply
the will of Parliament, public and profession to such
matters. Even with the best intentions, unwise changes
can be authorised, without consultation or explanation,
by politicians insufficiently informed about the
organisation, its character and its stakeholders. Is such
an ongoing risk to the stability and professional
identity of a major public archive an acceptable state of
affairs? Both the fact
and manner of the renaming seem to have suddenly exposed
the vulnerability of Australia's national audiovisual
archive. Fundamental change comes unsought, unexpected
and unexplained. NFSA may be deflected from core
archiving obligations onto commercial and marketing
agendas which are really subsidiary to its mission.
Indeed, what assurance is there that it will
remain an archive? Can even its continued
existence be assumed? It falls within the executive power
of the government of the day and is therefore at the
mercy of political interference and contemporary fads.
Rationalisation and expenditure review committees, along
with the machiavellian disciples of Sir Humphrey Appleby,
are facts of bureaucratic life.[36] Good
governance requires that policies and actions be based
consistently on stated principles, that issues be
promptly handled, that the institution's present and
future needs be understood and diligently addressed, so
that it may be the victor and not the victim in its
circumstances. Unfortunately the political imperative of
defending the recent changes could well lead in
unforeseen directions, for names - even non-specific ones
like ScreenSound - generate their own logic over
time. The character and status of the National Film and
Sound Archive is self-evident, but ScreenSound
Australia could mean many things: it has to be explained
by a tag line, and the character of the organisation
could change along with the tag lines. When the
National Library of Australia relinquished its film and
sound archive functions in April 1984, it sought
assurances from its Minister about the future integrity
of the collections being transferred to the NFSA - from
the protection of a statutory authority into the
guardianship of the bureaucracy. From the wealth of
contemporary documentation, including Minister Cohen's 5
April 1984 announcement in Parliament and subsequent
events, it is evident that the NFSA's departmental tenure
was meant to be transitional, pending formal
institutional status.[37]
But later circumstances deflected this intention, impetus
was gradually lost, and it never moved on. So for a major
custodial institution lacking the accountability of a
statute, the renaming or some equally radical initiative,
with all its context and consequences, was perhaps an
accident waiting to happen. Bureaucratic guardianship has
been found wanting, and it should be warning enough. It
is time to keep faith, without delay, with the NFSA's
founding objectives and intentions, and establish it as
an authority under the Commonwealth Authorities and
Companies Act 1997, if necessary by regulation pending
the passage of its own enabling Act. How else can it
assert a mandate, be independently responsible for its
collections, be protected from sudden and unexplained
change, and be held publicly accountable for its actions
and stewardship? It is also
axiomatic that the governance, values and stability of
custodial institutions must visibly rest on an
appropriate professional philosophy, and depth of
knowledge, larger than individuals or current
circumstances. This is not the equivalent of simply
observing the ruling values and obeying the directives of
the Public Service. To summarise,
I believe that: The Archive
sits between a rock and a hard place. This major national
cultural body switched to a non-standard, commercially
oriented name in circumstances that call for transparent
explanation. Obviously, abandonment of the ScreenSound
name as the primary identity raises practical, political
and financial questions, but facing them cannot be
avoided. Although
National Screen and Sound Archive has been the formal
title since July 2000, there seems a reluctance to
acknowledge, much less promote, the title in its
own right.[38]
Its relegation to tagline status supporting its
'contraction' - as in the redundant and tongue-twisting
formula, ScreenSound Australia, the National Screen and
Sound Archive - when it is used at all, only
reinforces the (intended?) impression that ScreenSound
Australia is the 'correct' name. Does this
ambivalence signal a future intention to discard the
formal name or otherwise change the tagline? Sadly, the
pre-June 1999 clarity and simplicity of National Film and
Sound Archive is now sufficiently remote for some
staff and clients to have never known a time when the
institution's name was not an issue. NFSA is now
styled ambiguously, in different forums here and
overseas, by its original name and its three new ones -
sometimes all together - confusing both identity and
credibility. Is not this self-inflicted dilemma a
national embarrassment? 'We all wondered why you did it',
commented one senior American archivist, 'now how are you
going to get out of it?' The answer is
administratively simple, if the will is there. The formal
restoration to centre stage of the name National Film and
Sound Archive is the most obvious, appropriate,
economical and - above all - honest way of repairing the
fracture in the institution's history and identity. The
name symbolises six decades of struggle, activism,
achievement and pride in Australian heritage. Against
that, what does the name ScreenSound Australia truly
symbolise, and what is the real cost of investing in
it? 'I made
mistakes, God knows. But they were honest mistakes, and
we learned from most of them', said one of Australia's
great film makers, Ken G Hall, whose memory is honoured
in an annual NFSA award.[39]
What lessons may all custodial
institutions learn from the NFSA case study? I think
there are five: A good name is
rather to be chosen than great riches (Proverbs
22.1). (To
return to your place in the text, simply click on the
endnote number) Author's
note:
This article expresses my own personal and professional
opinions, which do not necessarily reflect those of any
organisation with which I am associated. I write strictly
as an individual exercising, as best I can, my judgement
of the ethics and obligations involved. In discussing
events which occurred while I was employed at the NFSA, I
have avoided areas of confidentiality. [1]
The Report of the National Film and Sound Archive
Advisory Committee, tabled in Parliament on 27 November
1985. The Committee preceded the current Interim Advisory
Council. [2]
From press release 21 June 1999. [3]
On 5 April 1984 Arts Minister Barry Cohen announced in
Parliament the 'establishment of a new National Film and
Sound Archive based on the existing film and sound
archives presently located in the National Library of
Australia ...[it] will initially be an Office
within the Department of Home Affairs and Environment
...the Government has decided that there is a need for a
separate institution with a charter of its own and
guidelines established by the Government after
consultation with all the interests involved.' It soon
became a division of the Department and still has that
status in the Department of Communications, Information
Technology and the Arts (DCITA). [4]
The story is recounted in Graham Shirley's article
'Activism towards a national film archive' in Cinema
papers, July 1984. [5]
Time in our hands, pp. 100-01, 113. Except for
legislation, the vision has been largely
fulfilled. [6]
The author is working on a history of the
NFSA. [7]
Detailed discussion of nomenclature
and typology is outside the scope of this article.
Interested readers might refer to the author's monograph,
A philosophy of audiovisual archiving (UNESCO,
Paris, 1998), especially pp. 7-8 and 13-16, at
www.unesco.org/webworld/en/highlights/audiovisual_archiving/philo1.htm.
A second edition, incorporating more recent debate, is in
preparation. [8]
For example, the Library of Congress is also the national
library of the USA (rather like Australia's pre-1960
Commonwealth National Library, which was also the
Parliamentary library). Like its National Archives and
Records Administration, the 'country'
identification is taken as a given - as it also is on
United States Internet domain names. The names of the
British Library and British Museum reflect the
fact that the United Kingdom is not one but several
countries, some of which have their own national
collecting institutions, such as the National Library of
Wales. And closer to home, the New Zealand Film Archive
also has a Maori name - Nga Kaitiaki O Nga Taonga
Whitiahua - which translates as 'Guardians of the
Treasures of Light.' [9]
Hence an interesting debate about the name of the
National Gallery of Victoria (see The Age, 31
January 2002, front page). [10]
Coordinating Council of Audiovisual Archive Associations
(CCAAA), Association of Moving Image Archivists (AMIA),
International Association of Sound and Audiovisual
Archives (IASA), International Federation of Film
Archives (FIAF), etc. [11]
The Museum of Australia became
the National Museum of Australia; the Australian National
Gallery became the National Gallery of Australia;
Australian Archives became the National Archives of
Australia. The National Film and Sound Archive (of
Australia) was already normative. [12]
Reflect, for example, on the consequences of renaming the
Royal Australian Navy as 'Military Output Division 1 -
Seaborne' and the Royal Australian Air Force as 'Military
Output Division 2 - Airborne' - or similar flights of
imagination. How would they affect image, credibility and
morale? [13]
Late report at press time: it is understood that a BFI
restructure is about to reinstate the NFTVA both in name
and in fact. [14]
Such variations are the case for many institutions. In
the author's experience it rarely implies
misunderstanding of the nature of the institution
- just a lack of precision. [15]
'Branding brief' emailed to all staff. [16]
On 21 March the author wrote and
circulated to all staff some brief background material on
contextual issues. [17]
The author has privately received feedback from some
participants. To quote one who felt the group had been
'steamrollered': 'We were shown montages of images and
asked which ones best illustrated how we thought of the
Archive. We tried to say that none of them did, but this
was not an acceptable answer, and the question was simply
rephrased until we provided an answer that fitted their
preconceptions. I cannot remember the debate about the
name, but do remember vividly feeling both really angry
and completely helpless as I left, and sharing this with
others who felt the same'. [18]
Since the Archive has no legal personality, it tables an
'annual review', not an 'annual report', in
Parliament. [19]
Author's emphasis. [20]
Peter Galvin in If magazine, July 2000, page
11. [21]
So ScreenSound Australia could literally mean 'Sound
Tracks Australia'. Screensound Pty Ltd
(www.screensound.com.au) is a Sydney-based
sound recording studio; the Australian Screen Sound Guild
(www.assg.org.au) is a forum for members of the
screen sound profession, also headquartered in Sydney,
and the SSL ScreenSound is a sophisticated sound-mixing
console, marketed internationally. [22]
Reactions to the new logo - a curl of
film shaped like a sound horn - are mixed, and not
pursued here. The main point of the change -
simplification - was missed: the logo is still complex,
as the Archive's Style guide
emphasises. [23]
Sales have never regained pre-name-change levels. The
Annual review 1998-1999 reported a 24 per cent
increase in sales that year, and a 155 per cent increase
over the four years to that date. The reviews for
1999-2000 and 2000-2001 do not report sales
figures. [24]
Statement by the NFSA's public
affairs manager, reported in If magazine, July
2000, page 11. [25]
Available from Shelley Clarke,
Friends NFSA,mercury3@ozemail.com.au. [26]
Producer Glenys Rowe, quoted by Garry Maddox in the
Sydney morning herald, 5 Nov 1999. [27]
Published 12 November 1999. No evidence of 'continual
confusion' with other archives is offered. In late 1999 a
Canberra-based study conducted for other purposes by the
National Archives of Australia suggested there was no
significant public confusion between NFSA and NAA.
Comments to the author from SPAA members suggested that
any perceptions of confusion were Canberra-centric, for
none existed within the film and television industries
themselves. [28]
See, for example, Norman L Munn, Psychology,
Houghton Mifflin, Boston, 1961, p. 446. [29]
Recorded variations include Sunscreen, FilmScreen,
Screensavers, Smokescreen, Scream Found, National Screen
Australia, Screen and Sound Town and the inversion
SoundScreen (which is also an existing trade
name). [30]
The name evoked many interpretations, including a
product, an electronics shop, a theme park, a film or
sound production company, or a collector of projection
screens. Sample respondent comments: 'smacks of shonky
used car salesman', 'sounds like a firm that does double
glazing', 'never trust an organisation whose name looks
like a misprint', and 'sounds like just another
company'. [31]
NFSA is bound by the FIAF Code of Ethics. Article 4.1
reads in part: 'Archives believe in the free sharing of
knowledge and experience to aid the development and
enlightenment of others and the development of the
archival ideal Archivists will not knowingly be party to
the dissemination of false or misleading information, and
will not deliberately withhold information (except where
the confidentiality of a third party is involved)
relating to their collections or areas of
expertise. [32]
For example, at meetings and events, tension between
adherents of 'old' and 'new' names can be
palpable. [33]
National Archives of Australia,
National Library of Australia, National Museum of
Australia, National Gallery of Australia, Australian
National Maritime Museum, Australian War Memorial, and
NFSA. All except NFSA have enabling
legislation. [34]
The relevant trademarks appear to be
#797134 SCREENSOUND AUSTRALIA NATIONAL SCREEN AND SOUND
ARCHIVE, the revised version of a trademark originally
lodged on 11 June 1999 by Davryn Pty Ltd and assigned to
the Commonwealth on 21 June 1999 [the day the
renaming was announced], and #880011 NATIONAL FILM
AND SOUND ARCHIVE lodged on 21 June 2001. [35]
The NFSA's Interim Council has always been an advisory
body, not an executive one. [36]
One is tempted to imagine what the
writers of Yes, Minister might have done with this
whole scenario. [37]
NFSA's Council has always been styled as 'interim' in
that expectation. [38]
Few, including the Australian Society of Archivists (to
judge by its website) seem to know this. Even the
Archive's annual reviews have not made this clear. There
is a separate National Screen and Sound Archive
letterhead, but it can only be used with the
Director's express approval (see the style guide on the
website at www.screensound.gov.au).
[39]
Directed by Ken G Hall, Lansdowne Press,
Melbourne, 1977, p. 191. The Ken G Hall Award recognises
outstanding contributions to film preservation in
Australia.
13,833 words
Introduction:
one night in June
Part
of the move forward will be a focus on strategic
alliances with industry and business. A ScreenSound
Foundation will be established later this year to
foster involvement of people and businesses from all
sectors of the community to support the valuable work
we do. Tonight was really only the start. We have many
months of development and planning ahead to make our
new name count. We will be an organisation that truly
reflects our new positioning...
Background
History of
the National Film and Sound Archive
Nomenclature[7]
A British
case study
Why the
National Film and Sound Archive was renamed
The
Archive's name was changed to ScreenSound Australia,
The National Collection of Screen and Sound, on 21
June 1999. Its role as Australia's national
audiovisual archive is unchanged
completion
of the repositioning and renaming of the
organisation as ScreenSound Australia to update the
organisation's image and to increase its marketing
potential - reflect [sic] the range of
audiovisual materials collected and made
available.[19]
...the
Council of the National Museum of Australia has
rejected suggestions from consultants that it 'brand'
itself by adopting an Aboriginal or other name ...the
overwhelming view of the council was that we've got a
great name and it must go on being the name.
National
Screen and Sound Archive
Did it
matter?
Public
response
...the
reaction from the industry could best be summed up as
outrage ...[a] bland name which didn't give
the vaguest hint of the Archive's core activity, not
to mention the fact that the new name hid its public
service role.[20]
Is
the name change reflecting a change in direction of
the archive towards more leisure and entertainment and
away from its former core function of preserving our
national film and sound heritage?[26]
...assure
[you] that ScreenSound remains fully focused
on collecting, preserving and making accessible
Australia's screen and sound heritage the name change
was designed to alleviate problems associated with the
old name. Many of our functions, like the preservation
of Australian television, were simply unacknowledged
in the old name. We were also continually confused
with other archives, especially the National Archives
of Australia ...we were also looking for a name that
would appeal more to young people. The name change was
designed to make us more accessible. It did not
in any way signify a change of
direction...[27]
Professional
implications
In
1999 the organisation changed its name to ScreenSound
Australia, the National Screen and Sound Archive, to
reflect contemporary and future directions.
Governance,
guardianship and unfinished business
Conclusion
The
lessons
Endnotes
