Photoshop is an incredibly powerful program. From creating the illusion of old and worn images to restoring and reconstructing destroyed objects to presenting historical images in a pleasing and consistent fashion, it quickly becomes apparent how with time and effort an old photograph or print can can be remade into a different document

This seems to raise a number of issues for historians who are as interested in context and provenance as they are material, especially when one considers how images can be culturally constructive in both their original and recrafted iterations.

A careful documentation of altered images seems most important, given the way the web works. Since there is a strong possibility someone else might not only find, but republish your image, identifying the original work, as well as the changes you might have made upon it could be very helpful. For example, this image of the Boston Massacre had an incorrect caption the first time I encountered it (the information for which apparently came from here). Now, in this case, an incorrect citation made its way into what is likely becoming the most prevalent singular work cited by students. If one imagines that the original image had been modified in some way, it becomes clear how quickly the disinformation can spiral out of control. Because of this, the responsibility to record one’s transformations and make the process transparent to the audience are ethically important for the historian.

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Manan Ahmed’s “Polyglot Manifesto” seems to be a popular reading for discussion this week—and rightfully so, as it brings to the fore a number of the important questions digital historians must (however painfully) pose to themselves . These are largely of the why-type of question. Why bother with digital humanities? If I do, why should I learn the technical aspects of new media instead of letting someone else do the heavy lifting? And perhaps most importantly, why is digital history a step forward, why is it potentially an improvement over traditional methods?

What I found particularly interesting was how Ahmed’s underlying theme of tying academic and public history more closely together. Pointing to the examples of some prominent intellectuals, he indicates that scholars who enter themselves into public discussion risk headaches (not to mention harassment) without great reward.

There is nothing new in the notion about scholars as public intellectuals—Noam Chomsky, Edward Said, Bernard Lewis, Cornel West etc. are readily available examples. Yet, the fact that all of the people I cited are highly polarizing figures illustrates, to me, the reticence of the average scholar to engage with the public.

Oddly, Ahmed seems to mention this briefly, almost in passing. He mentions the new forms of communication we now have, Web 2.0, etc., but seems to do little with it. Maybe this is because his focus is on the need to learn the technical side of digital humanities and the need for online archives. But on a theoretical level he hints at some important points.

I might argue that public discourse is a the vital aspect of digital humanities. For the academics Ahmed mentioned, there is quite a bit of “glory” as he describes it. Their books are widely read. They are asked to speak in front of large crowds in non-academic settings. And when they comment on current issues, people (whether they agree or disagree) listen. Certainly they expose themselves to a great deal of criticism (much of it undue), but isn’t this the situation educators hope they can be in? One where people read and comment on their work; where their ideas move beyond the classroom and are often put into action; where, most importantly, their ideas begin a dialogue, drawing new people, perspectives, ideas into the conversation.

To the point of this class, isn’t that what we hope to do with our blogs? That by opening up our ideas we can learn from each other? That we can engage as broad an audience as possible (Whether or not this happens, I feel, is a different issue. It will not be through lack of effort) and encounter their feedback, and adapt. I think projects like The History News Network are a great step in this direction. The era of the web as a simple publishing platform was brief, and it has quickly become about participation and interaction (just take a look at the facebook, flickr, and myspace accounts already in play for the Democratic presidential primary for an example of how fast this has become mainstream). These new community mediums seem to hold great promise for the humanities, both in and out of the classroom, and an excellent way for historians to bridge the gap between academia and the public.

Misha has some excellent commentary on historical translation over at Propaganda Redux

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