The Chickens Come Home to Roost: Museum Values in Times of Crises

Liz Lawley from Rochester, NY - Rooster 3, CC BY-SA 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3769073

It's been an emotional week. We can rail against social media's pervasiveness all we want, but the video of George Floyd's murder forced us to look and be present. Suddenly it's no longer possible to believe things aren't that bad. They are. So from our living rooms, online, in parks, highway overpasses, or courthouse squares, alone and together, we began the work of ending systemic racism. Floyd's death is only the latest in a long line of crimes stretching back to Emmett Till and beyond. And for those of us who've been happily ensconced in our white, liberal bubbles, perhaps there is a connection between our complacency and the eight minutes and 45 seconds that ended Floyd's life.

So where are museums in all of this? Some are entirely present and forces for good in their communities, but some seem to believe hashtags function as a value statements. They don't. I live in the northeast within an easy drive of many museums and heritage sites. In an admittedly anecdotal survey I scrolled the websites of a dozen art, history and general museums within 50 miles of me. What was I looking for? First to see if any of last week's events had made it to their webpages. Second, to see if any had a values statement. Why does that matter? Maybe the public wants something more right now? Maybe the world cares as much about how a museum acts as it does about its role as collections steward. A mission statement tells the public what you do; a vision statement spells out who you want to be, but a values statement tells your staff, your trustees, your volunteers and your community how your organization behaves. And it affirms the behavior your organization expects at your site.

So, what did I discover? Only one organization had a values statement front and center on its webpages. Five of the 12 had new statements regarding George Floyd's murder, systemic racism, and their beliefs. The remaining sites were unchanged. I understand that altering an organizational webpage isn't as easy as changing your socks, and that many organizations utilize Twitter and Instagram for instant communication, but I don't understand the absence of values statements. In a world where people are unkind, domineering, rude, and sometimes unlawful in our workplaces and sites, how does it hurt to say up front, "This is who we are. This is how we behave, and this is how we expect and hope you will behave too."

Is a values statement a panacea in connecting a white, privileged museum or heritage organization to its wider community? No. Would it help? Maybe. Crafting a values statement asks your organization to focus not only on mission, but on engagement. Maybe mission statements aren't enough any more? Perhaps museums need to be good citizens as well as good stewards. 

A lot of wiser folks than I have written about the ease and superficiality of responding to a national crisis with a hashtag. If you haven't already, you should read Mike Murawski's post from this week. In it, he quotes Madison Rose whose response to #BlackoutTuesday was clear, concise and powerful. The questions she poses would make excellent fodder for discussions surrounding the creation of values statements. You may also want to read Vu Le's brilliant "Have nonprofit and philanthropy become the white moderate that Dr. King warned us about?" In his piece, Vu suggests too many nonprofits are governed by white moderates whose emotional, financial and civic investment in the middle of the road prevents action. (That moderate sensibility did not, I might add, prevent them from furloughing hundreds of women and staff of color during the opening weeks of the virus. The point being, when they want to act decisively, they can.)

If a collective values statement seems a better choice than the social media equivalent of "thoughts and prayers," talk with your staff. If your organization sees itself as apolitical, what does that look like in action, and most importantly, what does it look like for someone in your community? Does being neutral mean in times of community crisis a museum or heritage organization's role is essentially unchanged? Or is there a civic role for your museum? And if yes, what might that look like? If your organization already has an active community role, can it be enhanced? And how can museums gently and explicitly let visitors know their sites are places hallmarked by kindness? 

If George Floyd's death stands for anything, perhaps it should mark the moment we re-centered, demonstrating that black lives matter, and creating more humane, value-driven organizations and museum workplaces. 

Joan Baldwin