Editor’s note: This column is part of the series, “Voice from the Vault,” by Gregory Sanford, state archivist. It first appeared on the Secretary of State’s website.
Most people, alas, don’t find records/archival management a particularly titillating topic. Therefore I usually start my column with some misdirection, attempting to ensnare readers before they realize they are reading about records. This month I appeal to the reader’s prurient interests and offer a sex column.
Female dragonflies, according to those who study such things, possess “sperm storage organs.” These are special sites which incubate sperm, keeping it alive for months until the female is ready for fertilization. Male dragonflies, however, are only concerned with passing along their own genes. To them, the thought of the females cheerfully flying about, slowly incubating the genes of rivals is not a happy one. So, over time, the sexual organ of the male dragonfly evolved to include a little scoop. This allows the male to empty out the female’s storage organ before filling it with his own seed.
Government is like that. New administrations, secretaries and commissioners arrive in Montpelier and immediately clear out the records of the previous occupants. They then refill the various storage organs of government with records of their own programs and initiatives. I confess that the analogy is not exact since in many cases those leaving government clean out their own record storage units before departing.
The news media comment on these transitions often speculating on the legacy of the departing administration. This impulse to quickly define a particular administration’s legacy raises numerous interesting issues, notably the tension between continuity and change inherent to our democratic system of government.
In other words, to what degree are we documenting the continuities of government and to what degree are we documenting the initiatives and actions of specific administrations or state officers? Obviously these are not mutually exclusive efforts, but they require decisions over what files should be left in situ for continuity of operations; what records should be sent to the state archives to ensure long term access; and what records can be disposed of without violence to statute or administrative need?
For example, an incoming gubernatorial administration needs immediate access to agreements with other states and other polities. Since it needs to work with, and eventually appoint, members of the myriad government boards and commissions it needs documentation of who is serving and their dates of appointment. Ongoing negotiations and other actions not completed by the departing administration also need to be at hand. Those records are left in situ.
What should go to the state archives or can be disposed of are closely related since those decisions ideally come out of established information management plans. Most records have a limited shelf life. The professional rule of thumb is that only 2 to 5 percent of all records are archival and need to be kept accessible over time. Identifying the legal and administrative values of the records in order to make such determinations is the role of records management. As noted in numerous other columns, it is the role of the Vermont State Archives and Records Administration (VSARA) to assist agencies and offices in developing records management plans.
It is hard to believe given all that has been accomplished, but VSARA has only been around since 2008 and so a lot of work remains to be done. Ideally we will eventually help create a record keeping culture and systems where records will be tagged from point of creation with information about their administrative and legal values — whether they are open or exempt public records — and how long they need to be retained. Despite some progress, we are not there yet.
What, for example, is the value of all the correspondence governors receive from citizens, whether Vermonter or not? Historically such correspondence has been the bulk of gubernatorial records deposited with the archives. Yet such correspondence does not, at least directly, document policy creation and implementation, provide evidence of legal commitments or, quite frankly, document much of anything about an administration.
All too often people communicate financial, medical or other personal information to the governor in hopes of getting some form of relief. In other cases citizens detail personal information as context to their opinion on a particular issue (“my child has AIDS and I think government should…”). Is there an expectation of privacy for those who write the governor? Is there a burden on government to review each of these tens or even hundreds of thousand letters and redact personal information?
Should such records be preserved at all? The argument for preservation is that the correspondence provides unique insights on the issues of interest to Vermonters (and others). Could we understand the heat and emotion surrounding the civil unions debate, for example, without such correspondence? Should letters from individuals seeking a state service and detailing personal information be directed to the appropriate agency and not retained as gubernatorial correspondence, as is done in other jurisdictions? These are the types of discussions we hope to have with the incoming administration.
But these are specifics. My main point is that we, like the female dragonfly, have to develop strategies to control what we store so that is accessible and viable when we need to germinate the best policies for governing ourselves.
