Four simple – yet difficult – steps for reforming Indian archives and libraries

India has a curious relationship with its history.

On the one hand, Indians have politicised history to an extent that is probably unparalleled anywhere else in the world. Where else do events from hundreds or even thousands of years ago –both real and imagined – exert such a pull on contemporary affairs?

On the other hand, modern India has exhibited stunning neglect when it comes to preserving its past. This is particularly evident in its archives and libraries, both private and government-administered. As a historian of modern India, I have had ample opportunity to compare India’s record of historical preservation with those of other societies. What I have observed has deeply worried me.

About a decade ago, I wrote a series for the New York Times on the precarious state of Indian archives and libraries, places where priceless documents were left to rot, disintegrate, and be consumed by termites and vermin – or simply be stolen or misplaced. At the time, India’s archival landscape appeared to be on the cusp of change. Important government institutions were entrusted to capable individuals. There was a dawning realisation that methods of preservation, cataloging and storage needed an urgent, if belated, rethink.

That moment has sadly passed. True, a number of good institutions have recently sprung up: archives at places like Ashoka University and the National Institute for Biological Sciences as well as numerous corporate and business archives. In my opinion, however, conditions at government facilities have further deteriorated. Moreover, many private libraries remain plagued by bad management and stubbornly antiquated practices.

Now, more than ever, Indian archives and libraries need reform. Too much has been lost; too much is in danger of forever disappearing. For a country that takes such pride in its past, it is simply unfathomable that this state of affairs continues to exist.

Reforming archives and libraries will be both simple and difficult. It will be simple because we know about the problems: step into an average facility, thick with dust and mold particles, and they will be glaringly evident. It will be difficult because of ironclad resistance to change: sclerotic bureaucracies, outdated thinking, and sheer indifference. Nevertheless, I feel it necessary to outline four basic steps which should be implemented.

1. Stop harassing patrons and scholars

Atithi devo bhava (“Guest is god”) might be a hallmark of Indian culture, but it unfortunately does not apply to many Indian archives and libraries. Instead, an atmosphere of intense paranoia and suspicion hangs in the air. At many facilities, staff and management seem to go out of their way to make scholarly work excruciatingly difficult: interrogating scholars about their research agendas, limiting or denying access to materials and sometimes refusing or revoking permissions.

At some institutions, simply getting into the front door can be a herculean challenge. The Gujarat State Archives once required me to get a security clearance from a police commissioner (after waiting for several months, I gave up). A recent visitor to the National Archives of India informs me that, due to cumbersome new registration processes, the daily queue to enter can stretch out for nearly an hour. Scholars, furthermore, are prohibited from entering until requested files are delivered, which could take a number of days.

In contrast, an Indian visitor to the British Library or the Library of Congress can breeze through registration in a matter of minutes; on the other side of the door are helpful librarians eager to help you start work. Why can’t such efficiency and professionalism exist in Indian institutions, as well?

Scholars and patrons are important stakeholders in archives and libraries: they regularly assist with cataloging and provide feedback on preservation and conditions. As long as they continue to be treated with contempt, Indian institutions will suffer.

2. Reform management and administration

Far too many Indian institutions remain hopelessly stuck in a Victorian-era time warp. In government-run archives, directors and managers are rotated on short stints from different arms of the bureaucracy – someone from the Ministry of Fisheries could soon find himself or herself in charge of the Peshwa Daftar, holding the records of the Maratha Empire. “Peons” or “boys” handle priceless manuscripts and documents roughly. Such practices ensure that there is little institutional memory and hardly any proper stewardship.

In other countries, archives and libraries are administered by highly-trained experts who can spend their entire career at a single facility. Staff, likewise, receive copious, up-to-date training on methods of handling and preservation.

Ghosts of the 19th century haunt private institutions, as well. Many of these are run, per ancient trust deeds, by non-experts. Far too many are in the hands of septuagenarians and octogenarians who refuse to yield responsibilities to younger generations. Gerontocratic management has its obvious pitfalls: a culture of rigid seniority and deference, a lack of innovation and new talent, and an inability to keep up with global best standards and practices.

Should it be of any surprise that so many of these facilities are now facing dwindling membership?

Across the world, numerous institutions have reinvented themselves to retain their relevance in the 21st century. The Boston Athenaeum, once the stuffy preserve of the city’s “Brahmin” elite, is now a thriving centre that attracts children and café goers along with serious scholars. India has numerous historic institutions which could undergo similar transformations. All it takes is creative thinking; empowerment of younger, more talented stewards; and a willingness to make bold changes.

3. Understand the limits of digitisation

Digitization mania has swept Indian archives and libraries over the past two decades. There are obvious merits: when material is made accessible online, it democratises knowledge. The South Asia Open Archives is a wonderful example, pooling together talent and resources from universities across the subcontinent and the United States.

The Indian government is currently orchestrating a major digitisation push across institutions. This is well-intentioned, but often short-sighted. Instead of scholars and experts, bureaucrats have called the shots, which has led to unfortunate outcomes. For example, the National Digital Library of India took digitised newspapers from a Kolkata institution and, following a government mandate that all files be in a mobile-friendly format, compressed files in a manner that made them basically unreadable.

Much more concerning is how digitisation is leading to destruction. Instead of highly-trained experts, digitisation is often carried out by low-paid contractors who inflict serious damage on physical material: in this manner, contractors employed by the National Library of India essentially destroyed that facility’s collection of 18th-century books.

Digitisation is not a panacea for decades of woeful preservation and institutional stewardship. It can never fully replace the need for scholars to consult physical material. Nor is digitisation foolproof: technology changes quickly, and cyberattacks have crippled institutions like the British Library. For this reason, Indian archives and libraries should prioritise funding on preservation rather than digitisation, which brings us to our final – and most important – point.

4. Get preservation right

Historical material requires rigorous temperature control, protection from dust and the elements, and repair to counteract the natural deterioration of paper. This is beyond the ken of most Indian archives and libraries. Many of them are glorified godowns, with perhaps the most priceless material thrown in a Godrej safe.

Many attempts at “preservation” have actually caused more damage. The most glaring example is the practice of lamination whereby decaying documents are buffered with thin translucent paper. In other countries, this is done selectively: high-quality Japanese tissue paper is used to repair tears and cracks, but only rarely is it applied to the entire surface area of a document.

In India, there is something which I will call “indiscriminate lamination”: thin paper is pasted on both sides of a manuscript, often quite sloppily. At best, this practice makes reading original documents difficult. At worst, it renders material completely unreadable: due to low-quality tissue paper and lack of proper preservation techniques, manuscripts can become cloudy and the original ink can blur. Over time, these manuscripts become cracked and warped.

This needs to stop. Sadly, even organisations like INTACH continue to prescribe indiscriminate lamination.

A far wiser course would be to invest in proper facilities to ensure that rapid damage and decay does not happen in the first place. Indian archives and libraries need acid-free boxes rather than open shelves where papers are bundled together with jute string. They need some attempt at temperature and environmental control: at the very least, close your windows so that rain, birds, monkeys and other animals cannot enter. And these facilities need better reading rooms. It is a recipe for disaster to ask scholars to consult brittle, fragile material in open-air spaces with fans whirring at high speeds overhead.

I write this with feeling since, over the past two decades, I have seen enough heartbreaking evidence of damage and destruction in Indian archives and libraries. Letters written by Mahatma Gandhi: now unreadable due to indiscriminate lamination. The newspapers of BR Ambedkar: black with mold. The last surviving copies of 19th-century Bombay newspapers: falling apart into heaps of scraps. A 17th-century firman from Emperor Jehangir: destroyed in 2014 by termites.

What I find most heartbreaking, however, is the sheer indifference to all of this damage. The government has little interest: otherwise, it would invest in these facilities and carry out thoroughgoing administrative reforms. Many of my fellow scholars loudly gripe about archival conditions but do nothing to encourage change. They happily retire to their ivory towers after complaint sessions over chai. And the public at large does not seem concerned about this erasure of history. Even rich and educated communities, like my fellow Parsis, have demonstrated profound apathy and shocking incompetence.

I have little hope for change in government-administered facilities. I am similarly doubtful that existing private institutions will stir themselves out of their torpor.

What is needed is a new phase of private initiative: free of political interference, pledged to creating facilities upholding international best practices, staffed by trained professionals, and immune to institutional fossilisation and gerontocratic capture. The phrase “world class” is thrown around with abandon in India, but India desperately needs world-class institutions if it wants to become a research powerhouse.

There are numerous models to emulate. Over a century ago, generous philanthropists in the United States and Europe funded places like the New York Public Library and London’s Bishopsgate Institute, run by experts and scholars and open to the public. Such institutions have withstood the test of time. They are also radically democratic spaces: a tenured professor, a homeless individual and a curious lay reader can sit side-by-side. Imagine the potential of such a space in a city like Mumbai, where students still study outdoors under streetlights.

“The past is never dead. It’s not even past.” What William Faulkner wrote about the American South applies even more to India. But without better stewardship, the traces of India’s past will continue to rot and disappear. It is still not too late to sow seeds of change.

Dinyar Patel is an associate professor of history at the SP Jain Institute of Management and Researchin Mumbai. His award-winning biography of Dadabhai Naoroji, Naoroji: Pioneer of Indian Nationalism, was published by Harvard University Press in May 2020.