This post is one of those entries that aren’t about skillful victories and encouraging successes, but of lost sieges and disappointing failures. When formulating the scope and planning the content of this blog, I decided that I will include the difficulties and share the negative experiences of my research process in order to make it more honest and truthful to the negative parts often omitted in research accounts. Of course, it’s by no means about depression or the kind, on the contrary! After I admitted my fiasco at the archives, I turned to old newspapers in the library as an alternative solution and eventually made my Changchun-stay useful.
In case you don’t want to read the whole story, this is the bottomline: contact the archives in advance asking about the availability of the documents you need. Currently, not only they’re going through a digitization process which obviously serves as the perfect excuse for any request they want to deny, but their staff I have encountered seem to perceive their role much more as gatekeepers rather than service personnel assisting researchers in their projects. I didn’t contact them in advance because it was a last minute decision to make a snap-trip before the national holidays. I also have to be honest, that even if I did so and they told me there’s nothing there for me, I would have still gone there to check it for myself. I know, sounds stubborn, but because of the arbitrariness of the system learned from experience, only if I actually went there I could feel that I have really tried everything.
The Morning
On Monday 8:35 am, Changchun city was long awake, the sun rose three hours ago and I was pretty sure that the good Jilin people didn’t wait for much longer either. After an hour of commute taking the bus and two lines of light rail (轻轨) to the People’s Square (人民广场) I was finally standing in front of the Jilin Provincial Archives Bureau (吉林省档案局), a tall building covered with 1990s brownish tile-panels and its gate guarded by the familiar stone lions (石狮). I entered and put my backpack dutifully on the conveyor belt for security screening and greeted the guards with a smile and a “Ni hao!” – trying to find the balance between being pleasantly cheerful and sufficiently humble at the same time. As I was filling out the basic registration form for visitors (外来客人接待回执单) a small crowd of observers gathered around me, amused by the laowai who’s writing his name, affiliation and purpose of visit with Chinese characters. They were curious to know what’s my research about and one of them even surprised me to know about NYU Shanghai, New York University’s affiliation in China. I took this as a promising start and felt that perhaps I didn’t come to a place as parochial as many have warned me before.
The building of the Jilin Provincial Archives Bureau (吉林省档案局) in Changchun, Jilin
But as I left the front desk and would have headed to the 5th floor as instructed, what I perceive as the first line of defense leaped to me in the person of a scarlet-coated, dyed orange-haired lady of the mid-ranking official kind. At this point I didn’t suspect what later became painfully clear: she was my nemesis. She wanted to know what kind of material I was interested about and just as if she already knew what my answer was going to be, promptly replied that “Unfortunately all the Republican Era records are currently under digitization (数字化), therefore they’re unable to provide access for me. Very sorry.” I asked her if I could see anything else they might have on the people I’m looking for perhaps in other fonds that aren’t currently being digitized, to which she assured me that all the pre-’49 (建国前) sources including Qing and Minguo (Republican) were inaccessible right now. As I raised the issue that I would be very disappointed having traveled so far up north for nothing, she kindly suggested me to go to the library. (Looking back days after the events, I find it a little ironic that in the end I actually did follow her advice.) I told her, that I’ve checked the official Guide (指南) they had published about what the archive holds among which I identified several documents that were related to my research. When I added that I was interested in files even from the 1950s, a bit irritated she pointed out that “This isn’t how it works that I just come here and say >>I need this and this<< and that the archives offers information about Chinese people for Chinese people.” I sensed that we probably reached a dangerous height of tension and her annoyance with this “troublesome foreigner” wasn’t going to help my cause.
Since I didn’t want her to lose patience and say something that will have burnt the bridges back, I mentioned my letters of introduction (介绍信). At this point I was still hoping for a possible green light for me to check their list of contents (目录). By offering the letters, I wanted to assure her that I didn’t just go there to ramble around in their collections and cause trouble. Her expression seemed to soften and probably relenting, she suggested me to come back after 1:30 pm. Not sparing any words to articulate my gratitude for her decision, I promised her to come back and thanked her again, leaving the building with hope and the intention to regroup before my second maneuver planned for the afternoon.
The Afternoon
After a quick walky-talky communication between the guards and the office about my re-appearance, I passed through the checkpoint at the gates and made my way to the 5th floor I failed to reach in the morning. While I tried to keep my expectations at bay, I arrived at the request desk with some hopes. The lady all too familiar from our first encounter, was busy repelling another young scholar’s requests and simultaneously arguing with two other men dressed in what it looked like police uniform about the availability of what they wanted to see. Her colleague, a younger woman in the meantime was serving another visitor with her requested documents and I thought that was encouraging for my prospects. When the senior archivist saw me coming she let out an exhausted sigh but stoically handed me the “registration form to use archival documents” (利用档案登记表) to fill it out in a manner of “do as you like”. For me it seemed to be written clear and blunt on her face that she also thinks: “You’ll see, why can’t you understand that we don’t have anything for you?”.
Nevertheless, I went to complete the form that was the most detailed and bureaucratic one I encountered with during my archival visits. In addition to the familiar ‘state your purpose of what you’re going to use the archives for’, it also required to detail the content of the requested files and the results of my inquires (利用效果). When submitted the form, I was immediately told that what I’m requesting isn’t available. So I asked, what is available then, that I would appreciate if she could show me their catalogue as it would spare a lot of time for the both of us, instead of me trying to guess using my only point of reference, their officially published Guide that apparently doesn’t serve any of its actual practical purposes.
After some more back and forth, I came up with a new idea and asked her to let me or if that’s not possible do it for me, to put some of my keywords in the computer database so that I could see whether there’s anything related in their collection that might be open for research. From her reaction one could have thought that I just asked for the secret code to the latest reports of the military intelligence: “That’s impossible! It is confidential! (不可能！这是保密了！)”. At this point I couldn’t keep my mouth and snapped back sarcastically whether some 1920s residence registrations of impoverished ex-Austro-Hungarian prisoners of war in remote Manchurian towns are really that confidential? Of course, that wasn’t the point and I knew that too, but I couldn’t control my frustrations anymore.
In the end I was graciously allowed to at least take a look at the publications on their bookshelf, hoping to at least see what’s been published from the materials held by the institution. I wasn’t too surprised to only find the edited volume series that collects archival materials from other collections I the country, and some Qing and revolutionary-themed books. It was a way to calm myself down in a civil manner while flipping through the pages that were completely useless for my research. After my heart rate got somewhat lowered, I actually had an opportunity to even laugh at the absurdity of the situation when the archivist came back and told me to finish filling the request form, by signing and dating it. I told her that I found it really funny that after not receiving anything, I still had to submit this form, but she didn’t seem to share my observations.
Honestly, I was sorry that we were caught up in this dynamic that was unproductive and I’m sure neither of us enjoyed being a part of. My distrust for her that she’s not telling me the truth about what’s available for research made me to pester her and to come up with ever newer ideas and ways that might get me at least a piece of archival source. It wasn’t less pathetic than her constant attempt to defend her “fortress” with ridiculous arguments like “that period is even more being digitized (更被数据化)”. Well, yes, one should go back after the selection process is over and then see what’s available. Really no point to argue with employees guided by higher regulations and a strong sense of mission.
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