Forthcoming  in  Philosophy  Compass,  2012               The  philosophical  discussion  of  art  is  seemingly  endless,  whereas  that  of  museums  is   scant  indeed.  My  focus  in  this  two-­‐part  article  is  on  museums  as  a  whole  rather  than  art   in  museums.  Museums,  after  all,  deal  with  much  more  than  art.       Why  should  philosophers  be  interested  in  museums?  One  reason  is  that  museums   remain  significant  generators  and  distributors  of  knowledge  claims  in  a  wide  variety  of   fields  of  inquiry.  This  remains  the  case  even  though  they  may  have  been  overshadowed   in  certain  respects  by  other  institutions  of  scholarship.  Although  few  philosophers  have   addressed  museums,  many  theorists  have  done  so.  Although  much  theorizing  about   museums  has  a  Continental  flavor,  little  is  philosophically  oriented.  I  shall  not  directly   address  the  vast  literature  on  museums  by  theorists  of  various  persuasions,  for  a   plethora  of  commentaries  is  already  available.  Instead,  I  offer  discussions  of   philosophical  issues  concerning  museums  under  three  headings  in  Part  1—Cultural   Variety,  Taxonomy,  and  Epistemology—and  a  further  three  in  Part  2—Teleology,  Ethics,   and  Therapeutics  and  Aesthetics.       I.1.  Cultural  Variety     Westerners  use  the  terms  art  and  museum  in  predominantly  Western  senses,  but  there   is  a  difference  between  their  respective  implications.  Western  philosophers  and  scholars   in  other  disciplines  contest  whether  some,  most,  or  all  non-­‐Western  societies  of  very   varied  character  have  a  concept  of  art.  For  our  purposes,  such  discussions  are  only  of   immediate  interest  insofar  as  they  affect  our  ability  to  understand  museums.  In   contrast,  most  Western  and  other  scholars  agree  that  although  there  might  have  existed   and  in  some  societies  yet  exist  collections  of  tangible  things  in  some  respects  analogous   to  museums,  as  a  concept  the  museum  is  in  origin  a  product  of  the  Western   Enlightenment.  We  can  take  its  paradigm  to  be  the  British  Museum,  London,  founded  in   1753.  This  is  not  to  say  that  the  variety  of  practices  of  currently  existing  museums   worldwide  is  not  considerable,  but  that  all  in  some  sense  derive  from  Western  models.                                                                                                                   * Museums  and  Philosophy—Of  Art,  and  Many  Other  Things   Part  I     Ivan  Gaskell*   Bard  Graduate  Center    Correspondence:  Bard  Graduate  Center,  38  West  86th  Street,  New  York,  NY  10024,  USA.  Email:   gaskell@bgc.bard.edu.       1   This  is  so  even  when  one  takes  account  of  predecessor  institutions.  It  is  a  commonplace   that  some  Western  museums  and  art  galleries  derive  from  predecessor  institutions  such   as  Kunst-­‐  and  Wunderkammeren  (or  cabinets  of  curiosities),  princely  and  noble  art   collections,  and  ecclesiastical  treasuries.  Krzysztof  Pomian  has  influentially  traced  this   development  in  a  broader  context  of  Western  practices  dating  from  classical  antiquity.1   However,  although  some  non-­‐Western  museums  occupy  the  sites  of  predecessor   institutions  that  could  be  seen  as  culturally  characteristic  of  their  societies,  they  derive   from  Western  models  that  had  been  exported  by  Western  colonizers,  or  adopted  by   Westernizing  Indigenous  elites.  For  instance,  the  Imperial  Treasury  and  other  parts  of   the  Ottoman  Topkapı  Palace  in  Istanbul  can  be  said  to  have  functioned  in  part  in  the   manner  of  a  museum  even  before  the  redesignation  of  the  palace  as  a  museum  in  1924   by  the  government  of  the  new  Republic  of  Turkey.  That  museum  conformed  to  Western   prototypes  from  the  outset,  and  continues  to  do  so.  Although  there  were  various   princely  and  temple  collections  in  India,  the  British  introduced  museums  on  their  own   model,  the  earliest  and  largest  being  the  Indian  Museum  in  Kolkata  (Calcutta).  It  was   founded  in  1814  as  the  Oriental  Museum  of  the  Asiatic  Society  of  Bengal.2  Kavita  Singh   and  Saloni  Mathur  are  researching  colonial  museums  in  India  and  their  postcolonial   transmutations.3  The  Western  museum  model—however  varied  it  may  be,  especially  in   respect  of  collection  types—has  undergone  and  continues  to  undergo  a  wide  range  of   transformations  in  postcolonial  settings.  Some  are  transformations  of  pre-­‐existing   institutions  to  reflect  emergent  postcolonial  circumstances.  One  example  is  the   Museum  of  New  Zealand  in  Wellington,  now  called  Te  Papa  Tongarewa,  with  a   bilingual—English  and  te  reo  Māori—website.4  Others  reflect  the  communal  concerns  of   new  nation  states,  such  as  the  National  Museum  of  Vanuatu  in  Port  Vila.  There  are  also   museums  firmly  anchored  in  Indigenous  communities  that  are  motors  of  cultural  and   social  resurgence.  Among  the  most  remarkable  is  the  U’mista  Cultural  Centre,  Alert  Bay,   British  Columbia,  Canada.  This  is  the  cultural  center  of  the  Kwakwa ka ’wakw  people,   whose  traditional  way  of  life  was  severely  threatened  by  prohibitions  imposed  by   colonial  authorities.  The  potlatch  ceremony  (the  ritual  dispersal  of  goods)  was  banned   between  1885  and  1951.  Many  masks  and  other  regalia  associated  with  potlatch  were   confiscated  after  a  ceremony  in  1921.  The  collection  of  sacred  potlatch  materials  now  in   the  U’mista  Cultural  Centre  and  the  Nuyumbalees  Cultural  Center,  Quadra  Island,  BC,   were  returned  after  years  of  petitioning  and  negotiation  by  the  Kwakwa ka ’wakw  from   institutions  including  the  Canadian  Museum  of  Civilization  (previously  the  National                                                                                                                   1  Krzysztof  Pomian,  Collectionneurs,  amateurs,  curieux:  Paris-­‐Venise,  XVIe  -­‐  XIIIe  siècles  (Paris,  Éditions   Gallimard,  1987)  published  in  English  translation  as  Collectors  and  Curiosites:  Paris  and  Venice,  1500-­‐1800,   trans.  Elizabeth  Wiles-­‐Portier,  (Cambridge,  Polity  Press,  1990)   2  See  Desmond  Ray,  The  India  Museum  1801-­‐1879  (London:  Her  Majesty's  Stationery  Office,  1982).   3  No  Touching,  Spitting  or  Praying:  Modalities  of  the  Museum  in  South  Asia,  ed.  Saloni  Mathur  and  Kavita   Singh  (New  Delhi:  Routledge  India,  forthcoming).  See  also  Kavita  Singh,  “Museums  and  Monuments”  in   Mulk  Raj  Anand:  Shaping  the  Indian  Modern,  ed.  Annapurna  Garimella  (Mumbai:  Marg  Publications,   2005),  and  Kavita  Singh,  “Material  Fantasy:  The  Museum  in  Colonial  India”  in  India:  Art  and  Visual  Culture,   1857-­‐2007,  ed.  Gayatri  Sinha  (Mumbai:  Marg  Publications  and  Bodhi  Art  Gallery,  2009).   4  See  http://www.tepapa.govt.nz/  (accessed  July  25,  2011)     2   Museum  of  Man),  Ottawa  (now  Gatineau,  Québec);  the  Royal  Ontario  Museum,   Toronto;  and  the  George  Gustav  Heye  Foundation’s  Museum  of  the  American  Indian,   New  York  (now  the  National  Museum  of  the  American  Indian,  Washington,  DC  and  New   York).  The  restitution  of  cultural  goods  of  their  own  societies  is  one  of  the  most   important  aims  of  many  postcolonial  national  and  Indigenous  museums.  After  the   “[c]ollection  and  preservation  of  artifacts  that  represent  different  aspects  of  the   cultures  and  history  of  the  country,”  the  second  listed  objective  of  the  National  Museum   of  Vanuatu  is  “[l]ocating  collections  of  Vanuatu  artifacts  held  overseas  and  establishing   relationships  with  their  care-­‐taking  institutions  as  a  first  step  towards  possible   repatriation  of  items.”5       Although  most  museums  throughout  the  world  adhere,  broadly  speaking,  to  a   Western  paradigm,  their  concerns  vary  considerably,  and  no  difference  is  more  extreme,   and  on  occasion  divisive,  than  that  between  so-­‐called  encyclopedic  world  museums   (which  are  without  exception  in  wealthy  Western  countries),  and  institutions  in  the   developing  world  or  Indigenous  communities.  This  is  a  pressing  ethical  issue  to  which  I   shall  return.  My  point  here,  however,  is  to  draw  attention  to  the  wide  variety  of   institutions  that  vary  in  their  aims  and  methods  in  social  and  ethnic  terms,  but  while   often  reflecting  local  cultural  values,  nonetheless  adhere  to  a  Western  paradigm.  Much   discussion  of  museums  is  tacitly  confined  to  overtly  Western  institutions,  which  James   Clifford  calls  “majority  museums,”  to  the  exclusion  of  what  he  calls  (with  non-­‐ derogatory  intent)  “tribal  museums.”6  Rather  than  the  terms  used  by  Clifford,  I  prefer   hegemonic  museums  and  subaltern  museums  respectively.  Any  philosophical  discussion   of  museums  should  take  account  of  the  entire  cultural  range  of  these  institutions,  or   state  why  it  should  be  confined  to  one  or  more  in  particular.         I.2.  Taxonomy     In  spite  of  a  shared  origin  in  the  European  Enlightenment,  museums  have  developed  in   culturally  varied  ways  in  vastly  differing  societies—from  the  privileged,  imperial   encyclopedism  of  the  British  Museum,  to  the  Indigenous  persistence  of  the  U’mista   Cultural  Centre.  They  also  vary  according  to  the  material  to  which  they  attend.  For   instance,  when  founded  in  1814,  the  Oriental  Museum  of  the  Asiatic  Society  in  Kolkata   was  divided  into  two  sections,  one  being  archaeology,  ethnology  and  technology,  the   other  comprising  geology  and  zoology;  that  is,  the  consequences  of  human  activity  in   one,  and  of  natural  occurrences  in  the  other.  Things  still  living  were,  and  remain,                                                                                                                   5  Vanuatu  Cultural  Centre  website  (the  National  Museum  is  part  of  the  Centre):   http://www.vanuatuculture.org/site-­‐bm2/museum/050520_nationalmuseum.shtml  (accessed  July  15,   2011).   6  James  Clifford,  “Four  Northwest  Coastal  Museums:  Travel  Reflections,”  in  ed.  Ivan  Karp  and  Steven  D.   Lavine,  Exhibiting  Cultures:  The  Poetics  and  Politics  of  Museum  Display  (Washington,  DC  and  London:   Smithsonian  Institution  Press,  1991),  pp.  212-­‐54.     3   excluded.7  The  Indian  Museum  is  divided  into  six  sections:  Art,  Archaeology,   Anthropology,  Economic  Botany,  Geology,  and  Zoology.8  The  museum  scholars’  work   was  far  from  merely  academic:  the  first  superintendent  of  the  Indian  Museum,   Nathaniel  Wallich,  and  his  colleagues  were  responsible  for  the  successful  introduction  of   the  tea  cultivar  from  China  to  India,  with  enormous  economic  consequences.       In  nineteenth-­‐century  Kolkata  we  see  a  collecting  institution  progressively   developing  and  establishing  a  taxonomy  of  material  things.  Similar  developments  were   going  on  at  much  the  same  time  in  many  other  parts  of  the  world.  George  Brown   Goode,  assistant  secretary  of  the  Smithsonian  Institution  in  charge  of  the  United  States   National  Museum  in  Washington,  DC,  analyzed  and  codified  them  in  Principles  of   Museum  Administration  (1895).  In  his  first  axis  of  categorization,  Goode  describes  six   types  of  museums:  “A.  Museums  of  Art;  B.  Historical  Museums;  C.  Anthropological   Museums;  D.  Natural  History  Museums;  E.  Technological  Museums;  F.  Commercial   Museums.”  Goode’s  second  axis  of  categorization  concerns  the  character  of  museums   by  type  rather  than  by  field  of  inquiry:  “G.  National  Museums;  H.  Local,  Provincial,  or   City  Museums;  I.  College  and  School  Museums;  J.  Professional  or  Class  Museums;  K.   Museums  or  Cabinets  for  special  research  owned  by  societies  or  individuals.”9  Thus   Goode  classifies  the  classifiers.  With  the  exception  of  F,  and  a  requirement  to  add  a   category  of  Indigenous  or  subaltern  museums,  this  schema  still  obtains.10       This  state  of  affairs  raises  a  host  of  philosophical  and  other  questions.  First,  is   categorization  of  tangible  things  such  as  are  found  in  museums  an  exclusively  Western   preoccupation?  If  not,  how  might  schemata  of  categorization  of  tangible  things  vary   among  societies?  Both  Westerners  and  non-­‐Westerners  propose  groupings  other  than   those  identified  by  Goode  in  order  to  harness  the  numinous  characteristics  of  certain   tangible  things  for  intervention  in  the  sacred  realm,  or  for  aesthetic  understanding.   Certainly,  Westerners  have  distinguished,  named,  sorted,  grouped,  gathered,  and                                                                                                                   7  The  East  India  Company  Botanic  Garden  (now  the  Acharya  Jagadish  Chandra  Bose  Indian  Botanic   Garden),  which  also  employed  the  first  superintendent  of  the  Oriental  Museum,  Nathaniel  Wallich,   remained  and  still  remains  an  entirely  separate  institution.   8  For  further  discussion  of  the  Indian  Museum,  and  local  popular  beliefs  and  behavior  regarding  it—the   jadughar  (“House  of  Magic”)—see  Mark  Elliott,  “Side  Effects:  Looking,  Touching,  and  Interacting  in  the   Indian  Museum,  Kolkata,”  Journal  of  Museum  Ethnography  18,  2006,  pp.  63-­‐75.   9  George  Brown  Goode,  The  Principles  of  Museum  Administration  (New  York:  Coultas  &  Volans,  1895),  p.   22.   10  Steven  Conn,  Museums  and  American  Intellectual  Life,  1876-­‐1926  (Chicago:  University  of  Chicago  Press,   1998),  p.  21.  Commercial  museums  (of  which  the  Philadelphia  Commercial  Museum  was  the  prime   example)  have  not  survived:  see  Conn,  pp.  115-­‐50.  By  subaltern,  following  the  usage  of  the  term  first   coined  by  Antonio  Gramsci,  and  established  by  a  number  of  Indian  historians,  I  refer  to  groups  at  a   disadvantage  to  those  exercising  power  within  a  society.  It  should  be  noted  that  subaltern  includes  many   groups  often  referred  to  as  Indigenous;  that  is,  societies  that  have  been  in  any  given  place  longer  than   those  who  consequently  came  to  dominate  them.  There  is  clearly  significant  overlap  between  subaltern   and  Indigenous  groups,  although  the  two  are  not  coextensive.  I  use  the  more  inclusive  subaltern  because   it  captures  the  feature  that  is  relevant  to  this  inquiry:  the  systematic  and  persistent  subordination  of  the   group  in  question.  I  follow  the  practice  adopted  by  A.W.  Eaton  and  myself  in  our  chapter,  “Do  Subaltern   Artifacts  Belong  in  Art  Museums?”  The  Ethics  of  Cultural  Appropriation,  ed.  James  O.  Young  and  Conrad   Brunk  (Oxford  and  Malden,  Mass.:  Wiley-­‐Blackwell,  2009),  pp.  235-­‐267.     4   subsequently  deployed  many  tangible  things  in  order  to  make  knowledge  claims  about   both  the  things  themselves  and  the  emergent  concepts  their  users  have  associated  with   them.  These  activities  are  the  basis  of  much  Western  methodical  thinking  since  classical   antiquity.  Is  this  method  exclusively  Western?     The  most  influential  thinker  in  this  field  in  recent  years  has  been  Michel  Foucault.   His  most  significant  contribution  to  the  discussion  is  his  1966  book,  Les  Mots  et  les   choses:  Une  archéologie  des  sciences  humaines.11  Foucault  famously  begins  the  book   with  a  consideration  that  he  had  read  in  Jorge  Luis  Borges’s  essay,  “El  idioma  analítico   de  John  Wilkins”  (Otras  Inquisciones,  1952)  of  a  list  of  seemingly  unrelated  things  that   are  grouped  together  in  a  “certain  Chinese  encyclopedia.”  Many  scholars  who  believe  all   categorization  to  be  arbitrary  rather  than  derived  from  the  accurate  discernment  of  the   particular  qualities  of  things  have  cited  this  passage.  While  the  question  of  the  claims  of   empiricism  versus  those  of  idealism  in  this  area  remains  pressing,  the  principal   underlying  danger  in  acceding  wholly  to  Foucault’s  careful  arguments  is  that  they  too   readily  subordinate  all  analysis  of  the  treatment  of  tangible  things  to  considerations  of   language.  Foucault’s  contemporary,  Jean  Baudrillard,  broadens  the  case  to  address  what   he  terms  the  “system  of  objects.”12  Yet  in  spite  of  writing  a  book  urging  us  to  Forget   Foucault,13  Baudrillard’s  claims  meet  the  case  no  more  comprehensively  than  do   Foucault’s.  Tangible  things  require  a  more  complex  and  varied  set  of  approaches  than   Baudrillard  offers  when  discussing  them  in  terms  of  their  sign  value  superseding   functional  and  exchange  values.14  Acknowledgement  that  the  “linguistic  turn”  is  long   over  may  now  be  commonplace,  yet  the  reduction  of  things  to  phenomena  wholly   subordinate  to  language,  or  to  signs  or  texts,  continues  to  affect  scholarly  discussion,   often  adversely.       Even  before  we  consider  the  ways  in  which  things  are  apportioned  among  various   types  of  museums,  we  should  recognize  the  fundamental  distinction  between  those   things  that  have  found  places  within  them,  and  those  that  have  not.  In  acknowledging   that  there  are  some  things  that  have,  or  yet  might,  find  a  place  in  a  museum,  and  other   things  that  most  likely  never  shall,  we  should  bear  in  mind  that  there  are  two  kinds  of   collections  of  things:  representational  and  aesthetic.15  Representational  museums  aim   to  convey  knowledge  about  things  and  the  societies  or  places  in  which  they  originated.   To  serve  this  function,  things  should  be  typical  of  the  area  from  which  they  come,  of  the   species  to  which  they  belong  (even  if  previously  unrecognized  or  stipulated),  or  of  the                                                                                                                   11  Michel  Foucault,  Les  Mots  et  les  choses:  Une  archéologie  des  sciences  humaines  (Paris:  Éditions   Gallimard,  1966)  published  in  English  translation  as  The  Order  of  Things:  An  Archaeology  of  the  Human   Sciences  (London:  Tavistock  Publications,  Ltd.,  1970).   12  Jean  Baudrillard,  Le  Système  des  objets  (Paris:  Éditions  Gallimard,  1968)  published  in  English  translation   as  The  System  of  Objects,  trans.  James  Benedict  (London  and  New  York:  Verso,  1996).     13  Jean  Baudrillard,  Oublier  Foucault  (Paris:  Éditions  Galilée,  1977)  published  in  English  translation  as   Forget  Foucault  and  Forget  Baudrillard:  An  Interview  with  Sylvère  Lotringer  (New  York:  Semiotext(e),   1987).   14  See  also  Jean  Baudrillard,  Pour  une  critique  de  l’économie  politique  du  signe  (Paris:  Éditions  Gallimard,   1973)  published  in  English  translation  as  For  a  Critique  of  the  Political  Economy  of  the  Sign,  trans.  Charles   Levin  (St.  Louis:  Telos  Press,  1981).   15  This  discussion  derives  from  Eaton  and  Gaskell,  “Subaltern  Artifacts,”  p.  244.     5   culture  that  produced  them.  In  this  way,  representational  museums  treat  the  things   they  address  as  specimens.  Goode’s  historical  museums,  anthropological  museums,   natural  history  museums,  and  technology  museums  are  all  examples  of  representational   museums.  Aesthetic  institutions,  on  the  other  hand,  seek  to  avoid  artifacts  that  typify  a   society,  place,  or  species.  In  contrast,  they  collect  things  that  are  in  some  way   aesthetically  extraordinary.  They  aim  to  highlight  aesthetically  exceptional  features,   treating  the  objects  they  address  as  artworks.  Typically,  although  not  invariably,   decision-­‐makers  at  aesthetic  institutions  assume  the  standards  for  aesthetic  excellence   to  be  self-­‐evident.  Further,  although  the  aims  of  representational  and  aesthetic   institutions  are  not  necessarily  incompatible,  they  often  conflict.  On  representational   criteria,  anything  could  potentially  find  a  place  in  a  representational  institution,  though   some  things  are  far  more  likely  to  than  others  because—as  we  shall  see—even   representative  institutions  are  selective  and  limited  in  the  range  of  fields  they  address.   Most  obviously,  contemporary  ordinary  things  from  the  dominant  culture  within  which   a  museum  functions  find  little  or  no  place  within  its  collections,  whereas  things  that   might  be  ordinary  in  a  foreign  society,  yet  exotic  from  a  domestic  vantage  point,  might.   In  this  way,  contemporary  supermarket  packaged  groceries  that  would  be  unremarkable   in  Tokyo  find  a  place  in  the  Children’s  Museum,  Boston  as  specimens  of  an  unfamiliar,   foreign  way  of  life.  Clearly,  those  things  unlikely  to  enter  an  aesthetic  institution  as   aesthetically  extraordinary,  even  though  they  might  be  eligible  to  enter  a   representational  institution  as  specimens,  constitute  the  largest  category  numerically.   Things  of  many  kinds  outside  the  various  museums  vastly  outnumber  things  within   them,  whether  representational  or  aesthetic,  or  both.  The  very  fact  of  selection  for   inclusion  of  even  the  most  banal  specimen  confers  special  status  on  it  as  a  museum   object.  Let  us  consider  in  more  detail  how  this  happens.     All  museums  contain  two  kinds  of  things:  those  that  are  part  of  their  collection,  and   those  that  are  not.  Things  that  enter  the  collection  do  so  through  a  practical  ritual  of   accession,  usually  following  the  decision  of  a  scholarly  committee.  Having  been   accepted,  they  are  registered.  This  permanently  changes  their  status,  even  if  they  might   be  subsequently  deaccessioned  by  means  of  another  practical  ritual.  This  secular   consecration  consigns  the  thing  to  perpetual  surveillance.  All  of  its  movements  and  its   whereabouts—in  storage,  in  a  laboratory,  on  display,  or  on  loan—are  tracked  and   recorded.  But  first,  it  is  given  an  identification  number  that  never  changes,  however  its   description  might  be  altered  in  the  light  of  continuing  scholarship.  That  number  is   literally  inscribed  upon  it,  marking  it  unequivocally  as  a  museum  object.  This  is  so  in  the   case  both  of  human-­‐made  things,  and  things  from  the  natural  world.  These  acts—most   visibly  that  of  inscribing—set  museum  specimens  and  artworks  apart  from  all  other   things  in  the  world.       This  transformation  occurs  within  a  schema  comprising  an  ever-­‐branching   conceptual  tree  of  knowledge.  It  begins  with  the  major  distinction  between  specimen   and  artwork,  continues  with  the  appropriate  choice  among  Goode’s  six  types  of   museum  or  their  local,  contemporary  variants,  and  then  by  sub-­‐category,  usually   represented  by  an  individual  museum  department.  From  the  level  of  department—such   as,  for  instance,  Herpetology  within  a  natural  history  museum,  or  Sculpture  within  an  art     6   museum—categorization  follows  in  greater  detail  with  ever  nicer  distinctions.  In  zoology   or  botany,  these  include  place  of  origin  and  Linnaean  designation  by  genus  and  species.   For  example,  within  Herpetology  we  might  find  a  giant  tortoise  associated  with  the   Galápagos  Islands,  designated  Testudo  nigra.  In  the  case  of  artworks,  curators  might   designate  the  medium,  place  and  date  of  making,  subject,  and  even  supposed  maker  of   a  thing  described  broadly  as  sculpture.  For  instance,  we  might  find  a  terracotta  model   for  a  sculpture  made  in  Rome  in  1658  by  Gian  Lorenzo  Bernini  representing  Saint   Ambrose.  In  these  real  cases,  the  Testudo  nigra  in  the  Harvard  University  Museum  of   Comparative  Zoology  is  the  internationally  recognized  holotype,  the  particular  specimen   that  sets  the  standards  for  the  unique  characteristics  all  examples  of  that  species.  Its   description  is  unlikely  ever  to  change,  its  number—R-­‐11064—never.  The  same  is  true  for   the  Bernini  terracotta  sculptural  model  of  Saint  Ambrose  in  the  Harvard  Art  Museums.   Its  permanent  accession  number  is  1995.60,  and  will  remain  so  even  if  scholars  in  the   future  change  its  attribution  or  description.       This  system  of  categorization  allows  scholars—usually  curators—to  make  knowledge   claims  about  the  specimens  and  artworks  they  study.  The  major  problems  with  it  are   twofold.  First,  it  is  culturally  specific,  in  that  it  embodies  sets  of  assumptions  about  the   nature  of  things  and  their  relationships  with  one  another  that  are  characteristically  and   in  some  aspects  exclusively  Western.  For  many  Indigenous  peoples,  for  instance,  things   regarded  by  Westerners  as  inherently  inanimate,  or  once  living  but  now  dead,  are   animate,  and  must  be  treated  as  such.  Some  things  of  this  kind  retain  their  sacred  status   in  perpetuity,  and  must  be  treated  appropriately.  This  is  in  spite  of  many  Western   museum  scholars’  assumptions  that  incorporation  within  their  collections  by  means  of   the  ritual  practice  of  accession  has  definitively  desacralized  and  secularized  them.  Such   assumptions  concern  not  only  some  Indigenous  and  subaltern  things,  but  also  some   things  from  certain  European  societies,  such  as  Orthodox  Christian  icons.  Second,  the   taxonomic  tree  is  relatively  inflexible  and  unadaptable.  It  accommodates  new  ideas   about  things  with  difficulty,  especially  those  that  relate  to  claims  concerning  their   multivalency,  and  the  multiplicity  of  their  roles  in  various  societies  and  across  time.  Even   if  things  have  fixed  physical  characteristics,  which  is  not  invariably  the  case—as  decay,   for  instance,  makes  plain—they  do  not  have  fixed  uses,  let  alone  meanings.  Museum   categorization,  strictly  institutionalized,  does  not  respond  well  to  claims  regarding  the   ambiguity,  uncertainty,  or  multiplicity  and  shifts  of  significance  of  things.  It  is  unwieldy,   and  relatively  unresponsive.  This  is  so,  even  though  organizational  rearrangement  takes   place  in  long-­‐lived  museums  from  time  to  time  in  attempts  to  accommodate  revised   conceptions  of  the  things  in  their  care.       None  of  these  taxonomic  matters  has  received  adequate  or  even  peremptory   philosophical  attention.  Much  the  same  can  be  said  of  the  topic  that  categorization   prompts  us  to  consider:  the  distinctive  epistemology  of  museum  scholarship.                 7   I.3.  Epistemology     Several  academic  commentators  on  museums  have  credibly  claimed  that  museums  of   all  kinds—by  which  they  mean  hegemonic  museums  of  all  kinds—have  lost  their   scholarly  standing  at  base  not  because  of  a  decline  in  standards,  or  diversion  of  talent  to   universities  and  other  research  institutions  (though  these  may  have  occurred)  but   because  of  a  fundamental  epistemic  shift.  They  contend  that  the  consideration  of   abstractions  tested,  where  appropriate,  by  experimentation  as  distinct  from   observation,  has  superseded  a  process  of  knowledge  establishment  proceeding  from   first-­‐hand,  close  examination  of  and  comparison  among  tangible  things.  (There  are   exceptions:  the  observation  of  extraterrestrial  phenomena  remains  essential  to   astronomy  and  its  related  disciplines.)  In  the  course  of  the  nineteenth  century,  even  as   museums  were  gaining  their  characteristic  and  enduring  form,  the  empirical  principles   of  observation,  description,  and  comparison  based  on  a  priori  principles,  derived,  to  a   greater  or  lesser  extent,  from  antecedent  inductive  reasoning  (such  as  the  Linnaean   systematization  of  living  things)  increasingly  gave  way  to  the  testing  of  hypotheses  by   physical  experimentation;  that  is,  human  physical  intervention  by  contriving  dynamic   courses  of  events  as  opposed  to  the  ostensibly  unintrusive  and  disinterested  registering   of  the  states  of  affairs  of  things.  The  emergence  of  psychology  in  the  later  nineteenth   century  cast  doubt  on  the  essential  objectivity  and  disinterestedness  of  the  observer.   This  development  undermined  the  epistemological  status  of  museums  more  than  that   of  fields  such  as  experimental  science  and  anthropology,  for  museum  scholars  were  not   able  to  propose  and  develop  qualifications  (such  as  the  idea  of  the  participant  observer)   that  partially  allayed  the  doubts  of  at  least  some  of  the  new  skeptics.  Some  of  them,   including  William  James,  had  experience  of  museum  scholarship.  James  came  to  hold   that  the  very  process  of  observation  itself  affects  the  result  of  any  empirical  attempt  to   establish  veracity  owing  to  the  inseparability  of  the  mind,  its  experiences,  and  nature.16   While  still  a  student,  he  had  participated  in  the  Thayer  Expedition  to  Brazil  in  1865-­‐66,   led  by  the  founder  of  the  Museum  of  Comparative  Zoology  at  Harvard  University,  Louis   Agassiz.17  Even  then,  his  praise  of  Agassiz  was  ambivalent.  In  a  letter  from  Brazil  to  his   father,  he  wrote:  “No  one  sees  farther  into  a  generalization  than  his  [Agassiz’s]   knowledge  of  details  extends,  and  you  have  a  greater  feeling  of  weight  and  solidity   about  the  movement  of  Agassiz’s  mind,  owing  to  the  continual  presence  of  this  great   background  of  special  facts,  than  about  the  mind  of  any  other  man  I  know.”  Yet  the   sentence  immediately  preceding  reads:  “I  have  profited  a  great  deal  by  hearing  Agassiz   talk,  not  so  much  by  what  he  says,  for  never  did  a  man  utter  a  greater  amount  of                                                                                                                   16  William  Brandom,  “From  German  Idealism  to  American  Pragmatism—and  Back,”  The  William  James   Centennial  Lecture,  delivered  at  Harvard  University,  December  3,  2010.   17  See  Brazil  through  the  Eyes  of  William  James:  Letters,  Diaries,  and  Drawings,  1865-­‐1866,  ed.  Maria   Helena  P.T.  Machado  (Cambridge,  Mass:  Harvard  University,  David  Rockefeller  Center  for  Latin  American   Studies,  2006).  See  also  Ivan  Gaskell,  “’Making  a  World’:  The  Impact  of  Idealism  on  Museum  Formation  in   Mid-­‐Nineteenth-­‐Century  Massachusetts,”  The  Impact  of  Idealism,  ed.  Nicholas  Boyle,  &  al.,  vol.  2   Historical,  Social  and  Political  Thought  (Cambridge,  U.K.  and  New  York:  Cambridge  University  Press,   forthcoming).     8   humbug,  but  by  learning  the  way  of  feeling  of  such  a  vast  practical  engine  as  he  is.”18   Here  we  see  particular  “knowledge  of  details”  and  of  “special  facts,”  which  are  the   province  of  the  museum  scholar,  already  on  their  way  to  marginalization.       “Knowledge  of  details”  and  “special  facts”  derived  from  observation  constitute  the   groundwork  of  classification.  Steven  Conn  points  out:  “The  ideal  museum  builders   hoped  to  achieve  was  …  to  impose  a  stability  and  order  on  bodies  of  knowledge  and  to   reflect  and  produce  changes  in  that  knowledge.”19  That  is,  the  epistemological  structure   of  the  bodies  of  knowledge  produced  by  museums  was  and  remains  such  that  change   occurs  only  by  almost  exclusively  incremental  means,  and  is  a  matter  of  refinement.   That  structure  in  which,  as  Conn  remarks,  objects  function  “as  synecdoches  standing  for   bodies  of  knowledge,”  does  not  readily  permit—let  alone  encourage—radical  or   fundamental  alteration  or  even  revision.       The  ossification—or  amenability  to  mere  tinkering—to  which  the  dominant   museological  epistemological  structure  is  subject  is  enormously  exacerbated  by  the   practice  for  which  museums  are  best  known:  exhibition.  As  Conn  points  out:  “That   knowledge  could  be  obtained  by  anyone  who  visited  a  museum  and  studied  the  objects,   provided  the  museum  curators  arranged  the  displays  systematically.”20  Many   commentators  believe  that  the  aims  and  constraints  of  display  lead  it  almost  invariably   to  be  a  clog  on  alert,  adaptable,  and  radical  thinking.  They  assume  display  invariably   characterizes  museums,  dominating  their  entire  practice  to  the  exclusion  of  all  else.  We   should  be  cautious.  While  most  museums  of  all  kinds  engage  in  exhibition,  and  while   considerations  concerning  exhibition,  both  long-­‐term  and  temporary,  are  both  pervasive   and  consistently  affect  other  museum  activities,  exhibition  is  but  one  of  those  activities.   It  is  not  necessarily  even  the  most  important.  Indeed,  that  it  should  appear  so,  and  that   all  commentators  tacitly  assume  it  to  be  so  without  question,  indicates  the  huge   problems  that  museums  face  in  terms  of  both  perception  and  practice  as  sites  of   scholarship.  Regrettably,  those  few  philosophers  who  discuss  museums  focus  on  their   exhibition  functions  alone.  For  instance,  in  her  three  books  on  museums,  Hilde  Hein   looks  at  little  else.21  The  same  can  be  said  of  David  Carrier  in  his  book  Museum   Skepticism.22  These  works  are  full  of  useful  observations.  Those  of  Carrier  on  the  large   number  of  Continentally  informed  theorists  and  others  who  describe  museums  as  little   more  than  instruments  of  social  regulation—which,  like  universities,  they  are—are   especially  acute.  Yet,  like  universities,  museums  are  much  more  besides.  And— crucially—they  are  much  more  than  exhibiting  institutions.                                                                                                                     18  William  James  to  Henry  James,  Sr.,  September  12-­‐17,  1865,  William  James  Papers,  Houghton  Library,   Harvard  University:  quoted  in  Edward  Lurie,  Louis  Agassiz:  A  Life  in  Science  (Chicago:  University  of  Chicago   Press,  1960),  p.  347.   19  Conn,  Museums  and  American  Intellectual  Life,  pp.  21-­‐22.   20  Conn,  Museums  and  American  Intellectual  Life,  p.  22.   21  Hilde  S.  Hein,  The  Exploratorium:  The  Museum  as  Laboratory  (Washington,  D.C.:  Smithsonian  Institution   Press,  1990);  Hilde  S.  Hein,  The  Museum  in  Transition:  A  Philosophical  Perspective  (Washington,  D.C.:   Smithsonian  Institution  Press,  2000);  Hilde  S.  Hein,  Public  Art:  Thinking  Museums  Differently  (Lanham:   AltaMira  Press,  2006).   22  David  Carrier,  Museum  Skepticism:  A  History  of  the  Display  of  Art  in  Public  Galleries  (Durham,  N.C.  and   London:  Duke  University  Press,  2006).       9     Concern  with  display  alone  now  extends  to  consideration  of  museum  buildings   themselves.  Hein,  for  instance,  invites  us  to  consider  museum  buildings  as  themselves   art,  which  thereby  contribute  to  the  shaping  of  public  discussion.23  A  great  deal  has   been  published  on  recent  museum  architecture,  but  little  of  it  is  by  philosophers,  with   the  notable  exception  of  Larry  Shiner’s  contributions.24  That  new  museums  and   extensions  to  existing  museums  should  garner  attention  from  so  many  (except   philosophers)  is  scarcely  surprising,  given  their  prominence  in  the  urban  fabric  in  many   places  worldwide.  These  range  from  Riehen,  near  Basel,  Switzerland  (Fondation  Beyeler,   1997),  to  Nouméa,  New  Caledonia  (Jean-­‐Marie  Tjibaou  Cultural  Center,  1991-­‐98),  to  San   Francisco  (California  Academy  of  Sciences,  2008),  to  cite  just  three  of  the  many  museum   institutions  built  or  rebuilt  by  just  one  celebrity  architectural  practice,  Renzo  Piano   Building  Workshop  of  Genoa.  Museums  have  become  the  ultimate  prestige  projects  for   architects.  As  Hein  points  out,  these  structures  have  become  foci  of  attention  in  their   own  right,  irrespective  of  their  contents.  Some  architects  clearly  subordinate  the   function  of  the  building  to  their  own  aesthetic  and  other  ambitions.  The  2006  Frederic   C.  Hamilton  building  of  the  Denver  Art  Museum  by  Studio  Daniel  Libeskind,  with  its   eccentrically  angled  walls,  is  an  oft-­‐cited  notorious  example.  Yet  it  is  no  more   impractical  than  the  building  that  might  be  said  to  be  the  prototype  of  what  Shiner  calls   the  “spectacle  museum”:  Frank  Lloyd  Wright’s  Solomon  R.  Guggenheim  Museum,  New   York  City,  which  opened  in  1959.  The  tendency  of  commentators  to  discuss  such   buildings  in  relation  to  their  museum  functions  in  terms  of  the  display  of  collections   alone  (sometimes  as  failing,  as  in  Denver;  sometimes  as  succeeding,  as  in  Riehen)   intensifies  the  myopia  they  and  others  exhibit  with  respect  to  the  many  other  functions   of  museums.  A  consequence  has  been  a  reinforcement  of  the  epistemological  shift,  and   a  confirmation  of  the  loss  of  authority  suffered  by  museums.  This  change  has  affected   the  teleology  of  museums  of  every  kind,  as  will  be  explored  in  Part  II.     It  would  be  imprudent  to  draw  any  conclusions  halfway  through  a  two-­‐part  study,   yet  certain  points  are  worth  reiterating  at  this  stage.  Everyone  affected  by  museums— and  that  includes  a  great  deal  of  people  in  communities  throughout  the  world—would   surely  benefit  from  philosophical  attention  to  the  huge  variety  of  institutions  gathered   under  this  term.  Perhaps  in  the  nineteenth  century  museums  were  too  self-­‐evident  as   sites  of  scholarship  to  attract  philosophical  attention,  whereas  in  the  twentieth  and   beyond  their  precipitate  fall  from  epistemological  grace  rendered  has  them  irrelevant.   Nonetheless,  they  continue  to  present  philosophical  challenges  beyond  those  to  do  with   cultural  variety,  taxonomy,  and  epistemology.  I  shall  address  some  of  these  further   issues—teleology,  ethics,  therapeutics,  and  aesthetics—in  Part  II.                                                                                                                       23 24  Hein,  Public  Art.    Larry  Shiner,  “Architecture  vs.  Art:  The  Aesthetics  of  Art  Museum  Design,”  Contemporary  Aesthetics  5,   2007,  at  www.  contemporaryaesthetics.org.;  Larry  Shiner,  “On  Aesthetics  and  Function  in  Architecture:   The  Case  of  the  ‘Spectacle’  Museum,”  Journal  of  Aesthetics  and  Art  Criticism  69,  2011,  pp.  31-­‐41.  Glenn   Parsons  discusses  Daniel  Libeskind’s  2007  extension  to  the  Royal  Ontario  Museum,  Toronto  in  his  “Fact   and  Function  in  Architectural  Criticism,”  Journal  of  Aesthetics  and  Art  Criticism  69,  2011,  pp.  21-­‐29.     10     Acknowledgement     I  owe  debts  of  gratitude  to  many  colleagues  with  whom  I  have  discussed  museum   scholarship  and  other  aspects  of  museum  work  over  the  years.  In  particular,  I  should  like   to  acknowledge  the  following,  sadly  no  longer  with  us:  Michael  Baxandall,  Jan   Białowstocki,  Pierre  Bourdieu,  Nelson  Goodman,  E.H.  Gombrich,  and  Francis  Haskell.   Among  those  who  happily  still  are,  Christopher  Brown,  Michael  Conforti,  Neil   MacGregor,  and  Charles  Saumarez  Smith  are  museum  scholars  who  have  long  been   generous  in  their  discussion  of  ideas  with  me.  Ruth  Phillips  is  an  art  historian  who,  as   former  museum  director,  appreciates  the  difficulties  under  which  museum  scholars   operate,  and  is  unstintingly  generous  in  discussion.  Among  historians,  Laurel  Thatcher   Ulrich  remains  indispensable  as  a  colleague,  interlocutor,  and  friend.  In  the   philosophical  community,  David  Carrier  and  A.W.  Eaton  are  outstanding,  while  Sherri   Irvin  gave  me  much  needed  support  and  understanding  during  crucial  periods.  The   award  of  the  Beinecke  Fellowship  at  the  Sterling  and  Francine  Clark  Art  Institute,   Williamstown,  Massachusetts  for  the  fall  semester,  2011  enabled  me  to  complete  this   article.  I  wish  to  express  my  gratitude  to  the  director  of  the  Research  and  Academic   Program  at  the  Clark,  Michael  Ann  Holly,  her  colleagues,  and  the  other  fellows,  for   unstinting  intellectual  stimulation  and  practical  support.  Jane  Whitehead  remains  my   severest  critic,  applying  tests  of  comprehensibility  worthy  of  any  philosopher.  This   article  is  for  her.       Short  Biography     Ivan  Gaskell  is  Professor  of  Cultural  History,  and  of  Museum  Studies  at  the  Bard   Graduate  Center,  New  York  City.  He  has  extensive  curatorial  experience,  mostly  at   Harvard  University  where  he  remains  Research  Associate  of  the  Peabody  Museum  of   Archaeology  and  Ethnology.  His  many  publications  include  Vermeer's  Wager:   Speculations  on  Art  History,  Theory,  and  Art  Museums,  and  six  co-­‐edited  books  in  the   series  Cambridge  Studies  in  Philosophy  and  the  Arts.  He  has  made  numerous   contributions  to  journals  and  edited  volumes,  and  has  curated  many  experimental   exhibitions,  mostly  at  Harvard.             11