The Politics of Collecting in LIS

by Natalie Selzer

In a 2005 speech to the Society of American Archivists (SAA), Randall C. Jimerson called on archivists to “commit themselves to ensuring that our records document the lives and experiences of all groups in society, not just the political, economic, social, and intellectual elite” and noted a growing effort in the archival field to collect materials by and about groups historically marginalized and oppressed based on gender, sexuality, race, ethnicity, class, and other vectors of difference [1]. Such calls to diversify collections have become common in archives, libraries, museums, and other cultural heritage sites in recent decades and are often framed within the discourse of promoting diversity and inclusion. However, scholars and practitioners across a variety of disciplines have also warned against simplistic approaches to such efforts, highlighting the ways that sites of knowledge production like archives and libraries have historically been used to bolster and enact Western imperialist and settler-colonial projects. Drawing on ideas put forth by Edward W. Said, David J. Hudson, and J.J. Ghaddar, I argue that, in order to serve truly liberatory aims, collecting efforts to fill silences and gaps in information institutions must be guided by explicitly anti-racist and anti-imperialist values and actions, in addition to the values of diversity, inclusion, and pluralism traditionally invoked in LIS.

Control of Knowledge
There is a tendency in the West to treat the production, collection, dissemination, and use of information and knowledge as an unqualified source of empowerment and good. In its most recent strategic plan, for example, the International Federation of Library Associations and Institutions (IFLA) states its “belief that people, communities and organisations need universal and equitable access to information, ideas and works of imagination for their social, educational, cultural, democratic and economic well-being” [2]. The American Library Association (ALA) similarly asserts in its strategic plan that “[l]ibraries play a crucial role in empowering diverse populations for full participation in a democratic society” [3]. The Society of American Archivists (SAA) outlines in its Core Values Statement and Code of Ethics that the “values shared and embraced by archivists” enable them to ensure that archives “benefit all members of the community” and serve a “public good” [4]. Such value statements align with Hudson’s assessment that the LIS fields generally portray information production and access as something that inherently “enables socioeconomic development and political agency” and that will inevitably produce a more “equitable global landscape” [5].

Such views, however, often fail to account for the ways that the production of knowledge and culture is shot through with societal power structures and can be used for ill just as easily as for good. Said, for example, outlines how complex ecosystems of knowledge about “the Orient” were (and are) produced in the West to constitute a subject “suitable for study in the academy, for display in the museum, for reconstruction in the colonial office, for theoretical illustration in anthropological, biological, linguistic, racial, and historical theses about mankind and the universe” [6] and that such “Western techniques of representation” [7] were integral to the project of “dominating, restructuring, and having authority over the Orient” [8]. Drawing on the work of Said and others, Hudson similarly asserts that “Western colonialism has never been a purely military or economic undertaking” and “that it has also drawn its power from cultural practice—that is, from the production and circulation, reproduction and recirculation, of texts, narratives, languages, and imagery, both literally and figuratively” [9]. He goes on to outline how such “colonial knowledge production” serves to limit and control how “communities under the gaze of conquest” can “be known and named” [10].

Representation and Recognition
Ghaddar, writing about the relationship between Indigenous groups and Canadian government archives, notes that the “contested nature of the archive in (neo)colonial settings” represents a set of “complex and seemingly irresolvable dilemmas” around memory, forgetting, control, recognition, reparations, and justice [11]. In particular, she demonstrates the ways that to be represented and recognized within mainstream archives or other memory institutions can mean ceding control of one’s history and culture, even while facilitating certain forms of justice. She tells us that “power differentials lead to a representational dynamic whereby settler societies are placed in a position to affirm or negate how Indigenous people represent and identify themselves” [12]. As such, she notes that she is not alone in calling on the field to “move beyond notions of archival pluralism and a liberal politics of recognition,” in which materials of colonized and/or oppressed communities and cultures are often assimilated into dominant modes of categorization, description, preservation, access, and use [13].

With all this in mind, we can see how collecting initiatives that aim to include and represent more materials from traditionally marginalized or oppressed groups in archives and libraries bring up a host of complex considerations. They are not inherently empowering, though they absolutely can be. To be so, efforts to diversify collections must be accompanied by commitments to facilitating self-determination and self-representation, as well as explicitly interrogating and dismantling processes, practices, standards, and infrastructures that uphold racist, imperialist, and oppressive systems.

[1] Jimerson, Randall C. “Embracing the Power of Archives.” New Orleans: Society of American Archivists, 2005. https://www2.archivists.org/history/leaders/randall-c-jimerson/embracing-the-power-of-archives.

[2] “IFLA STRATEGY 2019 - 2024.” International Federation of Library Associations and Institutions. Accessed January 26, 2020. https://www.ifla.org/strategy.

[3]“American Library Association Strategic Directions.” American Library Association. Accessed January 25, 2020. http://www.ala.org/aboutala/sites/ala.org.aboutala/files/content/governance/StrategicPlan/Strategic%20Directions%202017_Update.pdf.

[4] “SAA Core Values Statement and Code of Ethics.” Society of American Archivists. Accessed January 20, 2020. https://www2.archivists.org/statements/saa-core-values-statement-and-code-of-ethics.

[5] Hudson, David J. “On Dark Continents and Digital Divides: Information Inequality and the Reproduction of Racial Otherness in Library and Information Studies.” Journal of Information Ethics 25, no. 1 (Spring 2016): 64.

[6] Said, Edward W. Orientalism. New York: Vintage Books, 1978, 6.

[7] Said, Orientalism, 22.

[8] Said, 3. 

[9] Hudson, “Information Inequality and the Reproduction of Racial Otherness,” 65-66.

[10] Hudson, 66.

[11] Ghaddar, J.J. “The Spectre in the Archive: Truth, Reconciliation, and Indigenous Archival Memory.” Archivaria 82 (Fall 2016): 5.

[12] Ghaddar, “The Spectre in the Archive,” 15.

[13] Ghaddar, 7.

Said, Authority, and LIS

One of the aspects of Orientalism that Edward Said seems to find most interesting is the question of how it establishes its own authority. An almost ephemeral body of self-fueling “knowledge,” manifested in forms as diverse as travel accounts, poetry, fiction, visual art, translation, military accounts and scientific ideas, Orientalism was, especially in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, often created, sustained, and adhered to by people who had no or very limited encounters with the “actual” “Orient.”  Despite this fact, Orientalism had to at least appear to be a credible and legitimate basis for study as well as for material (often violent) action. Said is especially concerned with the connected but separate ideas of authority and authoritativeness behind this phenomenon, writing that “each writer on the Orient (and this is true even of Homer) assumes some Oriental precedent, some previous knowledge of the Orient, to which he refers and on which he relies.”^[1] It is because of this pre-existing accumulation of Western impressions of the Orient that French and English colonial writers, politicians, and speechmakers “could say what they said, in the way they did, because a still earlier tradition of Orientalism than the nineteenth-century one provided them with a vocabulary, imagery, rhetoric, and figures with which to say it.”^[2] The authority of these ideas building upon each other was essentially given; Said even explicitly likens this effect to that of “a library or archive of information commonly, and, in some of its aspects, unanimously held.”^[3]

This metaphor is somewhat discomfiting, and it raises questions of how LIS professionals establish authority in their approaches in everything from collection development to their positionality in the communities they serve. In the context of contemporary libraries and archives—and, more specifically, the body of literature produced by and about them—questions of authority and legitimacy might be most relevant when it comes to the acquisition, appraisal, and treatment of materials taken from or representing marginalized peoples in a colonial context. Library and Information Science as a professional and academic field often relies, whether explicitly or tacitly, on precedent—new subject headings in classification systems are approved only when literary warrant is established, official institutional statements are composed with an eye towards echoing other institutional statements, and professional standards govern expectations in many corners of library life. Many of the authors from this week’s readings express concern that the basis for authority for many of these decisions often goes unquestioned.

James David Hudson, for instance, is interested in the foundations of the frameworks of diversity, “representation,” and “information gaps” that predominate in the LIS world and that reify already-dominant forms of colonialism and racialization. Hudson pushes back against the institutional reluctance of libraries and archives to see themselves as active and harmful participants in empire, writing:

Where empire has drawn its power from swords and railroads, from pipelines, pesticides, and drone strikes, it has also drawn its power from cultural practice—that is, from the production and circulation, reproduction and recirculation, of texts, narratives, languages, and imagery, both literally and figuratively.^[4]

Much like Orientalism, these narratives of racial difference have been granted the function of “knowledge” and have fueled ostensibly “benevolent” interventions, both domestic and international, from a both demographically and essentially white and middle-class profession into subject communities.

South African writers Johannes Britz and Peter Lor, writing about archives and digital documentation throughout Africa, express similar concerns about the power structures behind apparently well-intentioned digitization efforts, asking: “Who selects the material to be digitized? Whose priorities and interests determines the selection? Who are the beneficiaries?”^[5] Like Hudson, they question the very frameworks in which LIS professionals usually operate and make decisions, noting the principles of information rights for “the world community” as set forth by UNESCO and similar organizations fail to account for communal rights as well as individual ones.

J.J. Ghaddar also notes some weaknesses of the “legalistic, universalistic human-rights framework”^[6] that archivists have often used to establish their authority when dealing with artifacts and materials pertaining to indigenous peoples. Despite increasingly vocal rhetoric about representation and culpability, Ghaddar describes the systematic disenfranchisement (“spectralization”) of indigenous people who have little actual control over whether important and often highly sensitive and personal material is preserved, how it is displayed, and whether or not it can be held back. Chillingly, but perceptively, Ghaddar writes: “Colonizers love archives, and nothing is more common in the colonial world than the enthusiastic, if rather callous, figure of the academic or artist going about the self-appointed task of preserving – not Indigenous peoples themselves, but a record of them.”^[7]

Michelle Caswell, meanwhile, highlights a specific case that illustrates some of the possible complications involved in determining authority from an outside perspective: the case of millions of Baath Party documents seized during the U.S. invasion of Iraq. Under the kind of reductive, liberal diversity framework criticized by Hudson and others, Kanan Makiya, as an Iraqi, might be considered qualified to make authoritative decisions about the fate of these materials regardless of his affiliation with Bush and the invasion (Makiya, who evokes Said’s descriptions of the elusiveness of Orientalist “expertise,” was one of the originators of the perverse idea that U.S. soldiers would be greeted in Iraq with “sweets and flowers”). If Makiya, in hindsight, seems like an obviously wrong choice for control over the Baath Party documents, however, determining the “correct” choice of repository—and whether any outside voice on the question could be useful at all—is far more complex. As Caswell writes, there are a number of subtly differing or directly opposed institutions, organizations, and ideas at play—the SAA and ACA, conservative pockets of academia, UNESCO policy and the Hague Convention, frameworks of universal or national approaches to handling cultural records. The importance of the result, however, is more clear: “In the case of the Baath Party records, the fight is not just about the physical custody of the records (as important as that is), but rather, who gets the power to determine what will constitute the national archive of Iraq…Behind each of these questions
resides competing claims of authority.”^[8]

In all of the vastly differing scenarios in libraries and archives described by the authors above, there seem to be actors willing to assume authority no matter how contentious or elusive the basis for it. As Said wrote,

There is nothing mysterious or natural about authority. It is formed, irradiated, disseminated; it is instrumental, it is persuasive; it has status, it establishes canons of taste and value; it is virtually indistinguishable from certain ideas it dignifies as true, and from traditions, perceptions, and judgments it forms, transmits, reproduces. Above all authority can, indeed must, be analyzed.^[9]

Although there is, of course, much left to explore in this discussion, it seems promising that ideas of authority in LIS based on hitherto underexamined professional principles and frameworks are more frequently becoming subjects of critical thought.

---

[1] Said, Edward W. Orientalism. 25th Anniversary Edition. New York: Vintage Books, 2003, 20.

[2] Said, Orientalism, 41.

[3] Ibid.

[4] Hudson, David J. “On Dark Continents and Digital Divides: Information Inequality and the Reproduction of Racial Otherness in Library and Information Studies.” Journal of Information Ethics 25, no. 1 (2016), 65, 66.

[5] Britz, Johannes, and Peter Lor. “A Moral Reflection on the Digitization of Africa’s Documentary Heritage.” IFLA Journal 30, no. 3 (2004): 216–23. https://doi.org/10.1177/034003520403000304, 217.

[6] Ghaddar, J J. “The Spectre in the Archive: Truth, Reconciliation, and Indigenous Archival Memory.” Archivaria 82 (2016), 7.

[7] Ghaddar, “The Spectre in the Archive,” 23.

[8] Caswell, Michelle. “‘Thank You Very Much, Now Give Them Back’: Cultural Property and the Fight over the Iraqi Baath Party Records.” The American Archivist 74, no. 1 (2011). https://doi.org/10.17723/aarc.74.1.4185u8574mu84041, 220.

[9] Said, Orientalism, 19, 20.

LIS Professions and Labor Power

New professionals entering the LIS fields are entering an environment faced with economic pressures that negatively affect the value of our skills and knowledge, forcing us to sell our labor-power (the abstraction of human labor into something that can be exchanged for money) to employers. Marx states that “the directing motive, the end and aim of capitalist production, is to extract the greatest possible amount of surplus value, and consequently to exploit labor-power to the greatest possible extent.” As someone entering the field of media archives, this cycle is unavoidable, and is only recently the topic of discussion at professional conferences and in academic literature.

On my first real digitization project, I helped digitize a collection of ¼” Sony open reel videos for the IS Lab at UCLA. The videos were the recordings of a 1984 conference held by university presidents, computer scientists, economists, members of congress and university librarians in Lake Arrowhead, CA. The purpose of the first "Pioneers" conference was to discuss the next twenty years of the information economy in California, with a specific focus on how it would shape the fate of LIS professions.

The conference was held in May, shortly after Reagan won the election for a second presidential term. Reagan’s new federal budget for university and arts funding were received as “a direct assault” on liberal education and subsequently the library profession.  John Brademas, then president of NYU, explained the deleterious effects of neoliberal policies regarding the budget cuts,

“Our universities in our libraries are under very sharp attack by the present administration in Washington. And I think it ought to be clear that the fortunes of higher learning and our academic libraries are closely intertwined…The Reagan administration would either dismantle or gravely weaken the national endowments for the Arts and Humanities, the Museum Services Institute, theNational Institute of Education, the Fulbright exchanges, and all the programs to help libraries.”

The conference was centered around the assumption that as the California information economy (for example, silicon valley and various military R&D corporations) continued to develop, the library professions would be placed into a precarious environment in the upcoming decades. Federal budget cuts would only encourage this process. Robert Muller, president of Johns Hopkins University reiterated the urgency of this matter in a later remark: “we're going to see changes from the status quo, so radical in nature that the operative noun should not be just change nor crisis, but revolution.” Revolutionary changes, he warned, faced the library professions. The occurrence that everyone at the conference referred to, and assumed was happening, is still happening today—the devaluation of LIS professions within the information economy. 

The implications of neoliberal policies have had a profound effect on the instability of jobs within LIS professions and subsequently the current standards (or lack of) of value for professional and highly specialized skills and knowledge. Wildenhaus describes jobs in LIS fields functioning as a “ladder of precarity…which can be related to the broader scarcity mentality and funding pressures that pervade archives and libraries as institutions existing under neoliberal conditions. Economic pressures, as Brademas had feared, affected the nature of LIS professions. Wildenhaus elaborates on how this is evidenced through their critique on unpaid internships,  

“By recognizing the connection between unpaid internships and other forms of contingent and precarious labor, denormalizing the practice becomes all the more urgent. Rather than accept this tendency towards precarity, information workers can recognize how advocating for the abolition of exploitive positions can help to bolster their own positions as they too resist the effects of neoliberalism.”

As a new professional entering the field of media archiving I have learned two key features about the state of the profession that affirm Wildenhaus’ argument: 1) Labor practices within the profession have not been standardized to normalize, for example, unpaid internship positions or unrealistically low wages; 2) Professionals are frustrated with the precarity of their work and ultimately feel that their labor-power is exploited. For example, on the public Association of Moving Image Archivsts (AMIA) listserv in February of 2018, members reacted negatively to a fulltime job listing at the Sherman Grinberg Film Library—the compensation for a trained media archivist was $12/hr. Joel Parham offered insight into the larger issue at hand in his response to the job posting:

 “typically the primary purpose of professional organizations is to be actively involved in promoting the advancement of the profession and professionals. One such way would be to provide direction for the valuation of human capital of those who are most vulnerable – new professionals.”

The exploitation of LIS professionals manifests itself in the rampant practice of offering low wages and unpaid internships because employers can take advantage of cheap labor-power. Parham and Wildenhaus point out that this ultimately creates instability for new professionals, whose education and the skills acquired are highly specialized, but whose labor-power may ultimately be devalued. These sentiments echo the speakers at the 1984 conference, whose urgency is still felt across LIS professions.

LIS professions in general have to make a case for resources that are becoming harder to justify under a society that operates within the neoliberal financialization of everything. That is, everything we do in practice must produce a result that can be justified monetarily or made valuable on these terms. Yet, the totality of the work that builds access to knowledge, the work of an LIS professional, cannot by categorized or described solely in a neoliberal fashion. The skill involved in proving the value of our labor power is not taught as a skill, but should be explicitly presented as such if we want to create a professional environment for students and new professionals to thrive and reject the exploitation of our labor-power.

Hunter, Marjorie, and Special To the New York Times. “CUTS IN U.S. AID TO EDUCATION TO HAVE WIDE IMPACT; The Budget Targets First of a Series on Key Programs; That President Reagan Wants to Cut.” The New York Times, April 3, 1981, sec. U.S. https://www.nytimes.com/1981/04/03/us/cuts-us-aid-education-have-wide-impact-budget-targets-first-series-key-programs.html

Brademas, John, May 14, 1984, transcript, Robert M Hayes Collection.

Muller, Steve, May 14, 1984, transcript, Robert M Hayes Collection.

Wildenhaus, Karly. “Wages for Intern Work: Denormalizing Unpaid Positions in Archives and Libraries.” Journal of Critical Library and Information Studies 2, no. 1 (November 25, 2018). https://doi.org/10.24242/jclis.v2i1.88.

“[AMIA-L] Assistant Media Archivist Position at Sherman Grinberg Film Library - Zacharyrutland@gmail.Com - Gmail.” Accessed January 30, 2019.

“[AMIA-L] Employment Discussion - Paid vs. Unpaid Internships - Zacharyrutland@gmail.Com - Gmail.” Accessed February 3, 2019. https://mail.google.com/mail/u/0/#search/amia/FMfcgxwBVMqTZwWDbTvlKmnbbSWQwrQd.

Karl Marx, Das Kapital (1867), Volume II, Ch.X, p. 211.

Precarious Labor, Innovation, and LIS | Megan Riley

The crisis of precarious labor in LIS is ongoing and fundamentally damaging to both workers and the LIS professions as a whole. Marx’s writings on communication, particularly in the Grundrisse, lay out how he considered it a form of work^[1]; this analysis is often overlooked by other theorists and critics of Marx, but it is crucial for how we approach a discussion of information work. Marx’s analysis of communication of work, as well as Lazzarato’s work on immaterial labor (and his theory’s shortcomings), are both valuable for assessing, theorizing, and developing solutions to precarious labor and its negative impacts in LIS both past and present. 

Although Maurizio Lazzarato’s concept of immaterial labor is useful for discussing information work as it relates to cultural content creation and influence - Lazzarato defines the concept as ‘labour that produces the informational and cultural content of the commodity’^[2] - it can also serve to obscure the material basis of information work. The physical infrastructures and manufacturers that support information systems are very much material and inextricable from information work, even work that is many steps removed from the mining, shipping, and manufacturing processes that build the tools and networks for communication and information work.^[3]

Even within LIS, using unpaid or temporary labor to do basic maintenance tasks can obscure the materiality of information work. As Wildenhaus notes, “On this tendency for maintenance work to be jettisoned onto unpaid interns in archives, archivist Hillel Arnold refers to the ‘complicity [of archivists] in erasing others’ by ‘filling ongoing operational maintenance work with unpaid internships, or part-time and temporary labor.’”^[4] Higher-level information work is then left to the professionals in the field, and it not only gives the impression that their work has little materiality but also implies that the physical labor in LIS is of little to no value. There is also an important discussion to be had - although it’s perhaps too lengthy for this piece - about how and to whom the term “professional” is applied in LIS, and how that impacts the discourse around both precarious and stable labor.

Part of what allows for this obfuscation of labor through unpaid or precarious workers is the constant drive to innovate within capitalist society in general and LIS in particular. Marx and Engels write that “The bourgeoisie cannot exist without constantly revolutionising the instruments of production, and thereby the relations of production, and with them the whole relations of society.”^[5] “Innovation” and “flexibility” become the watchwords in late capitalism that signal shifting labor and social relations. Workers are expected not only to themselves be innovative, but to accept “innovation” within the workplace without complaint. “Flexibility” in jobs is sold to workers as a positive feature, but far more frequently leads to the proliferation of temporary, part-time, and under-compensated labor.

The research currently happening on precarious labor, particularly by people like Karly Wildenhaus and the Collective Responsibility project team, is invaluable at making clear the connections between changing production relations, “innovation,” “flexibility,” and neoliberal capitalism. Wildenhaus’ research illuminates the fact that although unpaid internships have generally been believed to be a necessary step to reaching secure employment in LIS, they in fact have the opposite effect of driving down wages and undermining full-time labor.^[6] The Collective Responsibility project’s data collection backs up this assertion with hard data; from their survey of 100 current and former grant-funded digital LIS workers, 66% who were rehired at an institution after the completion of their initial temporary contract were simply rehired into another temporary position.^[7] Discussing the nature of temporary labor in LIS brings us back to the idea of immaterial labor and how, despite its drawbacks as a concept, it can still be useful for analyzing the current precarity situation.

Tiziana Terranova, in a discussion of technocapitalism, hits on a fundamental issue in a constantly-revolutionized sphere of production - the potentiality of immaterial labor within workers. “However, in the young worker, the ‘precarious worker,’ and the unemployed youth, these capacities [for immaterial labor activities regarding cultural content] are ‘virtual,’ that is they are there but are still undetermined. ...postmodern governments do not like the completely unemployable. The potentialities of work must be kept alive, the unemployed must undergo continuous training in order both to be monitored and kept alive as some kind of postindustrial reserve force.”^[8] The key here is the emphasis on a “postindustrial reserve force” and the “potentialities of work.” Owners and managers are finding it more beneficial to themselves and their profit margin to not only subdivide labor processes, but to subdivide labor power as much as possible. Structures and business models like the gig economy and Amazon’s Mechanical Turk - a website that allows businesses to essentially crowdsource minor computing or data work by paying freelancers to perform simple tasks like identifying image content that AI is unable to do - are a perfect example of the amount of profit that can be generated by the precariously- or semi-employed. This unstable but highly profitable model has been infiltrating LIS for decades, helped along under the guise of innovation and flexibility.

Moving forward, I think it’s essential to examine this precarity crisis in LIS in much greater depth. Further exploration of subjects like the contested uses of “professional,” what is meant by “continuous training” (as referenced by Terranova above) and how that both applies to LIS workers and is upheld through practices like work skills-related public library programming, and other similar topics can provide more useful scholarship and discourse around the relationship between LIS and labor. Though beyond the scope of this piece, I think it would also be valuable to examine some important relationships: the invisibility of archival labor and that labor being undervalued; neoliberalism and its connection to the concepts of “flexibility” and “innovation,” particularly in LIS; and the question of immaterial labor and social reproduction in libraries and other public-facing LIS spaces. There’s already excellent work being done within MLIS programs and professional organizations to conduct research, and continuing this work both at the theoretical level and as praxis is sorely needed. Professional organizations should be conducting regular censuses of their members and their employment situations. MLIS programs can encourage their students as well as their faculty to engage with this type of research. Advocating and agitating for fair labor practices in LIS requires research, assessment, and education, and the discourse around precarious labor is finally becoming more fruitful and widespread.

---

^[1] Fuchs, Christian. Digital Labour and Karl Marx. New York, NY: Routledge, Taylor & Francis Group, 2014.

^[2] Ibid.

^[3] Ibid.

^[4] Wildenhaus, Karly. “Wages for Intern Work: Denormalizing Unpaid Positions in Archives and Libraries.” Journal of Critical Library and Information Studies 2, no. 1 (November 25, 2018). https://doi.org/10.24242/jclis.v2i1.88.

^[5] Marx, Karl, Friedrich Engels. “Manifesto of the Communist Party,” Marx/Engels Selected Works, Vol. One. Moscow: Progress Publishers, 1969.

^[6] Wildenhaus, 2018.

^[7] Rodriguez, Sandy. “Collective Responsibility: Seeking Equity for Contingent Labor in Libraries, Archives, and Museums.” Working Paper. University of Missouri -- Kansas City, 2019. https://mospace.umsystem.edu/xmlui/handle/10355/69708.

^[8] Terranova, Tiziana. “Free Labor.” Social Text 18, no. 2 (2000): 33–58. https://doi.org/10.1215/01642472-18-2_63-33.