This essay will discuss the issue of Native American history and periodization where we are not allowed “premodern” histories. History prior to European contact is relegated to terms like “Pre-Columbian” and consigned to the domain of archeologists. As a reclamation of Native sovereign ancestral presence, I am interested in public humanities as an interdisciplinary way to push against the myths and stereotypes that both confine Indigenous people to static pasts, either displacing ancestors into settler national memory or oblivion. My goals in public humanities are to work toward reclamations of ancient pasts in the so-called Americas from the limited imaginations of settler skull- and arrowhead-collectors toward reasserting the ongoing lived relationships that Natives have with spaces condemned as ruins and materials as relics. I briefly mention my own work in digital curation, Red Coral Stories, to provide counternarratives from European conquest toward expanding Native American presence across space and time.

The humanities cannot go public without publishing. In this contribution to the Manifesto issue of Public Humanities, Daniel Fisher-Livne, Kath Burton, and Catherine Cocks highlight the radically inclusive publishing practices necessary to support the Public Humanities ecosystem. The authors explain how Publishing and the Publicly Engaged Humanities Working Group activities have prepared the ground for future growth, directing attention to the inherently collaborative, multimodal and values-based publishing practices of engaged scholars. This paper builds on the central thesis of the Working Group, calling for the implementation of a radically inclusive ecology of publishing practices that embody and nurture the unique facets, connections and aims of publicly engaged publications.

In this article, we reflect on our experiences co-producing a podcast about literary books mostly written by women of color. We describe how and why we started the podcast and how our podcast provides a model of skills that are key to doing humanities, and offer some practical advice about making podcasts.

Who is the public? For a scholar, the public is anyone outside of one’s discipline. This is true within academia or without, but cross-disciplinarity as an individual means of academic scholarship tends not to be an explicit part of conversations about how to practice public humanities. This essay critically reflects on how we think about cross-disciplinary scholarship in relationship to public writing and centers mobility as a core tenet of both.

This manifesto addresses the global decline in humanities investment by way of one of its relatively novel but underfunded sectors: “immersive” or playable theatre. While traditional, proscenium-based theatre faces a cultural crisis, immersive experiences and playable theatre continue to suffer from a lack of legitimacy. The manifesto emphasizes how pivotal such productions are to re-kindling passion for drama and literature among a new generation of theatre-goers accustomed to playable media. The time for long-term institutional support for the large tent called “immersive” is now.

How do we kiss through a museum’s walls, roughly 8,000 miles away? This is a museum exhibit’s journey, from loneliness and longing to togetherness. An art museum, with its predisposition to distance and sterility, softens its stance and opens itself just a little; the exhibit about Long-Distance Love brings forward familiar, loving voices that are a reminder that we are not alone.

Public Humanities projects notoriously begin with the bootstrapping commitment of one or two long-suffering and visionary individuals. If they can make it past the turbulent narrows of their beginnings, they often only endure through unrecognized and little-rewarded labor. Gatherings of public humanists can be exercises in commiseration. When you determine that you have enough funding to last one more year, celebration is in order. Such travails naturally lead to the question of how public humanities programs can move beyond being nice extras to become more central to the concerns of our home institutions. How, in short, can the work of public humanists be institutionalized and become part of the everyday humdrum of academic life rather than the desperate scrabbling of the righteous, committed, frantic, and overtired?

The Inclusuem is a collaborative project established in 2012 with international reach and global impact. The three co-directors, Aletheia Whitman, Dr. Rose Paquet, and Dr. Porchia Moore share a mission to “advance new ways of being a museum through dialogue, community building, and collaborative practice related to inclusive practice in museums.” We have provided a platform for over a decade which prompts arts and cultural heritage professionals to push the bounds of museum work to be as expansive and inclusive as possible while enacting structural change. In this piece, we focus on museums as sites where the humanities are made public. Our manifesto proposes a vision for the public humanities in a changing political landscape and will introduce new perspectives for both an emerging museum and an emergent new understanding for the public humanities within museums faced with an antagonistic intellectual and cultural ecosystem.

This essay examines the integration of accompaniment methodology with public humanities and policy work through case studies from activist research in New Orleans. The concept of accompaniment involves providing active, supportive engagement alongside marginalized communities to address systemic barriers and foster mutual understandings. This essay highlights how accompaniment can provide support in navigating bureaucratic challenges and inform immigration policy. It also explores how accompaniment can inform public humanities work, like the development of a digital timeline and physical exhibition documenting Black labor history in New Orleans. This approach underscores the transformative potential of combining accompaniment with public humanities to enhance community empowerment, inform policy, and challenge systemic inequities. By engaging with community experiences and integrating insights from both historical and contemporary struggles, this essay chronicles the development of accompaniment methodology and shows how this approach can enrich public humanities scholarship and policy work, creating more inclusive and responsive solutions to social challenges. Accompaniment serves as a vital tool for bridging academic inquiry with social justice, making public humanities research more relevant, ethical, equitable, and impactful.

Should it feel good to get an award for scholar activism? As well-intentioned the recognition of my activism is, it misses the point of what activism is by singling out one person, especially a scholar. The danger with claiming scholar activism as heroic is twofold. First, it makes activists exceptional, implying that society may rely on exceptional individuals instead of valuing the collective work. Second, it glorifies the activism of scholars, as if it were more valuable than that of others while ignoring the hierarchies that empower and protect academia. Instead, we must normalize scholar activism, sharing the load and using our bodies as shields. We’ll join the work of activism in constellation and value the power of emotions, embodying our ideas as we grow into activist scholars.

Stuart Hall stated “the university is a critical institution or it is nothing.” When it comes to the historical study of sexual abuse in Canadian sport, until very recently, it has been very much the latter. Nothing. As part of a larger project on studies of sexual abuse in sport, we reviewed articles across the four leading sport history journals – Sport History Review, Sport in History, Journal of Sport History, and International Journal of the History of Sport – to consider what methods, sports, and demographics received the most analysis. Such an effort proved impossible. There was scholarly silence on the matter. But this raised another question. So what? Would publishing in pay-walled academic journals about so pressing a societal issue make any difference at all? Furthermore, can a PhD-touting academic – including the lead author of this paper – ever enact change via the field of history if their sole purpose is to churn out studies for the ivory tower? We think not. It requires boots on the ground. Engagement and collaboration with those Antonio Gramsci called “organic intellectuals,” so we can tend the flames of knowledge and fuel a movement. History can be the tool one wields. Public, digital history.

This article argues that the number of tenure-line academic positions has been shrinking for decades, and that non-tenure track workers are being asked to do more un- and under-compensated publishing, editing, and peer review labour this labour. This is all having a detrimental impact on larger, public humanities based projects. Often, non-tenure track faculty are paid for their hard earned expertise in a currency of hope, or in the implicit promise of future opportunities. Large public humanities programs, should resist the temptation to use hope labour and gig workers.

This essay considers how the nineteenth-century idea of the university as a refuge, constructed by thinkers like John Henry Newman, continues to shape contemporary universities and the field of public humanities. This vision of the university has lasting appeal for obvious reasons. In a culture predicated on speed, slowness is a political act. In a culture of hot takes, cold reasoning often provides necessary context, a wider view. And yet, as W. E. B. Du Bois warns, the “tenacious legend” of the Victorian university is dangerous because it separates the university from mass culture. Building on Du Bois’s thinking, the essay concludes that instead of seeking protection, enclosure, or recognition within university institutions, public humanities practitioners should seek refuge in the relationships of mutual responsibility they foster.

Humanities research is underfunded, and the institutional sources and intellectual effects of this underfunding are insufficiently appreciated. The paper gives an example of the negative effects of a humanities discipline’s lack of research infrastructure on scholarly work. Section 2 describes the main categories through which research funds arrive on U.S. campuses. Section 3 describes the disproportions between Science & Engineering (S&E or “STEM”) funding and funding for social and cultural disciplines. Section 4 discussions the “institutional funds” that universities use to cover research costs from their own pockets. Section 5 shows that universities do not use their institutional funds to compensate for inequities in humanities funding but to perpetuate them. Section 6 claims that the current state of humanities funding abridges academic freedom and calls on humanities administrative personnel to lead a national campaign to rectify the current situation. Misconceptions about humanities research and its funding must be openly acknowledged and addressed so that it can come to have public effects that reflect its actual intellectual achievements.

With recent leaps in large language model technology, conversational AI offer increasingly sophisticated interactions. But is it fair to say that they can offer authentic relationships, perhaps even assuage the loneliness epidemic? In answering this question, this essay traces the history of AI authenticity, historically shaped by cultural imaginations of intelligent machines and human communication. The illusion of human-like interaction with AI has existed since at least the 1960s, when the term “Eliza effect’ was named after the first chatbot Eliza. Termed a “crisis of authenticity” by sociologist Sherry Turkle, the Eliza effect has stood for fears that AI interactions can undermine real human connections and leave users vulnerable to manipulation. More recently, however, researchers have begun investigating less anthropomorphic definitions of authenticity. The expectation - and perhaps fantasy - of authenticity stems, in turn, from a much longer history of technologically mediated communications, dating back to the invention of the telegraph in the nineteenth century. Read through this history, the essay concludes that AI relationships might not mimic human interactions but must instead acknowledge the artifice of AI, offering a new form of companionship in our mediated, often lonely, times.

The Being Human Festival, celebrating its tenth anniversary in 2024, is the UK’s national humanities research festival, held every November to engage local communities with creative and participatory events that are free to attend. Over its first decade, Being Human has helped transform UK public engagement practices in the humanities, strengthened community ties, and inspired academic and public participants alike. Looking back on 10 years of Being Human, the director of the festival takes readers behind-the-scenes to see who makes it happen, how, and why. Looking forward, the festival aims to further transform public engagement infrastructure, support vernacular knowledge, and expand globally, advocating for the humanities’ indispensability in a democratic society.

This article highlights the importance of European scientists, particularly in the social sciences and humanities, in shaping global research policies through active advocacy in science policy. The European Union (EU) is a significant transnational research funder, largely through its multiannual Framework Programmes, such as Horizon Europe (2020–2027), which support collaboration between researchers worldwide. This funding drives innovation and societal benefit, influencing global standards on topics like sustainability, cultural heritage, and data protection. The EU’s openness to consultation makes it unique compared to countries like the United States and China, where funding decisions are decided top-down by governments and policymakers. Thus, European humanities and social science researchers have a unique opportunity to shape the political research agenda. To strengthen this advocacy, three practical steps await researchers: (1) understand national research narratives, (2) ensure research impacts policymaking, and (3) support international research organisations.

Henry David Thoreau and Frances E. W. Harper offer a historical model for the public humanities grounded in racial justice and moral education. For both Thoreau and Harper, the “public practice of humanity” that Thoreau identifies in “A Plea for Captain John Brown” inescapably means taking the side of justice, creating a “liberation humanities” that is analogous to the “preferential option for the poor” in twentieth-century theologies of liberation. Both authors use a mix of theologically informed moral reasoning and wit and irony to further the cause of justice, and both are concerned with the ways in which literary form and public advocacy can coalesce.

This article makes the case for unearthing a long history of public humanities. The story begins with the very emergence of universities in the United States and continues through key moments where people of color and Indigenous people have shaped the history of public humanities. Risam makes the case against allowing the novelty of the term “public humanities” to erase this history and for resisting cooptation of public humanities by the neoliberal university.

The public history movement in North America that was born amid the academic job crisis of the late 1970s aspired to a radical reformation of professional history’s audience from an inward focused conversation among professionals to one working with government and corporate institutions and in dialogue with the public. This essay focuses on the institutional evolution of the National Council on Public History (NCPH) to illustrate the unexpected, but not entirely unpropitious outcome that flowed from the failure of the organization’s original goals. How that movement failed and what it succeeded in creating may hold useful lessons for the contemporary public humanities campaign. In the late twentieth century, the public history movement failed to bring about a major reorientation of professional and academic history. In the attempt, however, it created an off shot of public history as one of a number of new but distinctly separate fields of academic historical practice. Unexpectedly, public history became a new academic specialty alongside other new fields from that era: native American history, environmental history, and gender history.