Richard Bachmann — In Search of an Exhibit that Never Came to Be: “Automation Madness” at the National Museum of American History, 1984
Two of the most beloved artifacts of the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History (NMAH) in Washington D.C. are R2-D2 and C-3PO. The two iconic robots of the Star Wars franchise are currently featured in the museum’s popular “Entertainment Nation / Nación del Espectáculo” exhibit. The NMAH acquired R2-D2 and C-3PO in March 1984, shortly after the release of Return of the Jedi (1983), the third Star Wars movie. An exhibit on American entertainment culture was not the reason why the quirky duo arrived at the museum, though. Rather, R2-D2 and C-3PO were supposed to lure visitors into a pathbreaking exhibit—called “Automation Madness”—which was to inspire NMAH visitors to critically reflect on the past, present, and future of automation and robotics, and their use in the workplace.
R2-D2 and C-3PO are perfect artifacts to get people to think about automation and labor. The two are prime examples for “useful” robots, quirky companions to humans. What would Luke Skywalker and Han Solo do without these two? But there is another, darker side (no pun intended): R2-D2 and C-3PO also embody the substitution of human labor by machines. R2-D2 is a kind of super technician who can do maintenance labor that would require dozens of human mechanics. C-3PO is a robotic diplomat and translator who can speak six million languages. He alone has made a whole corps of human diplomats and translators superfluous. It is this darker side of R2-D2 and C-3PO—the replacement of human labor by machines—that the exhibit was supposed to problematize. Scheduled to open at NMAH in July 1984, it never came to be, though. It was cancelled only a few weeks before its projected opening and has remained a dream filed away in the archive ever since. What happened?
I first learned about “Automation Madness – Boys and Their Toys” from a good friend of mine, Salem Elzway. Salem came across some scattered files related to the exhibit while doing archival research for his dissertation. The story of R2-D2, C-3PO, and “Automation Madness” grabbed me instantaneously. Its curator, David F. Noble, a renowned historian of technology, plays a central role in my own dissertation. While Noble’s provocative work on the social history of automation has been widely discussed by historians, I had never read anywhere anything about his work as a curator.
A Fellowship for Doctoral Research in Museums from the Museum Studies Program allowed me to travel to the Smithsonian Institution Archives (SIA) in Washington D.C. and the University of Massachusetts, Amherst, where Noble’s personal papers are housed. At SIA and Amherst, I sifted through archival boxes in search of “Automation Madness.” While I was able to learn more about the exhibit itself, its curator, and the tensions that led to its cancellation, the exact reason for why “Automation Madness” was cancelled remains a contested issue that I have not been able to resolve. Did politics and greed play a role, as Noble claimed? Or was it Noble’s bellicose and unprofessional behavior, as his colleagues and superiors maintained? The archival materials even indicate that R2-D2 and C-3PO—or rather their popularity—might be to blame.
From a museum studies point-of-view, the story of “Automation Madness” is fascinating for three reasons. First, while museum studies scholars and aficionados frequently use specific exhibits as object lessons for telling the histories of museums and the exhibits and people who make them, we rarely ever hear about exhibits that have not been realized. Why were they not realized? And what have we missed by never having had the chance to see an exhibit that never came to be? Second, the “Automation Madness” story also highlights that museums are workplaces. Museums are sites where the interests, politics, and personalities of those who make them work clash. And lastly, “Automation Madness” showcases an issue which is more specifically related to the relationship between the history of industrial automation and museums. Apart from describing a set of technologies or, as some scholars have argued, a “discourse” or ideology, “automation” also is a curatorial object. “Automation” is always on display—in industrial workplaces, trade fairs, magazines, or museums. These stagings are crucial for two reasons. First, they introduce the technologies and machines associated with “automation” to various audiences. Second, they tend to co-produce a central feature of the “automation” discourse: the illusion that “automation” works independent of human labor. Narratives and visions of the autonomous robot or the “smart” algorithm are produced by museum curators as much as by engineers, salespeople, or writers. “Automation Madness” sought to stage automation at the NMAH to do something different, though.
What was I able to learn about the exhibit from the archives? NMAH’s plans to put together an exhibit on automation and robotics originated in the late 1970s. These plans already envisioned the acquisition of R2-D2 and C-3PO. What was missing then, though, were two things, according to Brooke Hindle, the museum’s director at the time: “a curator who wants to do such an exhibit and the money to do it with.” By 1983, the NMAH seemed to have found both. David F. Noble was hired as Curator for Industrial Automation. In January 1984, Noble’s proposal for “Automation Madness” was accepted by his superiors at the NMAH. These included Roger G. Kennedy, who had succeeded Hindle as NMAH director; Arthur “Art” Molella, Curator of Science, Technology, Invention and Chairman of the NMAH’s Science and Technology Department; and William “Bill” Withuhn, Curator for the History of Technology, Transportation, Business History and Deputy Chairman of the Science and Technology Department. Noble, Kennedy, Molella, and Withuhn emerged as the main protagonists of the “Automation Madness” story.
Tasking Noble with curating an exhibit on the history of automation and robotics was a perfectly reasonable thing to do for the NMAH. By 1983, Noble had made a name for himself as a thought-provoking historian of technology. In his articles and books, Noble had established himself as an outspoken proponent of a social history of technology. He argued that technology is never neutral but shaped by the beliefs, intentions, and politics of its creators. What machines can or can’t do depends on choices made by human beings.
Noble’s understanding of a social history of technology centrally informed his vision for “Automation Madness.” Luckily, a complete, 65-page long copy of Noble’s exhibition script and a preliminary artifact list have survived in the archive. Together with Noble’s correspondence, sketches, and research notes, his exhibition script and object list allow us to get a sense of what “Automation Madness” would have looked like if it had been realized. While a detailed discussion of the exhibition layout would go beyond the limits of this post, a few highlights are worth mentioning. Noble wanted “Automation Madness” to make three crucial points regarding the past, present, and future of automation and robotics.
First page of Noble’s script for “Automation Madness.” MS 870, box 5, folder 51. David F. Noble Papers. Robert S. Cox Special Collections and University Archives Research Center, University Libraries, UMass Amherst.
First, as the exhibit’s subtitle “Boys and their Toys” suggests, Noble sought to advance a gender argument: automation and robotics have remained a predominantly male endeavor because both are driven by men’s desire to create (artificial) life without having to rely on the consent and labors of women. Premodern automatons, humanoid robots, and other forms of automated machinery are men’s attempts to “birth” offspring independent of women. An artifact Noble intended to use to visualize the underlying desire of the “boys” with regard to “their toys” was George P. Clarke’s creepy “natural creeping baby doll” from 1871.
Another argument “Automation Madness” wanted to advance was that automation has largely been used as a technology of control. The prime motivation behind the spread of robotics and computerization in the workplace has not been to increase efficiency as is often claimed. The goal has been to disempower workers. Engineers and employers have used different forms of automation to take skills and knowledge away from workers on the shop floor and transfer them into machines and management offices instead. Noble planned to use various artifacts related to a pathbreaking automatic milling machine developed by MIT in 1952 to underline this point. MIT pioneered the principle of “numerical control” in machine tools by having its milling machine run not by a human operator but by a management-owned 7-track punch tape system.
This state of affairs was not inevitable, though. This was the final point Noble wanted “Automation Madness” to convey. On the one hand, the history of technology has alternative machine designs to offer which, unlike numerical control, did not seek to disempower workers. Noble wanted to include a few examples of machine tools from the 1950s which, if realized, would have relied on their operator’s skills and preserved their control over the planning and production. On the other hand, there is a powerful history of popular resistance against detrimental technologies. To highlight that history, Noble wanted “Automation Madness” to conclude with a case that displays a so-called Enoch’s Hammer. These massive sledgehammers were used by the Luddites, machine breakers in early nineteenth century England, to destroy the shearing frames which were introduced to displace them. Overall, Noble wanted to encourage visitors of “Automation Madness” to think about how the history of the use of automation as a technology of control and the history of the Luddites related to their own experiences with technology in the workplace. Amidst growing concerns in the early 1980s about the rise of technology-induced unemployment during what contemporaries dubbed the “Computer Age,” this was a set of provocative questions worth considering.
Noble wanted Star Wars references to function as a throughline of “Automation Madness.” R2-D2 and C-3PO were to greet visitors at the exhibit’s beginning, setting the stage for what was to come. The two robots were perfectly suited for this job. They embodied both the dangers of past and current forms of automation and robotics as well as a more hopeful future in which humans and machines could live together in a symbiotic relationship. Apart from R2-D2 and C-3PO, Noble intended to have other characters from the Star Wars saga make an appearance in “Automation Madness” as well. An image of Darth Vader, for instance, was to accompany the exhibit’s segment about technologies of control. The rumbustious Ewoks were to appear in the segment that was to showcase the history of the Luddites. And Luke Skywalker was to serve as the visual avatar of worker-friendly technological alternatives.
But as I have indicated before, Noble’s vision for “Automation Madness” never came to be. Why? Three possible answers to this question emerge from the archival materials I examined at the Smithsonian and Amherst.
First, there is Noble’s interpretation. Several incidents during the spring of 1984 made Noble believe that NMAH’s administration was committed to sabotaging “Automation Madness” because they fundamentally disagreed with the exhibit’s messages. This seemed to be particularly the case for his bosses, Kennedy and Molella. Noble suspected that Kennedy and Molella installed Withuhn as Project Manager of “Automation Madness” in early March to crack down on Noble’s curatorial independence. To Noble it seemed that his bosses were particularly concerned that his provocative curation could anger Lucasfilm, the film company that produced Star Wars. Doing so threatened a lucrative merchandise deal which the museum hoped to negotiate with the creators of R2-D2 and C-3PO. When Withuhn’s installation did not lead to the desired content change, Kennedy and Molella first tried to delay the opening of “Automation Madness.” When Noble protested, they had Withuhn cancel the exhibit altogether in early June without consulting Noble beforehand. Noble found out through a memo that went out to everyone who had worked on “Automation Madness” with him. As Noble stated in a response to Withuhn shortly after the cancellation was announced: “I strongly suspect […] that management concern about the provocative content of this exhibit had more to do with the decision to cancel than your June 5 memo would lead one to believe.”
Kennedy, Molella, and Withuhn dismissed Noble’s interpretation of what happened and proposed an alternative story. In a memo to his superior at the Smithsonian, Kennedy maintained that “ideology has nothing whatever to do with this matter.” Instead, Noble’s unprofessional behavior was to blame, Kennedy continued: “The formal charges include (1) willful disruption of Museum business; (2) insubordination; (3) making false statements; (4) making malicious statements about 7 SI employees; (5) absence without leave.” Kennedy, Molella, and Withuhn argued that, in a fit of rage, it was Noble who canceled “Automation Madness.” He did so because he vehemently rejected his colleagues’ suggestion to adjust the exhibit’s opening date slightly. As the archive reveals, after the cancellation of “Automation Madness,” the tone between Noble, Kennedy, Morella, and Withuhn steadily deteriorated. Noble began to charge the three with harassment and slander and, in September 1984, felt pressured to resign as curator at the NMAH.
Apart from Noble’s and his antagonists’ version of the events, a third possible answer for why “Automation Madness” was never realized can be gleaned from the archive. In this version, R2-D2 and C-3PO might be the ones who deserve at least some of the blame. At the time when Withuhn was brought in as project manager of “Automation Madness,” the NMAH also had the exhibit’s projected budget reevaluated. It was found that the popularity of R2-D2 and C-3PO made it necessary to hire additional security personnel for crowd control. The droves of daily visitors that flocked to the NMAH around that time to see the museum’s hugely successful exhibit about the TV series M*A*S*H were a constant reminder of the significance of crowd control. The expected need to hire additional personnel to protect R2-D2 and C-3PO from their fans doubled the projected budget of “Automation Madness.” What made matters worse for the NMAH was that Lucasfilm was unwilling to have the museum profit from R2-D2 and C-3PO’s popularity by selling merchandise with their likeness in the museum’s gift shop. Noble suspected that from the onset the NMAH had simply assumed that “Automation Madness” would allow them to cash in on the Star Wars connection and had factored this into their projected budget for the exhibit. When it became clear that a) R2-D2 and C-3PO would not bring in the anticipated revenue for the museum and b) putting “Automation Madness” on might be twice as expensive as expected, NMAH administrators might have considered it to be wise to cancel the exhibit before risking financial troubles.
The archive leaves it up to us to decide which of the three possible explanations for why “Automation Madness” never came to be we chose to believe. No matter where we land in the end, the result sadly is the same. R2-D2 and C-3PO never got the chance to welcome anyone to Noble’s thought-provoking exhibit. When Noble realized that the realization of his exhibit was threatened, he tried to use R2-D2 and C-3PO to organize the NMHA staff working on “Automation Madness” into urging Kennedy, Molella, and Withuhn to reschedule the exhibit. But the force was not with them this time. R2-D2 and C3PO disappeared into NMAH’s archives around the time when Noble left the NMAH in anger. What a loss!
Handwritten flier by Noble, “Free R2D2,” signed “The R2D2 Defense Committee.” From: MS 870, box 5, folder 50. David F. Noble Papers. Robert S. Cox Special Collections and University Archives Research Center, University Libraries, UMass Amherst.
Apart from the reasons I have already outlined, R2-D2 and C-3PO would have been fantastic artifacts for as pathbreaking an exhibit on the history of automation and robotics in the workplace as “Automation Madness” promised to become. Both characters are great examples for what automation critics have deemed “fauxomation” or fake automation. No matter how sophisticated automated technologies have become, they continue to rely on various kinds of human labor to function. These technologies create the effect of autonomy and in so doing masking the necessary contributions of those who make them appear to move autonomously. Human labor remains central, though. R2-D2 and C-3PO embody this reality, too. The two artifacts that were acquired by the NMHA in 1983 for “Automation Madness” are not self-moving, autonomous robots but costumes. In the first Star Wars movies actor Kenny Baker actually sat in the R2-D2 droid and actor Anthony Daniels wore the C-3PO costume. Automation is a very human endeavor. It is shaped by humans making choices, political choices. But since choices drive the design of machines, there are also alternatives. This is what Noble wanted to highlight in his aborted 1984 exhibit at the NMHA. For the leaders of the museum, this message might have been too radical. Their decision to cancel “Automation Madness” reminds us that museum exhibits are very human creations, too. Sometimes they do not come to be because of choices made by people other than their curators.
Coda: I would like to thank Deidre Hennebury, Ricky Punzalan, and Amy Smola from the Museum Studies Program for their continued support of this project and my growth as a Museum Studies scholar at Michigan. My friend Salem Elzway deserves all the credit for having introduced me to the scholarship of David Noble and the “Automation Madness” story. Lastly, Museum Matters@Michigan editor Leila Braun has done a tremendous job of helping me clarify my ideas for this post. Thank you!
Richard A. Bachmann
Richard A. Bachmann is a PhD candidate in the History Department at the University of Michigan. His research focuses on the labor history of automation and the science of work in the US after World War II. Richard is a proud member of MSP cohort 2020 and completed the Museum Studies Graduate Certificate in 2023. He has used his training in museum studies at Michigan to contribute to various public facing history projects, for instance, for the University of Michigan’s Inclusive History Project or the Woodbridge Neighborhood Development Corporation.
