Do Not Touch, Reconsidered

There's an old joke among museum staff that the most important object in any gallery is the sign that says do not touch. It's a joke with a grain of truth, because for most of the last century we've treated objects as though they were so fragile that human curiosity was the greatest threat to them. And in many cases that caution has been entirely justified. A medieval manuscript simply doesn't need your fingerprints. But I'd argue that the habit has hardened into a reflex, and we've stopped asking whether the restriction serves anyone. Consider what happened at a small museum I worked with last year. They put a handling table in the entrance, with replicas of tools, coins and pottery, and the visitors who used it spent, on average, twice as long in the galleries afterwards. Not, I suspect, because the replicas were thrilling in themselves, but because the experience had given them a way in. Now, I'm not suggesting we hand out the originals. That would be foolish, and no conservator would ever forgive me. What I am suggesting is that we regard touch as a form of understanding rather than a form of damage. The rule shouldn't be never. It should be only when we've thought carefully about why.