Some of the United States’ most important historical documents, including the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, the Bill of Rights and the Emancipation Proclamation, are housed in the U.S. National Archives. Beyond these high-profile items, it also preserves lesser-known but no less vital records, such as national park master plans, polar exploration documents and the records of all U.S. veterans. Together, these materials stand as a testament to the country’s commitment to preserving its history.

While these crucial documents in U.S. history now have a home in the National Archives, the road to establishing this institution was paved with catastrophic losses and bureaucratic inertia.

Creating the National Archives required decades of advocacy by historians, politicians and government officials. The National Archives was not simply an administrative convenience – it was a necessity born from repeated disasters that underscored the fragility of government records. And with President Donald Trump’s firing of the head archivist in February 2025, as well as the loss of several high-level archives staff members, the organization faces a new era of uncertainty.

Documentary heritage – the recorded memory of a nation that preserves its cultural, historical and legal legacy – is essential for a country as it safeguards its identity, informs its governance and ensures that future generations can understand and learn from the past.

I am a university archivist with two decades of experience in the library and archives field. I oversee the preservation and accessibility of historical records at Rochester Institute of Technology, advocate for inclusivity, and engage in national conversations on the evolving role of archives in the digital age.

Understanding the precarious nature of historical records, it’s clear to me that maintaining, staffing and funding the National Archives is a necessary safeguard against the destruction of the nation’s documentary heritage.

Destroyed by fire

The idea of preserving the government’s records dates back to the country’s founding. Charles Thomson, secretary of the Continental Congress during the American Revolution and then secretary of Congress under the Articles of Confederation, recognized the need for proper storage of the Congress’ records.

But the young nation lacked the money and infrastructure to act. Many of the Continental Congress’ records were kept by Thomson himself for years, and while some were later transferred to the Department of State, others were lost.

Throughout the 19th and early 20th centuries, fires repeatedly ravaged federal records. Fires were very common in the 19th century due to a combination of highly flammable building materials, open frames used for lighting and heating, and the lack of modern fire safety measures such as sprinklers and fire-resistant construction.

In 1800, a blaze destroyed the War Department’s archives, a loss that severely hampered government operations. In 1810, Congress authorized better housing for government records, but the law was never fully executed. Instead, different parts of the government, from the Department of State to the Department of Treasury, continued maintaining their own records.

The Treasury Department suffered fires in 1801 and again in 1833, further erasing crucial financial records. The Patent Office, home to invaluable documentation of American innovation, burned in 1877, having already been damaged by an 1836 fire.

One of the most devastating losses occurred in 1921 when a fire at the Department of Commerce destroyed nearly all records from the 1890 federal census. This loss had far-reaching consequences, particularly for genealogical and demographic research.

Fires weren’t the only threat to the government’s records.

“It is a matter of common report that during the civil war, great quantities of documents stored in the Capitol were thrown away to make quarters for soldiers,” Historian and founding member of the American Historical Association J. Franklin Jameson noted in a 1911 Washington Post article.

“At a later date,” he added, “the archives of the House of Representatives were systematically looted for papers having a market value because of their autographs.”

Jameson spent decades lobbying Congress for a centralized repository. His persistence, coupled with the advocacy of key officials, laid the groundwork for future action.

These repeated disasters illuminated a glaring issue: The federal government lacked a centralized, protected repository to safeguard its records.

Finding a home

Momentum for a dedicated archives building gained traction in the late 19th century. In 1903, a bipartisan bill passed Congress giving the OK to purchase land in Washington, D.C., for a Hall of Records.

But the legislation didn’t lead to any action. Government records remained scattered, vulnerable and neglected. That same year, Congress authorized that any records not needed for daily business be transferred to the Library of Congress.

In 1912, President William H. Taft issued executive order 1499, aptly named Disposal of Useless Papers, requiring agencies to consult the librarian of Congress before disposing of documents.

This established a formal review process for government document disposal, but agencies still discarded records, often haphazardly, until stricter records management laws were enacted.

In 1926, Congress passed the Public Buildings Act, authorizing construction of an archives facility in Washington, D.C. Departing president Herbert Hoover laid the cornerstone of the new building on Feb. 20, 1933. He then deposited facsimiles of the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution, an American flag and daily newspapers from that day underneath the cornerstone.

Growth and standardization

President Franklin D. Roosevelt, who took office two weeks later, was himself a meticulous record-keeper. He understood the importance of historical preservation. Roosevelt kept all of his personal and presidential records and books in a fire-safe space he built on his Hyde Park, New York, property, which he donated to the government after he died. This building and the materials inside became part of the National Archives as the first U.S. presidential library.

The National Archives, an independent agency, was officially established under Roosevelt in the 1934 National Archives Act. The head archivist was to be appointed by the president. The first archivist, Robert D.W. Connor, took office that year with a mandate to organize, preserve and make accessible the nation’s records.

Initially, the National Archives was simply a building – an impressive neoclassical structure in Washington, D.C., that opened in 1935. The very first records deposited there came from three World War I-era regulatory agencies – the U.S. Food Administration, the Sugar Equalization Board and the U.S. Grain Corporation.

Initially, the Archives lacked a formalized records management program. There were no clear guidelines on what to keep and what to discard, so agencies made their own decisions. This led to inconsistent preservation.

The creation of the first federal records administration program in 1941, together with the 1943 Records Disposal Act, codified things. These policies granted the National Archives authority to establish a structured approach to determining which records held historical value and should be preserved, while allowing for the responsible disposal of other documents.

A 1950 law gave the National Archives more power to decide what should be kept and what could be discarded, creating a more organized and accountable system for preserving the nation’s history.

As the volume of records increased and their formats changed, the archives adapted. By 2014, amendments to the Federal Records Act explicitly included electronic records, recognizing the shift toward digital documentation.

Ensuring accountability

Beyond mere storage, the National Archives plays a vital role in upholding democracy.

It ensures transparency by preserving government accountability, preventing manipulation or loss of records that could distort historical truth. The National Archives also provides public access to documents that shape civic awareness and historical knowledge, from the Declaration of Independence to declassified government files.

In an era of digital misinformation and contested narratives, the National Archives stands as a guardian of primary sources. Its existence reminds the nation that history is not a matter of convenience, but a cornerstone of informed governance.

Elizabeth Call, University Archivist, RIT Libraries and Archives, Rochester Institute of Technology

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Throughout history, when pioneers set out across uncharted territory to settle in distant lands, they carried with them only the essentials: tools, seeds and clothing. Anything else would have to come from their new environment.

So they built shelter from local timber, rocks and sod; foraged for food and cultivated the soil beneath their feet; and fabricated tools from whatever they could scrounge up. It was difficult, but ultimately the successful ones made everything they needed to survive.

Something similar will take place when humanity leaves Earth for destinations such as the Moon and Mars – although astronauts will face even greater challenges than, for example, the Vikings did when they reached Greenland and Newfoundland. Not only will the astronauts have limited supplies and the need to live off the land; they won’t even be able to breathe the air.

Instead of axes and plows, however, today’s space pioneers will bring 3D printers. As an engineer and professor who is developing technologies to extend the human presence beyond Earth, I focus my work and research on these remarkable machines.

3D printers will make the tools, structures and habitats space pioneers need to survive in a hostile alien environment. They will enable long-term human presence on the Moon and Mars.

From hammers to habitats

On Earth, 3D printing can fabricate, layer by layer, thousands of things, from replacement hips to hammers to homes. These devices take raw materials, such as plastic, concrete or metal, and deposit it on a computerized programmed path to build a part. It’s often called “additive manufacturing,” because you keep adding material to make the part, rather than removing material, as is done in conventional machining.

Already, 3D printing in space is underway. On the International Space Station, astronauts use 3D printers to make tools and spare parts, such as ratchet wrenches, clamps and brackets. Depending on the part, printing time can take from around 30 minutes to several hours.

For now, the print materials are mostly hauled up from Earth. But NASA has also begun recycling some of those materials, such as waste plastic, to make new parts with the Refabricator, an advanced 3D printer installed in 2019.

Manufacturing in space

You may be wondering why space explorers can’t simply bring everything they need with them. After all, that’s how the International Space Station was built decades ago – by hauling tons of prefabricated components from Earth.

But that’s impractical for building habitats on other worlds. Launching materials into space is incredibly expensive. Right now, every pound launched aboard a rocket just to get to low Earth orbit costs thousands of dollars. To get materials to the Moon, NASA estimates the initial cost at around US$500,000 per pound.

Still, manufacturing things in space is a challenge. In the microgravity of space, or the reduced gravity of the Moon or Mars, materials behave differently than they do on Earth. Decrease or remove gravity, and materials cool and recrystallize differently. The Moon has one-sixth the gravity of Earth; Mars, about two-fifths. Engineers and scientists are working now to adapt 3D printers to function in these conditions.

Using otherworldly soil

On alien worlds, rather than plastic or metal, 3D printers will use the natural resources found in these environments. But finding the right raw materials is not easy. Habitats on the Moon and Mars must protect astronauts from the lack of air, extreme temperatures, micrometeorite impacts and radiation.

Regolith, the fine, dusty, sandlike particles that cover both the lunar and Martian surfaces, could be a primary ingredient to make these dwellings. Think of the regolith on both worlds as alien dirt – unlike Earth soil, it contains few nutrients, and as far as we know, no living organisms. But it might be a good raw material for 3D printing.

My colleagues began researching this possibility by first examining how regular cement behaves in space. I am now joining them to develop techniques for turning regolith into a printable material and to eventually test these on the Moon.

But obtaining otherworldly regolith is a problem. The regolith samples returned from the Moon during the Apollo missions in the 1960s and 70s are precious, difficult if not impossible to access for research purposes. So scientists are using regolith simulants to test ideas. Actual regolith may react quite differently than our simulants. We just don’t know.

What’s more, the regolith on the Moon is very different from what’s found on Mars. Martian regolith contains iron oxide –that’s what gives it a reddish color – but Moon regolith is mostly silicates; it’s much finer and more angular. Researchers will need to learn how to use both types in a 3D printer.

Applications on Earth

NASA’s Moon-to-Mars Planetary Autonomous Construction Technology program, also known as MMPACT, is advancing the technology needed to print these habitats on alien worlds.

Among the approaches scientists are now exploring: a regolith-based concrete made in part from surface ice; melting the regolith at high temperatures, and then using molds to form it while it’s a liquid; and sintering, which means heating the regolith with concentrated sunlight, lasers or microwaves to fuse particles together without the need for binders.

Along those lines, my colleagues and I developed a Martian concrete we call MarsCrete, a material we used to 3D-print a small test structure for NASA in 2017.

Then, in May 2019, using another type of special concrete, we 3D-printed a one-third scale prototype Mars habitat that could support everything astronauts would need for long-term survival, including living, sleeping, research and food-production modules.

That prototype showcased the potential, and the challenges, of building housing on the red planet. But many of these technologies will benefit people on Earth too.

In the same way astronauts will make sustainable products from natural resources, homebuilders could make concretes from binders and aggregates found locally, and maybe even from recycled construction debris. Engineers are already adapting the techniques that could print Martian habitats to address housing shortages here at home. Indeed, 3D-printed homes are already on the market.

Meanwhile, the move continues toward establishing a human presence outside the Earth. Artemis III, now scheduled for liftoff in 2027, will be the first human Moon landing since 1972. A NASA trip to Mars could happen as early as 2035.

But wherever people go, and whenever they get there, I’m certain that 3D printers will be one of the primary tools to let human beings live off alien land.

Sven Bilén, Professor of Engineering Design, Electrical Engineering and Aerospace Engineering, Penn State

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.