The University Library: Closing the Book

At the memorial service, the eulogies expressed deep sadness at the loss of a great institution, once a cornerstone of academia. Everyone blamed The Shelfless Revolution for this sad death. In fact, The University Library had been weak for a long time, and it could not survive any shock.

The Transition from Print to Digital

The transition from print to digital was swift, particularly for scholarly journals. In the 1990s, The University Library, publishers, and the middlemen of the supply chain ramped up their IT infrastructure and adapted their business relationships. The switch to digital was achieved quickly and with little interruption.

Print vs. Digital Lending

Lending books and journals, whether print or digital, is a high overhead enterprise. Since print and digital lending involve different kinds of work, it is obvious that their overheads are quantitatively different. It is less obvious and easily ignored that they are qualitatively different: Print overhead is an investment. Digital overhead is waste.

Consider print lending. The overhead builds a valuable collection housed in community-owned real estate. Barring disasters, the value of the collection and the infrastructure increases over time. The cumulative effect is most obvious in old libraries, which are showcases of accumulated treasure.

Contrast this with digital lending. Digital overhead pays for short-term operational expenses to acquire site licenses whose value is zero when they expire. Even infrastructure spending has only short-term benefits. Computing and networking hardware must be replaced every few years. Site-licensed software to manage the digital lending library, like site licenses for content, have zero value upon expiration.

The digital lending library never accumulates value. It does not contribute anything to future generations. It only provides services here and now. It just needs to perform current responsibilities in a cost effective manner. Evaluating The University Library as a digital lender boiled down to a few simple questions: Was The University Library a cost-effective negotiator and content provider? Did it provide a user friendly service? Could others do better?

The Ineffective Negotiator

While other publishers suffered years of disruption and catastrophic downsizing, scholarly publishers thrived throughout the digital revolution and afterwards. Their profit margins remained sky high. Their new business model was even better than the old. By selling site licenses, they retained control of the content forever. New content provided an immediate revenue stream, and accumulated old content ensured an ever increasing future revenue stream.

The University Library was a predictable customer with a budget that kept pace with inflation. Not satisfied with this, publishers increased their prices at a rate well above inflation. Every so often, The University Library and its funders pressed the panic button. This would start a round of negotiations. Librarians were caught between scholars who wanted to maximize content and administrators who wanted to reduce costs. They negotiated with publishers, each of whom had a monopoly over their island of the literature. Predictably, most negotiations ended with some performative cutbacks by The University Library and a few temporary price concessions by the publishers. Then, the cycle started all over again.

The Market Distorter

The University Library distorted the scholarly communication market, merely by being present in it. Normal economic forces did not apply.

To maintain quality, The University Library acquired content from publishers with a track record. The barriers against new unproven publishers created an oligarchy of publishers that kept prices artificially high.

The University Library also eliminated competition between established publishers. Imagine two competing journals, A and B. A survey among the relevant scholars reveals that 60% prefer A, 40% prefer B, and 20% adamantly insist that they need both A and B. The University Library had no choice but to license both journals for all scholars. By erasing individual preferences, it eliminated competition.

For most textbooks, publishers knew well in advance how many copies The University Library would buy. Given this information, publishers inflated their textbook prices to a level where library sales covered their production costs. All other sales were pure profit from a riskless enterprise.

Providing Access

Under the terms of the site licenses, only authorized users were allowed access, and systematic downloading was prohibited. It was the responsibility of The University Library to protect the content against inappropriate users and use. This work on behalf of publishers was a significant part of digital overhead paid for by The University Library.

Aside from being costly, access controls inconvenienced users. Links to content might stop working without notice because of miscommunication between publishers and library systems. When visiting another campus or when changing jobs, scholars had to adapt to new user interfaces. What had been an asset in the print era, a library built for a local community, had become a liability in the digital era.

Personal Digital Libraries

In their personal lives, scholars subscribed to online newspapers and magazines, to movie and music streaming services, and to various social networks where they posted and consumed content. They easily managed these personal subscriptions. What was so different about scholarly subscriptions? What exactly did The University Library do that they could not do themselves faster and more efficiently?

The University Library no longer accumulated long-term value. It was an ineffective negotiator unable to control costs. It blocked competition from new publishers. It eliminated competition between established publishers. It spent considerable overhead to control access on behalf of publishers while inconveniencing users.

The Shelfless Revolution changed all that. Overnight, scholars were in charge of acquiring their own information needs. During the initial period of chaos, scholars were forced to subscribe to each journal individually. Publishers quickly adapted by bundling books and journals into various packages. Third-party service providers, working with all publishers, offered custom personal libraries. The undergraduate pre-med student who loved mystery novels and the assistant professor in chemistry who hiked wilderness trails no longer shared the same library. Their competing interests no longer needed to be balanced.

Many journals did not survive the suddenly competitive market. With fewer journals, publishing a paper became more competitive. Over time, the typical scholar published fewer papers of higher quality. With fewer opportunities to publish in classical peer-reviewed journals, scholars had an incentive to create and/or try out new forms of scholarly communication.

Sticky Digital Lending

Looking back, it is difficult to grasp how controversial a step it was to switch to personal libraries.

Before The Shelfless Revolution, academic administrators would have committed career suicide if they proposed such an outrageous idea. The backlash would have been harsh and immediate. The opposition message would have written itself: They are outsourcing The University Library to the publishers who have been extorting the scholarly community for years. This slogan would have had the benefit of being true. The counterargument would have been the idea that publishers lose their price-setting power when scholars make their own individual purchasing decisions. While standard capitalist theory, the idea was untested in scholarly communication.

The unlikely university where the faculty approved the outrageous proposal would be mired in endless debate. How should the library subscription budget be divided? How much should go to undergraduate students? to graduate students? to postdocs? to faculty? Should they receive these funds in the form of tuition rebates and salary increases or in the form of university accounts? What would be allowable purchases on such accounts?

No single university could have implemented such a change on its own. Accreditation authorities would have expressed doubts or outright opposition. Publishers would not have changed their business models to accommodate one university. It would have required a large coalition of universities.

It took a catastrophic shock to the system, The Shelfless Revolution, to cut this Gordian knot.

Open Access

Many years before The Shelfless Revolution, a few academics started a project to kickstart a revolution in scholarly communication. As this grew into The Open Access Movement, The University Library was called upon to support some of the infrastructure. Many librarians considered this a promising opportunity for a digital future.

The Open Access Movement coalesced around three goals: Provide free access to scholarly works, Reduce the cost of scholarly communication, and Create innovative forms of scholarly communication.

The first goal was quite successful. Three mechanisms were developed to provide free access to scholarly works: institutional repositories, disciplinary repositories, and open access journals. The University Library was primarily responsible for institutional repositories, which contained author-formatted versions of conventionally published papers, unpublished technical reports, theses and dissertations, data sets, and other scholarly material. Several groups of scholars developed disciplinary repositories to collect works in specific areas of research and make them freely available. Finally, various entities created open access journals, which relied on alternative funding mechanisms and did not charge subscription fees.

The second goal, reducing the cost of scholarly communication, was an utter failure. The Open Access Movement had assumed that making a large part of the scholarly literature available for free would put downward pressure on the price of subscription journals. This assumption was proved wrong. Scholars continued to publish in the same journals. The familiar cycle of site license price increases and performative negotiations continued. Repositories were never a threat. Open-access journals were never competition.

Institutional repositories were particularly valuable for scholarly works that were previously hard to find, such as theses, technical reports, data, etc. For author-formatted papers, they evolved into a costly backup for conventional scholarly publishing. They provided a valuable service for those without access to journals. Most scholars would not risk their research by relying on pre-published unofficial versions, and they required the version of record. Besides, repositories were too cumbersome to use.

Disciplinary repositories were more user friendly, but they needed outside funding. Occasionally, the priorities of the funders would change, and the repository would have to find a new source for funding. Each funding crisis was an opportunity for publishers to buy the repository. To keep the repository under scholars’ control, an interested government agency or philanthropic organization had to step forward every time. To control the repository, publishers had to be lucky just once.

Open access journals just increased the number of scholarly journals. Subscription journals did not suddenly fail because of competing open access journals. At most, subscription journals responded by introducing an open access option. Authors could choose to pay a fee to put their papers outside of the paywall. These authors just trusted publishers not to include these open access papers in the calculation of subscription prices. The publisher’s promise was impossible to verify. This was the level of dysfunction of the scholarly communication market at that time.

The University Library paid ever increasing prices for site licenses and their maintenance. It also paid for the maintenance of institutional repositories. Government and philanthropic funding agencies paid for disciplinary repositories. Scholars used a combination of library funding, research accounts, departmental accounts, and personal resources to pay for open access charges. The scholarly community was spending more than ever on scholarly communication, and no one knew how much.

The Open Access Movement also failed to deliver on its third goal, innovations in scholarly communication. Early stage ventures were too risky for responsible organizations like The University Library. Most ideas failed or remained unexecuted. The Shelfless Revolution changed the environment. Individual scholars in charge of their own budget and confronted with the actual costs of scholarly communication were willing to fund risky but promising experiments.

The Fallout

The Shelfless Revolution killed the digital lending library. This started a chain reaction that affected every service offered by The University Library.

It was immediately obvious that archives had to survive. The print archive was scanned and stored in repositories. In spite of their limitations, repositories became the primary portal into the print archive. Print volumes became museum artifacts virtually untouched by humans. The digital archive mostly contains university-owned scholarly material. Copyright issues created too many obstacles to archive publisher-owned content. New legislative proposals would put the burden on publishers to preserve digital collections of significant cultural, scientific, and/or historical value. This is similar to how we treat protected historical buildings. Publishers will have to store such digital collections in audited standardized archives with government-backed protections against all kinds of calamity.

Print lending died out when most books contained multimedia illustrations and interactive components. Print material of historical importance was moved from the lending library to the nonlending print archive. This killed interlibrary loan services of printed material. Digital interlibrary loans all but disappeared with custom personal libraries.

After losing collection development staff, the reference desk could no longer cover a broad cross-section of scholarly disciplines. It got caught in a downward spiral of decreasing usefulness and declining use.

Long ago, librarians controlled what information was readily available. As technology advanced, their gatekeeping power evaporated. They still nudged publishers towards quality using the power of the purse. This too is now gone. The battle against disinformation seems lost. The profound political differences on where fighting disinformation ends and censorship begins are nowhere near being resolved.

After wreaking havoc on public school libraries, The University Library was braced against attempts at censorship. Before it could engage in that fight, The Shelfless Revolution happened. The switch to personal digital libraries reduced the political heat as universities no longer directly paid for controversial content. Censorship lost the battle, but The University Library lost the war.

Thousands of library projects got caught in the turmoil. Some survived by being moved to other organizations. Most did not. We will never know how much destruction was caused by The Shelfless Revolution.

Conclusion

The University Library made all the right moves. It embraced new technology. It executed the transition from print to digital without major disruption. It was open to new opportunities.

Yet, things went wrong. Open access repositories were supposed to be subversive weapons. Open access journals were supposed to be deadly competitors. Instead, they turned out to be paper tigers, powerless against the oligarchy of the scholarly communication market.

Publishers of newspapers, magazines, music, and video barely survived the disruptive transition to digital. As they rebuilt their businesses from the ruins, they developed business models for the new reality. In contrast, the smooth transition of the scholarly communication market protected existing organizations. It also perpetuated the flaws of old business models, and it let the distorted market grow more dysfunctional every day.

With the benefit of hindsight, the necessary changes could have been implemented more humanely. This was never a realistic option, however. The chaotic and disruptive change of The Shelfless Revolution was inevitable.





#scholcomm #AcademicTwitter #ScienceTwitter #scicomm

Forward to the Past

What will academic libraries look like in 2050?

In the early days of the web, librarians had to fight back against the notion that libraries would soon be obsolete. They had solid arguments. Information literacy would become more important. Archiving and managing information would become more difficult. In fact, academic libraries saw an opportunity to increase their role on campus. This opportunity did not materialize. Libraries remain stuck in a horseless-carriage era. They added an IT department. They made digital copies of existing paper services. They continued their existing business relationships with publishers and various intermediaries. They ignored the lessons of the web-connected knowledge economy. Thriving organizations create virtuous cycles of abundance by solving hard problems: better solutions, more users, more revenue, more content, more expertise, and better solutions.

Academic libraries seem incapable of escaping commodity-service purgatory, even when tackling their most ambitious projects. They are eager to manage data archives, but the paper-archive model produces an undifferentiated commodity preservation service. A more appropriate model would be the US National Virtual Astronomical Observatory, where preservation is a happy side effect of extracting maximum research out of existing data. Data archives should be centers of excellence. They focus on a specific field. They are operated by researchers who keep abreast of the latest developments, who adapt data sets to evolving best practices, who make data sets interoperable, who search for inconsistencies between different studies, who detect, flag, and correct errors, and who develop increasingly sophisticated services.

No university can take a center-of-excellence approach to data archiving for every field in which it is active. No archive serving just one university can grow to a sufficiently large scale for excellence. Each field has different needs. How many centers does the field need? How should centers divide the work? What are their long-term missions? Who should manage them? Where are the sustainable sources for funding? Libraries cannot answer these questions. Only researchers have the required expertise and the appropriate academic, professional, and governmental organizations for the decision-making process.

Looking back over the past twenty years, all development of digital library services has been limited by the institutional nature of academic libraries, which receive limited funding to provide limited information and limited services to a limited community. As a consequence, every major component of the digital library is flawed, and none has the foundation to rise to excellence.

General-purpose institutional repositories did not live up to their promise. [Let IR RIP] The center-of-excellence approach of disciplinary repositories, like ArXiv or PubMed, performed better in spite of less stable funding. Geographical distance between repository managers and scholars did not matter. Disciplinary proximity did.

Once upon a time, the catalog was the search engine. Today, it tells whether a printed item is checked out and/or where it is shelved. It is useless for digital information. It is often not even a good option to find information about print material. The catalog, bloated into an integrated library system, wastes resources that should be redirected towards innovation.

Libraries provide access to their site licenses through journal databases, OpenURL servers, and proxy servers. They pay for this expensive system so publishers can perpetuate a business model that eliminates competition, is rife with conflict of interest, and can impose almost unlimited price increases. Scholars should be able to subscribe to personal libraries as they do for their infotainment. [Hitler, Mother Teresa, and Coke] [Where the Puck won't be] [Annealing the Library] [What if Libraries were the Problem?]

In the paper era, the interlibrary-loan department was the gateway to the world's information. Today, it is mostly a buying agent for costly pay-per-view access to papers not covered by site licenses. Personal libraries would eliminate these requests. Digitization and open access can eliminate requests for out-of-copyright material.

Why is there no scholarly app store, where students and faculty can build their own libraries? By replacing site licenses with app-store subsidies, universities would create a competitive marketplace for subscription journals, open-access journals, experimental publishing platforms, and other scholarly services. A library making an institutional decision must be responsible and safe. One scholar deciding where to publish a paper, whether to cancel a journal, or which citation database to use can take a risk with minimal consequence. This new dynamic would kickstart innovation. [Creative Destruction by Social Network]

Libraries seem safe from disruption for now. There are no senior academics sufficiently masochistic to advocate this kind of change. There are none who are powerful enough to implement it. However, libraries that have become middlemen for outsourced mediocre information services are losing advocates within the upper echelons of academic administrations every day. The cost of site licenses, author page charges, and obsolete services are effectively cutting the innovation budget. Unable to attract or retain innovators, stagnating libraries will just muddle through while digital services bleed out. When some services fall apart, others become collateral damage. The print collection will shrink until it is a paper archive of rare and special items locked in a vault.

Postscript: I intended to write about transforming libraries into centers of excellence. This fell apart in the writing. I hesitated. I rewrote. I reconsidered. I started over again.
If I am right, libraries are on the wrong track, and there is no better track. Libraries cannot possibly remain relevant by replicating the same digital services on every campus. There is a legitimate need for advanced information services supported by centers of excellence. However, it is easier to build new centers from scratch than to transform libraries tied up in institutional straitjackets.
Perhaps, paper-era managers moved too slowly and missed the opportunity that seemed so obvious twenty years ago. Perhaps, that opportunity was just a mirage. Whatever the reason, rank-and-file library staff will be the unwitting victims. 
Perhaps, I am wrong. Perhaps, academic libraries will carve out a meaningful digital future. If they do, it will be by taking big risks. The conventional options have been exhausted.

Creative Destruction by Social Network

Academia.edu bills itself as a platform for scholars to share their research. As a start-up, it still provides mostly free services to attract more users. Last year, it tried to make some money by selling recommendations to scholarly papers, but the backlash from academics was swift and harsh. That plan was shelved immediately. [Scholars Criticize Academia.edu Proposal to Charge Authors for Recommendations]

All scholarly publishers sell recommendations, albeit artfully packaged in prestige and respectability. Academia.edu's direct approach seemed downright vulgar. If they plan a radically innovative replacement for journals, they will need a subtler approach. At least, they chose the perfect target for an attempt at creative destruction: Scholarly communication is the only type of publishing not disrupted by the web, it has sky-high profit margins, it is inefficient, and it is dominated by a relatively few well-connected insiders.

If properly designed (and that is a big if), a scholarly network could reduce the cost of all aspects of scholarly communication, even without radical innovation. It could improve the delivery of services to scholars. It could increase (open) access to research. And it could do all of this while scholars retain control over their own output for as long as feasible and/or appropriate. A scholarly network could also increase the operational efficiency of participating universities, research labs, and funding agencies.

All components of such a system already exist in some form:

Personal archive. Academics are already giving away ownership of their published works to publishers. They should not repeat this historic mistake by giving social networks control over their unpublished writings, data, and scholarly correspondence. They should only participate in social networks that make it easy to pack up and leave. Switching or leaving networks should be as simple as downloading an automatically created personal archive of everything the user shared on the network. Upon death or incapacity, the personal archive and perhaps the account itself should transfer to an archival institution designated by the user.

Marketplace for research tools. Every discipline has its own best practices. Every research group has its preferred tools and information resources. All scholars have their idiosyncrasies. To accomplish this level of customization, a universal platform needs an app store, where scholars could obtain apps that provide reference libraries, digital lab notebooks, data analysis and management, data visualization, collaborative content creation, communication, etc.

Marketplace for professional services. Sometimes, others can do the work better, faster, and/or cheaper. Tasks that come to mind are reference services, editorial and publishing services, graphics, video production, prototyping, etc.

Marketplace for institutional services. All organizations manage some business processes that need to be streamlined. They can do this faster and cheaper by sharing their solutions. For example, universities might be interested to buy and/or exchange applications that track PhD theses as they move through the approval process, that automatically deposit faculty works into their institutional repositories, that manage faculty-research review processes, that assist the preparation of grant applications, and that manage the oversight of awarded research grants. Funding agencies might be interested in services to accept and manage grant applications, to manage peer review, and to track post-award research progress.

Certificates. When a journal accepts a paper, it produces an unalterable version of record. This serves as an implied certificate from the publisher. When a university awards a degree, it certifies that the student has attended the university and has completed all degree requirements. Incidentally, it also certifies the faculty status of exam-committee members. Replacing implicit with explicit certificates would enable new services, such as CVs in which every paper, every academic position, and every degree is certified by the appropriate authority.

A scholarly network like this is a specialized business-application exchange, a concept pioneered by the AppExchange of Salesforce.com. Every day, thousands of organizations replace internal business processes with more efficient applications. Over time, this creates a gradual cumulative effect: Business units shrink to their essential core. They disappear or merge with other units. Corporate structures change. Whether or not we are prepared for the consequences of these profound changes, these technology-enabled efficiencies advance unrelentingly across all industries.

These trends will, eventually, affect everyone. While touting the benefits of creative destruction in their journals, the scholarly-communication system successfully protected itself. Like PDF, the current system is a digitally replication the paper system. It ignores the flexibility of digital information, while it preserves the paper-era business processes and revenue streams of publishers, middlemen, and libraries.

Most scholars manage several personal digital libraries for their infotainment. Yet, they are restricted by the usage terms of institutional site licenses for their professional information resources. [Where the Puck won't be] When they share papers with colleagues and students, they put themselves at legal risk. Scholarly networks will not solve every problem. They will have unintended consequences. But, like various open-access projects, they are another opportunity for scholars to reclaim the initiative.

Recently, ResearchGate obtained serious start-up funding. [ResearchGate raises $52.6M for its social research network for scientists] I hope more competitors will follow. Organizations and projects like ArXiv, Figshare, Mendeley, Web of Knowledge, and Zotero have the technical expertise, user communities, and platforms on which to build. There are thousands of organizations that can contribute to marketplaces for research tools, professional services, and institutional services. There are millions of scholars eager for change.

Build it, and they will come... Or they will just use Sci-Hub anyway.

Simpler Times

“The Library of Congress is worried about the exponential growth of the number of journals. By 2025, their shelves will fill up faster than the speed of light. However, a professor of physics assured them there was no problem: exceeding the speed of light is allowed when no information is transmitted.” 

There are references to variations of this joke as far back as 1971. I first heard it in 1983 or 1984, when I was a graduate student. This is how I learned that some academics were concerned about the state of scholarly communication.

In simpler times, the values of publishing and scholarship were well aligned. The number of slots in respected journals was extremely limited, and fierce competition for those slots raised the quality and substance of papers. As publishers became more efficient and savvy, they created more journals and accepted more papers. Scholars competing in the academic job market were always eager to contribute ever more papers. As scholars published more, hiring committees demanded more. A vicious cycle with no end in sight.

It is doubtful that the typical scholar of 2016 produces more good ideas than the typical scholar of 1956. The former certainly writes a lot more papers than the latter. The publish-or-perish culture reduced the scholarly paper to a least publishable unit. The abundance of brain sneeze is correlated with several other issues. Many reported results cannot be reproduced. [A Joke Syllabus With a Serious Point: Cussing Away the Reproducibility Crisis] A growing number of papers are retracted for fraud and serious errors. [Retraction Watch] Clinical trials are hidden when they do not have the desired results. [AllTrials] Fake journals scam honest-but-naive scholars, embellish the scholarly records of fraudulent scholars, and/or provide the sheen of legitimacy to bad research. [Beall's List]

This race to the bottom was financed by universities through their libraries. Every year, they paid higher subscription prices to more journals. In the 1990s, library budgets spiraled out of control and finally caught the attention of university administrators. This was also when the internet grew exponentially. Scholars who realized the web's potential demanded barrier-free online access to research. The Open Access (OA) movement was born.

Good scholarship is elitist: we expect scholars to gain status and influence for getting it right, particularly when they had to fight against majority opinion. Journals are essential components in the arbitration of this elitism. Yet, even well before the OA movement, it was in the publishers' interest to lower the barriers of publishing: every published paper incentivizes its authors to lobby their institutions in favor of a journal subscription.

Gold OA journals [Directory of Open Access Journals] with business models that do not rely on subscription revenue made the problem worse. They were supposed to kill and replace subscription journals. Instead, subscription journals survived virtually intact. Subscriptions did not disappear. Their impact factors did not fall even after competing Gold OA journals scaled the impact-factor ladder. The net result of Gold OA is more opportunities to publish in high-impact-factor journals.

The Green OA strategy had a plausible path to reverse the growth of journals: libraries might be able to drop some subscriptions if scholars should shift their use to Green OA institutional repositories (IRs). [OAI Registered Data Providers] This outcome now seems unlikely. I previously argued that IRs are obsolete, and that the Green OA strategy needs social networks that create a network effect by serving individual scholars, not their institutions. [Let IR RIP] In an excellent response by Poynder and Lynch [Q&A with CNI’s Clifford Lynch: Time to re-think the institutional repository?], we learned how some academic libraries are contracting with Elsevier to manage their IRs. They seem to have given up on Green OA as a strategy to reclaim ownership of the scholarly literature from publishers. They have pivoted their IRs towards a different and equally important goal: increasing the visibility and accessibility of theses, archives, technical papers, lab notebooks, oral histories, etc.

The OA movement tried to accomplish meaningful change of the scholarly-communication system with incremental steps that preserve continuity. I called it isentropic disruption. [Isentropic Disruption] However, scholarly publishers have proven extra-ordinarily immune to any pressure. Just the transition to digital wiped out every other kind of publisher. Scholarly publishers did not even change their business model. They also brushed off reproducibility and fraud scandals. They survived boycotts and editorial-board resignations. They largely ignored Green and Gold OA. Perhaps, the OA movement just needs more time. Perhaps, the OA movement is falling victim to a sunk-cost fallacy.

The current system is financially not sustainable and, worse, is bad for scholarship. Within the shared-governance structure of universities, it is virtually impossible to take disruptive action in the absence of immediate crisis. Universities tend to postpone such decisions until no alternative remains. Then, they inflict maximum pain by implementing unplanned change overnight.

Yet, there are options available right now. With time to plan a transition, there would be much less collateral damage. For example, I proposed replacing library site licenses with personal subscriptions to iTunes-like services for academics. [Where the Puck won't be] Personal digital libraries would be much easier to use than the current site-licensed monstrosities. With scholars as direct customers, the market for these services would be extremely competitive. By configuring and using their personal library, scholars would create market-driven limits on the number of available publication slots. Those willing to consider out-of-the-box crazy approaches can even achieve such limits within an OA context. [Market Capitalism and Open Access]

Academics created the problem. Only academics can solve it. Not libraries. Not publishers. Digital journals are already filling the virtual shelves at the speed of light... The punch line of the joke is in sight.

Let IR RIP

The Institutional Repository (IR) is obsolete. Its flawed foundation cannot be repaired. The IR must be phased out and replaced with viable alternatives.

Lack of enthusiasm. The number of IRs has grown because of a few motivated faculty and administrators. After twenty years of promoting IRs, there is no grassroots support. Scholars submit papers to an IR because they have to, not because they want to. Too few IR users become recruiters. There is no network effect.

Local management. At most institutions, the IR is created to support an Open Access (OA) mandate. As part of the necessary approval and consensus-building processes, various administrative and faculty committees impose local rules and exemptions. After launch, the IR is managed by an academic library accountable only to current faculty. Local concerns dominate those of the worldwide community of potential users.

Poor usability. Access-, copy-, reuse, and data-mining rights are overly restrictive or left unstated. Content consists of a mishmash of formats. The resulting federation of IRs is useless for serious research. Even the most basic queries cannot be implemented reliably. National IRs (like PubMed) and disciplinary repositories (like ArXiv) eliminate local idiosyncrasies and are far more useful. IRs were supposed to duplicate their success, while spreading the financial burden and immunizing the system against adverse political decisions. The sacrifice in usability is too high a price to pay.

Low use. Digital information improves with use. Unused, it remains stuck in obsolete formats. After extended non-use, recovering information requires a digital version of archaeology. Every user of a digital archive participates in its crowd-sourced quality control. Every access is an opportunity to discover, report, and repair problems. To succeed at its archival mission, a digital archive must be an essential research tool that all scholars need every day.

High cost. Once upon a time, the IR was a cheap experiment. Today's professionally managed IR costs far too much for its limited functionality.

Fragmented control. Over the course of their careers, most scholars are affiliated with several institutions. It is unreasonable to distribute a scholar's work according to where it was produced. At best, it is inconvenient to maintain multiple accounts. At worst, it creates long-term chaos to comply with different and conflicting policies of institutions with which one is no longer affiliated. In a cloud-computing world, scholars should manage their own personal repositories, and archives should manage the repositories of scholars no longer willing or able.

Social interaction. Research is a social endeavor. [Creating Knowledge] Let us be inspired by the titans of the network effect: Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat, etc. Encourage scholars to build their personal repository in a social-network context. Disciplinary repositories like ArXiv and SSRN can expand their social-network services. Social networks like Academia.edu, Mendeley, Zotero, and Figshare have the capability to implement and/or expand IR-like services.

Distorted market. Academic libraries are unlikely to spend money on services that compete with IRs. Ventures that bypass libraries must offer their services for free. In desperation, some have pursued (and dropped) controversial alternative methods of monetizing their services. [Scholars Criticize Academia.edu Proposal to Charge Authors for Recommendations]

Many academics are suspicious of any commercial interests in scholarly communication. Blaming publishers for the scholarly-journal crisis, they conveniently forget their own contribution to the dysfunction. Willing academics, with enthusiastic help from publishers, launch ever more journals.[Hitler, Mother Teresa, and Coke] They also pressure libraries to site license "their" journals, giving publishers a strong negotiation position. Without library-paid site licenses, academics would have flocked to alternative publishing models, and publishers would have embraced alternative subscription plans like an iTunes for scholarly papers. [Where the Puck won't be] [What if Libraries were the Problem?] Universities and/or governments must change how they fund scholarly communication to eliminate the marketplace distortions that preserve the status quo, protect publishers, and stifle innovation. In a truly open market of individual subscriptions, start-up ventures would thrive.

I believed in IRs. I advocated for IRs. After participating in the First Meeting of the Open Archives Initiative (1999, Santa Fe, New Mexico), I started a project that would evolve into Caltech CODA. [The Birth of the Open Access Movement] We encouraged, then required, electronic theses. We captured preprints and historical documents. [E-Journals: Do-It-Yourself Publishing]

I was convinced IRs would disrupt scholarly communication. I was wrong. All High Energy Physics (HEP) papers are available in ArXiv. Being a disciplinary repository, ArXiv functions like an idealized version of a federation of IRs. It changed scholarly communication for the better by speeding up dissemination and improving social interaction, but it did not disrupt. On the contrary, HEP scholars organized what amounted to an an authoritarian take-over of the HEP scholarly-journal marketplace. While ensuring open access of all HEP research, this take-over also cemented the status quo for the foreseeable future. [A Physics Experiment] 

The IR is not equivalent with Green Open Access. The IR is only one possible implementation of Green OA. With the IR at a dead end, Green OA must pivot towards alternatives that have viable paths forward: personal repositories, disciplinary repositories, social networks, and innovative combinations of all three.

*Edited 7/26/2016 to correct formatting errors.

The Metadata Bubble

In an ideal world, scholars deposit their papers in an Open Access repository, because they know it will advance their research, support their students, and promote a knowledge-based society. A few disciplinary repositories, like ArXiv, have shown that it is possible to close the virtuous cycle where scholars reinforce each other's Open Access habits. In these communities, no authority is needed to compel participation.

Institutional repositories have yet to build similar broad-based enthusiastic constituencies. Yet, many Open Access advocates believe that the decentralized approach of institutional repositories creates a more scalable system with a higher probability for long-term survival. The campaign to enact institutional deposit mandates hopes to jump start an Open Access virtuous cycle for all scholarly disciplines and all institutions. The risk of such a campaign is that it may backfire if scholars should experience Open Access as an obligation with few benefits. For long-term success, most scholars must perceive their compelled participation in Open Access as a positive experience.

It is, therefore, crucial that repositories become essential scholarly resources, not dark archives to be opened only in case of emergency. The Open Archives Initiative (OAI) repository design provided what was thought to be the necessary architecture. Unfortunately, we are far from realizing its anticipated potential. The Protocol for Metadata Harvesting (OAI-PMH) allows service providers to harvest any metadata in any format, but most repositories provide only minimal Dublin Core metadata, a format in which most fields are optional and several are ambiguous. Extremely few repositories enable Object Reuse and Exchange (OAI-ORE), which allows for complex inter-repository services through the exchange of multimedia objects, not just metadata about them. As a result, OAI-enabled services are largely limited to the most elementary kind of searches, and even these often deliver unsatisfactory results, like metadata-only placeholder records for works restricted by copyright or other considerations.

In a few years, we will entrust our life and limb to self-driving cars. Their programs have just milliseconds to compute critical decisions based on information that is imprecise, approximate, incomplete, and inconsistent: all maps are outdated by the time they are produced, GPS signals may disappear, radar and/or lidar signatures are ambiguous, and video or images provide obstructed views in constantly changing environments. When we can extract so much actionable information from such "dirty" information, it seems quaint to obsess about metadata.

Databases automatically record user interactions. Users fill out forms and effectively crowdsource metadata. Expert systems can extract, from any document in any format and in any language, author information, citations, keywords, DNA sequences, chemical formulas, mathematical equations, etc. Other expert systems have growing capabilities to analyze sound, image, and video. Technology is evaporating the pool of problems that require human intervention at the transaction level. The opportunities for human metadata experts to add value are disappearing fast.

The metadata approach is obsolete for an even more fundamental reason. Metadata are the digital extension of a catalog-centered paper-based information system. In this kind of system, today's experts organize today's information so tomorrow's users may solve tomorrow's problems efficiently. This worked well when technology changed slowly, when experts could predict who the future users would be, what kind of problems they would like to solve, and what kind of tools they would have at their disposal. These conditions no longer apply.

When digital storage is cheap, why implement expensive selection processes for an archive? When search technology does not care whether information is excruciatingly organized or piled in a heap, why spend countless hours organizing and curating content? Why agonize over potential future problems with unreadable file formats? Preserve all the information about current software and standards, and start developing the expert systems to unscramble any historical format. Think of any information-management task. How reasonable is the proposition that this task will require direct human intervention in two years? In five years? In ten years?

For content, more is more. We must acquire as much content as possible, and store it safely.

For content administration, less is more. Expert systems give us the freedom to do the bare minimum and to make a mess of it. While we must make content useful and enable as many services as possible, it is no longer feasible to accomplish that by designing systems for an anticipated future. Instead, we must create the conditions that attract developers of expert systems. This is remarkably simple: Make the full text and all data available with no strings attached.

Real Open Access.

Sustainable Long-Term Digital Archives

How do we build long-term digital archives that are economically sustainable and technologically scalable? We could start by building five essential components: selection, submission, preservation, retrieval, and decoding.

Selection may be the least amenable to automation and the least scalable, because the decision whether or not to archive something is a tentative judgment call. Yet, it is a judgment driven by economic factors. When archiving is expensive, content must be carefully vetted. When archiving is cheap, the time and effort spent on selection may cost more than archiving rejected content. The falling price of digital storage creates an expectation of cheap archives, but storage is just one component of preservation, which itself is only one component of archiving. To increase the scalability of selection, we must drive down the cost of all other archive services.

Digital preservation is the best understood service. Archive content must be transferred periodically from old to new storage media. It must be mirrored at other locations around world to safeguard against natural and man-made disasters. Any data center performs processes like these every day.

The submission service enters bitstreams into the archive and enables future retrieval of identical copies. The decoding service extracts information from retrieved bitstreams, which may have been produced by lost or forgotten software.

We could try to eliminate the decoding service by regularly re-encoding bitstreams for current technology. While convenient for users, this approach has a weakness. If a refresh cycle should introduce an error, subsequent cycles may propagate and amplify the error, making recovery difficult. Fortunately, it is now feasible to preserve old technology using virtualization, which lets us emulate almost any system on almost any hardware. Anyone worried about the long term should consider the Chrome emulator of Amiga 500 (1987) or the Android emulator of the HP 45 calculator (1973). The hobbyists who developed these emulators are forerunners of a potential new profession. A comprehensive archive of virtual old systems is an essential enabling technology for all other digital archives.

The submission and retrieval services are interdependent. To enable retrieval, the submission service analyzes bitstreams and builds an index for the archive. When bitstreams contain descriptive metadata constructed specifically for this purpose, the process of submission is straightforward. However, archives must be able to accept any bitstream, regardless of the presence of such metadata. For bitstreams that contain a substantial amount of text, full-text indexing is appropriate. Current technology still struggles with non-text bitstreams, like images, graphics, video, or pure data.

To simplify and automate the submission service, we need the participation of software developers. Most bitstreams are produced by mass-market software such as word processors, database or spreadsheet software, video editors, or image processors. Even data produced by esoteric experiments are eventually processed by applications that still serve hundreds of thousands of specialists. Within one discipline, the number of applications rarely exceeds a few hundred. To appeal to this relatively small number of developers, who are primarily interested in solving their customers' problems, we need a better argument than “making archiving easy.”

Too few application developers are aware of their potential role in research data management. Consider, for example, an application that converts data into graphs. Although most of the graphs are discarded after a quick glance, each is one small step in a research project. With little effort, that graphing software could provide transparent support for research data management. It could reformat raw input data into a re-usable and archivable format. It could give all files it produces unique identifiers and time stamps. It could store these files in a personal repository. It could log activity in a digital lab notebook. When a file is deleted, the personal repository could generate an audit trail that conforms to discipline-specific customs. When research is published, researchers could move packages of published and supporting material from personal to institutional repositories and/or to long-term archives.

Ad-hoc data management harms the longer-term interests of individual researchers and the scholarly community. Intermediate results may be discarded before it is realized they were, after all, important. The scholarly record may not contain sufficient data for reproducibility. Research-misconduct investigations may be more complicated and less reliable.

For archivists, the paper era is far from over. During the long transition, archivists may prepare for the digital future in incremental steps. Provide personal repositories. Work with a few application developers to extend key applications to support data management. After proof of concept, gradually add more applications.

Digital archives will succeed only if they are scalable and sustainable. To accomplish this, digital archivists must simplify and automate their services by getting involved well before information is produced. Within each discipline, archives must work with researchers, application providers, scholarly societies, universities, and funding agencies to develop appropriate policies for data management and the technology infrastructure to support those policies.

Creative Problems

The open-access requirement for Electronic Theses and Dissertations (ETDs) should be a no-brainer. At virtually every university in the world, there is a centuries-old public component to the doctoral-degree requirement. With digital technology, that public component is implemented more efficiently and effectively. Yet, a small number of faculty fight the idea of Open Access for ETDs. The latest salvo came from Jennifer Sinor, an associate professor of English at Utah State University.
[One Size Doesn't Fit All, Jennifer Sinor, The Chronicle of Higher Education, March 24, 2014]

According to Sinor, Creative Writing departments are different and should be exempted from open-access requirements. She illustrates her objection to Open Access ETDs with an example of a student who submitted a novel as his masters thesis. He was shocked when he found out his work was for sale online by a third party. Furthermore, according to Sinor, the mere existence of the open-access thesis makes it impossible for that student to pursue a conventional publishing deal.

Sinor offers a solution to these problems, which she calls a middle path: Theses should continue to be printed, stored in libraries, accessible through interlibrary loan, and never digitized without the author's approval. Does anyone really think it is a common-sense middle path of moderation and reasonableness to pretend that the digital revolution never happened?

Our response could be brief. We could just observe that it does not matter whether or not Sinor's Luddite approach is tenable, and it does not matter whether or not her arguments hold water. Society will not stop changing because a small group of people pretend reality does not apply to them. Reality will, eventually, take over. Nevertheless, let us examine her arguments.

Multiyear embargoes are a routine part of Open Access policies for ETDs. I do not know of a single exception. After a web search that took less than a minute, I found the ETD policy of Sinor's own institution. The second and third sentence of USU's ETD policy reads as follows [ETD Forms and Policy, DigitalCommons@usu.edu]:

“However, USU recognizes that in some rare situations, release of a dissertation/thesis may need to be delayed. For these situations, USU provides the option of embargoing (i.e. delaying release) of a dissertation or thesis for five years after graduation, with an option to extend indefinitely.”

How much clearer can this policy be?

The student in question expressly allowed for third parties to sell his work by leaving a checkbox unchecked in a web form. Sinor excuses the student for his naïveté. However, anyone who hopes to make a living of creative writing in a web-connected world should have advanced knowledge of the business of selling one's works, of copyright law, and of publishing agreements. Does Sinor imply that a masters-level student in her department never had any exposure to these issues? If so, that is an inexcusable oversight in the department's curriculum.

This leads us to Sinor's final argument: that conventional publishers will not consider works that are also available as an Open Access ETDs. This has been thoroughly studied and debunked. See:
"Do Open Access Electronic Theses and Dissertations Diminish Publishing Opportunities in the Social Sciences and Humanities?" Marisa L. Ramirez, Joan T. Dalton, Gail McMillan, Max Read, and Nan Seamans. College & Research Libraries, July 2013, 74:368-380.

This should put to rest the most pressing issues. Yet, for those who cannot shake the feeling that Open Access robs students from an opportunity to monetize their work, there is another way out of the quandary. It is within the power of any Creative Writing department to solve the issue once and for all.

All university departments have two distinct missions: to teach a craft and to advance scholarship in their discipline. As a rule of thumb, the teaching of craft dominates up to the masters-degree level. The advancement of scholarship, which goes beyond accepted craft and into the new and experimental, takes over at the doctoral level.

When submitting a novel (or a play, a script, or a collection of poetry) as a thesis, the student exhibits his or her mastery of craft. This is appropriate for a masters thesis. However, when Creative Writing departments accept novels as doctoral theses, they put craft ahead of scholarship. It is difficult to see how any novel by itself advances the scholarship of Creative Writing.

The writer of an experimental masterpiece should have some original insights into his or her craft. Isn't it the role of universities to reward those insights? Wouldn't it make sense to award the PhD, not based on a writing sample, but based on a companion work that advances the scholarship of Creative Writing? Such a thesis would fit naturally within the open-access ecosystem of other scholarly disciplines without compromising the work itself in any way.

This is analogous to any number of scientific disciplines, where students develop equipment or software or a new chemical compound. The thesis is a description of the work and the ideas behind it. After a reasonable embargo to allow for patent applications, any such thesis may be made Open Access without compromising the commercial value of the work at the heart of the research.

A policy that is successful for most may fail for some. Some disciplines may be so fundamentally different that they need special processes. Yet, Open Access is merely the logical extension of long-held traditional academic values. If this small step presents such a big problem for one department and not for others, it may be time to re-examine existing practices at that department. Perhaps, the Open Access challenge is an opportunity to change for the better.

Textbook Economics

The impact of royalties on a book's price, and its sales, is greater than you think. Lower royalties often end up better for the author. That was the publisher's pitch when I asked him about the details of the proposed publishing contract. Then, he explained how he prices textbooks.

It was the early 1990s, I had been teaching a course on Concurrent Scientific Computing, a hot topic then, and several publishers had approached me about writing a textbook. This was an opportunity to structure a pile of course notes. Eventually, I would sign on with a different publisher, a choice that had nothing to do with royalties or book prices. [Concurrent Scientific Computing, Van de Velde E., Springer-Verlag New York, Inc., New York, NY, 1994.]

He explained that a royalty of 10% increases the price by more than 10%. To be mathematical about it: With a royalty rate r, a target revenue per book C, and a retail price P, we have that C = P-rP (retail price minus royalties). Therefore, P = C/(1-r). With a target revenue per book of $100, royalties of 10%, 15%, and 20% lead to retail prices of $111.11, $117.65, and $125.00, respectively.

In a moment of candor, he also revealed something far more interesting: how he sets the target revenue C. Say the first printing of 5000 copies requires an up-front investment of $100,000. (All numbers are for illustrative purposes only.) This includes the cost of editing, copy-editing, formatting, cover design, printing, binding, and administrative overhead. Estimating library sales at 1000 copies, this publisher would set C at $100,000/1,000 = $100. In other words, he recovered his up-front investment from libraries. Retail sales were pure profit.

The details are, no doubt, more complicated. Yet, even without relying on a recollection of an old conversation, it is safe to assume that publishers use the captive library market to reduce their business risk. In spite of increasingly recurrent crises, library budgets remain fairly predictable, both in size and in how the money is spent. Any major publisher has reliable advance estimates of library sales for any given book, particularly if published as part of a well-known series. It is just good business to exploit that predictability.

The market should be vastly different now, but textbooks have remained stuck in the paper era longer than other publications. Moreover, the first stage of the move towards digital, predictably, consists of replicating the paper world. This is what all constituents want: Librarians want to keep lending books. Researchers and students like getting free access to quality books. Textbook publishers do not want to lose the risk-reducing revenue stream from libraries. As a result, everyone implements the status quo in digital form. Publishers produce digital books and rent their collections to libraries through site licenses. Libraries intermediate electronic-lending transactions. Users get the paper experience in digital form. Universities pay for site licenses and the maintenance of the digital-lending platforms.

After the disaster of site licenses for scholarly journals, repeating the same mistake with books seems silly. Once again, take-it-or-leave-it bundles force institutions into a false choice between buying too much for everyone or nothing at all. Once again, site licenses eliminate the unlimited flexibility of digital information. Forget about putting together a personal collection tailored to your own requirements. Forget about pricing per series, per book, per chapter, unlimited in time, one-day access, one-hour access, readable on any device, or tied to a particular device. All of these options are eliminated to maintain the business models and the intermediaries of the paper era.

Just by buying/renting books as soon as they are published, libraries indirectly pay for a significant fraction of the initial investment of producing textbooks. If libraries made that initial investment explicitly and directly, they could produce those same books and set them free. Instead of renting digital books (and their multimedia successors), libraries could fund authors to write books and contract with publishers to publish those manuscripts as open-access works. Authors would be compensated. Publishers would compete for library funds as service providers. Publishers would be free to pursue the conventional pay-for-access publishing model, just not with library dollars. Prospective authors would have a choice: compete for library funding to produce an open-access work or compete for a publishing contract to produce a pay-for-access work.

The Carnegie model of libraries fused together two distinct objectives: subsidize information and disseminate information by distributing books to many different locations. In web-connected communities, spending precious resources on dissemination is a waste. Inserting libraries in digital-lending transactions only makes those transactions more inconvenient. Moreover, it requires expensive-to-develop-and-maintain technology. By reallocating these resources towards subsidizing information, libraries could set information free without spending part of their budget on reducing publishers' business risk. The fundamental budget questions that remain are: Which information should be subsidized? What is the most effective way to subsidize information?

Libraries need not suddenly stop site licensing books tomorrow. In fact, they should take a gradual approach, test the concept, make mistakes, and learn from them. A library does not become a grant sponsor and/or publisher overnight. Several models are already available: from grant competition to crowd-funded ungluing. [Unglue.it for Libraries] By phasing out site licenses, any library can create budgetary space for sponsoring open-access works.

Libraries have a digital future with almost unlimited opportunities. Yet, they will miss out if they just rebuild themselves as a digital copy of the paper era.

Market Capitalism and Open Access

Is it feasible to create a self-regulating market for Open Access (OA) journals where competition for money is aligned with the quest for scholarly excellence?

Many proponents of the subscription model argue that a competitive market provides the best assurance for quality. This ignores that the relationship between a strong subscription base and scholarly excellence is tenuous at best. What if we created a market that rewards journals when a university makes its most tangible commitment to scholarly excellence?

While role of journals in actual scholarly communication has diminished, their role in academic career advancement remains as strong than ever. [Paul Krugman: The Facebooking of Economics] The scholarly-journal infrastructure streamlines the screening, comparing, and short-listing of candidates. It enables the gathering of quantitative evidence in support of the hiring decision. Without journals, the work load of search committees would skyrocket. If scholarly journals are the headhunters of the academic-job market, let us compensate them as such.

There are many ways to structure such compensation, but we only need one example to clarify the concept. Consider the following scenario:

• The new hire submitted a bibliography of 100 papers.
• The search committee selected 10 of those papers to argue the case in favor of the appointment. This subset consists of 6 papers in subscription journals, 3 papers in the OA journal Theoretical Approaches to Theory (TAT), and 1 paper in the OA journal Practical Applications of Practice (PAP).
• The university's journal budget is 1% of its budget for faculty salaries. (In reality, that percentage would be much lower.)

Divide the new faculty member's share of the journal budget, 1% of his or her salary, into three portions:

• (6/10) x 1% = 0.6% of salary to subscription journals,
• (3/10) x 1% = 0.3% of salary to the journal TAT, and
• (1/10) x 1% = 0.1% of salary to the journal PAP.

The first portion (0.6%) remains in the journal budget to pay for subscriptions. The second (0.3%) and third (0.1%) portion are, respectively, awarded yearly to the OA journals TAT and PAP. The university adjusts the reward formula every time a promotion committee determines a new list of best papers.

To move beyond a voluntary system, universities should give headhunting rewards only to those journals with whom they have a contractual relationship. Some Gold OA journals are already pursuing institutional-membership deals that eliminate or reduce author page charges (APCs). [BioMed Central] [PeerJ][SpringerOpen] Such memberships are a form of discounting for quantity. Instead, we propose a pay-for-performance contract that eliminates APCs in exchange for headhunting rewards. Before signing such a contract, a university would conduct a due-diligence investigation into the journal. It would assess the publisher's reputation, the journal's editorial board, its refereeing, editing, formatting, and archiving standards, its OA licensing practices, and its level of participation in various abstracting-and-indexing and content-mining services. This step would all but eliminate predatory journals.

Every headhunting reward would enhance the prestige (and the bottom line) of a journal. A reward citing a paper would be a significant recognition of that paper. Such citations might be even more valuable than citations in other papers, thereby creating a strong incentive for institutions to participate in the headhunting system. Nonparticipating institutions would miss out on publicly recognizing the work of their faculty, and their faculty would have to pay APCs. There is no Open Access free ride.

Headhunting rewards create little to no extra work for search committees. Academic libraries are more than capable to perform due diligence, to negotiate the contracts, and to administer the rewards. Our scenario assumed a base percentage of 1%. The actual percentage would be negotiated between universities and publishers. With rewards proportional to salaries, there is a built-in adjustment for inflation, for financial differences between institutions and countries, and for differences in the sizes of various scholarly disciplines.

Scholars retain the right to publish in the venue of their choice. The business models of journals are used when distributing rewards, but this occurs well after the search process has concluded. The headhunting rewards gradually reduce the subscription budget in proportion to the number of papers published in OA journals by the university's faculty. A scholar who wishes to support a brand-new journal should not pay APCs, but lobby his or her university to negotiate a performance-based headhunting contract.

The essence of this proposal is the performance-based contract that exchanges APCs for headhunting rewards. All other details are up for discussion. Every university would be free to develop its own specific performance criteria and reward structures. Over time, we would probably want to converge towards a standard contract.

Headhunting contracts create a competitive market for OA journals. In this market, the distributed and collective wisdom of search/promotion committees defines scholarly excellence and provides the monetary rewards to journals. As a side benefit, this free-market system creates a professionally managed open infrastructure for the scholarly archive.

Beall's Rant

Jeffrey Beall of Beall's list of predatory scholarly publishers recently made some strident arguments against Open Access (OA) in the journal tripleC (ironically, an OA journal). Beall's comments are part of a non-refereed section dedicated to a discussion on OA.

Michael Eisen takes down Beall's opinion piece paragraph by paragraph. Stevan Harnad responds to the highlights/lowlights. Roy Tennant has a short piece on Beall in The Digital Shift.

Beall's takes a distinctly political approach in his attack on OA:

“The OA movement is an anti-corporatist movement that wants to deny the freedom of the press to companies it disagrees with.”
“It is an anti-corporatist, oppressive and negative movement, [...]”
“[...] a neo-colonial attempt to cast scholarly communication policy according to the aspirations of a cliquish minority of European collectivists.”
“[...] mandates set and enforced by an onerous cadre of Soros-funded European autocrats.”

This is the rhetorical style of American extremist right-wing politics that casts every problem as a false choice between freedom and – take your pick – communism or totalitarianism or colonialism or slavery or... European collectivists like George Soros (who became a billionaire by being a free-market capitalist).

For those of us more comfortable with technocratic arguments, politics is not particularly welcome. Yet, we cannot avoid the fact that the OA movement is trying to reform a large socio-economic system. It would be naïve to think that that can be done without political ideology playing a role. But is it really too much to ask to avoid the lowest level of political debate, politics by name-calling?

The system of subscription journals has an internal free-market logic to it that no proposed or existing OA system has been able to replace. In a perfect world, the subscription system uses an economic market to assess the quality of editorial boards and the level of interest in a particular field. Economic viability acts as a referee of sorts, a market-based minimum standard. Some editorial boards deserve the axe for doing poor work. Some fields of study deserve to go out of business for lack of interest. New editorial boards and new fields of study deserve an opportunity to compete. Most of us prefer that these decisions are made by the collective and distributed wisdom of free-market mechanisms.

Unfortunately, the current scholarly-communication marketplace is far from a free market. Journals hardly compete directly with one another. Site licenses perpetuate a paper-era business model that forces universities to buy all content for 100% of the campus community, even those journals that are relevant only to a sliver of the community. Site licenses limit competition between journals, because end users never get to make the price/value trade-offs critical to a functional free market. The Big Deal exacerbates the problem. Far from providing a service, as Beall contends, the Big Deal gives big publishers a platform to launch new journals without competition. Consortial deals are not discounts; they introduce peer networks to make it more difficult to cancel existing subscriptions. [What if Libraries were the Problem?] [Libraries: Paper Tigers in a Digital World]

If Beall believes in the free market, he should support competition from new methods of dissemination, alternative assessment techniques, and new journal business models. Instead, he seems to be motivated more by a desire to hold onto his disrupted job description:

“Now the realm of scholarly communication is being removed from libraries, and a crisis has settled in. Money flows from authors to publishers rather than from libraries to publishers. We've disintermediated libraries and now find that scholarly system isn't working very well.”

In fact, it is the site-license model that reduced the academic library to the easy-to-disintermediate dead-end role of subscription manager. [Where the Puck won't Be] Most librarians are apprehensive about the changes taking place, but they also realize that they must re-interpret traditional library values in light of new technology to ensure long-term survival of their institution.

Thus far, scholarly publishing has been the only type of publishing not disrupted by the Internet. In his seminal work on disruption [The Innovator's Dilemma], Clayton Christensen characterizes the defenders of the status quo in disrupted industries. Like Beall, they are blinded by traditional quality measures, dismiss and/or denigrate innovations, and retreat into a defense of the status quo.

Students, researchers, and the general public deserve a high-quality scholarly-communication system that satisfies basic minimum technological requirements of the 21st century. [Peter Murray-Rust, Why does scholarly publishing give me so much technical grief?] In the last 20 years of the modern Internet, we have witnessed innovation after innovation. Yet, scholarly publishing is still tied to the paper-imitating PDF format and to paper-era business models.

Open Access may not be the only answer [Open Access Doubts], but it may very well be the opportunity that this crisis has to offer. [Annealing the Library] In American political terms, Green Open Access is a public option. It provides free access to author-formatted versions of papers. Thereby, it serves the general public and the scholarly poor. It also serves researchers by providing a platform for experimentation without having to go through onerous access negotiations (for text mining, for example). It also serves as an additional disruptive trigger for free-market reform of the scholarly market. Gold Open Access in all its forms (from PLOS to PEERJ) is a set of business models that deserve a chance to compete on price and quality.

The choice is not between one free-market option and a plot of European collectivists. The real choice is whether to protect a functionally inadequate system or whether to foster an environment of innovation.

Cartoon Physics

When Wile E. Coyote runs off a cliff, he starts falling only after he realizes the precariousness of his situation.

In real life, cartoon physics is decidedly less funny. Market bubbles arise when a trend continues far past the point where the fundamentals make sense. The bubble bursts when the collective wisdom of the market acts on a reality that should have been obvious much earlier. Because of this unnecessary delay, bubbles inflict much unnecessary damage. We saw it recently with the Internet and mortgage bubbles, but the phenomenon is as old as the tulip bubble of 1637.

We also see cartoon physics in action at less epic scales. Cartoon physics applies to almost any disruptive technology. The established players almost never adapt to the new reality when fundamentals require it or when it is logical to do so. Instead of preparing for a viable future, they fight a losing battle hanging onto the past. Most recently, Blackberry ignored the iPhone thinking its serious corporate clients would not be lured by its gadgetry. There is a long line of disrupted industries whose leadership ignored upstart competitors and new realities. This has been the topic of acclaimed academic studies and popularized in every possible venue.

The blame game is a significant part of the process. The recording industry blamed pirates for destroying the music business. In fact, their own neglect to adapt to a digital age contributed at least as much to the disruption.

The scenario is well known, by now too cliché to be a good movie. Leaders of industries in upheaval should know the playbook. Yet, they keep repeating the mistakes of their disrupted predecessors.

Wile E. Coyote finally learned his lesson and decided to stop looking down.

PS: Cartoon physics does not apply to academic institutions, which are protected by their importance and seriousness.

Where the Puck won't be

“I skate to where the puck is going to be, not where it has been.”

Wayne Gretzky

The academic library has, by default, tied its destiny to a service with no realistic prospects of long-term survival. It has become a systems integrator that stitches together outsourced components into a digital recreation of a paper-based library. This horseless carriage provides the same commodity service to an undergraduate student majoring in chemistry, a graduate student in economics, and a professor of literature. Because it overwhelms the library's budget, organizational structure, and decision-making processes, this expensive and inefficient service hampers innovation in areas that are the library's best hope for survival.

A paper-based library gradually builds a collection of ever-increasing value, and its overhead builds permanent infrastructure. Its digital recreation never builds lasting value. It is a maintenance service, and its overhead is pure inefficiency. This overhead, duplicated at thousands of universities, starts with the costs of preparing for and conducting near-futile site-license negotiations. To shave off a point here and there, the library spends countless staff hours on usage surveys, faculty discussions, consortium meetings, and negotiations with publishers and their middlemen. But the game is rigged. If 15% of a campus wants Journal A, 15% competing Journal B, 10% wants both A and B, and the rest wants neither, the library is effectively forced to rent both A and B for 100% of the campus. This is why scholarly publishers were able to raise prices at super-inflationary rates during a time when all other publishers faced catastrophic disruption. After conducting expensive negotiations, after paying inflated prices, the library must still pay for, build, and maintain the platform that protects publishers' interests by keeping unwanted users out.

Many academics and librarians hope that Open Access efforts will provide an exit from this unsustainable path. If successful, Green Open Access will lead to price reductions and journal cancellations. Gold Open Access seeks to replace site licenses with author page charges. Either strategy reduces the efficiency of library-mediated digital lending by spreading its fixed overhead costs over fewer and/or less expensive journals. New business models for journals, alternative metrics that give scholarly credibility to unbundled works, and any other innovation that competes with site licenses will reduce efficiency even further. All of these factors hasten the demise of an unsustainable service that is already collapsing under its own weight.

Traditionally, a library adapts in response to changing user behavior, attitude, and opinion. However, the Wayne Gretzky quote became a cliché for a reason. When trends have become obvious and users have moved on, it is too late for strategic restructuring.

At the other extreme, an angel investor bets on someone with a compelling idea, accepts the risk of failure, and is prepared to move on to the next player who knows where the puck will be. The library does not have that luxury. It is an institution, not a venture.

The library must maintain sufficient institutional stability to ensure its archival mission. While Open Access is a given, the service portfolio of the future library is far from settled. We must create budgetary and organizational space for new services. We may not know where precisely the puck will be, but we can still move the team out of a field where there is no game to be played.

When canceling site-licensed journals today, the only legally available alternatives are individual subscriptions, pay per view, and self-archived versions of individual papers. This stands in stark contrast with the digital-entertainment universe, where there is a competitive market for providers of personal digital libraries. Services like Apple ITunes, Google Play, Amazon Kindle and Prime, Netflix, Pandora, Spotify, etc. compete on the basis of price, content, usability, convenience, and features. There are many scholarly-communication organizations that could launch analogous services. Within months, Thomson Reuters, EBSCO, publisher alliances, scholarly societies, and even some research libraries could provide a wide selection of options. This will never happen without starving publishers of site-license revenue. Instead of subsidizing publishers, subsidize students and faculty. They are quite capable to choose for themselves what information services they need. After a messy, but short, transition, a competitive market will blossom.

The only thing more terrifying than phasing out a core service is the prospect of outside forces triggering a sudden disruption. Libraries have the choice to disrupt or to be disrupted, to organize their own restructuring or to be restructured by a crisis manager. This is the perfect time to redirect resources away from digital-lending overhead and towards building a scalable, robust, and permanent infrastructure of open scholarly information (refereed papers, technical reports, lab reports, and supporting data). Björn Brembs wants to go even further; he wants libraries to take over all of scholarly communication.

We do not have to wait for Open Access to work its disruptive magic, which may or may not happen at some undetermined time. By forcing the disruption, the rationale for Green Open Access becomes much more straightforward: It creates a permanent public archive of culturally important content that is now controlled by private companies. As a public option to the publishers' walled garden, it may help keep prices in check. That role is much less important, however, when prices are set in a truly competitive market.

Publishers do not think Green Open Access has the power disrupt. They believe they can compensate lower revenue from Gold Open Access by increasing the number of papers they publish. Should site licenses be disrupted anyway, publishers stand ready to compete with libraries.

Publishers are well prepared for any scenario.

Is your library?

The Empire Strikes Back

Publishers may soon compete with libraries. The business case for enticing users away from library-managed portals is simple, compelling, and growing. As funding agencies and universities enact Open Access (OA) mandates and publishers transition their journals from the site-license model to the Gold OA model, libraries will cease to be the spigots through which money streams from universities to publishers. In the Gold-OA world, the publishers' core business is developing relationships with scholars, not librarians. For publishers, it makes perfect sense to cater to scholars both as authors and readers.


Current direct-to-scholar portals provided by publishers do not live up to their potential. Each portal is limited to content from just one publisher. Without interoperability, each publisher portal is an island. Only scholars covered by a site license can afford to use them, and those scholars have access to a gateway for all site-licensed content irrespective of publisher: their library web site. In spite of these near-fatal flaws, publishers invest heavily in their direct-to-scholar portals.


These portals are opportunities for future growth. The model is well established: Thomson Reuters' Westlaw is the de-facto standard for legal research in the US, and it is able to command premium pricing for structured public-domain information. It may take a long time for scholarly publishers to duplicate Westlaw's success. Yet, even without access fees, publishers might be able to unlock significant marketing and business-intelligence value from their systems. Knowledge from managing the publishing process combined with usage data from their portals will give publishers unprecedented insight into every aspect of scholars' professional lives in education, research, and development.


For publishers, the transition to Gold OA is rather tricky. They hope to maintain their current level of revenue while replacing the income stream from site licenses with an equivalent income stream from author page charges. This goal, implausible just a few years ago, now seems realistically within their grasp. The outcome remains far from certain, and publishers are hedging their bets by fighting Green OA and lobbying hard for embargo periods. As long as site-license revenue is their main source of revenue, publishers cannot afford to compete with libraries and journal aggregators, their current customers and partners. This calculation will change when Gold OA reaches a certain critical point. This is the context of proposals like CHORUS, an attempt to take over Green OA, and Elsevier's acquisition of Mendeley, a brilliant social-network interface for scholarly content.


Publishers, indexing services, journal aggregators, startups, some nonprofit organizations, and library-system vendors all have expertise to produce compelling post-OA services. However, publishers only need to protect their Gold OA income, and any new revenue streams are just icing on the cake. All others need a reasonable expectation of new revenue to develop new services. This sets the stage for a significant consolidation of the scholarly-communication industry into the hands of publishers.


As soon as the Gold OA shock hits, academic libraries must be ready to engage publishers as competitors. When site licenses disappear, there is no more journal-collection development, and digital lending of journals disappears as a core service. This is a time that requires major strategic decisions from leaders in academia. With its recently released new mission statement, the Harvard Library seems to pave the way: “The Harvard Library advances scholarship and teaching by committing itself to the creation, application, preservation and dissemination of knowledge.” The future of the academic library will be implemented on these pillars. While the revised mission statement necessarily lacks specifics, it is crystal-clear in what it omits: collection development.