Sheila
T. Cavanagh
Why
Buy the Academic Cow When You Can Get the Scholarly Milk for Free?: Locating
Value in Editorial Humanities
1> For many years, I served as
the editor of The Spenser Review, a print publication containing book
reviews, announcements, occasional essays, and other information geared toward
the international community of scholars interested in the work of sixteenth
century English writer Edmund Spenser. In my experience, researchers working in
this realm are passionate about this area of academic inquiry and deeply
devoted to the creation and maintenance of intellectual community. Spenserians
care about their subject and about each other. However specialized an interest
in The Faerie Queene may seem to the broader world, the Spenserians who
gather virtually, personally, and in print, take it very seriously. As I have discussed previously, when I was editor
of the Spenser Review, I was reminded of this fact regularly. When an issue
was late to press, I would hear from many subscribers, worried that their
copies had gone astray or that we had ceased publication: http://www.emory.edu/ACAD_EXCHANGE/2010/spring/cavanagh.html. Spenserians clearly do not want
to be left behind what is happening in their field or with what is happening
with their colleagues.
2> Print publication is
expensive, however. Despite many scholars’ continuing desire for hard copies of
reading materials, creating, publishing, mailing, and storing paper issues of
journals requires significant funding and can be labor intensive. Managing
subscription lists and contending with lost issues, for example, requires more
time than one might expect. The postal service, not surprisingly, has a
tendency to mangle and misdirect copies with noteworthy regularity. Enthusiastic
scholars occasionally try to obtain an issue from several decades ago and
librarians sometimes want to complete a set for their institutional libraries,
so journals need to keep back copies somewhere accessible. None of these tasks
are arduous, but they take time and require some attention to detail. They do
not include, moreover, the tasks common to both print and electronic publications,
such as soliciting material, ensuring high quality submissions, formatting, and
proofreading. Most faculty and graduate students, of course, report that time
is always in short supply and that storage space remains limited. Printing
expenses are also considerable. All in
all, creating and distributing a print journal requires significant amounts of
labor and money. Electronic publications also require financial contributions
and personnel - as will be discussed below—but the expenses involved for copies
produced and distributed on paper have reached a point where the economic
requirements endanger sustainability. My home institution, Emory University,
was generous in its sponsorship of the Spenser Review, but the journal
could not count on this level of support continuing indefinitely. Emory was
supportive of electronic publication initiatives, however, so moving to a digital
format while the journal was based in Atlanta seemed wise. Technological and
library staff was available to assist with the transition and the university
community contained many people familiar with electronic creation,
access, and preservation.
3> Moving to an electronic
environment prompted a predictable mix of reactions from our readership, ranging
from delight, indifference, and sorrow about the loss of print. We tried to
offset the inevitable concerns expressed by some subscribers by investigating
an annual “print on demand” option that individual readers could choose. There
was one common response, however --one that we had anticipated with fear-- that
lies at the heart of the issues presented here. When the Executive Committee of
the International Spenser Society discussed the switch in formats, the
Committee wondered if this change would undermine membership in the Society and
erode financial support for the publication. At that time, membership rates
included a subscription to the Review.
Part of the dues collected subsidized the Review,
although they did not cover all the production expenses. Receipt of a mailed
issue was one tangible benefit of membership. Understandably, the Executive
Committee worried that members might see their dues as a subscription fee that
they would no longer need to pay since the issues were freely available online.
Nevertheless, free access rather than an electronic subscription model was chosen
for both economic and philosophical considerations. Emory supports open access
and the university’s continued involvement was predicated on this kind of
delivery. In addition, the cost of having someone available to troubleshoot
problems with passwords and other issues associated with electronic
subscriptions would undermine the cost savings resulting from the initial move
to digital. Electronic open access appeared to be the appropriate solution. As
Editor, I hoped that this tight community of Spenser scholars would be
sufficiently committed to the continuation of the information this journal
disseminates to continue supporting it, even if they could obtain the content
without paying the modest membership fee.
4> Not surprisingly, perhaps,
these hopes were naively optimistic. As readers began to realize that they were
able to access the Spenser Review
without needing a subscription, membership numbers fell precipitously. While current
and former members have not been polled, it seems reasonable to assume that the
shift in publication media is a significant contributing factor, if not the
sole reason for the decline. As newspapers and bookstores have also learned,
the rise of technology has changed countless variables in the creation,
dissemination and consumption of many kinds of information. These changes
inevitably even affected the spread of information about a sixteenth century
poet with a staunch academic following. As many news outlets have learned, people
will pay for print, for an object they can hold and keep, but many consumers of
electronic media demand that the Internet remain free.
5> Before moving on to the issues
this situation introduced, I want to be clear that I am not singling out the
Spenser community for any approbation. As noted, the International Spenser
Society is a strong and congenial academic group, filled with people noted for
their financial, intellectual, and personal generosity. They have a long
history, for example, of inviting and subsidizing graduate student
participation at their meetings and at their annual Modern Language Association
luncheon. They are known for their savvy and considerate mentoring of junior
faculty members and international scholars. They invite entire audiences to join them at
conference dinners, so that no one feels excluded, unwelcome, or at loose ends
in an unfamiliar environment. The entire readership of the Spenser Review probably does not participate actively in this
group’s intellectual and social gatherings, but those who do so are rewarded
with congenial, collegial, and erudite encounters. Any problems associated with
expectations about free reading material do not originate with this scholarly community.
In fact, thanks to the energy, commitment, and skill of the leadership of the
International Spenser Society, both membership in the Society and access to the
Review are now free. The journal is
currently housed at the University of South Carolina and the Society has been
able to create a sustainability plan that no longer requires individual
financial contributions. Members are invited to pay a voluntary membership fee
that will help fund various Society initiatives, but this money is not deemed
necessary for the perpetuation of the Society or the Review. In this instance, a predicted problem led to a satisfying
conclusion, as the Spenser website indicates, www.english.cam.ac.uk/spenser/. As Doug Eyman, Editor of the
digital journal Kairos: A Journal of
Rhetoric, Technology and Pedagogy noted recently, such enterprises are
often “subsidized to an extent by our institutions,” although he also mentions the importance of the kind
of professional acknowledgement urged below: “even though we don’t have income, we do have commitment and we do
provide participants with rewards that work within the current academic
structure,” http://www.insidehighered.com//blogs/library-babel-fish/kairos-open-1996. While Kairos boasts a larger readership than the Spenser Review, similar issues face many, if not all, current
academic journals.
6> This preamble, focused on
the digital transition of a single modestly sized, niche, disciplinary publication,
serves to introduce a number of issues needing attention in the academic
community at large, if we are to preserve important aspects of the lively
intellectual exchange that characterizes and perpetuates vibrant scholarship. As
we know, there are numerous challenges facing higher education today, many of
which appear to hit the Humanities particularly hard. There are significant competing
demands placed upon everyone involved in college teaching and research, which
do not need to be rehearsed here, since these issues are widely discussed. Many
academics have noted, for example, that an increasing number of sessions at the
Modern Language Association meeting now focus on professional rather than
literary issues. As we struggle with concerns about contingent faculty,
decreased employment opportunities for graduate students, unknown ramifications
from the rise in online course platforms, and a host of serious economic
issues, the concerns and tribulations specific to editors of small,
specialized, academic journals may not figure prominently compared to other
major issues facing the academy. The decision of the Appositions editors to provide a venue for airing some relevant
pressing concerns is therefore particularly appreciated. Indeed, they
undoubtedly face at least some of the issues discussed below.
7>
The main point that
I would like to urge in this essay is for faculty committees to reassess (once
more) how editorial work is “counted” as part of the evaluations of professors
and graduate students. There have been numerable voices raised in recent years in
support of reassessment of many kinds, including, for instance, the importance
of teaching, and of recognizing a variety of digital endeavors and significant
service contributions. Campus Compact, for example, urges tenure recognition
for faculty working on engaged learning pursuits, http://www.compact.org/initiatives/trucen/trucen-toolkit/trucen-section-b/. Although such changes have
often been slow in coming, some progress has been made. Several universities
and professional societies, such as the Modern Language Association, for
example, have distributed guidelines for evaluating digital projects for tenure decisions,
8> These are promising developments. Editorial
work, however, suffers from consistent devaluation that long precedes its
transformation into electronic media. While theoretical discussions about
editing have had moments of fashionability over the last couple of decades and
considerations about the “history of the book” continue to proliferate,
editorial work has a lengthy history of not offering much benefit in
conventional faculty reward structures. Editing a collection of essays or a
journal invariably demands a significant investment of time, intellectual
energy, and money, but these activities rarely offer tangible professional
benefits, unless they are associated closely with some separate measure of
prestige. Being editor of the premier journal in one’s field, for example, or
publishing a collection filled with new work by top tier academics, might
attract respect from colleagues or peers—or might not. Rewarding the author of
a monograph published with a prominent academic press requires no discussion;
acknowledging an editor, even with the same press, is less straightforward.[i] Eyman remarks that his editorial work was well received during his bid for
tenure: “I just received tenure at GMU (George Mason University) largely due to
my editing work with Kairos, which my
department, the dean, and the provost all deemed a worthy and valuable
enterprise.” Such outcomes are clearly promising, although Eyman may have
benefited from working for a university with a strong commitment to digital
scholarship, as evidenced by its Roy Rosensweig Center for History and New
Media, www.chnm.gmu.edu. Institutions
without such a significant digital presence also need to assess work of this
kind, however.
9> The relative disrespect typically
accorded to editorial work appears to emanate, at least in part, from a
distinction made between what qualifies as “intellectual labor” and work of
other kinds. Crafting a book length argument clearly requires substantial intellectual
engagement. Editing and publishing a journal, in contrast, may appear (at least
in part) to be “manual” or clerical labor or work of some other lesser sort,
something the academy often does not rank as highly as other scholarly
pursuits. Since editorial work is frequently a less valued professional
activity, undertaking such projects may be perceived as risky, unwise or
otherwise inappropriate, particularly for more vulnerable faculty. As noted,
this disparity is not new. What may not be recognized, however, is the
increasing technical skill level now needed (in addition to traditionally high
levels of content knowledge) in order to produce a digital product that
scholars will deem worthwhile. While editorial work has long been undervalued,
the level of technical expertise needed continues to grow. The intellectual
demands of this labor have always been high, but with electronic innovations, production
knowledge requirements have increased exponentially. In addition, outsourcing
this work is often prohibitively expensive. The costs associated with hiring or
acquiring the relevant expertise can be considerable, but they are largely
unseen. As editor of a digital journal with a modest budget, however, I was
regularly reminded of the lofty expectations frequently associated with digital
production. Everyone is bombarded daily with high quality Internet sites,
filled with sound, images, links to other content, and many added features. As
we all spend increasing time on our computers, our demand for high-resolution
images and sophisticated functionality tends to rise, however unconsciously. Readers
of the Spenser Review were
unexceptional in this regard. After the journal became electronic, audiences
understandably began requesting that the website offer increasingly complex digital
tools. Research needs and personal preferences are best addressed, after all, when
a website provides maximum adaptability. This makes sense.
10>
Unfortunately, the
time, expertise, and other factors that create such high digital quality do not
readily emerge from a paradigm that discounts editorial work and resists paying
for online content. The amount of time that a faculty member would need to
expend upon continually updating computer skills can be prohibitive,
particularly if this labor does not “count.” The money required to hire graduate students or
technical professionals with appropriate talents, moreover, is not
insignificant, especially when an electronic journal does not receive
subscription income. Staying abreast of technological advances and current with
changing practical computer skills, as well as remaining appropriately informed
about content knowledge and involved with intellectual advances in one’s
discipline presents a formidable challenge. If successfully achieving such
disparate goals meets with evaluative disregard or disdain, undertaking such endeavors
soon become untenable decisions. There are limits to how much scholars can
expect their colleagues (or themselves) to do without appropriate compensation
of some kind. This is particularly
relevant for publications focused primarily on disciplinary content. Eyman
notably comments on the challenges new technology poses to the editorial board
of Kairos, a publication specifically
designed to discuss such changes: “Right now we are seeing a surge in sites
that use javascript and DHTML to add interactivity or animated design features
(this is a bit of a challenge, since we then need to learn javascript well
enough to edit it – and it often doesn’t play well with the Kairos toolbar that we use to brand the
articles).” Similar issues increasingly face scholarly editors for whom
technology is not a relevant subject area, however. The inevitability of this
kind of intersection between scholarship and electronic advances requires the
academy to foster more innovative responses than currently present themselves.
11>
A related problem
has engendered a solution with mixed results in the journalism business, but
one without obvious transferability to higher education. Over the past several
years, newspapers have grappled with an issue similar to that faced by the Spenser Review and other journals with
open access; i.e., revenue declines that jeopardize quality and readership. For
some time, readers resisted paying for digital content, but a controversial compromise
appears to have been reached. The New
York Times, for instance, has instituted a “paywall” that allows readers
access to a limited number of articles per month before a fee is due. This
procedure appears to be modestly successful for some electronic media outlets. Ryan
Chittum, of the Columbia Journalism
Review notes, however, that the Times
still faces many of the challenges discussed here: “direct digital
subscription revenue are just one component of a reader-focused paywall
strategy. You can’t expect to slow print circulation losses and charge more for
the paper when readers can get all your content online for free,” http://www.cjr.org/the_audit/new_york_times_paywall_growth.php?page=all. Notably, the Boston Globe lifted its subscriber only
policy during the days surrounding the 2013 Marathon attacks, then gave considerable
notice that the paywall would descend again after the crisis passed. Ron
Nichols of the Nation praised the Globe for lifting the paywall, then
criticized the newspaper for reinstating it, even as he acknowledged the Globe’s financial troubles: “It is no
secret that this is an era when major media outlets are desperate to find ways to pay for journalism. In some cases, this really is
because they are out of touch with their audience and because alternative media
is simply more compelling. But, more often than not, this is because of a
dramatic shift in media economics. Advertising revenues that once sustained
vast newsgathering operations, with deep commitments to cover communities,
states, the nation and the world, have collapsed. And online advertising does
not begin to provide sufficient support to pay for the journalism even of
popular news sites,”
http://www.thenation.com/blog/173963/what-boston-globe-got-right-and-why-it-should-change-how-papers-think#ixzz2VN5w2ECP. Despite recognizing the financial problems facing
modern journalism, Nichols bemoans the Globe’s reinstatement of its electronic
divide: “On Monday, the paywall will return. That’s understandable but, to my
view, unfortunate.” As Nichols’ response indicates, understanding the economic
rationale for strategies such as paywalls does not necessarily lead to their
acceptance.
12> Paywalls seem even less
plausible solutions for the similar problems facing academic niche publishing,
however. While publications associated with major businesses may be able to charge
fees for content access to individuals or libraries, the cost associated with
such processes is likely to be prohibitive for smaller ventures. Disciplinary
groups wanting to increase participation in their particular scholarly
environment, moreover, would find little benefit from requiring payment for
something they want disseminated as widely as possible. Needless to say, the Spenser Review is not the New York Times. Libraries and scholars
are not likely to purchase access to individual segments of the journal; even
if some would, this limitation would undermine the goal of widespread scholarly
communication that fosters such publications. Entities like the Review are not going to restrict access
beyond reasonable limits any more than they are going to draw substantial income
from classified ads. Another solution needs to be found.
13>
The proposal offered
here fits within several initiatives already occurring in some academic environments.
For academic publishing to continue fruitfully, however, especially for smaller
intellectual markets, practices and policies designed to support such work need
to become more widespread. As noted, over the past several years, professional
organizations such as the MLA and the NEH have recognized the need for updated
tenure and promotion assessment guidelines that include significant attention
to various kinds of digital scholarship. Although a few universities, such as
the University of Nebraska, Lincoln have independently adopted formal
assessment policies regarding electronic research and pedagogy, these kinds of
documents remain uncommon, http://cdrh.unl.edu/articles/promotion_and_tenure.php. As the need for such templates continues to grow, an unprecedented opportunity
is emerging to simultaneously acknowledge the importance of editorial work in
the academy. This time of significant reassessment of technology’s role in the
professional lives of the professoriate is requiring faculty and administrators
to reconfigure many conventional responses to academic work. This offers an
ideal opportunity, therefore, to redress the prejudice against editorial labor
that has long impeded the creation and circulation of academic research through
edited volumes, journals, and related publication venues, whether digital or in
print. Editorial work constitutes only one facet of electronic scholarship, of
course. If scholarship is going to flourish in this age of diminishing
resources for the Humanities, however, it needs to be incorporated prominently
in the various initiatives underway to reconfigure professional expectations
for promotion and tenure, such as the digital evaluation institutes sponsored
by the NEH and NINES (Networked Infrastructure for Nineteenth-Century Electronic Scholarship),
http://institutes.nines.org/.
14> In addition to valuing and
rewarding editorial work, savvy reconceptualizations of faculty positions can also
offer new ways to encourage and support professorial involvement in the
production of diverse scholarly publications. Emory University is experimenting, for
instance, with reorganizational possibilities involving digital theorization,
development, and production. Dr. Brian Croxall, for instance, a Digital
Humanities Specialist hired by the University Libraries, simultaneously holds a
lectureship in the English Department. This shared position gives a formal institutional
structure to the kind of digital/library/academic department collaborations
that have been proliferating in recent years. In Fall 2013, also at Emory, Dr.
Allen Tullos, editor of the digital journal Southern
Spaces, will become co-Director of the Center for Digital Scholarship, holding
a tenured position shared between Emory’s History Department and Emory Library.
Like Croxall, Tullos will be officially charged with splitting his time between
traditional faculty endeavors and digital scholarship. Tullos currently holds a tenured appointment
in the Institute of Liberal Arts (ILA), a program being altered considerably
after recent, controversial programmatic changes at Emory. The volatile issues
surrounding these shifts are not under consideration here, other than to note that
the creation of this fledgling hybrid position is part of the ILA faculty
reassignment process. Since Tullos holds tenure in Emory College, there will be
room for this new appointment to be negotiated and adjusted without the job
security questions that might accompany an untenured post. While I am not in a
position to speak on behalf of either of my Emory colleagues about these recent
changes, such appointments appear to offer promising signs that some universities
will respond creatively to the technological transformation of our professional
landscapes. Hybrid faculty appointments offer one potentially beneficial solution
to the complicated, evolving circumstances that affect scholarship as well as
other areas of faculty careers.
15> The production and
dissemination of scholarship has long benefited from the contributions of hardworking
individuals who have not received tangible benefits from their endeavors on
behalf of academic disciplines. Many current specialized journals began as
newsletters created and distributed from individual professors’ homes or offices.
The archives comprising the complete run of the Spenser Review illustrate such a journey, showing numerous stages,
from typewriter through electronic transmission. Future publication models will
probably evolve beyond the limits of our current imaginations, but in all
likelihood, they will continue to rely upon both rewarded and unpaid labor
provided by faculty, independent scholars, and students. As we struggle to
support the Humanities, while reinventing higher education in the 21st
century, however, the time is ripe for making such important scholarly
investments professionally viable. The financial support available for these
endeavors is never likely to be adequate. Monetary resources that are stretched
tightly today cannot be counted upon to rebound tomorrow. On the other hand, the value of intellectual
capital –including editing and other publication-related activities-- can be
realigned in significant ways by contemporary faculty and administrators. Articulate
proponents of digital and other editorial scholarship can support this work of
their departmental and disciplinary colleagues by appropriately revising tenure
and promotion guidelines. We all rely upon the editorial creations of our
peers. As the electronic revolution forces us to re-examine how we evaluate and
value faculty contributions to many facets of teaching, research, and service,
the time is right to correct the injustices levied against generations of editorial
scholars. All of us depend upon the contributions of scholarly publications. It
is appropriate and long overdue that we offer due credit for editors’
invaluable intellectual and technical expertise and the scholarship it makes
available to us.
[i] Some institutions address
editorial work in their tenure and promotions guidelines. Appalachian State University
distinguishes between “3 year terms” for editors at first or second tier
journals,
while Carnegie Mellon includes such work under the category “other
considerations”: Candidates for appointment and tenure decisions may also carry
out professional activities that should be considered: e.g., professional
practice, consulting, public service, service in professional and technical
societies and editorial work on professional journals and other publications,” http://www.cmu.edu/policies/documents/Tenure.html.
Modern Language Association
Tenure Guidelines for Digital Scholarship,
Nichols, John. 2013. “What The
Boston Globe Got Right and Why It Should Change How Papers Think,” The Nation,
April 20, 2013,
Web. Accessed 5 June, 2013.
Tenure
Guidelines, Carnegie Mellon University,
Sheila
Cavanagh is
Professor of English and Emory Distinguished Teaching Scholar at Emory
University. Author of books on Edmund Spenser and Lady Mary Wroth, she is also
Co-Director of the World Shakespeare Project and Director of the Emory Women
Writers Resource Project. Until recently, she was Editor of the Spenser Review.
_____
APPOSITIONS: Studies in
Renaissance / Early Modern Literature and Culture, http://appositions.blogspot.com/, ISSN: 1946-1992, Volume Six (2013): Editions & Editing
No comments:
Post a Comment