We are a bitchy business, scholarly publishing and communications. Our commentaries are darkened by the worst aspects of gossipy innuendo by librarians, publishing’s love of intrigue and tales of competitive failure, and the joys of academic backbiting. I have had fifty years in the company of many people who do not recognise innovation, have no capacity to praise achievement, and who cannot recognise progress unless it is a circular route that takes them back, to where their own careers began – when of course everything in the scholarly marketplace was rosy. 

The latest piece in The Geyser, on PLoS and the CAP funding programme, is quite typical, but not the only one. PLoS is a not for profit, and one of the first Open Access publishers. It is run by Alison Mudditt, a distinguished scholarly publisher with a proven track record of success in commercial academic publishing. In the last two years she has brought PLoS out of serious losses and back into balance again. She has created a strong management team and they have produced a new way of engaging with research institutions that moves beyond the bundling and discounting of “transformative agreements” and into an era of much longer term partnership agreements, where margins are predictable, where issues of volume and cost can be transparent and where institutional buyers can be certain that if they overspend in one year they will be compensated in another. This calls for levels of transparency in partnership that would make many commercial players expire in anguish. 

This is new. It is not complex. It is innovative in its rebalancing of the institution-publisher relationship. It is highly relevant to an industry largely created out of public money. It speaks of the sort of social capitalism that is reflected in Europe by developments like Plan S. Surely our first reactions should be to praise its authors, recognise their intelligent innovation and celebrate their attempt to provide a better solution? Criticism can then follow, and undoubtedly the scheme will change as it rolls out. Meanwhile, congratulations PLoS, welcome back to financial health and thanks for showing us that there is always something new we can do with business models. 

Then we need to reflect on what this does to the market. More and more emphasis is now being placed on institutional deals, and many publishers are becoming acutely aware that there are real limitations on numbers here. The focus is on the US market, and PLoS is launching in the medical and biological science spaces. Are we going to see a struggle for institutional adoptions – a sort of musical chairs until the deal-making music stops? Indeed, a Scramble for institutions that mirrors the nineteenth century Scramble for Africa as European nations colonised a continent. And it is worth reflecting on this because the only way of determining the value of commercial OA, apart of course from its margins, will be the value, period, and potential yield of its institutional agreements.  

And this introduces thoughts about whether it is better in OA to be specialised or generalised. If you are trying to win a Sloan Kettering or a Francis Crick institute then specialisation is essential. But many university deals cannot be closed without broad subject coverage. And it will be interesting to see the effects of all of this on reputation management. How do we sell the university managers focussed on research team promotion at a time when funding is tightening that publication in a limited range of journals helps them? Only if we can map the subsequent life of the article post-publication far more effectively by showing who read it, who commented, who passed it on, and how influential it subsequently became. While the historic measure has been the Impact Factor, the limitations of citation indexing and the gaming of citations make it at once the only common measure, and a a challenge for OA publishers to create independent ways of demonstrating that the article reached the right key people and teams, and that they reacted to it. The data is now generally available: it is now up to publishers to demonstrate how effectively they are connecting communication with recipients. 

Lastly in this context, we need to bring funders into focus. To avoid accusations of double-dipping and to ensure continuity and robustness, it will be critical in some instances to bring funders into some of these partnerships. And a three way deal between a funder, a research institute and a servicing OA publisher does make a great deal of sense, especially if it can be done as openly as the PLoS CAP model suggests. The end result may well be consolidation amongst OA players, and with at least one commercial player up for sale at present this seems to be in train already. The days when the barriers to entry in publishing were notoriously low may be coming to an end. The Scramble for institutions reminds us that OA publishing is a function of a digital services and solutions economy. Perhaps it would never have run satisfactorily if based solely on a volume-reliant APC-based model. We should thank PLoS for leading us in new directions.

Happy 25th Birthday, HighWire! 

Change always needs intermediation. The history of research and scholarship demonstrates this constantly. Practises that are at first born of initial necessity become the habitual style which has in turn to be accommodated when technologies change. Monks who trudged across Europe to update copies of the manuscripts of Copernicus in distant monasteries with their own observations were succeeded by scholars whose work would appear in the exciting new medium of print. Nicholas Hill, preparing his “Epicurean” of 1601, bringing Lucretius and his atomism into the seventeenth century scientific discussion, had his printer insert blank pages between text pages so that readers and friends like John Donne and Ben Jonson could add their annotations. Each technology needs facilitation and handmaidens. Fifty years after Hill come the Philosophical  Transactions and the Scavans – the first science journals. 

In 1995, year of Highwire’s foundation, we were all struggling with the inheritance of the Darpanet. Having been gifted the ability to interconnect  research globally by the US Defense Dept, and christened it the Internet, we could think of nothing better to do than dump into it all the science recorded since 1660. We sought to communicate what had already been communicated, and in the rush of mid-decade enthusiasm few saw the problems. But there were scholars and scientists – and librarians – at Stamford who did, and have provided 25 years of services and hosting and solutions to get us through some difficult passages, and ensure that many smaller but highly valuable  players could cope. 

And the task is not yet done and the future of intermediation and facilitation could indeed be the future of publishing. Following Nicholas Hill in 1601 comes Dan Whaley today with his hypothes.is venture, excitingly interconnecting the footnotes, comments and annotations to enable a research thought to be followed more effectively. And after those heady days of digitalisation of the mid 1990s we have come into a wholly different “born digital” world. We use the inadequate expression “digital transformation” to describe what should, if done properly, end with a researcher-centric view of content. The research requirement to find exactly the information required means (as it has always meant) that natural language searching, concept based enquiry, semantic fingerprinting, effective ontologies and really top class metadata are far more important than the redundant formats – “book”, “article”, “journal” and the like – that we spend our lives discussing. 

In 1995 my own company, Electronic Publishing Services (EPS), was ten years old, during which period we had been faced with nothing more challenging than commercialising dial-up databases, CD-ROM and Multimedia, said then to be the Future. We got our first internet strategy job in 1993, and as the with founders at Highwire we were working out a service business scenario. We, being no wiser, came up with the Theory of Musical Chairs. In this we postulated that the network effect was to force network participants to occupy the territory of the next player in the workflow newly connected by the network. Thus, we argued, authors would soon become (self) publishers; librarians would become super publishers and and hold the vital standards of content interoperability; publishers would evolve into maintenance engineers, tuning the tools which cross searched the distributed content held locally in research repositories, providing the software development and advances which would do much to create the “new” science in a collaborative world. 

The message that publishers were to be recreated as software services and solutions businesses did not resonate with our publisher clients, who, as one, took to the conference podium of the world to proclaim that “Content is King”. We had to wait for populist politicians for slogans to match that in emptiness. It disguised the reality of a user- centred networked world for a time, and what a boom time it was for scholarly communications publishers. But now that the boom is over, OA and Plan S all conspire in the direction of controlling  margins, the true shape of a network future is beginning to emerge. 

So what will the world look like in scholarly communications at Highwire’s fiftieth? Hating to waste a theory, I am clinging to Musical Chairs. At current rates of research output, we have already reached the point where the idea of a researcher reading all the current material published in their sector is becoming absurd. Mapping what is happening, knowing which peers are doing what, is problematical for some. Knowing what results another team are achieving now (morressier.com) may be more important than reviewing their published article in two years time. Searching on methodologies across multisourced content, or cross referencing citations could be critical. Since all content cannot be in one place, federated searching and the use of text and data mining across all available references becomes an imperative. 

So we emerge into the world of AI. In fact of course it has been with us all along, changing its name from Expert systems to neural networks as a way of disguising the fact that it didn’t deliver to our wildest expectations. Now that it is beginning to deliver, it can shoulder many duties for scholarly research. All that peer review reference checking and concept analysis (ScholarOne  and UNSILO), for example. But these are the foothills. It is when AI becomes the way researchers read other people’s research that things really get interesting. Released from the time-consuming literature, researchers may be free to research and self-publish. But acts of self-publishing may simply be releasing formatted work into the network, or by opening access to the network for a digital lab notebook. Imagine Jupyter notebooks of the future where colleagues and collaborators could see and annotate findings, or test reproduceability from the data available on board. As we move from Open Access to Open Science, overt acts of “publishing” may become as rare as overt acts of textual reading. The minds of librarians (Hypergraph from Liberate Science – libscie.org) already lean in this direction. 

Some major publishers anticipate  these developments by acquiring software and  services companies. Others think that a world born in 1660 will ever change or decline. Whoever is right, all these worlds will need support and services. Have a happy next 25 years, Highwire! 

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