Editors' Introduction: Getting the Profession We Want, or A Few Thoughts on the Crisis in Scholarly Publishing

The debate about what counts (or should count) as scholarly work is a subject that has become ever more fraught in the past several years. And nothing has brought it more to the fore than the current crisis in scholarly publishing. The most obvious case in point: Stephen Greenblatt's letter to the membership of the Modern Language Association of 28 May 2002. In this letter (as many of our readers are undoubtedly aware) then-President Greenblatt, on behalf of the MLA Executive Council, pointed to "a serious problem in the publishing of scholarly books" and asked for the membership's assistance. When the president of the MLA claims that the profession is in a crisis, one that affects the future of scholarship in the humanities and, consequently, the careers of "a generation of young scholars," we take notice.

As he explains, the situation is that most departments of language and literature require "a full-length scholarly book published by a reputable press" as a condition for tenure and promotion. However, due to the budget constraints that are everywhere constricting college and university funding, university presses are cutting back on the publication of such works, particularly in language and literature. In his letter, Greenblatt explores the systemic economic causes: "Responding to the pressure of shrinking budgets and of skyrocketing costs for medical, scientific, and technical journals, [university] libraries have cut back on the number of books that they purchase. And university presses, suffering severe financial losses as a result of this shift in the library purchases and a general decline in book sales, have cut back on the number of books they publish annually in certain fields."

While Greenblatt's letter may be the most direct call to action the profession has heard, others have been discussing the "crisis" for several years. Those of us who work intimately with university presses, for instance, have been all too aware of the economics surrounding the relationship between universities and their libraries, university presses, and scholarship in the form of monographs and journals. Rather than simply lamenting this crisis, however, we think the heightened attention provides a rich opportunity for beginning a conversation about how we might reexamine the values we hold—and importantly, reward—as a profession.

The problem is certainly a complex one—and a number of people have already done a fine job detailing the variety of reasons offered for what's ailing us. In a September 2002 talk, Duke University Press editor-in-chief Ken Wissoker (2002: 1) ties the situation in publishing to a clash of economic models, linking the current situation to an attitude he terms "nineties venture capital logic": "My central claim is that the venture capital logic of the nineties, either in its older 'every tub on its own bottom' form or the more advanced investment/payoff model, has had a devastating effect on some of the institutions central to the academic system. I will be talking about presses, but I don't think they have been singled out or forced to play by different rules. 'Excellence, great. Now how are you going to pay for it?' Or, in the case of publishing, make it pay for itself."

The shifting financial landscape in academe that Wissoker points to is explored further by Cathy N. Davidson, former editor of American Literature (also a Duke University Press journal) and currently vice provost for interdisciplinary studies and director of the John Hope Franklin Humanities Institute at Duke University, as she rehearses in great detail the many diagnoses of the problem and its shifting victims. Due to space constraints, we won't repeat them here, but we would draw your attention to her sensible summary of the problem, which in some ways diverts our attention away from victimization and blame shifting: "We have to stop thinking of...