The new media environment affects the conceptualization, scope, and method of humanistic scholarship, and the means of producing and circulating it as well. Scholarly publication has been the common term of reference for work produced within the traditional publishing system. Faculty commonly conceive of the culmination of scholarly inquiry as the short-form essay and as the more highly valued book or monograph form. But instead of asking, what have you “published,” the question might better be phrased as “How have you been communicating your work?” Invocation of the term scholarly publication directs attention to the end product of scholarly work, “the article” or “the book” and its materiality. Invocation of the term scholarly communication directs attention to the processes of scholarship and opens to a variety of modes, lengths, media, and publication/circulation systems.
All around, the system for publishing scholarly work in book form is in flux. The flux signals both a challenge for academic presses and an opportunity to rethink scholarly vehicles. As former press editor Philip Pochoda observed several years ago, “Now, after half a century of productive publishing, th[e] print-based publishing order is in its final throes of dissolution, having suffered the combined blows of withdrawal of external funding and significant loss of revenue overall; drastically declining demand from libraries and scholarly customers; and, most importantly, the digital revolution which challenges every aspect and assumption of the legacy publishing process.”1 No longer served by the “legacy print system”—which Pochoda described as “a stable, bounded, well-ordered and well-policed publishing model”—academic humanists now navigate an unfolding system “that is inherently unstable and shape-shifting in all its elements, potentially anarchic and boundless, and unimaginably rich in future publishing opportunities.”2 Yes, and also a complex system in search of viable economic models.
For the last decade, press directors, faculty boards, and professional organizations have been analyzing the internal and external trends that have rendered the old funding model untenable. To deal with budgetary constraints and cuts, university administrators have withdrawn or scaled down funding for academic presses, despite their role as a public good serving the academy as a whole. At many institutions academic presses have been shifted from independent enterprises to subsidiary enterprises located in university libraries, now in the business of academic publishing.3 Academic librarians have readjusted budgets to deal with the high costs of science and STEM journals, an effect of the consolidation of science publications across a small set of for-profit vendors such as Elsevier. And with the pace of technological transformation intensified, library administrators have struggled to balance acquisitions of print materials with acquisitions and preservation needs of digital databases, publications, and platforms. The escalating costs of science journals and the competing demands on library budgets have resulted in diminished sales of academic books in print form, since librarians can no longer purchase every book published in humanities fields by academic presses. Moreover, academic press directors and library personnel running new publication ventures now struggle to adapt to reader habits among professional humanists, develop models flexible enough to take advantage of new possibilities provided by multiple-format publication and print-on-demand publishing, and anticipate the as-yet-unknown impact of open access publishing on sales. And with regard to humanities publication venues for the short-form article: Journals, many located in the publishing wing of academic libraries, are in transition as well, from print to online versions, or some hybrid of the two.4
Responding to this unstable publishing environment, the Mellon Foundation has assumed a major role in addressing changes in the scholarly communication system. In 2015 alone, Mellon was funding some 12 initiatives across the United States assessing business models for supporting humanities publishing and open-access journal publishing; developing evaluation guidelines for scholarship in multimedia modes; and developing platforms and software to manage, produce, and preserve digital scholarship. The accumulative goals of these initiatives are to facilitate the transition to and strengthen heterogeneity in the multiple modes and media of scholarly communication in the humanities and humanistic social sciences.
And so to the opportunities in this flux. Rather than bemoan this state of affairs by recourse to a “forced binary” pitting digital against codex genres and forms, and the long book form against other forms, let’s reflect on how the continued investment in a singular model of scholarly excellence has consequences.5 As Abby Smith Rumsey wrote in the SCI8 report of the Scholarly Communication Institute, “Current print-based models of scholarly production, assessment, and publication have proven insufficient to meet the demands of scholars and students in the twenty-first century” (5). And she continued:
The reliance of faculty on tenure and review models tied to endangered print genres leads to the disregard of innovation and new methodologies. And mobile digitally fluent students entering undergraduate and graduate schools are at risk of alienation from the historic core of humanistic inquiry, constrained by outmoded regimes of creation and access.6
Stifling experimentation and innovation. Damping student passion for advanced work in the humanities. Devaluing collaborative modes of scholarly inquiry in the humanities. Digging in rather than digging out to the future.
The traditional model of valuing humanities inquiry and its practices of production will be increasingly inadequate to the many kinds of work future humanists will do, its methodologies, its forms, its audiences, its users, and the entire ensemble of actors involved in producing, circulating, and responding to scholarly communication. As Claire Bond Potter wrote in the April 2015 issue of Perspectives on History published by the American Historical Association, “Digital technology is diversifying, not destroying, scholarly publication.”7 So let’s rethink the defining place of the book as it signifies in the humanistic disciplines.
First, a shard of historical perspective. In The Book and the Renaissance Andrew Pettegree invokes the phrase “the humanist mythology of print” to remind readers that the invention of the printing press was about making money in a new communication environment and making new kinds of readers for reproducible books; and that the ensemble of changes rapidly unfolding was about the transformation of the institution of the library and the shifting notion of scholarly identity. Unhappy scholars, for whom the printing press threatened to debase the world of the mind and the imagination, futilely hoped to stem the tide of high-speed production of multiple copies.8 For them, this technological revolution threatened their expertise, status, value, and privilege as conservators and minders of received knowledge. Others glimpsed the potential benefits of reproducible type: acceleration of production, portability, accessibility, and diversification of centers and purveyors of knowledge, among others.
And next, a bit of bookish deconstruction. The book as it’s been known may not have been the book as it’s been known. In the Vimeo production This Is Not a Book, Alan Liu unsettles common wisdom, situating the physical book as “not a book,” just as an e-book is not “a book” in the discourse of those who bemoan the end of the book.9 Unpacking the common definition of “the book” as a physical object, Liu suggests that what is most critical to people’s understanding of the book is its status as a long form of attention, identified with the idea of permanence, standards of excellence, and authoritativeness. Liu’s thesis is that the physical book is not a book either, arguing, vis-à-vis book history, that the materiality associated with the book is “historically situated, contingent, ephemeral, and highly irregular.” Indeed, he observes counterintuitively, “The long form book is not standard, regular, and authoritative”; rather, “The more authoritative the book, the more it is likely to be read discontinuously.”10 Thus, he proposes, the printed book is “only a physical metaphor for the book,” concluding that, increasingly, Big Data and digitally environed projects will enable scholars to discern long forms of attention from the past in new ways.
And now for a glimpse of bookish persistence. Many academic humanists struggle with the loss of materiality of the traditional print book, so much a part of the scholarly imaginary. So it might be salutary to keep in mind the ways in which the desire for the physical form of the book returns as a kind of repressed. Here’s one such expression of that desire. In a March 2012 online journal, Craig Mod composed a multimedia essay entitled “The Digital-Physical: On Building Flipboard for iPhone and Finding the Edges of our Digital Narratives.”11 Mod wrote of the “feeling of thinness that I believe many of us grapple with working digitally. It’s a product of the ethereality inherent to computer work. The more the entirety of the creation process lives in bits, the less solid the things we’re creating feel in our minds.”12 In response to this unbearable feeling of thinness, Mod created an eight-pound book with hard edges, a physical book assembled out of “git” comments and design sketches involved in building a digital tool. Intriguingly, the physical book form becomes a platform visualizing the flow of work and the participation of team members in a born-digital project. In the end, Mod writes, “What projects like this speak to is the unique and increasingly important value we can give data by abstracting physicality. . . . Creating that space. Capturing a journey effortlessly in bits, and then giving it edges. This dance makes our digital experiences more understandable, parseable, consumable.”13 While the book, as Mod observes, cannot capture the emotion of putting the Flipboard app together, it can capture in its visuality and weightiness the “activity” of the project.
Finally, a bit of debunking with regard to the value of weight. Across the years I’ve certainly read many good, some great, books. But I’ve read bad books, predictable books. I’ve read books whose successive chapters end up saying much the same thing again and again, but about different objects. I’ve read books with one or two good chapters. I’ve read books that don’t cohere into a long argument. I’ve read books whose argument could have been condensed in one long essay. As Paul Conway observed to me, “The only argument for the long-form book is that the knowledge transmitted and the rhetorical method for doing so requires a long form.” Indeed, he insisted, “Many long-form books are really a sequence of arguments that could be packaged/parsed into appropriate and accessible segments.”14 In addition, I’ve known scholars over the years whose métier would have been the long-form essay, if there had been venues for publishing such an essay. I’ve known scholars whose accumulated gravitas in a field is the result of the sedimented impact of a succession of essays that kept probing different topics or archives or theoretical frameworks; scholars, that is, for whom the long-form book was constraining as a project. I’ve known scholars for whom the book could only work if it was pieced together experimentally, rather than formulaically. The opportunity now available is the opportunity to dislodge the hold of the book form and pursue a diversity of scholarly projects and products.
The long-form physical book is, and will remain, a particular container for circulating knowledge and a measure of excellence in the corner of the academy that is the humanities and humanistic social sciences. But the physical book will be only one form of “bookishness,” to invoke Tara McPherson’s rakish term; and that bookishness will take a variety of forms and unfold through a variety of media and modes.15 Going forward, humanities scholars will communicate their work in a complex, shifting environment with its new ecology of bookishness.
To effectively negotiate this scholarly communication system, academic humanists will expand their familiarity with all kinds of tools and platforms useful in pursuing their research and composing their scholarly products. They will assess a multiplicity of scholarly vehicles, including but not limited to the common article and book forms. Many will migrate to makers’ spaces and collaborative, born-digital projects. They will discover new relationships with readers. They will become familiar with layered practices of scholarly authorization. They will attend to evolving evaluative criteria for judging scholarly achievement.
Familiarity with tools and platforms. The terms of reference are no longer just pen/paper, or computer/pdf files. They encompass platforms, protocols, affordances, modes of visualization, and management systems for pursuing and composing humanities scholarship. Websites of reference include BambooDiRT, a portal providing information and links to digital research tools out there for humanists to use in their research and authoring activities.16 Programs and apps of reference include Zotero, “the only research tool that automatically senses content, allowing you to add it to your personal library with a single click,” and Scribd.com, a site onto which to upload text in various formats for comment and for building communities of reading.17
Then too, there are the authoring tools and environments about which to become familiar. With freeware, such as the blog site WordPress. With PressForward (developed out of the Roy Rosenzweig Center for History and New Media), a site for “scholarship and publication, the Web Way.”18 PressForward culls the Web for the best online scholarship, “including scholarly blogs, digital projects, and other web genres that don’t fit into traditional articles or books.”19 With Scalar, an authoring and publishing tool developed by McPherson and her collaborators in the Alliance for Networking Visual Culture out of the University of Southern California, and funded by the Mellon Foundation and the NEH. Scalar joins multiple software packages together into one platform, enabling scholars to author works that incorporate visual, aural, textual, video, and database materials.20 And in the future, with Cairn, a platform in development by Cheryl Ball at the University of West Virginia and Andrew Morrison at the Oslo School of Architecture and Design in Norway. Funded by Mellon, Cairn will be “an online, free and open-source system that will help editors of scholarly multimedia journals, books and data sets engage in building and reading multimedia-rich, peer-reviewed content.”21
And these are only a few of the tools, sites, and authoring platforms that support faculty as they pursue research projects and compose their work for publication. Some will be displaced by the next “big thing.” Some will fizzle. Some have legs and will keep going. Just trying to stay abreast of what’s out there becomes a dizzying affair.
Familiarity with new forms of bookishness. No longer must scholars think of communicating their work in only two vehicle lengths, the printed article and printed book; for, as Pochoda observes: “The digital regime, in principle, permits publication in any length and in a wide and expanding variety of digital (as well as print) containers.”22 Indeed, right now academic humanists can produce books in digital and print versions simultaneously. They can write in lengths that are longer than the normative article form and shorter than the normative monograph form. Middle-length and middle-state publishing ventures address this glaring lacuna in scholarly communication in the humanities. The Trio Series at the University of Chicago Press is one such venture, publishing long essays “address[ing] an important theme in critical theory, philosophy, or cultural studies through three extended essays written in close collaboration by leading scholars.” The 2015 book entitled Nothing, for instance, offers “three inquiries in Buddhism.”23 The Palgrave Pivot imprint publishes scholarly work “at lengths of between 25,000 and 50,000 words—longer than a journal article, but shorter than a monograph.” David Elliott’s Fukushima: Impacts and Implications, published in 2012, was a winner of the CHOICE Outstanding Academic Titles award in 2013.24 There are opportunities for humanities scholars to participate in experiments with repackaging, such as the Princeton Shorts series. There are quick print opportunities to repurpose earlier work into new collections. There are experimental presses, on the model of Phantom Limb. There are write-on-demand mash-ups on hot topics in e-book format. There are born-digital journals, such as Kairos; and online websites deploying born-digital publishing platforms, such as Scalar, mentioned above. And at the other end of the spectrum that runs from long-form book to microforms, there are short forms, such as blogs and apps.
In this ecology of heterogeneous “containers,” the notion of the fixedness of the scholarly product seems more opaque than it does in the traditional print landscape. Paul Conway observes that the book is “taking multiple forms as a curated object, fixed, done, set and then handed off to preservation services (such as libraries) for long term care.” Thus, even while the “long form curated object” may be “digital, paper, and a combination of the two . . . the notion of fixing the argument—a long one at that—will persist.”25 But, increasingly, as a prequel to that fixing, there is elasticity in the publishing system. At the 2011 HASTAC conference, Daniel J. Cohen remarked that inertness as an assumption of scholarly publication is becoming a bit outré. He challenged those assembled, by asking: “How can we wean ourselves from the inertness of knowledge, the sense that once it’s in a book, it’s done.”26 He answered his own question by suggesting that there’s “sort of” publishing, the publishing of bits and pieces of scholarly and theoretical work, some of which will be in blogs, some in other forms.27 In sort-of publishing, humanities scholars circulate pieces of their ideas publicly, inviting or inciting response. In this way, they test their arguments, curate early and intermediate stages of ideation, and attract potential readers on the way to preparing their work for a more fixed form of publication.
Familiarity with new genres of born-digital scholarship. Adjusting to the new platform environment, academic humanists discover how it is that new modes and media of communicating scholarly work alter the conceptualization of what to compose, what to communicate, and how best to display and array arguments, evidence, and archival materials. Indeed, the value of humanities scholarship lies in the interpretive capacities to illuminate; and new modes of scholarly composition and communication enable those who adapt them to expand interpretive capabilities.28 Always eloquent in her reflection on the processes and practices of authoring platforms, McPherson early on “recognize[d] certain genres or types of scholarship well suited to database platforms,” among them “the animated archive, the experiential argument, the interactive documentary, and the spatialized essay, as well as various forms of simulation or visualization.”29
In born-digital multimedia platforms, modes of unfolding scholarly analyses and their vehicles of presentation may be progressive and iterative and recursive and interactive, all at once, as McPherson argues of the epistemological shifts attending multimodal scholarly communication. They may, paradoxically, be approached and navigated as long form and middle form and short form simultaneously, depending upon how readers/users move through them—upon whether they browse or follow a map or read text or listen in. They may be experienced as conjunctions of deep, surface, distant, and affective readings.
And with regard to born-digital projects, “doneness” can be a more complicated state to reach. Matthew G. Kirschenbaum introduced a special section of articles in a 2009 volume of Digital Humanities Quarterly by asking: “What is the measure of ‘completeness’ in a medium where the prevailing wisdom is to celebrate the incomplete, the open-ended, and the extensible.” Essays in the special section took up questions of doneness in born-digital projects involving emergent tools, platforms, and interactive websites. Here the complexities of doneness circle around versions and releases and going live-ness, and extend to issues of “digital preservation and version control.”30
Familiarity with potential new relationships with readers. In this ecology, humanities scholars enter new relationships with readers, whom they may engage at all stages of authoring their work. Readers—or “users”—may become active interlocutors, who, as Rumsey notes, “are each and every one potential authors and publishers as well as readers.”31 She notes that as “users of content, “the new audience expects not only to read, but to listen, to look, to download and re-use.”32 In circulation, scholarly content will travel through networks that include not only scholar-peers but a broader array of graduate and undergraduate students; scholarly networks that are not only institutionally based but globally networked in their configuration. It may even reach different kinds of “readers,” different kinds of publics.
And readers will be differently positioned vis-à-vis the object before them. Reflecting on the experience of authoring How Text Lost Its Source: Magnetic Recording Cultures, a Scalar dissertation, Jentery Sayers noted the potential for readers to “select how a book’s content is viewed.” “These views,” he observed, “range from ‘text-only’ and ‘media-emphasis’ to a radial visualization, a force-directed graph, and a history browser. Again, this array of perspectives brushes against any totalizing account of media history. . . . It also destabilizes a scholar’s authority over an audience’s interpretation as it allows them to arrange and re-arrange content.”33 Readers gain agency to take their own route through a born-digital scholarly site. This release from the author’s directed itinerary may enhance readers’ pleasures of discovery, or intensify the indeterminacy of readers’ versions of the argument, stakes, and impact of the scholarship. Effectively, the multiplicity of readings, viewings, and/or hearings readers pursue decenters the knowing “I” assumed to lie at the center of humanistic inquiry and distributes knowledge making across readerships and networks of relationality.
Familiarity with evolving processes of scholarly authorization. And what of the evaluative systems for vetting scholarly work? The traditional vetting system of peer review rests on the assessment of scholar-experts reading blindly, without knowledge of the identity of the author. That system is still standard in submission of manuscripts to most journals and presses, whether publication comes out in print or e-book format. But the addition of so many other possible containers or vehicles for scholarly work complicates the system of peer review, implicating evolving processes of authorization and evaluation. Kathleen Fitzpatrick, director of scholarly communications at the Modern Language Association and author of Planned Obsolescence: Publishing, Technology, and the Future of the Academy, offers trenchant analysis of the contemporary state of play in review practices, calling attention to the ways in which new platforms, among them blogs and social media, enable online publication that circumvents customary norms of authorization and the ways in which versions of “bookishness” can now enter multiple review systems, some traditional, some hybrid, some experimental.34
Fitzpatrick herself participated in a mixed review process in the publication of Planned Obsolescence: New York University Press sought traditional peer review from experts in media studies; and Fitzpatrick mounted an open version of the manuscript in MediaCommons, soliciting peer-to-peer review from anyone who registered as a reviewer on the site. Moreover, within the book she advanced her argument for open peer review in the chapter entitled “Beyond Metrics: Community Authorization and Open Peer Review.” Subsequently she codirected a Mellon-funded project assessing issues related to the values, practices, labor, and platforms necessary to implement peer-to-peer review systems.35
With regard to born-digital work, new models for review are emerging to evaluate developmental stages of projects using Big Data and producing substantial metadata, websites, and new tools and platforms. Among them, NINES (Networked Infrastructure for Nineteenth-Century Electronic Scholarship) has attempted to instill a peer-review ethic in its digital objects aggregation project. And centerNet’s Digital Humanities Commons matches scholar experts with particular interests to projects around the globe and seeks peer reviewers for projects in the making. But the diversity of projects, the reach of multidisciplinary collaborations, the pressures of ensuring preservation, all require far more extensive, complex, and differentiated review mechanisms. Again, it’s a one-size-does-not-fit-all moment.
Attention to evolving evaluative criteria for judging scholarly achievement. Humanities faculty and university administrators responsible for tenure and promotion decisions have a long history of evaluating the printed article form and book form. And though there is often contention around on-the-ground evaluations of import, quality, and intervention within disciplines and across disciplinary boundaries, there is little contention about how one goes about evaluating those forms. This is true of the e-book form as well as the printed book form, the online journal article as well as the print journal form. Add to this mix multiple new containers for born-digital work and the challenges ahead become formidable, due to new forms of expertise required to evaluate them. As Jennifer Howard explores in the Chronicle for Higher Education, the environment for reviewing digitally environed scholarship has yet to mature.36
In that piece, Howard cites Brett Bobley, director of the NEH’s Office of Digital Humanities. Bobley writes:
In the past, an edition was judged almost entirely on the scholarship (rightly so). But in the digital realm, we also need to judge it on their digital infrastructure. Do they have useful metadata? A sustainability plan? Are they conforming with library/archive standards? Do they have an API (application programming interface) to enable others to repurpose the data or mash it up with other data? Etc. These are all important issues.37
As with review processes noted above, there are evaluative models out there. PressForward at George Mason assesses quality blogs; and some journals provide website reviews, such as Digital Humanities Quarterly.38 There are also recommendations for the components of adequate review. Julia Flanders, editor of DHQ, cited by Howard in the Chronicle piece, observes that “the key elements are the content, the digital tools used to build it, how its data are structured, and the interface.”39
Sounds like a plan! But the number of humanists prepared to evaluate new modes and media of scholarly communication on departmental review committees and the faculty at large is still modest. Those tasked with evaluation look for guidance from peers in the field of digital humanities and from professional organizations, such as the Modern Language Association and its Guidelines for Evaluating Work with Digital Media.40 In the meantime, pressures are considerable on scholars working in new modes and digital environments: they now have to explain what is scholarly about their work; situate the work; justify it; and document their role or roles in the project. They have to ensure that department chairs and review committee members have available guidelines in hand when they do their evaluations.
Moreover, faculty interested in pursuing new methods, modes, and media of scholarly inquiry and communication continue to confront the problem of conventional expectations about what “counts” as scholarly work. Many faculty who pursue, or consider pursuing, new digital methods and digital modes of communication find that such work must be “in addition” to producing work in conventional containers of printed book and article forms. To engage this issue, the Five College Digital Humanities consortium launched an initiative in 2015 titled “The New Rigor.” Its purpose is to bring various stakeholders together—faculty, staff, students—to “start from scratch” and model a “structure of evaluation or assessment—in terms of peer review, tenure and promotion, or student research experience” that “would encourage [faculty] to do digital work.”41
New terms of reference. New forms of bookishness. New genres of scholarly productivity. Potential new relationships with readers. Evolving practices of peer review. Evolving evaluation criteria in tenure and promotion.
Academic humanists confront a fluid, and demanding, publication/ communication scene. The multiplication of the vehicles, media, speed, and sociality of scholarly communication enables humanities scholars to work in the form of communication most compatible with their particular project, flexible imagination, scope of interest, argumentative mode, and desire for impact and visibility. Sometimes scholars choose one form or mode over another; sometimes they move between and ply the terrain of digital-physical bookishness. Sometimes they take the plunge. In this complex, shifting environment, then, traditional forms of bookishness will persist alongside new forms of bookishness. The book as it’s been known will no longer be the sole “gold standard.” The currency of humanistic scholarship will be multiple.
This evolving ecology of scholarly communication puts every aspect of scholarship into play: its germination; its unfolding through particular forms of interpretation, argumentation, and presentation; its environment of composition; its media of presentation; its preparation for circulation; its address to readers; and its circulation and, increasingly, its reuse. It often involves an ensemble of actors: individual scholars, libraries and librarians, publishers, computer technicians, administrators, funders, and heterogeneous users. In this context, scholars are multipositioned as authors and also collaborators, project managers, publishers, disseminators, and curators of their work.42 As Pochoda sums it up: “No traditional publishing role, much less traditional publishing entity, seems stable or settled in the fully digital universe: the digital system, by its nature, empowers its components to shed rigid identities and labels and be not a this or a that but both, and more, simultaneously and sequentially.”43
Long forms and short forms, experimental forms, middle-state forms and as-yet-imagined forms. Multimedia forms, at once haptic and visual and textual and aural. Forms distributed, in process, and interactive. The everything-that’s-in-play unsettles those who are used to the traditional legacy-print system, those who are experimenting with or immersed in new modes and models of scholarly communication, those who are tasked with evaluating the quality, reach, and impact of a scholar’s work, and those just beginning their doctoral studies. Questions about what the evolving terrain will look like and how to successfully navigate its complexity can only multiply. Here are just a few, articulated in a 2012 meeting of participants in the Scalar project at USC. How long is long? How short is short? What’s the relationship of genre and longevity? What happens to born-digital scholarship inadequately preserved and curated? What’s the role of the ephemeral in humanities scholarship?
And there are so many more: How might doctoral students prepare to experiment in these genres and faculty prepare to guide them? How do faculty and students learn to navigate them, read them? What is becoming of reading, for faculty and for students? Following the funding: who is going to ensure the longevity, the preservation, of online scholarly presentations and publications? And how are continuing questions of evaluative criteria going to be addressed? There are anxieties to be confronted and perhaps allayed, perhaps intensified. And there are intellectual rewards to be reaped in this new ecology of scholarly communication.
The scholarly communications system is a system in radical transition. But it is one of exciting opportunities. Cohen, at once optimistic and cautionary, gets my last word here. “Surely,” he observes,
we can reorient ourselves to our true core values—to honor creativity and quality—which will still guide us to many traditionally published works but will also allow us to consider works in some nontraditional venues such as open access journals, blogs or articles written and posted on a personal website or institutional repository, or non-narrative digital projects.44
Cohen’s challenge leads me to the next discussion—humanists and the open-access movement.