Why blogs aren’t journals
Hat tip to the LibrarianInBlack for setting off this set of musings…
A year and a half after I delivered The Social Journal, its tenets keep coming up and up and up again. Blogs are vibrant literature, yep, in libraryland and elsewhere; I happened across something a while back indicating that the number of blog citations in law reviews is heading for the sky. “What is a scholarly journal but a means of communication among people of similar interests and backgrounds?”
Aha. That’s what a journal was, way back in the day. It’s not what a journal is. Real quick now, I’m going to reconstitute my argument from The Social Journal. (You might do better just downloading the presentation, honestly; it’s got my talk notes in it, and it has pretty pictures of Oxford!)
Journals started because the round-robin letter-sending arrangements by which research results were communicated among gentleman scientists got to be too unwieldy to manage. They started out as pure communication vehicles. No peer review (in fact, a chap by the name of Sir Isaac Newton relished the chance to bypass his staid, unimaginative peers in communicating his results, and The Social Journal quotes him on it!). This meant that quite a few of the articles were pure snake oil. No credentialing; gentleman scholars didn’t need credentials. No discipline boundaries, really; that had yet to shake out. Just pure, untrammeled 200-proof communication.
If this sounds like the blogosphere, especially the biblioblogosphere… well, it should. I would argue that librarianship has glommed onto the blogosphere far faster than other nominally or genuinely academic disciplines precisely because a lot of us are a lot closer to “gentleman scholars” than we are to today’s notion of an academic. I know I sure am. I adduce the relative paucity of actual library-school professors in the biblioblogosphere to support my point: Those folks ain’t gentleman-scholars; they’re wrapped up in regular old academia.
So what does that mean? Well, the gentleman-scholar eventually gave way to the professional academician, who suddenly had to defend his value in a marketplace if he wanted to get paid. So he had to mark his territory (thus the emergence of disciplinary boundaries and scholarly societies), prove he could produce (publish-or-perish), and prove that what he produced was any damn good (peer review). All of this is fine and dandy, but it reduces the communications efficiency of the journal medium by quite a lot. It’s hard to yell out “Eureka!” in a modern journal. By design.
Enter the conference, the listserv, the preprint server, and yes, the blog. Just because the academy needs to puff up its CVs doesn’t mean it doesn’t need to communicate efficiently. Other means of communication came in to fill the void. There’s a pretty good paper to be written on disciplinary differences affecting precisely which means were adopted, but I am not the one to write it.
But there is a line, still, between the blog and the journal. Well, several lines. But the important one for the arguments being made about blogs as a substitute good for journals is what the fanfic folks call beta-reading. Journals have beta-readers, people who read your stuff in order to help you improve it before it hits the newsstands. Blogs don’t.
I once read a peer-reviewer stating that the publish/don’t-publish decision was the least of his considerations as he read articles. His chief goal was to make the article better: clean up the logic, clean up the language, ask fruitful side questions, et cetera. Even at non-peer-reviewed publications, a good editor can do yeoman’s work as a beta-reader. Whoever they’ve got over at D-Lib is decidedly skilled at it. First Monday is unfortunately horrendous, which just goes to show that peer review doesn’t always mean good beta-reading, and the lack of peer review (D-Lib isn’t peer-reviewed) doesn’t always mean bad or no beta-reading.
(There’s a side argument here about blind vs. open peer review that I don’t care to get into. My own belief is that reviewers ought to have to sign their reviews, and article provenance should be as blind to the reviewer as possible, noting that it isn’t always possible. But any kind of beta-reading, even bad peer review, is preferable to none. I reread the Roach Motel revisions the other day and found one really astoundingly bad paragraph that I dearly hope the copyeditor will cringe at and fix. On the other hand, I see some epic-fail sentences in my Project Bamboo blogging that I’m just going to live with. Communication versus polish.)
We haven’t figured out how to do beta-reading in the blogosphere yet. Until we do, that’s one genuinely important way in which the blog is inferior to the journal.
It’s probably not the only way. Y’all can find the arguments about long-form versus short-form blogging on your own. I do tend to think that the blog is hostile to the kind of extended argumentation that the journal article is good at. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t have written Roach Motel or Design Speaks on CavLec, and if I had, would anyone have waded all the way through them?
There’s one other problem with blogs as a scholarly medium that I’m frankly appalled that a passel of librarians and library-school professors didn’t come up with: the scholarly record. Remember that? That thing that’s supposed to outlast ephemeral thoughts and ephemeral media? That thing that allows us to check that when X writes “Y said Z,” we can go back and read whether Y actually did say Z? That thing that academic libraries are partly in business to protect?
Yeah. That. A blog can disappear in a heartbeat or a DNS blip, irrespective of its quality. (When I’ve been tempted to pull the plug on CavLec, and I have been so tempted, it’s had nothing whatever to do with my or anyone else’s sense of the quality or importance of my writing here.) If pieces of the record vanishing altogether into the ether isn’t bad enough for you, I know bloggers who regularly redact their stuff, for matters far more important than grammatical miscues or adding corrections. Catching them out can be quite a trick.
We haven’t solved that problem, either. We’ve barely even made a stab at it. Until we do, blogs can’t do something genuinely important that journals (pace the problems of e-journals) do: persist.