digital identity

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As I begin a new gig directing public history at Arizona State University, I’ve had to rethink a whole number of things about my career and digital identity. So much of my professional life had been consumed starting the Center for Public History + Digital Humanities, that I never fully realized how intertwined my identity–including my digital footprint–has been tied to the Center. We engaged in so many experiments, servers, and domains, as well as a transition from building my own web projects to hiring and directing a talented (but small) team of folks to manage digital projects. I had the opportunity to figure out what works and what doesn’t, which will be helpful as I work with colleagues at ASU to inject digital humanities into public history and history, as well as contribute to the development of digital humanities more broadly. In the midst of it all, I lost touch with a basic ethos of humanities computing, the diy spirit.  So, as I have embarked on this new journey, I’ve transitioned my domains, servers, and hosting. I’ve taken a series of very simple steps to preserve my digital footprint and rationalize it. Here are a few lessons, a few important reminders for novices and experienced digital humanists alike.

The first step is always the same: Domains, domains, domains. Choose your domains carefully and thoughtfully. But, choose and commit. Your domain will be your “brand,” to borrow a business concept that is often overblown and overused, but valuable. People will know you through your identity. I have a static wordpress install at MarkTebeau.com, which leads to my blog, here at UrbanHumanist.org. I chose UrbanHumanist as a title for a blog because I wanted a digital identity that was not tied to my name, back in the days when anonymity through use of use of a pseudonym seemed possible (and like a good idea.) Although mildly amusing in retrospect, such a “handle” to borrow an old term from CB radio days does have a virtue, especially for folks with more common names than my own.

When we do Curatescape installations with partners, we always recommend this type of identity exercise, which often takes a surprising amount of time because it can be complicated and its implications are important. Sometimes we get a bit of incredulity from scholars or preservationists when we discuss the import of naming and identity, because our scholarly communities typically are so bad with names. Think Colons: Or how book titles obscure meaning and good storytelling through lengthy titles that serve to over specify. Or, how we have gradually moved back to 19th century book titles.

Regardless, building a digital identity self-consciously will help you to develop a clear program of identities across the various digital platforms and services you use. Think of all of them: email, facebook, twitter, blogs, youtube, flickr, instagram, gravatar, etc. All of mine, for example use my name, and/or urbanhumanist, interchangeably. Likewise we spent a lot of time trying to figure out the same issues for my signature digital project Cleveland Historical, as well as the technology framework that my lab developed, Curatescape. All of these projects have developed in a way that allows their content/identity to be proliferated across different channels, which is aided by good design (and a logo) that unifies and helps to tell that story. Such logos, coupled with the same name or terms, in each space makes your identity clearer to your colleagues, employers (including future employers), and the public. Their may be a prices for this–loss of privacy for example. In fact, my spouse values her privacy so much, she has chosen to have a very restricted digital identity. But, most professionals and most people, especially those come of age in the Internet age, will have little choice but to figure out how to construct and navigate a digital self, including how to transform their identity as they transition from one career to another. (addition: I would note that services such as Linked In surely help show a career arc, but they’re not enough. Moreover, and generally speaking, *you* actually have little control over how your life data is formatted in those settings.)

Once, you’ve chosen that lovely identity, you should purchase your domain, preferably from a service that allows you full control over the domain name system (DNS), including allowing you to see your extensible provisioning protocol, or EPP. Until I began the process of consolidating and transferring my domain names and sites to a new server recently, I had no idea of how just how important this was, or that it could be an issue. My previous host, midphase, did not allow me access to the DNS, nor was it very willing to share my EPP. In fact, its poorly designed and not very user friendly cpanel (control panel) was what prompted my move. Likewise, they offered little meaningful support (i.e. the “support” button did not work on the cpanel.) So I switched hosts. But, how would I decide?  Well, I did two things.

First, I set up a project over at Reclaim Hosting, which is a fabulous service. It was developed by the minds behind built the Domain of One’s Own project at the University of Mary Washington, which has received wide attention for its innovative approach to humanities computing.  With its emphasis on a do-it-yourself approach to digital humanities, including the importance of knowing something about coding and technology, this effort sits right at the the heart of the digital humanities endeavor. It is perfect for novices and experienced users alike. Although, I think it is best for folks who are creating an identity for the very first time, as the service works best for individuals with no previous domains. If I were starting my DH career and wanted hosing this is where I would do it. I can’t recommend this highly enough.

Second, in my case, with two wordpress sites, a desire to control my own hosting more aggressively, including to set up a WordPress multi-site installation, as well as do some other things, I needed a great wordpress host. I checked out the WordPress Codex and instructions and found they recommended BlueHost, Laughing Squid, and Dreamhost as being good hosts, with great support. I went with BlueHost, and have already had a great experience. Enthusiastic, although not always perfect, support coupled with a simple to use control panel and some other features have made this a great choice.

Even so, resetting my digital identity did not come without a cost or learning curve. The cost was primarily in terms of time. All told, I spent less than $100 over the last week, but I spent about 20 hours figuring things out.  Why so much time? Well, first, it has been years (literally) since I did this sort of work on the server and in set-up.  So, I had to refamiliarize myself with  some of the details. And, second, doing it yourself requires reading the manual first. (Yes, I’m the guy who doesn’t read the manual before assembling new toys.) Indeed, I hit this wall when I began to set up a WordPress multisite installation for the ASU Public History Program (see it in action at ASU Public History!)  Doing this work also required me to understand (and learn or relearn) how domain names work. This stuff is pretty easy to learn/re-learn. It is also conceptually straightforward, but getting the precise commands right takes time. And, it takes patience because sometimes your DNS changes don’t propagate (i.e spread across the Internet) for up to 48 hours.  So that advise is what you would expect. Take some time, look things up (there’s this cool new digital encyclopedia called Wikipedia.) Also read the manual (i.e. the WordPress Codex). And, follow your host’s simple instructions and guides–those at BlueHost are great.

It was enervating to relearn how the Internet works and a reminder of just how important technology is in the digital humanities. The web is our medium, our idiom. We should understand how things operate! Indeed, innovation–whether we build it directly or participate in it conceptually–begins with some basic understanding of the technology.

Digital identity matters, and doing it yourself helps you to begin to familiarize yourself with how the Internet works, a vital first step in learning the digital humanities, not to mention engaging knowledge that is central to the digital age.

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Note: changed/updated spelling 8/13/6:45 MTT

Open as a Value

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I have watched the #AHAGATE with fascination. You can read about it at Open History, http://openhistory.uservoice.com/, as well as the blogs of a host of colleagues.

Among the broader perspectives that I see is missing is a discussion of power (alluded to on Mills Kelly’s EdWired, which is a must read) and openness as a value in its own right.

Let’s start with openness as a value.  The AHA often weighs in on the value of openness of archives. To wit, “Beyond the interests of historical researchers stand a wide variety of civic-minded Georgians who depend on open access to archives. Teachers, lawyers, real estate developers, leaders of neighborhood associations–all rely not only on the vital records housed in the Georgia Archives, but on the expert advice of its archivists.”  Note that there are larger questions at work here about state institutions and their obligations in a Democracy. But, regardless, the point here is clear. Openness is a value that historians support, even in the context of economic crises and the changes wrought by the digital age.

So my question: If open access to archives is important, then why isn’t open access to scholarship?

The main objection of the AHA to openness is that too much of it will diminish the print publication of ideas (in books, but also as expressed elsewhere in journals.) The AHA claims that university presses won’t publish books based on dissertations that are online. They also have expressed concern about the cost models for scholarly journals, such as the American Historical Review, noting that subscriptions declined when it was made available on JSTOR, which is not really open at all (because it sits behind a paywall.) This, the AHA claims, will harm scholars because we need books to get promoted and tenured.

Even the least careful scholar can see this for what it is: a naked attempt to preserve the power of the AHA. Indeed, this position is exactly consistent with the AHA’s previous statements about the digital age:

“Thus it is incumbent on the AHA to both understand and utilize all the cutting-edge possibilities of these new technologies, while transferring its traditional role as gatekeeper and authority for the discipline to this new medium.” (I borrowed this quote and sentiment from Mills Kelly; see http://edwired.org/2013/07/26/the-rear-guard-makes-its-stand/.)

I have sympathy for the position of the AHA, Universities, and other traditional bastions of cultural authority. After all, having earned a PhD is evidence of my claim on that power. But, if, as scholars, our only claim to authority is based on an eroding power structure, and not our ideas, then we should get out of the business.

Now, I want to see books preserved. I love books. But, does the publication of dissertations online (or any expression of our scholarship in print or digital form) really harm the interests of publishers?  I would argue no, which is consistent with the evidence about the publication process and the statements of at least one prominent publisher.  Also, let’s be clear about the challenges facing academic publishing. They do not come from dissertations being available online. Indeed, the challenges facing universities presses and academic book publishers began well before the digital revolution because the economic model of academic books is flawed. Really, selling 1000 high-priced hard cover books to academic libraries (but not to the public) is hardly a model for economic sustainability, not to mention for the dissemination of knowledge.  Academic and historical journals face these very same economic problems, well before the digital revolution, and university presses have been scrambling to find ways to remain cost effective. And, of course, the expansion of the digital era has continued to exacerbate these long-standing problems.

I also find anecdotal claims about university presses not publishing work that has been online or in other formats to miss an important point in the context of this debate. Namely, university presses (and a small number of peer reviewers) possess an extraordinary amount of power in the present system–so much so that their presence actually distorts and diminishes the interest of authors and historians.  To wit, most university press contracts ask authors to assign that copyright over to the press. Presently, entry-level scholars (i.e. untenured, contingent, unemployed, underemployed, or in an alternative career) have little recourse when confronted with such contracts. Likewise, first-time authors lack the ability to challenge university presses to publicize and promote their work.  Similar situations occur in publishing in journals as well, where the time from submission to publication can be measured in years, not months, and power rests almost entirely with the journals. (By the way, with book publishing the times from submission to review(s) to publication often are embarrassingly long.)

Indeed, in academic publishing, the relation between author and publisher is almost entirely assymetrical, especially for first-time authors.

(Incidentally, I agree with Adam Crymble’s point that knowledge has a real cost (i.e. it is not free.)  But, I would argue that assymetrical power relations of academic publishing as presently conceived actually asks huge concessions from authors (and first-time authors especially.) Indeed, when presses ask for our copyrights, and seek to gain economic sustainability through selling our work, they are essentially engaged in transferring our investments in research to themselves.  And, increasingly presses ask authors to pay for the costs of images, indexing, and even poor copy-editing. Thus, if the problem with open publishing is that it puts too much of the cost of the research on the individual author, the same is also true of contemporary academic publishing. And, more to the point, if a potential author does not work in an R1 setting–i.e. most historians–the present publishing model works even more strongly against their interest. See http://adamcrymble.blogspot.com/2013/07/students-should-be-empowered-not.html)

Additionally, in his defense of the AHA, William Cronon, claimed that making dissertations available online opened junior scholars to possible theft of their ideas. This is not so at all. When an author makes their work available online–whether a dissertation, a website, whatever–they don’t lose copyright. To the contrary, they likely can stipulate the terms of that availability in very clear terms.  And, in no case, does availability of something online allow others to take those ideas without citation.

In short, dissertations are copyright protected scholarship. They are the scholars intellectual property, whether they are online, or not.  So, no scholar should worry about anyone appropriating their idea because they put a dissertation online. (One could argue, in fact, that the presence of the online version might actually offer protection from such appropriation.)

University presses should recognize that the process of scholarly publishing adds value to a work (or, at least, it should add value._ If they are concerned that the value-added is not sufficient to warrant publication of a dissertation, they either have to review their economic model or change their standards for publication. Or, as was the case with one scholar, Jennifer Guiliano, they could ask the scholar to embargo the work once its been accepted for publication. (Incidentally, as Guiliano points out in her case, the openness of her dissertation may well have been a positive.)

As for the AHA, if the AHA wants to protect junior scholars (defined broadly, not narrowly as the AHA would have it), then there are many things it could do. For example, such protection could include a demand that university presses should judge submissions based on their intellectual value, and that members and history departments allow for multiple paths to tenure and promotion (other than the book.) And, finally, the AHA could take a consistent position vis-a-vis openness. It is an important value; it should not be undermined.

With openness will come new challenges, but it is best we face those challenges head on rather than by burying our head in the sand–or embargoing our intellectual treasures.