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The practice of pre-publication peer-review of scholarly papers has recently come under attack from a wide variety of sources, ranging from bloggers to The Scientist to The New York Times. Nearly every discussion of peer-review refers to it as a “burden,” and that burden is often described as “overwhelming.”

I’ve always thought of peer-review as a tremendously efficient bargain (review a small number of papers and get back the entire set of literature that’s been filtered and scrutinized at the same level).

How overwhelming is the burden of peer-review, and does the proposed solution of post-publication review offer any relief?

The Scientist quotes UCSF biologist Keith Yamamoto, as just one example of the stated burden:

“The culture of having to publish means the burden of papers is just enormous,” Yamamoto says. And the burden of reviewing this glut of papers goes almost entirely unrewarded.

It’s tempting to immediately dismiss the recent set of “advertorials” in the Scientist, conveniently timed as they are with the announcement of  their new partnership with the post-publication review service Faculty of 1000. But even taken at face value, there seems to be little data given to support the concept of “overburdening.” Another Scientist article merely states that there are more articles submitted each year, but neglects to mention that the population of scientists, and hence potential reviewers, is also growing.

How big of a problem is peer-review for most scientists?

A recent study suggests that “unpaid non-cash costs of peer review” undertaken by academics works out to £1.9 billion. That seems like a lot of money, but when one amortizes it across the total number of working scientists (best estimate I can find is around 11.5 million worldwide, sourced here and here), and using today’s exchange rate, it works out to around $256 per researcher per year. Is that a reasonable amount of effort to contribute?

The Research Information Network’s data shows that peer-reviewed journal content is valued as more important than any other source, quoting one researcher who stated, “Anything that isn’t peer-reviewed . . . is worthless.”

What is the value in having your most important information source vetted by experts? Is it worth less than $256 annually to you? Isn’t having the literature filtered in this manner — the time saved from having to go through the unacceptable dross — the very “reward” Yamamoto is seeking above?

I wanted to get a feel for how burdensome peer-review is in my field, biology. In a thoroughly non-scientific study, I asked a dozen biology professors about their peer-review burden, trying to get a good cross section of people at different stages of their careers and at different types of institutions. The vast majority told me they review around 1-3 papers each month. Scientists are under enormous work and time pressures these days, but how much of that can be blamed on reviewing a few papers each month?

Some senior researchers review more papers, often because they’re on the editorial boards of journals, and their burden can range as high as 10 to 15 papers per month. That does seem like a sizable workload, but it’s hard to think of it as an unbearable burden when it’s an entirely voluntary one.  Can one really call a voluntary activity a “burden”? There’s no stigma for turning down an editor’s review request. All professors I contacted said they had no problem with this.  Some well-known senior professors deliberately limit their reviews to no more than a few per month, and in times when they’ve got a heavy workload in other areas, they refuse all review requests.  Do other fields differ greatly from biology, or is this a reasonable picture of science as a whole?

Editors and researchers in other fields, please chime in with comments below and let us know how well my admittedly small sample size reflects things in your area.

If these sorts of numbers are accurate, then peer-review does seem to offer a superb bargain in efficiency. A recent study showed that 50% of biologists use academic journal articles every working day (and another 30% use them “most days”). So by agreeing to review 1-3 articles per month, you’re guaranteed that the multiple articles you’re using nearly every day of your career have been scrutinized and filtered at that same level.

Let’s compare this level of efficiency with that seen for the most commonly proposed alternative, post-publication review, the idea of putting everything up on the web and letting “the crowd” filter things out.

If we start with the idea that information overload is a problem — that researchers are buried in an constant avalanche of papers — then imagine the size of that avalanche in a system where no paper is ever rejected, where everything gets published.

Not only will you be reading more papers, but those papers are going to be of lower quality than those you now read.  One of the key rewards of our current peer-review system is that the criticisms are used to improve papers before they’re published. Time and attention are incredibly valuable commodities. A system that requires you to spend more time reading more papers that are of lower quality is already looking problematic.

One of the main complaints against peer-review is that it delays the dissemination of research results:

Peer-review is too slow, affecting public health, grants, and credit for ideas. . . . Another common frustration among authors is the lengthy time delay between submission of a manuscript and its publication.

Does post-publication review solve this problem? Peer-reviewed journal articles are considered “very important” information sources by 92% of researchers in the study mentioned above compared to 4% giving that rating to “un-refereed articles.” Given this attitude, are researchers going to be willing to read articles that have not yet been reviewed in any manner at all?  Or will they wait, particularly for articles outside of their area of expertise, until a trusted source has posted a review?  That introduces a new delay into the system — instead of waiting for an editor-driven review process, we’ll instead be dependent on a stochastic process.

For that stochastic process to work, it asks participants to review every article they read.  And that’s where the efficiency of the system bottoms out.  Which is a bigger burden — serving as the peer reviewer for 1-3 articles per month, or serving as the peer reviewer for every article you read?

Beyond efficiency, post-publication peer review suffers from a likely lack of expertise and trust. A highly respected journal with a track record for editorial excellence in selecting qualified reviewers is likely to be trusted more than an anonymous commenter who may or may not be qualified:

Many professors, of course, are wary of turning peer review into an “American Idol”-like competition. They question whether people would be as frank in public, and they worry that comments would be short and episodic, rather than comprehensive and conceptual, and that know-nothings would predominate. After all, the development of peer review was an outgrowth of the professionalization of disciplines from mathematics to history — a way of keeping eager but uninformed amateurs out. “Knowledge is not democratic,” said Michèle Lamont, a Harvard sociologist who analyzes peer review in her 2009 book, “How Professors Think: Inside the Curious World of Academic Judgment.” Evaluating originality and intellectual significance, she said, can be done only by those who are expert in a field.

As Phil Davis recently asked:

Is a system that allows anyone to comment on a paper — anonymous or not — really a form of “peer-review.” Where is the “peer” in “peer review?”

Replacing a flawed system with one that’s even more flawed is not an option.

Most proposals for doing away with pre-publication peer-review suffer from “Highlander Syndrome” (“There can be only one!”), the notion that everything must be a zero-sum game, and that if a new layer is added, a previous layer must be removed. In an age of information overload, we need more filters, not fewer. Yes, peer-review can be improved, and yes, if one could actually generate participation, post-publication review could be tremendously valuable. Wouldn’t it be better if these filters were additive rather than having to choose between them?

Even if one assumes that peer-review is an enormous burden, it’s possible to turn it into an important educational opportunity for students. One thing — and possibly the most valuable thing — I learned in my graduate school lab was how to write a scientific paper. The evaluation of submitted papers provides a hands-on opportunity to hone these sorts of skills.

The head of a major research institution recently told me the following about his peer review practices:

One reason I do accept review responsibilities is that I work with lab members to do some of the reviews. This helps people learn the system and how to evaluate papers. Because reviewer opinions are available, I can sit down with the person from the lab and go over how their opinion relates to the other reviewers. It helps them learn to be a better reviewer, understand what to expect from their own papers and how people respond to reviewers comments.

If done right this is a great training opportunity. If a PI just gives a lab member a paper and turns in that review, it can be problematic. However, if they get the review from the lab member and sit down to go over whether it is fair, balanced, accurately deals with strengths and weaknesses etc., and compare it with their own take on the paper, it can be a great learning experience. When I do this and then show the lab member the other reviewers comments after they are available, it can be very interesting. They are often surprised about what was said, missed, or put in the review and are reassured when others found similar issues. I find they also learn a lot from the author rebuttals and revisions the authors make if they resubmit the paper. It really prepares them for how to deal with comments when their own papers are reviewed.

Ultimately, what matters most is the near-universal demand for peer-review as a necessary filtering system:

Our study indicates that many researchers are discouraged from using new forms of scholarly communications because they do not trust what has not been subject to formal peer review… [R]esearchers seek assurances of quality above all through peer review, and that they do not see citation counts, usage statistics or reader ratings or other ‘wisdom of the crowds’ tools as providing an adequate substitute.

In seeking to replace pre-publication peer-review, one must look at the whole picture, at all of the benefits the current system provides, rather than focusing solely on the limited instances where it is problematic or open for abuse. Can peer review be improved?  Of course, but the best bet for the future is adding to peer-review rather than doing away with it altogether.

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Though the Pepsiblog scandal has cooled off, ScienceBlogs has remained in the media spotlight for the last few weeks. The meltdown of their network has led to a wide variety of observers weighing in on the value, or lack of value, of aggregating bloggers into big social networks. Most have asked what’s in it for the participating bloggers, but only a few have tried to view things from the host’s point of view. The social media dogma of the day has led many companies, particularly publishers, toward creating these overarching blogging networks with a vague promise that it will somehow lead to revenue. The ScienceBlogs fallout, however, points to a different reality — one in which monetizing blogging networks is not quite such an easy task.

In his long (and I mean l-o-o-o-o-o-o-ng) farewell to ScienceBlogs, Bora Zivkovic, the network’s social hub, makes the following suggestion to his former Seed Media overlords:

What Seed Media Group should be doing, what every media group should be doing, is become a tech-oriented company. . . . Instead of trying to produce content in-house, which is expensive (all those salaries!), Seed should realize that they already have. . . . producers of content. . . . If Seed Media Group (SMG) has money for employing twenty people, fifteen of those should be tech folks, driving innovation, serving Scienceblogs.com, making it bigger, better, more powerful.

Everything at Seed should be set up to be in service of Scienceblogs: administrators, legal staff, editors, and most importantly a large, powerful, innovative technical staff. The experiment was run, the results are in, scienceblogs.com was shown to be a successful endeavor, and the rest of the experiments, magazine included, were failures and need to be thrown out and forgotten

Richard Gayle (not affiliated with ScienceBlogs) offered similar advice:

Apparently the managers of Seed did not really understand why it was that these people were even there. They needed to make some money and completely ticked off the community with their ham-handed process. They forgot who there real customers were.

Most media still think that servicing advertisers is the bedrock of their business. But, for businesses who require networks to survive, servicing the network is paramount. Without the bloggers, there is no Scienceblogs, no matter how much advertisers are feted.

Technology makes an ad-hoc community really easy to create. And it makes it really easy for the community to change its mind, for individuals to leave and aggregate at a new community if they are not happy.

Both accurately explain what happened to ScienceBlogs but neither makes an actual business case for how ScienceBlogs was supposed to be a profitable company by focusing solely on the needs of their network members.

I strongly disagree with Gayle — the bloggers were not the customers, the bloggers were the product. And while it’s important to keep your product in a healthy state, you still need some means of selling it, or at least using it to turn a profit. There’s still too much South Park in the business model:

  1. Devote massive resources to the bloggers
  2. ?
  3. Profit

Gayle’s follow-up post does a much better job thinking through the possibilities and potential alternate revenue streams for such a network. But as we eventually both conclude in the comments, most blogging networks are simply not profit-driving commercial products.

So why build a blogging network?

Seed Media’s approach, as far as I can tell from the outside, has been to aggregate content and use that to drive traffic to feed their fledgling advertising network. In the same vein, I’ve never been quite sure of the Nature Network’s goals, though one would assume they’re interested in promoting the brand, and further cementing NPG’s position as a center of the scientific communication. If that sounds vague to you, then welcome to the world of Web 2.0 business models. Richard Grant, a long-time member of the Nature Network, points out the obvious:

There is no real product, no added value for participants. Sure, you can meet people here, and make lasting friendships (I have done, and I’m very grateful for them). But once those people swap emails, Facebook contacts, Twitter nicks or whatever, then what is left to do here?

Many science bloggers are catching on to something Kent Anderson has been preaching for a while now — the big consolidated website is no longer necessary, and the Internet itself is the network.

Publishers that have built networks should consider reaching the same conclusion — building big networks is not only no longer necessary, it may actually endanger your brand and limit revenue.  ScienceBlogs network members put the kibosh on what was likely a fairly lucrative business opportunity. By putting your company’s stamp of approval on a network of bloggers who you can’t control and must at all times cater to, you risk tarnishing your reputation by association. Scientific American recently ran into a question of credibility along these lines.

Beyond the actual subject matter, communities tend to form personalities, and like it or not, that personality represents your brand. These personalities are hard to spot from the inside of a network. Social networks like these tend to be self-reinforcing, filled with back-patting and congratulations for brilliance being offered back and forth. I won’t name specific names, but read nearly any of the posts from departing ScienceBlogs bloggers and you’re pretty much guaranteed to run across some statement about how incredibly important their blogs have been and how hugely respected they are. The view from the outside is somewhat different, as evidenced from Virginia Heffernan’s recent New York Times article where she took her first spin through the ScienceBlogs network:

ScienceBlogs has become preoccupied with trivia, name-calling and saber rattling. . . . And science blogging, apparently, is a form of redundant and effortfully incendiary rhetoric that draws bad-faith moral authority from the word “science” and from occasional invocations of “peer-reviewed” thises and thats.

Under cover of intellectual rigor, the science bloggers — or many of the most visible ones, anyway — prosecute agendas so charged with bigotry that it doesn’t take a pun-happy French critic or a rapier-witted Cambridge atheist to call this whole ScienceBlogs enterprise what it is, or has become: class-war claptrap.

The science blogosphere erupted in outrage (summarized well here), some rightly so, but much of it missed the point. Some were quick to dismiss Heffernan’s opinion because she isn’t a scientist. Attacking the messenger is a fairly common defensive tactic in the science blogging world, and it should be noted that The Scholarly Kitchen is often dismissed when we offer criticism of certain types of publishing models because we’re apparently a bunch of “English majors” and not qualified to discuss the publishing business, despite our combined decades of experience. Perhaps this argument might carry some weight here if ScienceBlogs were meant to be a restricted community, open only to active scientists, but when your mission statement is, “At a time when public interest in science is high but public understanding of science remains weak, we have set out to create innovative media ventures to improve science literacy and to advance global science culture,” then you’d damn well better consider the reactions of the non-science public that you’re trying to reach.

The criticisms that Heffernan missed much of the serious science commentary present on ScienceBlogs are accurate but beside the point. If you have to dig to find that material, and if the first impression the site gives is that it’s filled with a bunch of jerks, then the public is unlikely to do the necessary digging. The ScienceBlogs community was so repulsive to Heffernan that she inadvertently promoted an unscientific climate-change denialist blog in its stead.  The fact that ScienceBlogs is making the denialists seem reasonable and rational to the non-scientist reader should at least raise some red flags.

Furthermore, Heffernan’s impressions are similar to commentaries made by others outside of the ScienceBlogs network (but with both science and blogging backgrounds):

John Pavlus: I’ve watched some of their best writers slowly migrate away, their biggest name devolve into a one-note atheist crazy cat lady, and the remainder sort of just become a big echo chamber.

Psi Wavelength: . . . too many of the bloggers there have little to do with science, and post like 95% crap and politics (also mostly crap). There’s also a strong case of hivemind there, with a rather lopsided treatment of real controversies. An extreme example is the Pharyngula commentators, where any mild divergence from the accepted ideology results in a blinding firestorm. I don’t thing SB is any sort of ‘bastion of rational thinking’ that they like to portray. . . . SB has too many hotheaded narcissists who think they’re special snowflakes because they have blogs.

These group impressions aren’t limited to ScienceBlogs. The Nature Network is often ridiculed as well. In a rare feat of honest self-examination, Richard Grant notes that:

NN has a bit of a negative cachet in the rest of the blogome — where, actually, I’m more interested in being seen and accepted. It has a high barrier to casual commenting (the lifeblood of blogs!) — a stratospheric barrier to non-scientists. Furthermore, there are too many blogs hosted here.

All of which makes a strong case against running an open blogging network as part of your academic publication. It’s unlikely that Seed Media wants to be seen as the brand that stands for intolerance against religion, nor Nature the brand of poor quality and high quantity.

By all means, blog, and create your own networks for your editorial staff to blog — it’s a superb marketing tool. But perhaps it’s wiser to stick with participants whose interests match those of your company. Brands matter.  Ceding control of your brand to strangers is a dangerous path to take.

For the bloggers themselves, there seem to be a few ways forward, going completely independent, finding another network run by a publication to join, or starting new networks where the bloggers control their own fate and there are no conflicting interests. New science blogger-run networks like Field of Science and Scientopia are springing up.  The startup and maintenance costs are nearly nonexistent, so there’s little risk in the venture.  While these independent networks will hopefully offer some of the synergy and “psychological support” offered by commercially-backed networks, they’ll lack the marketing efforts and the strategic partnerships previously provided. This may be irrelevant, or at worst, a reasonable trade-off for the freedom offered.

And that may be the best solution here. Not everything on the Internet has to be a big moneymaker. Not every technology is worth the investment for a publisher. While it may be possible to build a community, controlling it and turning a profit from it is generally not in the best interest of that community. There’s an inherent conflict here that’s difficult, if not impossible, to overcome.

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The UK’s Research Information Network (RIN) recently released a report they commissioned on the use and relevance of  Web 2.0 for researchers.

Our regular readers will be amused to note that the report’s title employs the standard misquote from the movie Field Of Dreams, asking the question, “If You Build It, Will They Come? How Researchers Perceive and Use Web 2.0.”  The report’s answer to that question agrees with other recent studies:

. . . frequent or intensive use is rare. . . . We found that current levels of take-up are relatively low . . . while there are some variations between disciplines, web 2.0 tools are for the most part not considered to be particularly important. . . . Overall, there is little evidence at present to suggest that Web 2.0 will prompt in the short or medium term the kinds of radical changes in scholarly communications advocated by the open research community . . . for most researchers, the established channels of information exchange work well; and, critically, they are entrenched within the systems for evaluating and rewarding researchers for their work.

If you’ve been paying attention to actual researcher behavior rather than listening to the online hype, this should come as no surprise.  The results of the study are well in-line with everything we’ve seen for the last few years (see previous columns here, here, here, and here).  Predictions that new online technologies will revolutionize the way scientists and other researchers work have so far failed to come true.  If the landscape is likely to change over time, then a new toolset is needed to spur that change, as the current offerings have been judged as uninteresting or of low value to the academic community.  Creating the right toolset is apparently a higher hurdle than was expected.

RIN’s report was commissioned from a research group at the University of Manchester and the University of Edinburgh.

It’s worth reading, though I do have some concerns about the methodology that was used.

Their first round of data collection came from an online survey, followed by in-depth interviews with those surveyed and a set of case studies looking at various websites.

In my mind, the use of an online survey likely biases the results towards respondents comfortable with, and willing to use online resources.  Those who didn’t respond to the survey may represent an unseen “luddite” fraction of the population, so their numbers for usage, which are low, may in fact be over-inflated.  The case studies would also have been much more informative had they included actual user demographics and usage data, rather than a broad overview of the sites’ offerings.

Respondents ranged from a variety of research fields in the UK, including Medical Sciences, Biological Sciences, Physical Sciences, Computer Science & Maths, Engineering, Economics & Social Sciences and Arts & Humanities.

With those caveats, a quick summary of their results:

  • 13% of respondents use Web 2.0 tools in their work frequently, 45% occasionally, and 39% not at all.
  • Frequent usage is much higher among computer scientists and mathematicians and much lower in the medical and life sciences.
  • One major set of barriers to uptake is difficulty in keeping up with frequently changing tools and the fragmentation of the market resulting in an overload of sites offering similar services. This results in advantages for late movers willing to wait, rather than early adopters.
  • The other major barrier revolves around perceptions of trust and quality:

. . . they do not trust what has not been subject to formal peer review . . .” reader comments and ratings would be so open to abuse that it’s hard to imagine that people would interpret them as a valid [indicator] of the paper’s worth”.

  • Traditional journals are still considered the most important route of dissemination (70% thought so, though there’s a surprising dropoff of 14% between print-based journals and online-only journals, which are less valued).
  • Blogs and wikis are generally seen as a waste of time or even “dangerous”:

“[Blogs] are not taken very seriously, even blogs based on Nature.  [Colleagues] find it time consuming and not very credible.  Interesting, yes, but . . . as a piece of entertainment first and potentially useful almost serendipitously.”

  • Doing science is more important than talking about science:

“I’d rather spend the time thinking about what I’m going to do next rather than spend it telling others what I’m doing.”

  • Only 20% of respondents expect open access author-pays models to predominate.
  • Very few researchers (5% of respondents) are active in “open research” efforts, publishing their outputs and work in progress openly using blogs and other tools, while others consider such practices a waste of time, or even that they risk bringing “anarchy in science.”

None of this is particularly shocking.  But there were a few interesting results to come out of the study, starting with their look at participation and interest in new tools based on the age of the respondent.  We’ve been told ad infinitum that there’s some mythical group of “millennials” or “digital natives” who have grown up with online tools and that they’re going to dominate the world and demand that everything work like the social networks they used in high school.  RIN’s report provides further evidence that this is simply not true:

. . . while there are some statistically-significant variations between different demographic groups, high usage is positively associated with older age groups and those in more senior positions, not with their younger or more junior colleagues.

Digital anthropologist Dana Boyd hit the nail on the head when she disputed the notion of the “digital native,” noting that we’re all digital natives, coping with new technologies and finding new ways to do things. Young people are no better at this than older people.

There is no hostility toward Web 2.0 in the research community — 86% of respondents were neutral or enthusiastic toward the use of new technologies.  Their failure so far is that they don’t offer clear benefits to the user and the cost of adoption is far too high.  Researchers “do not see them as comparable or substitutes for other channels and means of communication, but as having their own distinctive role for specific purposes and at particular stages of research.”

The report also notes the danger of spending too much time focusing on the early-adopting heavy users:

. . . dependence for feedback and ideas on a small number of heavy users can create tension between serving what might be the complex and sophisticated needs of core enthusiasts, and engaging with occasional users (and potentially new ones), who might have different needs.

These are key lessons for publishers and anyone else interested in building social media for scientists or integrating its functionality into publications.  Make the advantages of use clear and easy to understand, make the barriers of entry nonexistent.  Don’t try to replace an existing system with a redundant one that doesn’t offer the same level of accepted career benefit. Offer something new, something that saves time and effort rather than demands it.

Most importantly, as seen in this clip around the 4:28 mark, “a man who made a baseball pitch in his garden for ghosts” is probably not a good role model for an aspiring business.

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The science blogosphere erupted in a furor this week, when Seed Media’s ScienceBlogs announced a new blog — Food Frontiers, a paid, sponsored blog about nutrition written by employees of PepsiCo.  ScienceBlogs described the content as:

. . . a look at the role the food industry plays in health issues, and how industry research into chemistry, physiology, neuroscience, behavioral economics, medicine, and nutrition can improve health outcomes around the world.

Others were less kind:

Yesterday, PepsiCo placed a full-page, semi-permanent advertorial on the ScienceBlogs network. (The Consumerist)

They aren’t going to be doing any scienceblogging — this is straight-up commercial propaganda. (PZ Meyers)

Multiple bloggers either suspended their blogs or quit ScienceBlogs altogether over their concerns that adding this blog undermined the credibility of the platform and their credibility as individual writers.

Eventually, ScienceBlogs caved under the pressure and removed Pepsi’s blog.

Did ScienceBlogs sell out to commercial interests, or was this just a continuation of what they’ve always done?

Social media in general has a history of difficulty in finding working business models.  You can’t charge for content, so alternative revenue streams must pay the bills.  This is less a problem for smaller, low-budget sites not run for profit, but for big, high-profile sites backed by investors, pressure mounts over time to supply the return those investors demand.  Often the business model is in clear opposition to the best interests of the site’s users.  Facebook is the current best example, and their recent moves toward eliminating privacy and selling user data to advertisers and others have come under scrutiny.  Despite the recent uproar, Facebook activity doesn’t seem to be declining all that much, and users have weighed the balance, deciding that the service provided is useful enough to overcome the negative baggage that it brings.  World of Warcraft users are facing similar issues.

This is the dilemma faced by anyone using any such service, including ScienceBlogs, and one of the real dangers in becoming completely dependent on something that’s out of your personal control.  Many claim that their entire lives revolve around Facebook, that it would be impossible to quit — thus they have no options other than to acquiesce to Facebook’s new policies, regardless of their effects.

There’s great advantage in controlling your own destiny, both on a personal and a business level, and it often pays to rely on either purchased platforms or open source software that you can keep in-house and continue to use and modify without reliance on someone else.  But those larger platforms come with great advantages as well.  Being a blogger on ScienceBlogs means you don’t have to do any software maintenance yourself to keep the site running.  ScienceBlogs pays its blog writers a small monthly percentage of advertising revenue (one wonders if Pepsi’s paid placement fees would have added to that sum).  More importantly, ScienceBlogs does a tremendous job of promoting its content, and there’s great synergy between blogs on the site, as they send one another traffic.  As a ScienceBlogs blogger, your writing reaches a much greater audience than it likely would if you hosted it by yourself on something like WordPress.

And the value of that traffic gets to the heart of the problem, and this is why it was hypocritical for ScienceBlog’s bloggers to have objected so strenuously.  ScienbceBlogs has never been a temple of purity, free of bias or agenda.  ScienceBlogs is, and has always been, an advertising platform.  In the past, they’ve run sponsored blogs from Invitrogen, Shell Oil and General Electric (note: these three blogs seem to have been recently pulled from the site as well). Why were these companies acceptable where Pepsi was not?

One of ScienceBlogs’ most prolific bloggers is an employee of the Public Library of Science, and a huge amount of what he writes is advertising for their journals.  Bora is an interesting and compelling writer, but many of his posts are merely copy and paste listings of papers released in PLoS journals and their abstracts.  He’s using ScienceBlogs as a marketing platform for his employer, promoting their content, adding valuable links to help search engine optimization, and actually gaming PLoS’ own system for article level metrics (should it count toward an article’s benefit if it’s blogged about by the staff of the journal that published it, should copying and pasting an abstract count as a blog entry in an article’s favor?).  Why is it okay for ScienceBlogs to be used as a flagrant advertising tool for one company’s products but not another’s?

Dig deeper and you’ll realize that nearly all of the blogs on ScienceBlogs are marketing tools.  Ask any blogger, and if they’re honest, they’ll tell you that part of the motivation for blogging is to promote their own “personal brand.”  That’s certainly a motivation for me writing for the Scholarly Kitchen — it raises my visibility and is good for my career development.  Blogging is an act of self-promotion, as is so much of Web 2.0.  The currently unemployed GrrlScientist notes how important her blog is to her career hopes.  The relentless self-promotion is likely one of the reasons why so many scientists “register active discouragement of blogging — a form of communication that in their eyes carries no stamp of reliability or prestige.” Regardless of how successful this activity may be, why is it acceptable for scientists to use ScienceBlogs to advertise themselves, to promote their own interests and the viewpoints that directly benefit them, yet not acceptable for a corporation to do the same?

It’s particularly ironic that these complaints came from the science blogosphere, which has regularly been a bastion of support for the post-publication review philosophy promoted by journals like PLoS One.  The idea is that it’s wrong for the editorial staff and peer reviewers to try to judge the value or significance of a research paper, that everything technically competent should be published, and the readers should be able to judge the quality of the work for themselves.  Suddenly, that same crowd demanded a heavy editorial hand from Seed Media, asking their staff to make value judgments about what material should and shouldn’t be published.  If commenting and social filtering are good enough for sorting the scientific literature, shouldn’t the same be true for blogs?

ScienceBlogs is not above criticism here — the move should have been made in a more transparent manner, and they really seem to have read their constituency wrong.  From the tone of their announcement of pulling the Pepsi blog, it sounds like they’re interested in finding a more accepted manner of posting this type of content (one assumes the lure of advertising dollars is difficult to resist).  Medical journals have long included similar practices, with sponsored supplements publishing papers from sponsored meetings consisting of sponsored research.  In these cases though, great care is taken to point out the potential for conflicts of interest. ScienceBlogs would likely be well served by a similar policy (though realistically, it should be applied across all of their blogs, not just Pepsi’s).

ScienceBlogs does provide a great deal of entertaining and informative reading material.  But ignoring the site’s commercial nature is perhaps wishful thinking.  In the end, the question should not have been “How dare they?”  It instead should have been, “Why haven’t you been paying attention?”

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On Monday, Steve Jobs unveiled the fourth generation iPhone and the latest iteration of Apple’s iPhone/iPad/iPod Touch OS, now dubbed “iOS4″. While there were no major surprises, and the actual form factor of the device had already been revealed through some ethically questionable (and possibly illegal) practices at Gizmodo, it’s a welcome set of upgrades, and an aesthetically pleasing new design, one which Jobs referred to as reminding him of “a classic Leica camera.”

While you can get a full rundown of all the new features at sites like Ars Technica, publishers should pay particular attention to a few key points, most revolving around iBooks and the iBookstore.

The first big bombshell was Jobs’ claim that in its first 65 days, the iBookstore has captured 22% of the eBook market. As with all Jobs keynote statistics, one has to wait for clarification of exactly what this figure means, but it appears to come from reports from publishers selling in the iBookstore — that of their e-book sales, 22% now come from Apple, which claims around 5 million e-books sold. The iBookstore works only on the iPad, and these don’t sound like outrageous numbers with 2 million iPads on the market. Compare that number to the estimated number of Kindle devices in the wild (around 2 to 3 million), and it’s not surprising to see Apple rapidly catching up.

The big question, then, is, What happens to the market when Apple’s iOS4 is released in the near future?

The iBookstore’s installed base will then jump from 2 million to 100 million devices.

Will this mean a massive jump in Apple’s share of the e-book market?  It’s hard to say.  Each of those 100 million devices can also run the Kindle app, along with apps from Barnes and Noble and other e-book sellers.  Apple may have a big advantage over other sellers though, because readers can buy new books from within the iBooks app itself.  Kindle app users have to leave the app, visit Amazon via the Safari web browser, and make their purchases there. Don’t underestimate the importance of this.  The power of in-app purchasing is evident from the music download market, where Apple holds a 70% share.  Amazon, which usually offers better prices on mp3 downloads, has only 12% of the market.  Clearly price is not a differentiator in this market, but convenience is.  Will those extra purchasing steps be as difficult to overcome in the e-book market as well?

Much of the Kindle’s support comes from the quality of its display of text.  Many prefer reading on the device to Apple’s backlit, lower resolution screen.  The new iPhone will still be backlit, but it will be interesting to see how the reading experience changes with Apple’s new Retina Display technology, which purports to give the device a pixel density at the highest level the human retina can detect, essentially giving the same resolution as the printed page.  How long will it take Apple to migrate this technology to the iPad? Will this negate the Kindle’s advantage?

Finally, Apple announced the addition of a PDF reader to its iBooks app.  The new version will allow the user to annotate and bookmark within PDFs and sync them between devices.

Details are scarce about the interface for the annotations and exactly how one would view them on a non-iPad/iPhone/iPod device. Direct note-taking on PDFs has yet to find an elegant solution, which is probably why so many scholarly journal readers print out their articles, so they can scribble in the margins with a pen.  If Apple has applied their customary interface design quality here, it could be greatly beneficial in pushing our readers further away from paper and closer to being comfortable with reading on screens.  This would be a welcome development as so many of the new data display technologies creeping into scholarly journals require online/onscreen viewing.  While the PDF is still something of an archaic and limited file format, any step away from print is a move forward.

Apple’s implementation of syncing, sharing, and viewing these annotated PDFs may also have serious implications for both makers of annotation apps, and for companies building suites of collaboration tools for researchers.  If the ability to annotate papers is built into the device itself, it’s one less reason to bother with an outside service.

More to follow on this once we get some concrete details.

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Process and data modeling
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Kent and Phil have done a superb job so far covering various sessions at the Society for Scholarly Publishing meeting today, and I wanted to pitch in as well with some notes from a session they missed, one which asked the question, “How can publishers maximize the value and reach of their content using new technologies?”

First up was Jim King, Director of Software Engineering for the American Chemical Society (ACS), who discussed their XML-based workflow.  The goals were to eliminate all human interaction with the content beyond intellectually driven activities of the editors, to reduce time to publication, and most importantly to make the end product “media neutral,” meaning content that can be used and re-used in a wide variety of formats.

King suggested that this was more of a business initiative than a technology initiative and that the toughest part was getting buy-in from the operational staff, changing their mindset to start thinking online before print.  He also discussed the ACS’ mobile platform, their iPhone app, which they developed internally in just a few months.  The app sells for $2.99, and they’ve sold around 3200 copies.  Because of their inexpensive internal development process, they don’t tend to think of the app as a profit-driver by itself, and just needed it to break even.  The sales numbers though, may be daunting for publishers without the same internal capabilities as in a later session it was suggested that mobile apps cost $25-30K to develop.

Next up was Keith Wollman, VP of Web Development and Operations at Cell Press, who walked the audience through the latest iteration of their “article of the future” (discussed here as well).  It was interesting to see their various prototypes, and how different groups, from scientists to interface design experts added their own expertise.  Wollman did add a caveat that this sort of experimentation takes a large and talented staff.  Given that so many readers of science journals just download the pdf and print it out to read it, it would have been interesting to hear whether their new design and presentation has impacted user behavior but Wollman said it was too early in their analysis to say much yet.  Also of note, they have a commenting function built in but as seen in so many other journals, it’s only very rarely used, averaging around 8 comments per month across all Cell Press journals.

Ryan Jones of PubGet was the final speaker as he talked about their system, which he describes as “a workflow tool” for use with a library’s existing subscriptions.  Their user surveys put fast delivery as the top requested quality for readers and their system brings those readers directly to the pdf version of articles, saving time and clicks.  They feel this increased ease of access will lead to more usage of a publisher’s content, which should lead to more subscriptions.  Again, it would have been nice to see some data here, as PubGet presents the pdfs framed on their own website, taking traffic away from the publisher’s website, potentially reducing any ad revenue a publisher generates themselves.  PubGet sells their own ads next to your content and offers partners a share of the revenue, but it’s unclear how that balances with the potential lost ad revenue or if increased subscriptions will make up the difference.  It was also surprising to hear that their search engine is based around the metadata the papers provide, and thus does not access the full text of the article.   That may make it tough for them to woo users away from other search facilities that offer more detailed results.

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Ivan Pavlov Classical Conditioning
Image by Psychology Pictures via Flickr

A pair of recent articles (here and here) on the Scholarly Kitchen stirred up some controversy and debate regarding high-volume, author-pays publications.  The articles were inspired by a publication in PLoS One, a paper which some here saw as deeply flawed, and comments on the problems with the methodology and approaches taken in that paper were part of the conversation.

Several commentators suggested that we should also post our criticisms directly on the paper in question.

There’s a certain irony in proponents of decentralization, of getting rid of authoritative sources and tearing down the journal system requesting that commentary be located at one centralized authoritative location.

If we are to scatter research reports to the wind, why not do the same with comments and let the same (not-yet-developed) automated and crowdsource-driven systems bring them to our attention as well?

But beyond the obvious contradictions, the near-complete lack of interest from the commentators in repeating their statements at PLoS One points out a fundamental problem at the heart of article commenting, and for social media in science altogether — namely, Why bother?

Where’s the incentive for participating?

From Kent or Phil’s point of view, they have a vested interest in not publishing their comments on the PLoS One site.  They’re both writers for this blog, and are interested in seeing it succeed, in increasing the blog’s traffic and influence.   Asking them to drive readership away from their own project is against their own interests.  And we don’t even sell advertising on the Scholarly Kitchen — imagine if we did have some income riding on our traffic levels. Then, the idea of giving away work to another website becomes even less likely.

The paper in question has, at the time of this writing, received only two ratings on the PLoS One site (4 stars and 5 stars respectively), and it may end up serving as a poster child for why the article level metrics that PLoS has chosen to measure are unlikely to be meaningful.  It’s a paper that’s been blogged about and that’s probably been downloaded and read fairly often.  But much of this attention is due to its problematic nature, not because it’s of significantly higher quality than other papers in PLoS One.  Should a flawed paper benefit because it’s in dispute?

Also, how meaningful is a ratings system that only attracts gladhanders but not critical thinkers (a quick review of PLoS’ data from March shows 25 times as many articles rated with 4 or 5 stars than 0 to 2 stars, which further reinforces the inherent flaws of such rating systems).

As I’ve often said, science is a demanding profession, one that leaves the successful researcher with little spare time.  Yet we see venture after venture like this, which demands scientists donate time and effort for no actual return.

The ideal system is one that offers immediate benefit to the user (something like LabLife, which offers a quick way to streamline the organization of a lab’s grocery list).  But what about the more esoteric social activities, things like discussions and critiques of a paper that don’t offer immediate tangible benefits to the user?  Are there ways of driving participation, of making it valuable enough to include in one’s busy schedule?

Often such discussions lead to the idea of a “karma” or “whuffie” system, where your level of online participation and the quality of your reputation is rated and displayed.  These sorts of systems have many technological hurdles (How can participation across a vast variety of sites be coordinated into one rating? How does one factor in activity in different types of forums like FriendFeed and Twitter?), and are ripe for gaming and manipulation.  But more importantly, they don’t serve to answer the question of motivation.  Why should anyone care what your karma rating is?  Does a number like this mean anything to anyone other than social media aficionados?

It’s just yet another inwardly gazing solution, an attempt to add meaning to social participation by creating an imaginary number that reflect social participation.

If you want to create a meaningful karma system, or drive participation in general, then there must be a direct link between performance and reward.  It’s unlikely that the real drivers of the tangible reward systems in science, funding agencies and tenure/hiring committees would officially back any sort of social participatory karma system.   If anything, the goals of these sorts of agencies and committees are not compatible with a heavy time investment in social networking.  Funders and institutions want researchers to make discoveries, to perform fruitful experiments.  But the higher your karma rating, the less time you’re probably spending doing the thing they’ve funded or hired you to do.  Very few researchers have received grants or tenure for the incisive comments they’ve made about the work of others.

Doing science is more important than talking about science.

What about real world tangible incentives?  I spoke with a professor last week who refuses to write any letters of recommendation for her students/postdocs until they’ve fully documented all of their protocols and reagents on the lab’s page on the social network site that they use.  This certainly gets the job done, but it’s unlikely that it’s something that could widely scale for use by any given site.  It requires buy-in from professors, something outside of the control of those running the actual social network and, again, something that requires motivation.  In this particular case, the professor is deeply involved as part of the team creating and running the social site in use, so there’s clear incentive there.  But for the lab next door, or any other lab, asking that the needs of a website be placed above the needs of the lab members is unlikely to succeed.  Asking mentors to commit what amounts to extortion over their students is going to be a tough sell.

Which brings us to the bottom line, pun intended — financial rewards.  Since most social media for scientists are being run as for-profit businesses, why not offer a revenue share for participation?  You’re asking researchers to do extra work to benefit your company, why not pay them for this extra work?  ScienceBlogs pays their bloggers “a modest monthly compensation based solely on the volume of blog pageviews.”  From what I’ve read, the payments are indeed pretty modest, but the bloggers seem very appreciative, and the payments add to their loyalty and sense of partnership in the enterprise.  This minor investment has paid off in furthering to the sense of community for those creating content, which in turn helps keep them actively involved in the venture.

Paying scientists a small fee for doing work that’s beyond their normal activities is something we’ve been experimenting with at Cold Spring Harbor Protocols, as well.  Many attempts to create online repositories of biology methods have failed because it’s tremendously difficult to get top scientists to take the time to formally write up their protocols.  The reward system for scientists is based (and rightly should be based) around data, rather than the techniques used to produce that data.  There are some labs who specialize in driving methodology, but a robust resource needs participation from the whole of the field, not just the technologists.  We’ve spent the last few years honing the project to make it more and more rewarding, and hopefully more and more attractive to authors.

We started CSH Protocols as a database, but quickly realized that we were better served by turning the project into a formal journal, one that’s listed in PubMed since adding a peer-reviewed, PubMed-indexed paper to one’s CV means more to our potential authors than being a contributor to a database.  On top of that, we’ve chosen to share revenue with our authors as an additional incentive.  Each year a portion of subscription revenue is set aside and distributed to paper authors based on the usage of their articles.  We’re just wrapping up the processing of payments for 2009.  Our payments this year for individual articles range from $10 (anything under $10 is rolled over to the next year) to $988.  The mean payment is around $142, though this number is skewed higher by the presence of a small number of highly popular protocols. The median is around $80.

That may not sound like much, but to a graduate student living on a stipend, a check for $80 is a very welcome sight, particularly if it comes in addition to the career benefit of publishing a paper.  It’s unclear how much of a motivation these payments are providing, as we have yet to complete our formal surveying and analysis.  My gut feeling is that the journal’s lack of page charges or publication fees may play a larger role in drawing in first-time authors.  When we start mailing out checks each spring, many authors are unaware that they’re receiving a royalty, at least for their first year’s payout.  But we do receive great feedback once the checks are sent out, and we’re starting to see an increasing number of repeat authors.

Direct payments like this may not be feasible for everyone.  Shareholders may not be keen on revenue going anywhere other than their pockets. And if you’re like most social networking sites, and you’re still searching for a business model, there’s likely no revenue to share.  But if your social media is tied to an actual revenue source, it’s worth considering.  For journals trying to push participation, there are incentives that can be offered without direct outlay that may pay off in areas beyond your social network.  If you want participation in your article level metrics, why not create a karma system that rewards users with discounted fees for author-pays articles?  If you want more conversation and blogs on your journal-associated network, why not offer reduced page charges for active members of the community?  This not only encourages activity in your networks, it also gives users more incentive to selectively publish their papers in your journals.

While many still want to claim that it’s too early in the process and that scientists are slow on the uptake of new technologies, I think we’re far enough along to realize that what’s been done so far has failed to work.

There’s not a scientist out there who hasn’t heard of Facebook. They know what a social network is.  The problem is not awareness or hesitancy, the problem is that that what’s been offered has been judged to be of insufficient value to warrant the extra effort it requires.  Rather than continuing to run into the same brick wall, isn’t it time to think instead of strategies for making participation more attractive?

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sach vs incredible hulk
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The failure of the traditional music industry has become the standard cautionary tale for content industries adapting to a digital era.  But for scholarly publishers, many factors make the music industry a poor comparison. We have more in common with smaller niche markets. Watching their electronic experimentation and new business models may be more informative as we seek new strategies for presenting and selling content.

Music isn’t similar to STM publishing because the market for music is essentially every human being on the planet.  The market for high-level journal articles or detailed scientific books, however, is extremely limited.  Much of what is published is of little interest outside of the research community and is often written at such a high technical level that few have the training to read and understand it.  It’s unlikely we’ll see mainstream culture seeking out the details of ubiquitination or the epithelial-mesenchymal transition, at least not with same level of interest shown for downloading Beyonce’s latest single.

The really interesting developments in the music industry involve a move toward taking advantage of scale through streaming services like Spotify and Pandora. These services depend on massive levels of traffic for revenue generation.  Take a look at this infographic which shows the level of activity needed for an artist to earn a minimum wage salary.  I doubt very many individual  journal articles see more than 4.5 million pageviews per month, which makes these types of approaches difficult to adopt for our more specialized content and limited audiences.

So if not music, then where should we look for innovation and new business methods that can readily be applied to scholarly publishing?

Two more comparable markets that are undergoing a great deal of experimentation are worth watching — short stories and comic books.

The short story market has been in a long, slow decline:

In the good old days it seemed that authors had it easy selling the short story. Hundreds of magazines existed to handle the flow, and many great and famous authors certainly got their start or gave their careers much needed impetus by selling to this market. From Jack London to O. Henry to John Cheever to Asimov to Isaac Bashevis Singer all started with the short story in their genre. Believe it or not, in the good ole’ days some authors actually made a living out of pouring their hearts into short stories and selling them. . . .

Then it was blamed on Television. Today we blame it on the Internet. Whatever we blame it on it is remains true that there are only a handful of journals left willing to publish and cater to the short story market. Short story collections or anthologies are worse than difficult to sell. Anthologies are usually impossible to put together, and collections will usually not be touched by a publisher . . .

Print publishers have not had any viable means of selling individual short stories directly to a reader.  But all that is changing.  The rise of the e-book offers a new freedom from traditional containers.  The music industry did teach us the lesson (much to their chagrin) — customers want to buy content their own way, and they prefer buying songs over buying albums.

The Hachette Book group recently announced their plans for a digital short fiction publishing program (more details can be found in the comments from Hachette’s Tim Holman responding to author John Scalzi’s analysis).  The mobile market seems an ideal place for the short story, providing a quick but complete read on the subway or on line at the bank.

Science publishers are already experimenting with the idea of breaking away from the journal as a container, and focusing instead on the individual article.  If this trend catches on, the short story market may provide some useful business lessons both for acquiring and selling material on this level.

One could easily see putting out a variety of small packages of chapters covering subject areas, then allowing each individual instructor to assemble his own textbook (the logical extension of  MacMillan’s recent Dynamic Books venture).  I can think of many book proposals I’ve had to turn down because there didn’t seem to be enough substance to carry a whole collection. Instead, these could become small, focused sets rather than trying to stretch them out to a traditionally sized book. The poor economics of printing and trying to sell a 50-page book disappear in an electronic format.  As Scalzi’s article notes, there are all sorts of details that need fine tuning, from selling price to payment of authors, but these first steps into a market free from previously defined containers should be interesting.

While movies based on comic books are doing great business, the comic book industry itself is, like the short story market, in a long decline from its heyday. Comics have become more and more marginalized due to their move away from widespread distribution and toward an almost exclusive direct market approach, selling only through specialty comic shops.  The advantage of the direct market over the newsstand was an elimination of returns of unsold comics (retailers, in return, receive a greater discount from publishers).  If you’re in the publishing business, that may sound familiar.

Direct market sales continued to grow through the mid-1990s, fueled by growth of a speculation-based collector’s craze.  Much like what was seen for baseball cards, the comic collection market crashed in the mid-1990s, and nearly two-thirds of specialty comic book stores closed.  The market has not yet recovered. There are around 3,000 stores still open in the US (5,000 worldwide), with sales revenue around $700 million in 2008.

Like the book industry, the comics industry sees a potential savior in the iPad and other e-reading devices. Comic author Warren Ellis comments:

I think they’re interesting as an apotheosis of the Apple design aesthetic, which is very much Star Trek: The Bay Area Generation. It’s a bland-looking Eighties Star Trek device. It is, however, a fine form factor for reading comics on (if you’re indoors, or in the shade). And here’s the thing: Marvel only have to get 5,000 Marvel Apps on iPads to outnumber the count of physical comics stores selling Marvel comics. Each one of those apps is a retail station. And as much as we all love physical comics stores, I know lots and lots of people who don’t live near a physical comics store, and I don’t know any comics stores that are open at two in the morning if I suddenly fancy reading a certain comic.

Preliminary forecasts indicate that Apple may sell seven million iPads by the end of the year. Here’s the thing about Apple technology: once you own a piece, you want to use it. Not least because it was expensive. Not least because they’re a simple pleasure to use. If comics look good on the iPad…then things are going to get interesting very quickly.

Ellis correctly points out the great advantages in distribution provided by an electronic product.  Most specialized STM works aren’t likely to be found in your local Borders store, so increasing availability and ease of ordering could be a big positives.  The immediacy of delivery is also likely to be appealing, particularly to a frustrated scientist working late at night who desperately needs that chapter on optimizing an uncooperative reaction.  However, Ellis does also note  the inherent dangers of this sort of distribution– for instance, how easy it is for your product to become lost, condemned to obscurity as part of a huge category dump in the iTunes store.

The parallels continue: comic publishers are already struggling with widespread online piracy; readers are balking at the proposed prices for electronic comics ($1.99 per issue); there are worries that electronic comics are going to drive brick and mortar stores out of business; publishers are beginning to play around with form, to experiment with new ways of presenting material now that it’s freed from the printed page. As with the book, there’s an increasing split in the customer base between those who view books/comics solely as a means of delivering content and those who see the physical product as a fetish object, to be coveted and collected.

The successes and failures of electronic short stories and comics are likely to be directly relevant to scholarly publishing, certainly more so than the music business’ continued struggles.  Moving forward, the way these container-less forms of content reach paying customers bears watching.

Now, if we can only get Hollywood to start buying the film rights to lab manuals . . .

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“If you build it, they will come.”

That’s the common misquote from the movie Field of Dreams and the W.P. Kinsella novel that inspired it (the disembodied voice actually said, “If you build it, he will come.”).  Just as so many have gotten the line wrong, it’s also a statement that has frequently been mistaken for an actual business model.

Creating a new social media venture is a pretty common practice these days.  Getting buy-in from users and building a large following is more difficult, but clearly not an insurmountable problem.  At some point though, the venture capital is going to run out, so it’s important to have a plan to turn all that traffic into revenue.  Simple, right?

Well, maybe not.

Last week we saw two social media giants grappling with this problem, Ning and Twitter.  While these companies are in very different financial situations, they’ve both come to the realization that they do actually need a functional business model if they hope to continue to exist.

Twitter is approaching things from a position of strength. They’re amazingly popular, with over 105 million user accounts and 300,000 new users signing on every day.  Even so, they understand how precarious a position they’re in, and they’re taking an extremely cautious approach to monetization through advertising (covered well by Kent here).

Ning (a platform for creating custom social networks) appears to be in major financial trouble, announcing that they’re laying off 40% of their staff and eliminating all free accounts on their site, asking free users to upgrade to paid services.

Advertising revenue was originally seen as the cure-all for web businesses (it was Ning’s original plan to pay for everything by selling ads).  Over time, those ads have become devalued to a point where this is only a viable strategy for an extremely small number of players, really the top sites that generate massive levels of traffic.  Twitter would certainly fall into that category, so their approach, “Promoted Tweets,” is probably the right move.  It seems innocuous enough, and far from the sort of intrusive advertising like pop-up ads that anger users.  The question, though, is whether this sort of advertising is going to be effective.  Google ads work so well because they’re shown at a point when a user is actively seeking information:

Right now, considerable advertising money is sloshing through the Web because most marketing managers remain clueless about how it works. They think that because search advertisements generate lots of business, other Web ads must work just as well. What a fallacy — brought on by ignorance of the basic Web user experience. People go to search engines when they’re explicitly looking for a place to do business. This is why search engines profit from sucking up the work of content sites (where users exhibit strong banner blindness).

Marketing managers won’t remain clueless forever. Sooner or later they’ll discover that Web advertising offers almost no ROI. Only two forms of Web ads actually work: search ads and classified ads (such as eBay and real estate listings)

Promoted Tweets do resemble search ads in some ways — they’re served up when a user searches Twitter for a particular topic.  But it’s unclear if Twitter searchers are seeking the same sorts of information as Google searchers and if their ad response rate will be similar.  The good news for Twitter is that if these sorts of ads fail, there are many other strategies to pursue and their funding and popularity is certainly strong enough to hold up for a long while.

Ning, however, is in much more desperate straits.  According to this analysis, they burned through $120 million in VC funding only to prove that eyeballs don’t pay the bills:

Ning’s problem is not a lack of eyeballs but its inability to turn them into cash money to pay the bills. Getting more of something that’s a net-negative is not going to make up for it.

It’s similar to the problem that news providers are facing, one that Rupert Murdoch understands perfectly, despite all the dot com er, Web 2.0 pundits who seem to know better.  If you have a product that you can’t sell, then having more freeloading users doesn’t solve the problem; it just means higher overhead costs.  For Murdoch, if he tries to charge for his product, readers will just hop over to the next free news website, leaving his behind.  For Ning, there are already plenty of free alternatives (examples here and here), and it’s likely that their free users will abandon them rather than upgrade.

It’s the confounding business issue of our era — no matter what you do, what you sell, there’s always someone else willing to give your product away for free in order to make money on something else.  Google will give away your GPS navigation services, your cloud OS, your real-time search, etc., in order to sell ads.  If your product is not unique and irreplaceable, someone else is going to undercut you:

There will always be a company that replaces you. At some point your BlackSwan competitor will appear and they will kick your ass. Their product will be better or more interesting or just better marketed than yours, and it also will be free.  They will be Facebook to your Myspace, or Myspace to your Friendster or Google to your Yahoo.  You get the point.  Someone out there with a better idea will raise a bunch of money, give it away for free, build scale and charge less to reach the audience.

And that’s why I’ve repeatedly argued that quality is still the best business strategy.  Make something so good that it can’t be replaced by a free “good enough” version.

The quote above, by the way, comes from Mark Cuban, who pioneered the only surefire way to monetize traffic — build it up,  get as much attention and hype as you can, then sell the whole thing off to some other sucker and let them deal with it.

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Clay Shirky
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Internet consultant and NYU professor Clay Shirky has posted yet another insightful column on the shifting landscape for media producers, this one discussing the downfall of complex business models. While his column is smart and accurate, it also falls prey to the myopia that’s so common among new media pundits–there are other successful business models that don’t require a race to the bottom.

Shirky’s message is one that any evolutionary biologist will immediately recognize.  Over time, businesses, like organisms, become more and more specialized to their environment.  When the ecosystem changes, these inflexible systems collapse. The problem is exacerbated by ever-growing complexity which makes response to stress even more difficult. Examples cited include the Roman Empire, the Mayan civilization and the situation we’re currently seeing with the rise of the internet and user-driven content.  Shirky focuses on the television industry in particular:

The most watched minute of video made in the last five years shows baby Charlie biting his brother’s finger. (Twice!) That minute has been watched by more people than the viewership of American Idol, Dancing With The Stars, and the Superbowl combined. (174 million views and counting.)

Some video still has to be complex to be valuable, but the logic of the old media ecoystem, where video had to be complex simply to be video, is broken. Expensive bits of video made in complex ways now compete with cheap bits made in simple ways. “Charlie Bit My Finger” was made by amateurs, in one take, with a lousy camera. No professionals were involved in selecting or editing or distributing it. Not one dime changed hands anywhere between creator, host, and viewers. A world where that is the kind of thing that just happens from time to time is a world where complexity is neither an absolute requirement nor an automatic advantage.

Shirky’s point is worth heeding — new technologies can either be seen as threats leading to collapse, or as opportunities to streamline, ways to force your business into more efficient production through simplification:

It’s easy to see the ways in which collapse to simplicity wrecks the glories of old. But there is one compensating advantage for the people who escape the old system: when the ecosystem stops rewarding complexity, it is the people who figure out how to work simply in the present, rather than the people who mastered the complexities of the past, who get to say what happens in the future.

Part of the problem for the newspaper industry is the massive infrastructure they’ve developed that is rapidly becoming obsolete.  Things like giant printing presses and fleets of delivery trucks have gone from being economic advantages to being anchors weighing down the transition to a leaner way of producing and selling news content.  In the scholarly publishing world, there’s growing advantage in jettisoning infrastructure, in outsourcing things like printing (do you really still need to produce a print product?), warehousing, fulfillment, web-hosting, sales, and marketing.

But there’s a downside to all this simplicity as well – -as Shirky notes, some content requires complexity in order to attain value.  Systems naturally trend toward their state of lowest energy, and that’s where the current Internet revolution is leading us — to a world of cheaply produced “good enough” content. It’s essentially a race to the bottom: who can produce the cheapest version of something that satisfies the absolute minimum of a customer’s needs?  Shirky’s suggestions here are something of a re-hash of Wired magazine’s focus on “The Good Enough Revolution” from last year, which we covered here.  Shirky is right in that one way to compete with “good enough” is to lower your own costs of production to a level where you can compete on price.  But that’s not the only potential solution.

Low-end, “good enough” products are rapidly gobbling up much of the market, but we’re seeing a lot of success stories at the high end as well.  The middle of the market seems to be what’s disappearing — mediocre products at mid- to high-level prices are being replaced either by ultra-cheap products that don’t work as well but suffice, or by expensive, high-quality products where the value added justifies the higher price.  Sales for poorly performing but inexpensive netbooks are booming, as they’re “good enough” to replace the average notebook for many users (expect this trend to continue as Apple’s iPad makes gobbles up further notebook sales).  At the same time, Apple is making a killing in the $1,000-plus computer range with high-end machines made with high-quality components and software.

Cutting production costs may not be enough to save the newspaper industry if there are still free alternatives that offer similar content.  The only way to effectively compete with “free” is to offer something substantially better.  For newspapers to survive, they need to produce content that’s not immediately replaceable by everything else on the web.  Efficiency of production is still important regardless of which segment you choose, perhaps even moreso at the high end because that’s often a much smaller market segment (though this can be offset by potentially higher margins).

Goofy YouTube videos are fun to watch, but there still seems to be a strong draw to sprawling cinematic epics, and given recent box office records, the general public is clearly willing to pay higher prices than ever before for this level of production.  It’s hard to imagine something like Avatar being created without a complex system and massive production costs behind it. It’s date night, which do you want to go see, Lord of the Rings or “Charlie Bit My Finger”?

For a publisher then, the question becomes whether you want to compete by getting into the mud at the low end of the market, or by creating stellar works of high quality. As I’ve said over and over (an idea I’m doing my best to pound into everyone’s heads), successful scholarly researchers are really busy people.  Like everyone else, they’re happy to get stuff for free.  But time is often a more valuable commodity to them than the funds needed to subscribe to a journal or pay for an excellent book.   As a teacher, would you really want to use something like this as the textbook for your course?  There are lots of open courseware initiatives floating around, but how much time do you want to spend adapting and expanding them to meet your needs.  A really good textbook takes an incredible amount of work beyond just the writing.  Generating a consistent and visually compelling art program, editing to the most effective didactic style, creating a common style and voice throughout a long book written by many authors, indexing, fact-checking, all of these things add greatly to the learning experience, and are unlikely to be recreated by crowdsourcing.  Some will be content with the “good enough” material for their students, but there is, and will continue to be, enough of a market to support quality.

And that quality does not come cheaply, and yes, creating it often requires a certain level of complex infrastructures.  Expertise is something to be praised and sought after, not something to be disdained, and that’s the problem with so much of the philosophy coming our way from online ideologues who favor inexpensive quantity over quality, who promote the idea that brute force free labor approaches can somehow add up to equal genius.  Joe Clark sums things up perfectly:

At a certain point, you have to admit you aren’t good enough to do something better than an expert could do it even if the technical option exists for you to give it a shot anyway.

While people will tolerate a lot of things, what we want are beautiful things that work well. There aren’t many nonexperts who can accomplish that. Expertise needs schooling, maturation, taste, and quite a lot of attitude.

The foregoing explains why open source has nothing to teach literature or indeed any artistic creation, since talent doesn’t scale as you give more and more developers check-in access to the version-control system set up for your novel.

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