Category Archives: Rants

Privatising Knowledge

As I have begun to enter the world of academic publishing, one thing hit me hard: the cost of subscribing to journals. While journals in the humanities tend to be on the cheap side compared to some major STEM-subject journals (e.g. Nature), the cost is still significant. Recently, an article in The Guardian (link) pointed out that there has been a growing discontent with publishers charging high fees for what amounts to very little work. For the most part, the publisher’s paid staff does makes connections (i.e. gets authors, editors, and reviewers). However, the articles are written (for free) by academics. They are reviewed (again, for free) by other academics. The editors (who are generally unpaid) construct the CFP for an issue, make sure the contributions are anonymous before peer review, and then finally pass complete, edited, reviewed articles to the publisher who then prepares them for print, prints issues, and mails them to subscribers. Nobody doubts that the publishers should be paid for the cost of the work they produce (and, perhaps, a profit if one is so inclined). However with the advent of internet publishing platforms (from WordPress to Open Journal Systems), the extent to which that process can be automated is clear. Add in some technical geekery through Pandoc and a well-prepared LaTeX (or some word processor) template and a printable document is ready.

I’ve worked in the print industry, so I have an idea of what it might cost to print and even mail a given quantity of journals. That number, by the way, is nowhere near the $50 an issue journals charge. Even at retail cost, a journal like the Jornal of the American Academy of Religion (roughly 300 pages of black-and-white text, cut to roughly 9″x6″, then bound with glue and a cover) can be printed for $26 a pop. With 12 issues per year, the $228 annual subscription sounds like a steal. However, given the sheer number of subscriptions, that $26/book cost gets significantly reduced even if still done at retail (I’d guess a place like FedEx Office would charge ~$18 a book for just 100 books to print and mail). If there’s any additional discounts (e.g. corporate deal, larger volume discount, etc), and we’re looking at even cheaper production costs which make the $228 subscription sound quite high.

The Powers That Be in Nature would like us to think their paid staff does a lot of work by making the data interactive, perhaps creating graphics, and maintaining a website. The exact list of staff contributions are: ‘identifying the author and the article’s aim, assessing and editing the draft, selecting peer reviewers, working with the author to build on their advice, developing illustrations, rendering the article into print and online forms, maintaining it online and including links, citation statistics and other enhancements’. Yet, in most cases, these are done by the unpaid academics. In many cases, the author must provide keywords and an abstract of the article. Does the publishing staff simply make sure those things are present (something which an automated online system like OJS does). The staff assesses the draft? Makes sense if the paid staff member is knowledgeable in the particular field. Otherwise, that task is given to peer reviewers. I’ll allow that the paid staff does copyediting (a very useful service). The staff selects peer reviewers? Oh, so you mean the staff looks up which peer reviewers (who have identified what areas they are competent for reviewing) have expertise close to the article’s field (something which an automated system can do). The staff ‘work[s] with the author to build on their advice’ sounds a bit like the staff ‘passes on comments from the peer reviewer’. Developing illustrations. I’ll give that one. Render the article into print and online forms? So easy a program can do it for you (see Pandoc, above)! Maintain the online form including links and citation statistics? Ah, so they copy-and-paste from one form to another, then perhaps add links to other articles already published in their journal, then let the system count the journal equivalent of pingbacks/trackbacks. Oh wait, there’s a program which already does that. I’m not sure what ‘other enhancements’ are and if they even exist, so we’ll take that one out for now. So, the reason why Nature charges $32 per article for online access and requires an unlimited and exclusive license from authors is to have a copyeditor, and graphic designer, a manager to oversee them (or perhaps two: one for each department), a middle manager to oversee the lower managers, upper management to oversee the middle managers, and (finally) their profit. Again, Open Access Journals have shown that they can do all of the above (minus, perhaps, the rendering into print) at no cost for readers (though they may charge for printing and delivery if one wants that).

Strangely enough, one intention behind the original development of the internet was to allow easy and unfettered access to research for universities. Somehow, though, academics have let publishers erect paywalls to keep their hold on research as a marketable product. I, for one, support the move towards Open Access, full stop. There is no reason why major publishing companies should be able to dictate the terms on which research is produced, published, and accessed except that academics have been either ignorant or uncaring that their own research is often locked away and, in some cases, taken from them. Academics, as the ones who do the research and produce the articles, are the rightful copyright owners (since publishers defend their actions along the lines of copyright law) and should not need to give unlimited, exclusive access to their work in order for other academics to see it. I can respect the fact that publishers want to make a profit, but forcing academics into a give-or-go scenario must be stopped. What academics seem to not understand is that without their work, the publishers will suffer while academics can freely share their work. In other words, there is nothing to lose for academics but the chains which bind them.

More Telecom Differences

A few months ago, I posted a comparison chart detailing differences in the telecommunications business in the US and the UK. Even though I was expecting these differences when I returned to the US, I was still shocked to discover how much mobile phones and plans are in the US. To recapitulate on this and highlight just how different it is, I’ve made another table showing the differences more. I’ve tried to get the exact same plan with the exact same phone in both places using the largest carriers in each country. Here is what I found.

UK (O2) US (Verizon)
Phone:
Sony Xperia Play
£0 $99.99 plus tax
Monthly cost:
(24-month contract)
£56 ($92) $99.99 plus tax
Early termination Remainder of contract $350
Total cost after 24 months: £1344 ($2204) $2500 plus tax
Talk minutes 900 outgoing (unlimited incoming) 900 plus unlimited in-network and nights/weekends
SMS text messages Unlimited 500 plus unlimited in-network messages
MMS media messages 20 0
Data allowance 2Gb plus unlimited wifi through BT 2Gb

The difference is clear: Unlimited in-network and nights/weekend minutes for $12.33/mo (plus all the taxes, which even at a mere 6% come to an additional $6.25/mo). The really insane part (from my perspective) is that the UK plan costs are after taxes (which are now at 20%!). Same phone, nearly identical plans, and strongly different prices. Also, the UK plan does offer a 500Mb data plan which still includes the free wifi for a monthly ‘discount’ of £14 ($23!). With the massive availability of that wifi, I considered comparing that directly to the Verizon plan (but wimped out wanting to have as direct of a comparison as possible). If we use those numbers, the monthly difference is a staggering $41.50 — nearly half of the pre-tax Verizon plan! The main difference I see is that the UK effectively regulates the telecom industry while the US still believes that ‘free markets’ will lower prices in the face of competition.

Pushing Through

Sometimes it baffles me when people criticise academics as having ‘cushy’ jobs, living in a different world, etc. Has anyone ever thought to consider that the academic has gone through hell just to be there to teach? Believe or not, most PhDs face an immense amount of rejection. After graduating from a university with an undergraduate, they went one of two ways: either for a Master’s degree (which averages around a 15% acceptance rate across the board) and then a PhD (which averages slightly lower) or directly to a PhD (which, while the average is the same as in the first route, it is more difficult as one competes against those who did that other route). Some departments admit just a handful (i.e. 3) students in a year, some may even not accept applications for a year. With those numbers, a hopeful student generally submits applications to multiple departments and, if lucky, gets accepted into one, perhaps two. Some take years to finally get a successful application. If you think an undergraduate degree is difficult, try getting into (let alone doing!) graduate school.

Secondly, most grad students juggle multiple roles. Sure, everyone does this at university, however the academic load placed on a grad student increases exponentially. Most of them are expected to [1] take a full courseload (which despite being less credit hours takes up more time), [2] work an academic job (lecturing, marking essays, etc), [3] pursue academic research and publications to be competitive when finished grad school, [4] have some semblance of a personal/social life (e.g. acknowledge the existence of family), and oftentimes [5] maintain a ‘real’ job to pay bills. Each one of those is also highly competitive. Coursework, for instance, is expected to be much greater than the undergraduate (I remember some courses offered to both postgrads and undergrads and the quantitative requirements alone for postgrads tended to be nearly double that of the undergrads). Academic work had to be near or on par with that of the staff who already completed their PhDs, particularly as when it came to conferences and publications, the postgrads were often competing with the established scholars for the coveted few spots (panels at major international conferences can get 200 or more proposals for just 3 spots). On top of that, a postgrad may have a family, friends, another job, etc that all need to be balanced in addition to the demands of their academic work.

This has yet to include the two biggest pieces of (American) postgraduate education! After the coursework comes two hurdles, roughly simultaneously. First, the postgrad must prepare for and complete multiple comprehensive examinations (generally needing to prepare for more than what is given, like in a five-out-of-seven series) which establish the postgrad’s competence in the general subject area. It is fairly common for postgrads to take a term (sometimes even a year!) to study for these exams as they are pass-or-fail and graded by one of the established scholars who is proficient (if not an expert) in that subfield. For example, a religious studies postgraduate might have to prepare for three or four of the four major world religions plus one or two mandatory extra areas (e.g. theory of religion, comparative religion, religion and another discipline such as science). The second hurdle is proposing her own research project which will form the basis for her dissertation. This may also need to be defended to a panel of scholars as necessary research. In short, the postgrad must prove academic competence across her chosen discipline and justify her chosen research before she is allowed to begin. If you ever see a PhD student list themselves as a PhD candidate or (more commonly) ABD (All But Dissertation), it means they have gotten that far. The average American postgrad takes 5 years from starting the PhD to get to this point. It should be no wonder that over a third of people who are accepted into a PhD program do not complete it!

The second-to-last hurdle one must complete is somewhat easier (in comparison). While the pre-ABD student had multiple demands pulling from all angles, the ABD student is supposed to be focused on a single goal: completion of the research project and writing the thesis/dissertation. At this point, she is still competing for conferences and publications, but generally the number of rejections she has received has hardened her spirits and resolve. The dissertation is, however, grueling as it becomes an individual burden than cannot be shared easily as the postgrad must first and foremost prove her worth once more, this time as a skilled and able researcher and author. Once the thesis is complete, she faces the final hurdle of a postgrad: the thesis defense. While the earlier defense was to prove the necessity of her research, this defense is to demonstrate her expertise in the area of her research. While American postgrads face their advisors who have been intimate with the research since its beginning, European postgrads face examiners who are well-versed experts in the field (generally one from within the same university and one from an separate one). Only once this hurdle is completed (and it is not always successful!), does the postgraduate receive the PhD.

Yet, the story is not complete yet. There is still one more hurdle which must be crossed (oftentimes on more than one occasion): employment. The postgrad competes with all of her fellow graduates, from every university, as well as other roughly similar graduates who may have spent time in a temporary teaching post. Here, yet again, there can be hundreds of applicants for one position. In a good year, there are 20-25 openings that are highly ‘compatible’ for a PhD graduate, yet there are often 75-100 other candidates who are equally fit. In a bad year, the number of ‘good matches’ can be counted on one hand. It’s a difficult market and it’s not for the thin-skinned.

Why do I write this somewhat mystified account of the postgraduate? For a few reasons. [1] While it may not be physical like SEAL training, it’s no less grueling or difficult; academics and postgraduate students could always use some moral support as they often may experience depression on a regular basis. [2] When people want academics to contribute to Wikipedia and similar sites, they fail to see the immense difficulty an academic faces when the majority of Wikipedia editors are lay enthusiasts who use the bureaucracy of Wikipedia to exclude the minority academic opinion. With an academic’s already busy schedule doing research, lectures, and (if lucky enough) conferences and public speaking — enough to keep even the most able busy, most are not looking to include spending time on Wikipedia to justify an edit despite having an immense battery of sources. [3] Despite the great difficulties, countless rejections, lack of pay, and (for most) the ever-looming threat of yet another series of university cuts because the justification for one’s existence was not enough, many academics still enjoy what they do. Most love to do research, especially once they’ve secured a long-term (not necessarily tenured!) position which often allows them to pursue their own interests. Also, most enjoy lecturing, as they love having conversations (again, these will generally revolve around their academic interests) which bring new perspectives (yes, many academics do admit to learning from their students!). However, most if not all do not enjoy grading; that’s something left for the postgraduate, perhaps as an academic form of hazing (you think I’m joking?). [4] Last, but not least, I’d like to thank all of the academics who have helped me along my way. Even though at times I may have been the student making the lecture (or course) less enjoyable, your persistence and enthusiasm have been wonderful examples for me when I stand on that side of the podium. Thank you for your labour and, when needed, support, even if the best piece of advice I have received regarding postgraduate work was simply ‘Don’t do it’.

It’s true: if anyone wants to pursue a PhD, she should be thoroughly resolved, committed to it, and prepared for a lifetime of rejection, under-appreciation, and friends and family who will always say that she should have gone to law school or medical school (or any profession that pays well). The reward in postgraduate work (and in academia) is what one makes of it, which is often seen as more valuable than any high-paying profession (though a better salary is rarely rejected by academics!).

Re-writing a thesis

So it seems to me that my method for writing my thesis (and, I would venture, for writing a book) has followed this progression:

  1. Short abstract (2 pages, 500 words) highlighting topic
  2. Broad outline (4 pages, ?? words) splitting abstract (#1) into sub-topics
  3. Writing a tangent paper striking some points from the abstract and outline
  4. Taking chunk of paper (#3) and putting into a chapter from the outline (#2) and expanding said chunk into a section of the chapter.
  5. Repeat step 4 for another section of the same chapter.
  6. Feeling that the outline does not fit with the written content, re-organise chapter (#5) and outline (#6) to fit together
  7. Repeat steps 3-6 for second chapter.
  8. Scrap the abstract, as it’s too much work to keep updating.
  9. Skip the tangents and just write the chapter!
  10. Repeat step 6.
  11. Read what has been written and repeat step 6.
  12. Scrap the big outline, as it’s getting to be too much work to keep up-to-date.
  13. Throw out that first chapter.
  14. Oh wait, perhaps it can be split up, re-organised, and work as parts of the other chapters.
  15. Just kidding, that first chapter is fine.
  16. Repeat steps 13-14.
  17. Review/edit the second and third chapters.
  18. Send supervisor *a* chapter (doesn’t matter which).
  19. Worry that this is taking too long.
  20. Send supervisor another chapter.
  21. Write a joke about re-writing a thesis.
  22. Worry that the whole thing will need to be re-written, so write a new abstract.
  23. And outline.
  24. Realise both the abstract and outline are what you have already written.
  25. Go into denial.
  26. Curse that first chapter for not fitting well.
  27. Write a fourth chapter anyway.
  28. Repeat step 6. Twice.
  29. Give up on first chapter and send it to supervisor anyway, hoping she won’t notice the blood stains on the paper.
  30. Get feedback from supervisor on second chapter submitted.
  31. Try to match that text with what you currently have.
  32. Get feedback for first chapter. Blood stains were noticed.
  33. Re-organise entire thesis to fit with feedback.
  34. Get feedback from the first chapter submitted (why is it out of order??!?). It was perfect.
  35. Try to undo step 33.
  36. Give up and submit entire thesis to supervisor.
  37. Feedback: what a horrible wast of time that was.
  38. Redo step 33.
  39. Re-submit to supervisor.
  40. Feedback: Good enough for a degree. But don’t think of making that into a book as nobody will want to read it. Ever.

A Short Geography Lesson

A pet peeve of mine is when people refer to Scotland as being in England (& other variations). So, I hacked together a quick tutorial on what’s what.

At the widest angle, I’m currently living in the British Isles:

British Isles

That is composed of two countries: (1) Ireland and (2) The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland:

UK and Ireland

Dublin is not in the UK, it’s in Ireland. As the full name of the UK suggests, it is composed of Northern Ireland and Great Britain:

Great Britain and Northern Ireland

Great Britain is composed of three nations: England, Scotland, and Wales. Glasgow is in Scotland (also acceptable: Great Britain and UK), not England.

These differences are vital because people within the UK will generally consider themselves from one of these nations, rather than the UK or GB. For one to say one is going to Glasgow in England, it is the equivalent of someone saying one is going to visit New York City in Canada.