Ellen H.
Ensel, Knowledge Manager, United States Institute of Peace, writes on Web 2.0 and provides a poetic note to a Friday afternoon.
This article was originally published in the 2008 Best Practices for Government Librarians: Web 2.0 in the Workplace and Beyond.
The 2008 edition includes 70 articles and other submissions provided by
more than 40 contributors from libraries in government agencies,
courts, and the military, as well as from professional association
leaders, LexisNexis Consultants, and more.
Read on...
When Marie Kaddell insisted (politely) that I write a piece
for this years’ Best Practices collection, I hesitated, and came up with a
stereotypical librarian’s response: What did I have to contribute? Upon further reflection, I realized that this
was precisely the problem; we are a smart and skillful bunch constantly
underestimating our ability to meet new challenges and find new ways to support
our various missions.
And so it is with the 2.0 universe. I don’t know about you,
but it seems as if I’ve been hearing about Web 2.0 and its library and
information professional corollaries for years. Was it really just 2003 or 2004
when the Web 2.0 phrase was coined and the collaborative environment of the Web
suddenly became new? The Internet was
all about collaboration (think ARPANET, DARPA, etc.), but the Web as a platform
for sharing was a new twist. Using technology to make it easier for web users
to have a say in how things were constructed and organized began to make
inroads in areas that were once the provenance of technical experts, including
librarians.
If you think in “technology time,” four to five years is an
eon, but in “library time,” we’ve barely moved to embrace the changes the 2.0
paradigm demands of us. Of course, shrinking budgets and shrinking staffs (in
number, not stature) with the admonition to do more with less and to justify
our existence to our respective administrations certainly focus the mind, but
there is also a definite need to revisit how we see ourselves, to develop a
different way of doing things, and some of us are resisting.
Sometimes I think this resistance, or perhaps reluctance, is
partially rooted in—please pardon the pun—the relationship we as a profession
have to our physical space. Doctors/physicians are not commonly called hospitalists1,
and lawyers/attorneys are not usually called courtists. Bankers work in
banks, but they do banking; we don’t do librarying. We are identified with the
building we work in and our physical collections. When my peer managers in
support services here at USIP want to tease me, all they have to do is threaten
to knock down a few walls and reapportion the library space. That always gets a
rise out of me, and for good reason. We have relinquished (or lost) space in
the last five years, and less space proposed for the future. We are called on
to defend the space we have, and give good reasons for why we need more.
But beyond the need to maintain a physical inventory, we
librarians have been the keepers of the information keys, so to speak, the mediators
who unlocked the secrets of the stacks for the library patrons who came to us
for help. In a world dominated by technology and information retrieval, in
which technology brings the user closer to the information source and seeks to
eliminate the middleman, what then is our role? Will we go the way of the
pressmen who ran the linotype machines for newspaper runs, edged out when
technology brought production to the newsroom? Or will we be the personal
trainer, professional shopper, organizer, or financial consultant of the
information world, providing the expertise to help people achieve their
information and knowledge goals?
In short, to realize the benefits of the 2.0 world, we have
three questions to consider:
(a) What do we as a profession hold on to (or let go of)?
(b) What can we do differently or how do we cast what we
already do differently?
(c) What do we have to grab hold of for the future?
Let’s hold on to the good stuff, but be prepared to be
flexible about our physical environment and the need to balance a physical
collection with other resources. That’s the reality, after all. When the same
“book” cataloging format for a bibliographic record applies to both print and
electronic “books,” the emphasis should be on content and accessibility, in
whatever form.
Let’s rethink (or rename) what we do. If I wrote a blog,
this would be a blog entry. If I invited someone else to collaborate with me on
this blog/opinion piece, that could be the beginning of a wiki, and if I pulled
ideas from different media and resources, this might be the “thought”
equivalent of a mashup. Cataloging (metadata organization and database
enhancement) and reference (information or knowledge integration) are just two
functions recast in newer terminology.
We are experts at organizing metadata, but MARC may not speak to every
need; let’s be flexible about how information presents itself to us and what
our users want from us.
Let’s consider how younger generations (anyone younger than
me is a member of a younger generation) communicate and what they need from
us. My son is 13, and he would no more
use a printed encyclopedia resource than clip a magazine article for school. He
still subscribes to magazines at home and reads books, but he lives
online—doing research, chatting with friends, creating and posting videos on
YouTube, playing computer games—when he’s not texting or hanging out with his
friends, playing baseball, soccer, or video games. What he needs are the skills
to find and discern good information sources and to learn how to transform the
information he acquires into knowledge.
Librarians as information professionals should be perfectly
poised to forge ahead in a 2.0 environment. We are researchers, data analysts,
database developers, taxonomy specialists, knowledge integrators, and teachers,
among others. Technology just gives us
new jargon and new ways to present what we as librarians already do. I’m ready
for 2.1; how about you?
1 Hospitalist is a recent term
used in the medical field to describe doctors who care primarily for
hospitalized patients. The field is
growing, and appears to fill a niche, defined by the building in which the
physician works. The term was first proposed in 1996. See Marinella, Mark A.,
“Hospitalists—Where They Came From, Who They Are, and What They Do,” Hospital Physician, May 2002: 32-36.
Consequences of
Illiteracy
I predict that someday
people will forget
How to write, spell or
read
In whatever language
may be fashionable
At the time,
Thinking these skills
unnecessary
In a world of
electronic images
And surround sound.
I also predict, and
mark my words,
That some rebellious
imp
Who just wants to see
what will happen
Will pull the plug,
the ultimate hack,
And deprive us of the
required power
To view, compute and
interact in a non-interpersonal way.
Then comes the day of
reckoning.
You will have two
choices:
You may muddle
through, in a non-electric,
Non-push button, non-instant environment,
Frantically staving
off the eventual famine.
Or you may seek out
those repositors of wisdom,
Those individuals who
still remember
What information is
and how to find it.
Librarians will rule
the world.
---Ellen
Ensel (May 1991)
This was written during a poetry workshop led
by Andrei Codrescu and during the early years of my library career.