Citation in Digital Humanities: Is the Old Bailey Online a Film, or a Science Paper?

Recently I was writing a paper for a journal and needed to cite the Old Bailey Online (OBO). Not any particular piece of content contained in the project, but the project itself as an outstanding example of digital humanities work. For those unfamiliar with the venture, it's a database containing 127 million words of historical trial transcripts marked up extensively with XML; still the flagship project of its kind in this author's opinion. I found myself struggling to decide who the authors of the project were; that is, whose names was I bound by "good scholarship" to include in the citation. Who deserved public credit? I happen to meet regularly with one of the project's principle investigators, Tim Hitchcock of the University of Hertfordshire, and raised the issue with him over drinks at the pub - incidently the pub is the most engaging place to discuss topics as dry as citation practices and the discussion becomes increasingly more engaging as the evening progresses. As it happens, the project had over 40 known contributors who actively participated in its creation. His initial response was that the team decided not to include any names when citing the project to avoid leaving people out and focusing credit in the hands of only some of the team members. The resulting citation looks like this:

Old Bailey Proceedings Online. Version 6.0, March 2011. http://www.oldbaileyonline.org/

This is a very noble position for the project leaders to take; however, I do not believe it is the right position. In an effort not to emphasize the contributions of some over that of others, this policy makes most contributors entirely invisible. This is particularly significant for people in the alternative academic (alt-ac) fields whose career progression and in many cases, next meal, depend upon the strength of their portfolios. These people have roles such as project management, database building, and web design, all of which are crucial to ensure the projects themselves are world class. If we adopt the no-names policy across the board, these people will never be cited anywhere, whereas traditional academics may still have books and journal articles on top of their digital project work.

Though we brought our positions much closer together, the issue proved too much for a bottle of wine to solve. We parted ways and Hitchcock took the discussion to H-Albion, a list-serv for historians of Britain and Ireland where many historians and librarians have contributed their opinions. Seth Denbo then brought the discussion to Humanist, another list-serv for digital humanities scholars where a separate conversation has now begun. Rather than contribute to either or both of those conversations, I have decided to address the issue here with the hopes that it can find new contributors who may not otherwise see it in the list-servs.

The most interesting question to arise so far is whether digital humanities projects like the OBO are films or science papers. Not literally of course, but in terms of the model of credit offered to contributors of the finished product. Both films and science journals have developed unique models of credit. In films, the credits run at the end. In science papers, everyone who made a meaningful contribution gets listed as an author and those who made minor contributions get an acknowledgement. I will argue that digital humanists would be doing their field and industry a great service by adopting both models simultaneously. The OBO and projects like it are both films and science papers.

Films

One of the respondants to the list-serv discussion, a retired librarian Malcolm Shifrin, suggested that the point of a citation was to retrieve the source, not to provide credit. In this sense, it does not matter whose names appear in the citation, as long as there is no ambiguity and the item can be identified. However, if that were the case, we could merely cite ISBN numbers, which would drastically cut down on the size of footnotes. Or, in nearly all cases, titles alone would suffice. For example, if I were to task you with finding a copy of the paper: "An alternative definition of the scapular coordinate system for use with RSA" without any further information, I'm entirely confident you would make your way to a paper by my lovely wife, which appears in the Journal of Biomechanics. Citation is not merely about finding an item, it is also about credit; however, as Shifrim points out, it is not crucial that credit appears within a citation. An alternative model is the one used by the film industry in which a portion of the finished product is dedicated to letting everyone know who was involved with its creation.

Most major website projects, including the OBO, already do this. The OBO's "About this Project" page lists 24 of the leading contributors along with their roles and effectively mimics the credits on a film. A listing of this sort is important because it offers an official "in-house" acknowledgement that's difficult to fake without breaking the law and hijacking the website to add your name. This allows everyone to direct future potential employers to evidence of past work that can be independently verified. I would certainly argue that any collaborative digital humanities project should reserve a space on their website for such a page, which has absolutely no cost but can be instrumental to the future career development of your team members. But, I certainly do not think it's enough.

We do not know where the alt-ac world is going, and we would be wise to ensure that as many doors as possible remain open to those people who currently occupy this grey space in academia. Some members may aspire to a future tenure-track position and may find it difficult to convince more conservative senior faculty that film-style credits on a webpage are akin to hits on JSTOR. And because these conservative attitudes change slowly, it would be rash for digital humanists to abandon a well established if perhaps dated model of credit just because we want to rebel in the name of progress. There's a baby in that bathwater.

Science Papers

This is where the model used by the academic science community is particularly helpful. In the humanities, typically if someone got paid to do the work as part of a grant or part-time role, we pretend they didn't exist. The work "was done" rather than "was done by soandso". We don't expect McDonalds to list the names of individual "team members" when they brag about how delicious their french fries are. It doesn't matter who made your fries. They were paid to do so and thereby give up their right to credit.

In the sciences, everyone who makes a meaningful contribution is entitled to a share of the authorship of a paper. Assuming each of the 24 members of the OBO team met those criteria, a citation for the OBO might look like this:

Hitchcock T, Shoemaker R, Emsley C, Howard S, Hardman P, Bayman A, Garrett E, Lewis-Roylance C, Parkinson S, Simmons A, Smithson G, Wilcox N, Wright C, Clayton M, Bankhurst B, Lingwood D, MacKenzie E, Rogers K, McLaughlin J, Henson L, Black J, Newman E, O'Flaherty K, Smithson G. Old Bailey Proceedings Online. Version 6.0, March 2011. http://www.oldbaileyonline.org/

It may be a bit more of an eyefull than the previous example, but at least it's a more accurate reflection of the work people put into the site's creation. The exact criteria for determining a "meaningful contribution" generally rests with the policies of individual journals. A typical example, from the International Committee of Medical Journal Editors requires that each author must have made substantial contributions to all of the following:

1. the conception and design of the study, or acquisition of data, or analysis and interpretation of data
2. drafting the article or revising it critically for important intellectual content
3. final approval of the version to be submitted

Obviously those criteria are designed specifically with a peer-reviewed journal article in mind. However, they can easily be adapted to the needs of a digital humanities web-based project, which typically is split into two parts: the project itself, and the digital infrastructure for allowing the audience to interact with the project. A digital humanities "author" could be someone that must have made substantial contributions to all of the following:

1. the conception and design of the project or website; or acquisition of data or materials; or analysis, transformation and interpretation of data or materials
2. drafting or creating any text, artwork, sound, video, workflow, interface, user experience, or code, that was integral to the success of the project and that would have been substantially different if it had been completed by someone else
3. final approval of the finished product
   

In the case of the OBO, that may eliminate some people from the list of those credited with the project. As I am not one of those people, it is not my place to decide. But it is something I think as a community we should start discussing as soon as project teams are put together. What is the intended output, and how will each person's contribution be credited? It can be an awkward conversation at first, but it's a proactive solution to the elephant in the room for those in the alt-ac community.

Conclusion

The OBO is both a film and a science paper. Project leaders of web-based digital humanities projects would be doing their industry a favour by ensuring projects have both a page of film-style credits which outline contributors and their roles, as well as a science-style listing of substantial contributors or authors that are prominently displayed for anyone wishing to cite.

This two-pronged approach can only serve to help digital humanities to find its place within the academic world. It's the model that keeps the most doors open for those alt-ac members of our project teams who are unsure of which path their career will take in the future. It acknowledges the tremendous teamwork that goes into producing world class digital humanities work, setting them apart from single-authored papers. And it doesn't misrepresent or misconstrue the purposes of either model of credit. The citation may not mean much to a tenured professor, but it can help launch the career of someone in the alt-ac world. And so, the citation may be a bit clunkier if we use the science model, but at least it's an honest reflection.

Photo credit: "Steve Jobs rendered in Applesoft BASIC" by Blake Patterson.

Crymble Awards: Digital History Best of 2011

It's the last day of the year and I thought it'd be fitting to write briefly about the research and projects published this calendar year that's had the most impact on my personal scholarly development. With all the talk of research impact these days, particularly in the UK, I think it's important to acknowledge that not all influential work gets cited. Much of it inspires our own research indirectly by introducing us to new techniques, ideas, or source materials. Here is my own list of my favourites for 2011 in no particular order. I've dubbed these awards the "Crymble Awards", so fee free to put that on your CVs. Unfortunately, that's the only prize. But as my grade 1 teacher always said, "everyone likes a warm fuzzy".

• Tim Hitchcock and William J. Turkel, "The Old Bailey Proceedings, 1674-1913: data mining for evidence of court behaviour" (paper presented at the Digital History Seminar, the Institute for Historical Research. London, 16 May, 2011).
  
  This paper and its accompanying visualisations (see the pdf for the whole paper), takes traditional historical research questions down the path of large-scale analysis. Using the proceedings of the Old Bailey, Turkel and Hitchcock were able to step back from the content of the transcripts, and looked at the proceedings as data rather than something to be read. The result of the study was some interesting new insights into court room practices in the mid nineteenth century that challenged previous conclusions.
  
  These insights were only evident through a large-scale visualisation that plotted the lengths of each trial transcripts by year on a logarithmic scale. That may sound complicated, but it's really quite simple, and that's what makes it so great. Anyone looking at the graph is clearly drawn to the same conclusions as the researchers: something funny is going on in the mid nineteenth century. Unlike with so much historical research, the data told the researchers where the question was, rather than the researchers seeking an answer to a predefined question. This serendipitous approach is something for which I think the world is ready for more.
  
  Obviously as historians we cannot merely stop reading content when forming our conclusions about the past; however, I think this paper demonstrates that content isn't the only way of learning new things. Sometimes, as in this case, it's the word-length of the trial transcripts that points us towards new knowledge. And we shouldn't be afraid to get off the beaten path a little, and experiment with content in ways that it perhaps was never intended to be used by its original creators.
  
  On Twitter: @williamjturkel and @TimHitchcock



• Tim Sherratt, "Discontents" blog.
  
  One of the few research blogs I still actually read. Sherratt has done extensive work combining Python with datamining as a way of extracting useful information from online sources. He lives and works in Australia and has done extensive work with the Trove newspaper database, which contains transcribed versions of historical Australian newspapers. Not only is the work unique, in that he's looking at sources in a way most scholars don't bother, he is very open with what he's doing and how he does it, making the blog an excellent learning tool for those looking to expand into the realm of digital history. This is of course the style of blogging that Bill Turkel championed on his now retired "Digital History Hacks".
  
  Sherratt's work has taught me more this year than just about anything else I've ready and I hope he continues to provide more into 2012.
  
  On Twitter: @wragge



• Ben Schmidt, "Sapping Attention" blog.
  
  Like Sherratt, Ben Schmidt keeps a research blog that chronicles his own work and the challenges that he has to overcome. Schmidt is working on a PhD in history at Princeton and his work into linguistic analysis is both far beyond what I myself am capable of, as well as creative and intriguing to follow, even for a non-specialist like me. Schmidt also has a talent for extraordinarily beautiful visualisations which are both technically complicated, but semantically transparent, supplementing his text with an effective means of showing how the data supports the conclusions. Some great examples are in his posts, "Comparing Corpuses by Word Use" and "Predicting publication year and generational language shift".
  
  I sincerely wish more digital historians - myself included - would keep such open and inspirational research logs as Schmidt and Sherratt that celebrates not only the conclusions that are of interest to historians studying similar topics, but to all digital historians who are interested in learning new ways to interrogate and understand the past.



• Sean Kheraj, "Nature's Past" podcast.
  
  Sean has been producing a monthly podcast for a few years now, which looks at environmental history in Canada. Though his research focus is significantly different than my own, I can't help being impressed by the quality of the work he puts into the project. He does all the writing, recording, and editing himself, and it comes out radio quality both in terms of the sound, and the organization of each episode. If nothing else, Kheraj has showed that if you're going to do something, do it well.



• Jeremy Boggs, "the Praxis Program" Website Design
  
  I have to admit, this one I'm attributing to Boggs though his name does not appear officially as the web designer. It does, however, have all the elements of a Jeremy Boggs website. The fonts move beyond the traditional subset of web fonts, but never take away from the content by becoming too showy, or too difficult to read. The simple, complimentary colour palatte sets the mood, without being distracting, as do the graphics, which are minimalistic but essential to the design.
  
  I've yet to come across anyone in the academic web design community that can put together as elegant a site as Boggs, and the Praxis website is an excellent example of that. May there be many more examples next year.

Congratulations to all of our winners. And thanks for the great work. It's inspired me, even though none of your work had been peer reviewed.

New Omeka Theme Released

For those Omeka users out there, you've now got one more free design option for your site. I have recently released my theme, "Easy Colour", freely available on the Omeka website.

For those without website design experience, a free theme can save you thousands of dollars. The one I have created is designed to make it easy for users to customize the colour palatte to suit their own tastes or institutional colours.

I hope you find it useful!

My C.V. is Better Than Yours

Sure, you may have more publications, conference presentations and funding. You may have a better job than I do or more awards. The contents of your C.V. may make mine seem underwhelming.

But my C.V. is better. In fact, I’m confident that if we applied for the same competition, it would be my C.V. that had the committee members talking over lunch. “Did you see that guy’s C.V.?”

My C.V. makes noise. It moves by itself. It’s shiny.

See why My C.V. is better than yours: My C.V.

I’ve taken up the challenge of Dr. Tom Scheinfeldt in his blog post “New Wine in Old Skins: Why the CV needs hacking”. In that post, Scheinfeldt urged academics to come up with new ways of presenting their achievements. Ways that moved beyond the traditional lists that have largely remained unchanged since the eighteenth century.

So I'd like to extend a challenge, particularly to the digital humanists out there. Let 2011 be the year you make your C.V. better than mine. And let me know about it.