An Aesthetic Philosophy of Librarianship

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An Aesthetic Philosophy of Librarianship

The role of the academic librarian is to create content-rich environments (“libraries”) that stimulate scholarship, cultivate knowledge and inspire creativity.


Prologue. Years ago I went for a job interview for a technical services/systems librarian position at a community college library 10 minutes from my home in a distant suburb on the far southeast side of Houston.

I thought I had a good chance at it. I have an ALA-accredited Master’s degree in Library and Information Science (commonly abbreviated MLS or MLIS) from a top-ranked school and years of professional experience in libraries. I know basic programming (C++, Perl, SQL, JavaScript, CSS and HTML) and a flavor of Unix upon which many library systems run. I’m always learning new things web-related, such as XHTML, SharePoint and WordPress.

I have more than a few years of experience as a Technical Services Librarian, Digital Services Librarian, Head Cataloger and Automation Librarian for a large school district, Collection Development Manager and technical consultant for a commercial digital library (the first large-scale online undergraduate library, modeled after Harvard’s Lamont Library), Director of an Art Institute library, Data Standards Manager for the Museum of Fine Arts Houston, and Client Relationship Manager for a popular and powerful federated search application whose technology was used by EBSCO and Gale (among the largest library database vendors in the world). I am a Certified Information Professional (CIP) through AIIM.

Having worked for the last 18 months as a Project Manager / Corporate Librarian for a software company two hours commute from home on an automation project that was coming to an end, I was eager for the chance at a position close to home with more stability, and especially one where I could put my library and IT skills to use.

To my surprise, especially since I was interviewing for a technical position, I was asked to share with the search committee my “Philosophy of Librarianship”–one of only a few questions, none of which were related to what a technical services librarian does.

Hmm. Ask me about my experiences with library systems or digital libraries or discovery tools, proxy servers or cataloging or web services, and I might have something to say. Ask me the difference between HTML and XHTML, or name three differences between Unix and Windows, or what DNS stands for. Ask me to define “responsive web design” or explain what a proxy server does.

But my “Philosophy of Librarianship”?

I had nothing, and whatever I thought to say in that moment I feared would come across as disingenuous. After all, I could not name a single authority whose librarian philosophy I aligned myself with. Had a missed something, being out of school so many years? I responded honestly, “I’m sorry, but I don’t have a philosophy of librarianship.”

As far as I was concerned, I was there to support institutional goals and objectives and solve technical problems.

Why did I need to have a philosophy? 

Since that time, I’ve learned that academic librarians of all types, both in public and technical services, are being asked to provide a philosophy of library practice or rather, a personalized mission statement, in job interviews or as part of their performance review process. They may even need to provide one to keep their jobs.

By Googling “philosophy of librarianship,” as I did when I got home that afternoon, you can pull up this page from the USC Library,1 for example, which states that one’s philosophy of librarianship can give one an advantage over others in terms of hiring and promotion:

At academic research institutions (such as ours at USC) librarians are being held accountable, more than ever before, to provide solid evidence of the quality of their work, and of their impact on the mission of both their institution and their library.


Though, in many cases, our annual reviews are summative and evaluative, at time of promotion and continuing appointment (or tenure) the expectation . . . is that we present for their review our reflective (formative) assessment of our work . . . as well as our understanding of the value and purpose of our essential role as academic librarians in a research university.


Such an assessment can be first formulated in our Statement of Philosophy of Academic Librarianship. This is a relatively new concept in the field of librarianship and it has, as its precedent, the Teaching Philosophy Statement which is a “personal mission statement” for those committed to teaching. That Statement demonstrates one’s reflective thinking about teaching. It helps communicate one’s goals as a teacher, and one’s commitment to students’ learning outcomes based on their corresponding actions and activities, in and out of the classroom (See Seldin et al., 2010).


A Statement of Philosophy of Academic Librarianship presents a capsule summary of your understanding of the value and purpose of your role as an academic librarian in a research university. . . It gains an advantage over others for promotion or for a new position.

In companies, whenever one is asked to justify one’s value in some sort of formalized statement, it is never a good thing. It means that your worth is not obvious, and even worse, is in question by decision makers. Whenever this happens in the corporate world, no philosophy or explanation is likely to change anyone’s mind:


This trend of self-justification in academic librarianship has become so pervasive, however, that librarians are even posting them on their personal websites.

Now that I work in an academic library–and have for several years now–I find myself thinking more about philosophies of librarianship at this uncertain time when many both outside and within the library profession are proclaiming libraries, librarians or print books (“pbooks”) to be obsolete.2

Some academic libraries are getting rid of print altogether 3 4 5 6 while at the same time erecting new 21st century libraries, bookless architectural wonders consisting of collaborative work spaces, meeting rooms, and high-tech classrooms–resembling more a modern open office at a tech start-up company than a traditional library. If there are physical books, they are often hidden from view or stored off site. It might even seem that the building’s design, furnishings, work space and concessions are more the attraction than the resources they provide. One might question whether these are libraries at all, except for the fact that librarians work there, at least for the time being.

Colleges and universities across the country are spending millions to create impressive, highly innovative spaces for students to study, socialize, drink coffee and learn in a more collaborative, interactive fashion. Collaborative learning, where students work together as a team to solve problems, or come together to share knowledge with each other–emulating some idealized vision of the project-driven business world7often seems, from a traditionalist point-of-view, to be fostered at the expense of more individualized and self-directed styles of learning, especially when it comes to the allocation of space in these new facilities.

The focal point of the new academic library is no longer its scholarly content, but on seating arrangements and innovative architectural spaces, and offering various support services in partnership with other entities on campus.8

At some large universities libraries, like at the University of Chicago’s Mansueto library,

or North Carolina State University’s Hunt library,

or Temple University’s Charles Library (below is an architectural rendering; the building opens in 2019),

and many others under construction or renovation at this time,9 books are not visible to patrons when they walk through the doors, or in most places in the library. In many of these libraries, most or all of the stacks are not browseable, either. Items must be requested and retrieved from enclosed storage bins through hi-tech robotic retrieval systems. 

There is also a peculiar rhetoric surrounding the new library architecture which justifies an enormous outlay for the creation of these cavernous facilities, but nothing additional for the collections housed inside of them, even for resources online. The rational seems to be that a building alone is sufficient to stimulate or encourage learning. As a librarian and an educator, this trend is very concerning to me.

According to the Vice Provost and Director of NCSU Libraries, when planning the new Hunt Library,Our goal was to make a difference in the education and research of students, and something that made them want to become lifelong learners, so we decided on an iconic building.” 10 This statement, along with recent trends to create bookless libraries, raises some interesting questions.

How can a building inspire lifelong learning?
How does a building stimulate creativity, learning and intellectual curiosity?
How can a building without visible publications encourage publication?
How does a building without visible books encourage reading, especially among college students?

How are new university libraries, designed by architectural firms primarily to facilitate interaction with other people (“collaboration”), rather than encouraging engagement with resources, impacting library collection development strategies, acquisitions budgets, staffing levels, and user engagement with library resources?

What is the educational experience we are hoping to achieve, and how does the facility achieve these outcomes? The spaces are innovative and beautiful, but are they also functional as libraries? More fundamentally, what defines a library as such?

When planning the $170 million Charles Library at Temple University, a fantastic building which would serve as a collaboration space, “a place where intersections between all of the students and faculty and other folks who chance to be on this campus can occur.” 11

No doubt, aesthetics is a very important part of the user experience of an academic library–or any other kind of building. Not only does it makes the library more enjoyable to users, and encourages them to stay, but it also symbolizes the value placed on scholarship and learning by the institution. But without a comparable commitment to quality content, and without ways to encourage awareness of new and/or significant publications in a discipline or field of study, the building is an empty gesture, a memorial to libraries or a monument to learning–while perhaps encouraging the opposite.

Through Amazon-warehouse book retrieval technology, or locking print away in remote storage or closed stacks, these new libraries may have unwittingly embraced that which a few years ago they feared becoming–a repository for books. Honestly, you can’t get much more repository-like than underground storage bunkers and robotic retrieval systems.

Sure, automated retrieval systems create an interesting spectacle for the casual visitor, like how one might stand in idle curiosity in front of a Japanese vending machine or gumball roller coaster. It helps keeps things orderly and cuts down on casual use, but how effective is it compared to traditional library delivery systems (humans, books in stacks and on display) at encouraging reading, stimulating research and supporting scholarship? 

The focus of the new academic library is impressive architectural space and technology, specifically the creation innovative spaces for study, interaction with technology, the creation of digital media, social learning and above all, collaboration12In new libraries, collaboration is the focus while the stacks are pushed to the margins, placed into specially designated reading rooms, put in less public, less visible and less accessible locations. Large collaborative spaces for inclusive and participatory learning with tables, chairs and wall on casters are replacing the stacks.

One architect described the new library concept to me in very romantic terms as being comprised of three learning environments: the “campfire” (where the older generation, the faculty, pass knowledge down to the younger generation through stories), the “watering hole” (where people from different disciplines come together to socialize and share knowledge, or figure out what to do with the knowledge they got from the campfire the night before) and the “cave” (study rooms). At the time I thought he had made this up, and was impressed by the imaginative imagery, which it turned out to be from a frequently quoted book, From the Campfire to the Holodeck: Creating Engaging and Powerful 21st Century Learning Environments by David Thornburg.

There certainly is a lot of rhetoric surrounding new library construction, including this one about campfires, caves and watering holes; but the most common and recurring theme in the literature I have surveyed is the idea or ideal of collaborationArchitects and spokespeople for new libraries always place emphasis on collaboration by faculty and students deriving from chance encounters with each other in a common space on campus, a space everyone likes to visit because of its beautiful architecture, and because other people are likely to be there–not necessarily, or even essentially, because of its great resources. 

Of course, random acts of collaboration may have happened in the traditional library, too. They are random events, with random outcomes, impossible to predict, observe, or assess in terms of concrete metrics; “collaboration” is not a measurable outcome. I love the emphasis on community creation and socializing in these spaces, getting more people in the door. But whatever happened to our professional commitment to education, scholarship, research and publishing? How are these more traditional scholarly values and educational objectives also reflected in the design of the new academic library? 

Libraries at our most elite institutions are making their collaborative and creative work spaces top-level menu items on their websites, touting their cafes, furniture on wheels, couches and available spaces on their landing pages–many things I suppose we librarians just took for granted before (we always had space and couches before!), and never even thought to promote–until now.  

Space, computers, services and furnishings appear to be the most important features of Harvard’s main undergraduate library:

Some older librarians may recall that from the 1950’s to the 1980’s, the Harvard Lamont Library generated core bibliographies of what undergraduate libraries ought to have in their collections, called Books for College Libraries. Now they are featuring movable furniture, whiteboards and armchairs. Also noteworthy, research help by a librarian is available to Harvard undergraduates only between the hours of 12 and 5pm. 

The new university library is also typically envisioned as a learning laboratory where people gather together to tinker in maker-spaces and solve real world problems using 3D printers, laser cutters, digital production software and a lot of whiteboards. The emphasis on collaboration is supposed to emulate the project-oriented business world and R&D lab. It is a much discussed approach in educational literature that has never actually been proven to produce results in terms of learning outcomes (citations needed, and they are coming!).

While these collaboration and research (involving reading scholarly literature) are not mutually exclusive modes, and can certainly co-exist in a library setting along with beautiful architecture, it strikes me that prioritizing dialogue, collaboration and consensus--oral modes of knowledge acquisition and transmission–over traditional forms of research, that is, reading and consulting published authorities, hearkens back to a dark time in history before printing, books and libraries, when most people were illiterate.

Socrates was famous for encouraging dialogue among his students as a way of arriving at truth. His attack on writing (as recorded by Plato) is indicative of a transition from an oral to a literate culture in ancient Greece. “Collaborative librarianship” signals a return to pre-literate cultural norms.

And if you thought libraries were unexciting places to be before, taking books away and replacing them with more computers, seating on wheels, glass-walled study rooms and whiteboards is not likely to make them more interesting places to be.

Don’t get me wrong. I love beautiful architecture. I love coffee. I like computers and technology. I love a good debate. Who doesn’t like comfortable chairs? I just don’t believe that innovative architecture, cafes, “collaboration” or computing power can form the basis for academic librarianship or scholarship at an institution of higher education.

I believe our primary obligation as academic librarians and scholars is to provide users with environments, both in print and online, that are content-rich, authoritative, and inspiring, and which encourage students to go beyond classroom learning to become self-sufficient independent learners, professionals and scholars. 

Promoting engagement with resources and with a good collection is the aesthetic experience that matters most to the educational advancement and success of our users, and which likewise should matter most to university administrators who care about the education of students. 

The Great Paradox of Our Time: Books as Stumbling Blocks to Learning. When people speak about the design of innovative spaces in libraries that foster collaborative learning, spaces where people from different disciplines come together to share knowledge, it all sounds very promising. But today’s libraries are zero-sum game: in an almost Orwellian fashion, we have to get rid of the books, and the paper (those cluttery bulletin boards too), to promote greater collaboration and other forms of active learning through video touch screens and monitors. Print books and the stacks are vilified as impediments to student success and learning. We must hide them for fear of driving students away! 

Making collaboration and active learning happen in the new university library apparently requires wide open floor plans, vaulted ceilings and light-filled atriums, a great investment in technology, specialized furnishings on wheels, stand up desks, 3-D printers, and most of all the expertise of architectural firms. It also often requires that we get rid the books, or place them off into a reading room or underground storage, in order to make room for [collaboration] space and active learning environments. 

In truth, no one seems to know for certain how to get people to collaborate, mentor and share knowledge once the old spaces are renovated or new facilities are built13, or how to differentiate collaborative learning from other less important forms of social interaction which merely resemble collaboration. Collaboration which results in new knowledge is a difficult thing to facilitate, and even harder to measure, like forcing subatomic particles to collide and capturing the results.  

Although architects of new libraries explain that their designs are intended to promote collaboration and active learning, at the end of the day, they are not the ones responsible for the learning outcomes of these new facilities. The librarians are. Only, it is not engagement with technology or other people that we want to foster, but engagement with scholarly and culturally significant books and articles–engagement with publications and the ideas found in them. 

I would love to see new library architecture designed around the concept of promoting discovery and engagement with resources, both in print and online, rather than on some grandiose open concept design with nothing to offer to stimulate the intellect, or nurture the soul.

Without the capacity to present our users with a rich selection of materials that are of interest and relevant to them when they walk in the door–without the ability to create content-rich learning environments–the library becomes an intellectually barren space with furniture for studying or texting and hanging out, but nothing of substance to encourage intellectual curiosity, learning outside the classroom (outside of a graded assignment, that is), or participation and engagement in a larger cultural conversation of educated people. 

Despite protests by library users and faculty when initiatives to eliminate print are implemented or proposed, and even after similar projects are deemed failures and the books are brought back–for example with the Cushing Academy’s celebrated bookless library14 15–this trend of placing print books out of sight, into underground storage lockers, into compact shelving, or incorporating them as meaningless abstractions into the architectural design of the library–continues to trend upward on college campuses. Our two glossy professional publications, American Libraries and Library Journal, will continue to showcase these new new library facades and interiors without reporting on how these new designs are impacting our educational mission.

From Libraries to Learning Resource Centers: the “LRC revival.” At the same time as these new bookless, paperless, monuments to learning are being erected at universities across the country, a similar kind of thing is going on at small community colleges, cash-strapped institutions, for profit and vocational schools, who for many years have been ditching their print collections and downgrading their libraries into bookless entities called “Learning Resource Centers.”

LRCs are certainly nothing new. They are were the resource room before enrollments grew large enough to warrant a real library, and in some instances, accreditation guidelines forced their hand. Now that collections are shrinking or being eliminated–and college accreditation standards have become very lax with regard to libraries–LRCs are making a comeback. Lay people often confuse them with libraries, but professional librarians often disdain them precisely for this confusion, and because someone without any academic credentials could operate one. LRCs reflect an entirely different level of institutional commitment–a different definition of student success–from a real college and research library.

LRCs fall short of a library in significant ways. The sheer ambiguity of learning resource centers, or “learning centers,” is part of their appeal. In academic libraries, at least traditionally, disciplinary standards were applied to collection development, but learning resource centers make no such commitment. 

Academic libraries have always selectively acquired or made available titles to support and encourage disciplinary knowledge in designated fields of study. The library acquires a title because it is thought significant to the discipline and to the community it serves. The orientation is bibliographic, selective and qualitative. LRCs, on the other hand, are not oriented to the discipline or to collections, but rather to providing resources which will be used to support completion of courses, materials guaranteed to be used by a class. There is nothing gratuitous about them. 

A library encourages and supports independent learning beyond what may be needed to fulfill course assignment, and above all encourages awareness of new publications, new ideas, and new disciplinary and professional trends. A library also supports the student’s definition of success, not just the institution’s–nurturing their growth and learning in ways not tied specifically to a course. A good library instill wonder and provides inspiration. 

LRCs have nothing at all to do with the loftier professional ideals of librarianship, such as “academic freedom” or “life-long learning.” They don’t have a librarian philosophy behind them, because philosophically and intellectually, they are not libraries. 

ooklessness–or rather, lack of commitment to collections–as well as changes in how libraries are evaluated through their institutional assessment plans, has blurred the distinction between a library and an LRC.

Because college library booklessness has become acceptable, fashionable–equated with progress–LRCs and other forms of bookless learning (innovation labs, maker spaces, news rooms, learning commons, information commons, media centers and “active learning labs”–as if any sort of engagement with print is passive learning) are becoming more common in libraries on college campuses, replacing a large portion of the library or cutting significantly into its budget.

I would say “replacing a large portion of the traditional library,” but despite the enthusiastic participation of library directors in creating these new hybrid spaces, I’m not sure others in the college and university administration regard media labs, maker-spaces, smart classrooms as belonging to the library.

Librarians who resist these trends risk criticism on many fronts: by administrators looking for ways to save money (that is, by not buying print books), by those wishing to be regarded as forward-thinking, by an older generation fearing to appear obsolete, and most of all, by architectural firms who are eager to design unique and expensive buildings. Time and again, millions are spent on impressive buildings, but comparatively little on actual resources for students. Library Journal and other library publications routinely showcase the new academic library architecture without mentioning a word about the detrimental impact new libraries are having on acquisitions budgets, professional staffing and engagement with resources. After new libraries are erected, librarians are reduced to promoting their space, their furniture, their instructional services, and cafe. 

Now, I think it is great that libraries are striving to become more social places. To me they always were, but maybe that is just my experience working in them most of my life. Libraries were never the stultifying study halls some make them out to be. Students have always been able to study and socialize in libraries, and relaxed food and drink policies have been the norm for years. Many traditional libraries were built with cafes in them or nearby. 

There is nothing 21st century about the combination of coffee, books, and people, or comfortable seating. What is new is the notion that the books themselves are impeding learning or progress, impeding student success, impeding the advancement of the library profession, requiring too much staff, standing in the way of the library’s becoming popular and/or risking turning the library into a “book warehouse.” It is a current that runs throughout library literature today, along with reminders that this generation of students never read “book books” so they are not likely to start when they go off to college.

For the first time in library history, print represents a burden that we librarians need to be liberated from. Print is an albatross around our necks and our students’ necks. The rationale is, “Get rid of print,” and we librarians will be freed up to do more important things–like helping students (we’ve always done both, thank you). Get rid of the books, and people will want to come to the library once again. Get rid of books, and our students will be forced to embrace new technologies and be better prepared to enter the workforce. 

Print is viewed as an outdated product 16 that library directors and administrators are eager to distance themselves from for a variety of reasons.

Within what’s left of the graying and still employed library profession, dividing lines are being drawn over the role and importance of print books and the need to maintain collections, with remaining staff often reluctant to say what they really think about plans to go completely digital. Those who resist risk being typecast as resistant to change, obsolete or technophobic. An example of this can be found in Lura Sanborn’s (2013) article “Bookless library?”:

Are there going to be growing pains and resistance? Sure. In fact, absolutely. A body at rest wants to stay at rest. There will be those embedded in print that wish to stay in print. Internally, there will be those who throw their hands up in the air and declare it is all too much, too complicated, and too difficult to simply keep up. What was shiny and astounding three years ago looks ridiculously musty at this point. Keeping up with and making the best decisions possible regarding digital text is hard, and there will be those who refuse to embrace the new. This is predictable behavior. Fifteen years ago, working as a student assistant at a busy university reference desk, I, and everybody on staff, knew “that professor” who never got over the movement from the card catalog to the OPAC. He would always call the reference desk when in need of a book, refusing-on some principle important in his mind-to learn to use the OPAC.


Evolution takes time. We can stick with what we have, or we can move to make it better. Case in point: iOS 7 is much more sophisticated and pleasing than the initial OS X. Should Apple not have evolved in order to keep a population afraid of the learning curve within their comfort zone? To compare, so too have advancements been made to many of the digital text interfaces available to libraries. And much like with Apple, the interface, quantity, and search capabilities just keep getting better.


Despite the strong movement forward, some still find the concept of a digital library uncomfortable. When the director of the Johns Hopkins Welch Medical Library announced last year that the library was going online only and closing its physical doors, the Johns Hopkins constituency shrieked and formed a committee (Nichols 2013). However, the transition has since moved along and from the outside looks both inevitable and wonderfully enviable (Michael 2013). Instruction librarians are in a discrete space, while the emphasis of the collection is on digital holdings. This model speaks to the essential, core functions of an academic library: collection and instruction. 17

In this tense political climate, some librarians may feel pressured to reiterate exaggerated claims–or they may actually believe them–about “the cost to warehouse a book on the shelf” each year–about $4.20–taken from a very impressive analysis done by economist Paul N. Courant, who was on the board of several large scale book digitization ventures 18 when published that study (2010), and concluded:

Finally, we note that the argument in favor of moving toward digital versions of books and sharing both electronic and print collections is further enhanced when we recognize that university libraries tend to be located on prime real estate, and that there are uses of central campus stack space—for classrooms, study, offices, and enhanced library services, among others—that would be far more valuable than using that space to store materials most of which are used rarely, provided that access to the materials in aggregate could still be provided reliably. 19

His figure of $4.20 per annum per book has been repeated so often at library conferences and in power point slides, even in Newsweek,20 it has become a factoid,21–a perfect example of what happens when articles are mined for information and not read critically to detect bias, which is what all of us librarians should know how to do. It is a straw man.

All libraries weed. They (we) do not “warehouse books” for posterity. Collections must be continuously evaluated and maintained, buying new and getting rid of the old. The stacks should not look like a Goodwill store. Most titles depreciate rapidly between 5 and 10 years from publication. Those that are no longer of interest or likely to be used, or significant to the discipline (depending on the mission of the library), are weeded, not left on the shelf to take up space and gather dust.

But for those who raise such complaints against traditional libraries, I say, would you ask an art museum curator what it costs to warehouse a painting each year, you know, just in case someone might want to look at it? Why not throw out paintings since we can view them online? 

And more importantly have you investigated the price of academic ebooks for libraries and compared these to their print counterparts? I am not talking about Kindle prices, but what the library has to pay for a comparable academic ebook.

The true cost of ebooks for libraries. It is often assumed by college administrators and non-librarians, based exclusively on their own personal experiences with Amazon and Kindle, that ebooks are significantly cheaper than print. And it seems absolutely intuitive that they would be. While they typically are for consumers, they are not for academic libraries, unless they are flunky titles that are no longer in demand (in the publishing biz., those titles are called “backlist” titles). Ebooks purchased through EBSCO, our flagship vendor, cost significantly more per title than their corresponding print editions, even for single use.

Vendors charge institutions more for an ebook, even for single use. The cost of purchasing a recent (published in the last 3 years) academic title through a typical library vendor like EBSCO is 1/3 to 2/3 higher than the cost of the same book in print for single simultaneous use.

Take a look at this title, taken randomly from EBSCO’s Collection Manager tool. Natural Gas Processing: Technology and Engineering is $146 for the print book paying full list price (librarians usually get a 20% discount for print books through their book jobber). The same ebook is priced at $177.60, $222.00 (for 3 simultaneous users) and $266 for unlimited use.

The markup on new academic ebooks varies, but the cost for a “front list title” (what is thought to be in demand) is always more than the list price for the print version, even for nontechnical titles. This observation is confirmed by the e-book price index in the librarian’s bible of statistical data and book prices, Bowker’s Library and Book Trade Almanac. It states (2016) that:

In the academic market, it has always been assumed that e-books are more expensive than their print counterparts. Users might be surprised to find that the cheaper versions of e-books, available to consumers through such channels as Amazon and the Apple Store, are not available to libraries at similar prices, if at all. . . .


The high price for e-books is not that surprising as most pricing models for academic ebooks generally add a high percentage to the list price for the purchase of e-books. Multi-user licenses are an even larger percentage. In most situations, even-single user academic e-book titles are more expensive than their print counterparts.” 22

One explanation for the higher costs for institutions is that the vendor is providing hosting in perpetuity for the ebook–even if we do not want access to the book in perpetuity. When libraries buy books, unless they are extremely large research libraries (and even then), they never buy with the idea in mind of having a book forever. Suddenly the cost of maintaining a book on the shelves doesn’t seem so bad.

Despite what lay people may think, ebooks do not represent a significant cost savings over print unless the library is buying into a grab bag of oddball academic titles that represent niche interests, UK imprints, dated titles, or things that the publisher can’t move in print any longer, in which case the book is valued at less than list price for print anyway.

More than cost and quality, there is a psychological aspect of ebooks which is perhaps most bothersome to a librarian concerned about encouraging literacy. Since no personal investment by library staff appears to have been made in selecting titles, and no great expense appears to have been made by the university to acquire them (since everyone believes ebooks to be dirt cheap), why should our students place any significant value them?

To them, ebooks appear to be mere commodities to be called up when needed to write a paper or complete an assignment, and then quickly forgotten about. They are not intended to be “read” read, or remembered, valued or appreciated, they are just something to be mined for data. They are impermanent and ephemeral, like a Facebook post. No one expects others to have read or heard of an ebook they come across in an academic ebook collection–but the same is not the case with print.

I’m not arguing that the library should not invest in ebooks as part of a comprehensive collection development plan, but that we need to carefully consider the consequences of divesting ourselves of print, especially if we have not developed effective strategies and platforms to effectively promote our online content.

Digital natives place greater personal value on physical books, and have a higher opinion of the library and librarians for having the book in print that they need. When they come to the library and do not see books, they express disappointment, cheated out of something they feel entitled to as part of their college experience.

This is because students, like administrators, also think of print books as being more costly, and believe ebooks to be “cheap.” It would never occur to a student that the ebook they click and scroll through, just as they do free internet resources and free books on Google Books, actually cost the library $200 or more. And they want their library to raise awareness of new titles and resources which might be of interest to them. This qualitative aspect is one big difference between a well-managed library and a “book warehouse.”

I envision a modern library as one where print books are beautifully displayed, face out, covers Mylared, in visible locations so people can see and browse through them, but with a “download the ebook” sticker on them. Patrons can browse the books in the library, but download them on their phones and devices to take with them.

We need ways to put titles, especially new and significant titles, in front of users to promote access and awareness of trends–no matter what the format they prefer.

Squeezing Blood from a Stone: Tangible Outcomes from Intangible Goods

Until a few years ago, no one ever questioned the importance of the academic library to higher education. People in administration in higher education questioned whether their library was good, and perhaps how “we” knew it was good, not whether a library was needed.

No one was requiring personal philosophies of librarianship or annual self-justifications to keep one’s job, either (they don’t where I work, but at some university libraries they do each year). 

The decline in the perceived relevance of college and academic libraries can be accounted for in many ways. The most obvious cause is an increased reliance by administrators and scholars alike on information resources found by Googling. These days, neither the physical library nor the library’s website is the first place people come to begin their research (I myself usually begin with Google Scholar . . . ). Often the library is utilized to gain access to the full-text of an article found online (. . . . through Google Scholar), that is, to get around a publisher pay wall. Rather than checking our catalog and online resources first, researchers find books they might like on Amazon and Google Books, or they locate book and article citations (on Google Scholar), and then check to see if the library has them. People come to the library and the library’s website as a last resort, not as a starting point for research.

Why? Our websites are not intuitive and our catalogs are not fun to browse. We may rest blame on Google, but some of this we have done to ourselves by neglecting our online presence, or assuming that students just need to become mini-librarians to do effective research.

As I see it, a modern library is a content provider like Amazon and Netflix, but, for various reasons, our catalogs and user interfaces have not evolved into the kind of intuitive, content-rich environments that might allow us to compete for our users’ attention with commercial entities whose websites people actually enjoy visiting and browsing.23

Having succumbed to a kind of professional insularity stemming from relying upon vendor-sponsored conferences, webinars and listservs for our continuing education needs, we librarians often accept products and tools which would never be acceptable a more competitive, commercial environment. For example, we permit, even promote, branding (EBSCOhost, ProQuest, Gale-Cengage, etc.) rather than white labeling, and take it for granted that traffic will be driven away from the library’s website off to 3rd party platforms. 

Our websites are terrible. They emphasize our own services, when people come to us for looking for meaningful content. There is a mismatch. Especially if our collections are mostly online, we should be doing a better job promoting our content online. Our professional energies seem misplaced teaching students how to navigate the library’s antiquated catalogs and unintuitive websites–often emphasizing dated search techniques like using “Boolean search operators” and truncation and phrase searching as part of an Information Literacy curriculum–techniques made obsolete by text search algorithms /Web scale discovery–rather than concentrating on developing intuitive user interfaces that showcases content.

Our facilities are increasingly being built as large-scale, design-heavy, multi-purpose spaces for collaboration, but how is the library promoting collaboration through social media and its publishing platforms?

There are things that can be done to make our websites and our facilities more appealing and relevant, some which I will discuss below, but all involve traditional library strategies of promoting user engagement with content

Libraries are in the process of becoming that which they hope to avoid, devolving into mere repositories, through practices and policies which pretend that collections do not matter, despite what our users say. Our content, not our services, is what matters most to a community of scholars, and this should be emphasized in the design of our facilities, our websites, and our assessment models. Meaningful, relevant and interesting content should always be the focus of a library, not the flexible and diverse seating arrangements. Although it is a bit dated now, I wrote a blog featuring content-focused library websites in 2014.

The New Corporate U. Another cause of the perceived irrelevance of libraries within the university –just saying now–is the increasing corporatization of college campuses, where everything–including the library, librarians and our acquisitions budget–must be justified according to a seemingly universal set of business management techniques whose applicability to the educational mission of academic libraries no one, including the Association for College and Research Libraries (ACRL), seems to have thought through. 

As a result of ACRL’s (revised Oct. 2011) Standards for Libraries in Higher Education and those of regional accrediting agencies–upon which ACRL SLHE are based–it is through a business management model (Quality Assessment) that librarians must now seek to demonstrate their relevance, and their library’s relevance, to their respective institutions.

Just to clear up any confusion, I am not referring to strategic planning (goal setting and evaluation/assessment), nor rejecting the need to be accountable to those who fund us, but discussing the limitations of a certain popular business management approach which I first encountered years ago working as a library director for two for-profit vocational schools, and which now seems to have become ubiquitous in higher education under the names of “quality assessment” and “outcomes assessment,” where “rubrics” and “KPIs” are applied to everything, ostensibly to create a culture of continuous assessment and improvement. 

One person aptly referred to this phenomenon as the “outcomes assessment movement.” 24

As many have pointed out, this business technique–that’s where “Quality Assessment” all started–has limited application when it comes to education. Reliance on these methods by administrators, along with complicity with them by our library professional associations, could have a detrimental impact on library quality wherever library budgets must be strictly tied to 1. institutional objectives and 2. outcomes-based assessments, or both.

The same model, when assiduously applied to K-12 education, resulted in changes to the curriculum as schools replaced textbooks with perpetual handouts, and teachers were made to teach to the test. Rather than resulting in continuous improvement, the outcomes assessment model resulted in a marginalization of all aspects of education which could not be measured by the test. Whatever assessment model is used to measure educational outcomes will ultimately redefine and shape the end product, often in ways that were never intended, anticipated or desired.

Quality (Outcomes) Assessment: Our New “Grand Narrative.”25

One of the most influential trends over the last 20 years in academic librarianship has been efforts to assess library quality and effectiveness, and not just in-and-of-itself (i.e., “Is the library good?“), but within the context of the goals, objectives, and business management methods (“Quality Assessment”) employed by their parent institutions to evaluate institutional effectiveness, sometimes referred to as the “Institutional Effectiveness Plan” or “Quality Assessment Plan.”26

This approach has also become a relatively new (since 2011) best practice, or standard, for academic librarians, as defined by the Association of College and Research Libraries (ACRL Standards in Libraries in Higher Education), the professional association for college and academic librarians. By the standard committee’s own admission, this latest standard represents a shift in the way libraries are to think about assessment, in terms of methodology (must be “outcomes-based”) and emphasis (prioritizing the achievement of institutional and departmental instructional objectives, instead of those internal to the library):

These Standards differ from previous versions by articulating expectations for library contributions to institutional effectiveness. These Standards differ structurally by providing a comprehensive framework using an outcomes-based approach, with evidence collected in ways most appropriate for each institution.27

The bottom line is that ACRL’s new Standard is not a standard at all, but an imperative that we must align ourselves with our institutions and apply their assessment model to the library. 

According to ACRL, we are to adopt the goals, objectives and outcomes of our respective institutions, including other departments and even student affairs as our own to facilitate greater partnerships across institutional boundaries, and establish our relevance accordingly.28 And we are to demonstrate our effectiveness by measurable and verifiable (evidence) assessment outcomes tied to the goals of the institution.

Let’s consider regional institutional accreditation guidelines as a library standard, since ACRL SLHE asks us to use these when formulating library outcomes. If these guidelines mention anything about libraries, they are meant to be baseline or minimum standards, not something libraries can use to achieve academic excellence, or even “goodness.” For example, SACS doesn’t say all that much about libraries except we are to offer qualified staff, library instruction and access to “adequate” and “sufficient” resources and collections:

CR 2.9 The institution, through ownership or formal arrangements or agreements, provides and supports student and faculty access and user privileges to adequate library collections and services and to other learning/information resources consistent with the degrees offered. Collections, resources, and services are sufficient to support all its educational, research, and public service programs. (Learning resources and services)

“Sufficiency” and “adequacy” are not what professionals in any field strive to achieve. Why should we? 

Would you go to a professional who boasts of providing adequate services? Which goes to my point that institutional accreditation standards are not library standards for achieving excellence, goodness or quality.

Also, because accreditation standards are intended to be minimum standards, if the word “library” is dropped and replaced by “learning and information resources,” as has already happened in several places in SACS,29 it is with the understanding that small colleges with limited enrollments, or online colleges, or vocational schools, can still obtain institutional accreditation for their programs even if they lack full-fledged libraries.

The wording of regional accreditation guidelines is not intended to be a checkered flag for universities to divest themselves of their libraries, or to downgrade them into less costly Learning Resource Centers (LRCs), which require neither a library collection nor professional librarians to operate or maintain.30 Nor is it intended to encourage the provision of merely adequate resources by the library–whatever might be construed as the defensible minimum needed to pass an accreditation review–even though, again, such brinksmanship might be lauded by an administration in terms of cost reduction, maximizing return on investment, and the achievement of institutional objectives. In most cases, academic libraries cannot simply “adopt institutional objectives as their own” without significantly compromising quality.

Without any qualitative standards for collections for academic libraries emanating from ALA/ACRL, how can library administrators make a compelling case to their administration that their libraries are not being adequately funded, specifically, that they are not able to provide adequate resources to function as a good library should?

If libraries are not encouraged to have their own goals and objectives for excellence, their own external standards for goodness or quality, how can they prevent existing library budgets from being cannibalized for institutional objectives that have little or nothing to do with the mission of the research library?

I believe that this shift we have seen from resource-based evaluation to outcomes-based evaluation, especially with the latter emphasizing institutional accreditation and effectiveness rather than the benefits and value that good libraries provide to students and faculty, poses a significant threat to our core professional values, to the continuity of libraries, and to the education of our students.

any faculty members have decried the rise of “managerialism”31 or an increasing corporate orientation in the university.32 33 34 The best definition of managerialism I have come across is “an exaggerated belief by professional managers in the value of the management concepts and methods they use, regardless of the unique values, culture and methodology of the organizations they manage”; the notion, for example, “that the same principles, values and methodology can be applied to managing a university, a hospital, a TV station, a car factory, a chain of coffee shops or an army.”35 Some have argued that corporate culture threatens to undermine or erode the humanistic and intellectual ideals of the university.

There is tension between the business orientation and an academic one at any university, although people in higher education have come to recognize that both perspectives are needed for the institution to thrive. The latter values deep thinking, scholarship, and knowledge as virtues in themselves–knowledge for knowledge’s sake–even if doesn’t lead to a specific outcome, aside from a more educated human being.

This is a sometimes referred to as a humanistic model because it supports the pursuit of knowledge to allow a person to reach his or her full potential, but not necessarily because it leads to a specific “student learning outcome.”

It encourages and supports personal enrichment and independent learning and the creation of new knowledge. It does not ask, “Why do you want to know that?” “How is that related to your degree plan?” Our professional commitment is to student success as defined by the student, helping him achieve his educational goals and objectives, not primarily to student success as defined by the institution.

From another perspective, however, this model is elitist. While costly, specialized resources are sometimes acquired to benefit a few faculty members and their students–one profound difference between an academic and the more demand-driven public library–academic libraries usually have policies against buying textbooks, which would certainly benefit many students who cannot afford to buy them.

This model is also elitist because it places value on a kind of production (writing/research) that is of immeasurable or indeterminate economic benefit to the university. Publishing in peer-reviewed journals or though academic presses typically has little impact on enrollment, retention and graduation rates, the most pressing concerns for the college or university administration. (Research adds prestige to the university, but it has virtually no impact on undergraduate enrollment.) The more humanistic and academic goals of the college and academic research library (scholarship, life-long learning, etc.) and the more pragmatic goals of the institution might not line up very well. I’m not the first person to notice this, of course!

In fact, operating within a strictly institutional or business framework, where the library’s goals have become one with that of their administration, the most successful and effective library manager could conceivably be one who spends as little as possible on library resources, but still manages to skate through an accreditation review. This isn’t good for students or faculty, or for libraries or librarians–who will surely have difficulty “partnering with faculty” (one of the stated goals of the new ACRL standard) if the materials that they and their students expect to find in the library are never there, if users are routinely compelled to use other libraries to access significant or core titles in their discipline, or forced to buy the books they want or need to support their research interests out of pocket.

Over time, if collections are not maintained and allowed to wither, demand for the library’s services will drop off, and suspicions by decision makers that the library or books or librarians are no longer needed will be confirmed by low circulation statistics. The library will be eliminated or be converted into some kind of lab/tutoring center/LRC housing instructional materials, and whose activities can be more directly linked to student achievement.

This will happen not because of changing times, or because of Google, but because the library will have been diminished by not buying anything new, by not being able to promote its resources effectively, and by deploying assessment tools that measure the wrong outputs or outcomes for an academic research or college library.

The new ACRL standard was intended to promote greater collaboration and to advance our roles as partners educating students and contributing to their success.36 However, real collaboration is a two way street: partnering is more than just our teaching information literacy courses or co-piloting courses taught by others. Librarians have traditionally been recognized as partners in the education process through the quality content and resources we provide, and ensuring that the collection is appropriate, highly accessible (systems/access services) and engaging.

Yet we lack a standard set of outcomes through which to evaluate the impact of collections (both print and online, leisure and scholarly) on student learning. This does not mean that these are not a worthwhile, but that the assessment tools and standards available to us cannot assess our impact. We have an “outcomes problem.” 

More than ever, libraries need from our professional associations prescriptive standards of quality to serve as reinforcement, “strategies of resistance,” in order to keep themselves from being over run by other departments and by the university administration–our budgets and space re-appropriated for initiatives that have little or nothing to do with the library.

From this perspective, rewriting our mission statements in order to adopt the goals and objectives of other departments and even “student affairs,” as ACRL suggests as a way of promoting “greater collaboration,” seems like a very bad idea indeed!

Measuring the tangible impact of an intangible good. The strategy of aligning ourselves with institutional goals and objectives, specifically institutional quality assessment plans, is particularly problematic for academic research libraries for the reason that the impact of their collections on users cannot be assessed through any objective measure that can be tied back to “student success,” as defined by the university’s quality assessment/enhancement plans.37 Years before the publication of the new ACRL standard, a similar approach was discussed in an often cited article by Sarah M. Pritchard, “Determining Quality in Academic Libraries.” Library Trends, 44.3 (1996):

Few libraries exist in a vacuum, accountable only to themselves. There is this always a larger context for assessing library quality, that is what and how well does the library contribute to the overall goals of the parent consistencies? The major objective for academic libraries, especially in an environment of increasing academic pressure, structural change, and technological innovation, must be to align themselves with the structures of higher education and the criteria by which these institutions are judged.38

Pritchard goes on to say, however, that despite higher education managers adopting the business methods of quality management, and the “micro-evaluation of libraries have given countless opportunities for detailed studies . . .”

. . . still lacking are agreed upon and objective ways to measure and incorporate library value into such processes as academic accreditation, educational assessment, and ratings of graduate programs.39

Today, academic librarians are still struggling to find ways to demonstrate their library’s relevance to their respective institutions, which usually translates into contriving ways to demonstrate our value within the context of an institutional Quality Assessment plan.

By making institutional outcomes our exclusive focus, it is easy for academic librarians to forget who we are, and why most of us got our degrees in Library Science–which I doubt was to “support the curriculum,” “teach Information Literacy,” to “improve institutional outcomes,” or any of the other phrases commonly found in librarian philosophies and in newly renovated mission statements these days.40 Not that these are not worthwhile objectives, but they are too narrow and they miss the point of why our users (those who use the library regularly) like and value the library, which is one thing a mission statement should try to articulate.

Many of us academic librarians had hoped to enrich the lives of others, quite likely as ours have been enriched, through the experience of a great library, a library we probably enjoyed going to because, well, it was interesting, and made us feel connected to a larger community of scholars who were passionate about the same things we were, and made our world feel like a larger, the stars a bit brighter. It provided a kind of transcendence. Great libraries are great because they have great collections which afford users with a great experience. This is what I call “the aesthetic.”

Of course, “greatness” is subjective and not measurable, an aesthetic judgment, which are to be avoided when it comes to all types of quality assessment planning. This poses quite a philosophical dilemma for libraries.  Aesthetic judgments about quality, whether of service or collections, cannot be completely rationalized. 

intialthe managerial art of objectifying what is inherently subjective and experiential, through inputs, outputs, outcomes, performance indicators, benchmarks, feedback, usage stats, metrics, documentary evidence and analyses, and then folding this meaningfully and compellingly to institutional goals and objectives, and last, into our own budgetary justifications in ways college and university administrators will ultimately appreciate, is the challenge now laid at our collective feet.

Libraries have always attempted to measure themselves and their services to evaluate their effectiveness, impact on users, or “goodness.” This is nothing new. Some have even criticized the discipline for its seemingly unbridled enthusiasm for measurement, for being “confounded from the outset” by false “certainties of empiricism” stemming from the fact it regards itself as a science, and takes as its domain information.41

For many reasons both theoretical and practical–whether stemming from professional orientation, need for greater accountability, or job insecurity–librarians already do tend to place great emphasis on empirical data, inputs (budgets, size of collections) and outputs (circulation, reference questions answered, usage stats), ratios (percent of budget spent to support certain programs, numbers of books per student per major) and performance measures which, regrettably, cannot ever be meaningfully tied to user outcomes, and which therefore “do not assist managers in providing a true picture of libraries to the lives of our users. . . “42

For many academic libraries, and particularly those in Southern states,43 “Quality Assessment” has presented new and interesting measurement challenges, tantamount to devising Rube Goldberg Machine that will, at the end of the day, reveal and heighten our impact on the much larger machinery of institutional outcomes assessment.

There is certainly a lot that could be written about Quality Assessment planning with regard to libraries, such as, how do we assess our assessment plans to know that they are good? Has the practice of assessing the academic library’s value through the rubric of institutional effectiveness been good for academic libraries and those who use them? Has this practice resulted in improved library services? How has it changed us, for better or for worse?

Rube Goldberg was a master of imagining complicated mechanical processes to perform the most mundane tasks, which could otherwise be performed with just a slight bit of human effort and common sense, for example, here a self-opening umbrella:


Cartoon by Rube Goldberg, famous for devising complex mechanical solutions to perform mundane tasks you wouldn’t want or need a machine to do in the first place.

I do not mean to suggest that there is an easy and obvious solution to the problem of assessment or accountability in libraries–or that one should not rely upon all available tools and reports to make informed decisions–or that objectivity is not worth striving for.

That’s a given for any library manager. We compare ourselves, statistically-speaking, to our peers, and then try to figure out what they are doing better than us so we might improve. Strategic planning is an excellent tool for bench-marking growth. Setting and pursuing goals is vital to continuous improvement–who would not agree with that?

However, as the title of my philosophy statement suggests, I believe good libraries are about a very special kind of aesthetic user experience whose impact or value or information content cannot be measured in ways that would ever rationally justify them (libraries are intangible goods after all) from a business perspective like QA. There is no cost/benefit analysis that will justify the expense of an academic research library. (It reminds me what was said by Trump before cutting the school lunch program, “We tried it but didn’t see results. . . “) Therefore, I am especially mistrustful of reliance upon overly rationalized processes and externally imposed business measures like QA when it comes to library management, but most especially when they threaten to change the priorities of the academic library to value only that which can be counted, measured or valued by “the plan.”

If the library’s budget must be tied only to measurable, institutional outcomes of “student success” (graduation rate, retention, enrollment, persistence, employment rate, transfer rate, and other business objectives of the institution) or “student learning success” (how well they students do on an information literacy test), this will change the priorities of the academic library into something that is not recognizable as an academic library.

The sort of accountability required by institutional quality assessment plans inevitably entails both measurement and outcomes, but–and this may come a s a surprise–the library profession has never been able to successfully arrive at meaningful measures linked to outcomes,44 nor able to arrive at any evidence-based methods to assess the impact of libraries on its users, except for customer satisfaction surveys.

And it isn’t for a lack of effort or focus on these problems, which are further exacerbated by a failure to recognize that academic libraries are about the subjective experience of users–which I call “the aesthetic”–including browsing, familiarizing oneself with a discipline, reading for enjoyment (i.e., because users find it interesting/significant/relevant), seeing what is new, reacting to the works and ideas of others, and, perhaps most cherished by users, “serendipitous discovery.”45

We librarians deal for the most part in the realm of private experience, in intangible goods, but we are expected to deliver, or provide an accounting of, our tangible value so university administrators can see a return on investment.46 If we do have measurable user or student outcomes, they are often contrived for the sake of satisfying our QA plan, and usually involve those charged with teaching Information Literacy courses to freshmen–because here learning might be demonstrated through testing or better grades. By what mechanism is the library evaluated, in terms of its impact, other than this limited intervention? We cannot lay any claim to research and publications by the faculty, even though we support them.

The quality assessment standards imposed on academic research libraries today are often missing the finer points of the academic research library, and really the purpose of higher education, which is to encourage learning and research that is not necessarily part of “the curriculum”–at least not yet. Our users have no predefined learning outcomes: and that’s the point. We want them to feel as if they are standing on the shores of a vast ocean of knowledge and human experience, and they are free to go in any direction.

However, one unintended consequence of the imposition of QA on libraries at some institutions has been a reallocation of the library budget away from library resources, the collection–whose impact on students or outcomes cannot be effectively assessed or measured–toward staffing and instructional services, such as information literacy programs, tutoring, writing labs, and basic computer skills classes, and a variety of tangential student support services involving “doing” and which lend themselves to outcomes assessment more easily, especially in the short-term.

This is because within the context of the institutional QA, libraries don’t get much credit for having resources or even use of resources–only demonstrating tangible results–and these “results” must occur within the time constraints of the plan, making it hard to connect it even with scholarship in a meaningful way.


Library assessment though the institutional QA Plan will make the library’s budget look fat, as its resources can’t be meaningfully tied to specific measurable learning outcomes.

Selling out our Core Values? Another issue fundamental to our identity as library professionals is that by adopting as our highest aspirations an institutional model of student success as defined by external IE/QA plans (plans shaped exclusively by goals and objectives for institutional accreditation, rather than library standards), as ACRL has now advised47, we are moving away from a wholistic model of librarianship, in which the user defines his success, towards one that is narrow, passive, unambitious and not user-centered: we merely “support the curriculum” with “adequate resources” rather than (more idealistically) keeping up, and helping scholars keep up, with new publications and trends in their field of study, or supporting the creation of new disciplinary knowledge.

While this latter role is perhaps more pertinent to academic libraries supporting graduate research, there are corollaries at the community or junior college level, where librarians support, or have traditionally supported, the co-curricular and extra-curricular, self-directed interests of our students: leisure reading, current events, bestsellers, graphic novels, biographies, life skills and “how to’s” for young adults transitioning into adulthood and into a professional workforce.

These may not be directly, meaningfully or demonstrably tied to the curriculum, but they make the library good for, and interesting to, students, and habituates them to independent learning, that is, independent from the more task-oriented objectives-based curriculum we are supposed to be supporting. It also exposes them to other points of view and ways of thinking, and enhances their educational experience, even if we cannot prove that it does.

One would assume that promoting self-directed and independent learning at all levels–from leisure reading for college students to original research for publication for upper division and graduate students–would be fundamental to the core values of “lifelong learning,” a principle we are supposed to be instilling in students.48 But even the seemingly straightforward concept of lifelong learning has been co-opted by what Elmborg alludes to as a “neoliberalist” agenda, as opposed to the more idealistic values traditionally upheld by the library profession:

Life-long Learning is enshrined in the consciousness of librarians through the ALA’s Core Values. However, bundled in this phrase are two concepts that exist in great and probably irresolvable tension: there is the ‘hothouse flower’ of idealistic values, the vision of the ‘people’s university,’ critical consciousness, and critical practice; and there is the ‘weed’ of progressive administration, narrow and unambitious in terms of its impact on individuals but able to construct an inescapable domain of discourse that places all value within the context of economic development and the assessment of data-driven outcomes.


From the administrative point of view, lifelong learning is most easily translated into a task-driven, programmatic initiative that can be easily assessed and measured for short-term success. From the pedagogical point of view, lifelong learning is translated through great effort into the problem-posing, one-on-one exploration whose outcomes are fuzzy and may not be measurable for years to come. It might be naïve to suggest that libraries should defy the spirit of the age, denounce neoliberalism, and make a pure stand for social justice and democratic pedagogy. However, it seems equally unwise to embrace a neoliberal worldview that is openly hostile to almost everything that libraries profess to represent in their core values.49

While I cannot speak to the “neoliberal” vs. “social justice” perspectives Elmborg raises–I see the dichotomy more as a top-down business/managerial/”quality management” perspective vs. more scholarly / humanistic / user-centered approach–it does seem pretty clear no matter how you express it, that librarians as well as our professional associations like ACRL are embracing certain philosophies, strategies or best practices that may be detrimental to the success or survival of libraries in the long term. The imperative that libraries must closely align themselves with the business needs of their parent institutions and embrace their (and other departments’) goals and objectives as our own should be critically evaluated to see how it complements our core values as professional librarians and the impact this might have on our user communities.

Beyond the Curriculum? Academic librarians are, presumably, scholars committed to scholarship and the principle of academic freedom. We help students pursue knowledge and achieve their chosen educational and learning objectives–whether it leads to a degree or not.

  • We support scholarship and disciplinary knowledge as ends in themselves, as their own rewards, not because they lead, necessarily or measurably, to a degree, or to “student success” within a certain prescribed time period (e.g., within the boundaries of a Quality Enhancement Plan).
  • We librarians are glad that you used or accessed the item, but we don’t investigate in any formal way the extent to which you benefited from it, the extent to which it changed you, how it improved you, how it helped you write a better paper, or even if you found the item useful.
  • Along the same lines, if you request an article from us to get from another library, we don’t ask you to prove that you need it for a degree program or to complete an assignment before we request it.
  • We do not discourage you from visiting other libraries in order to hold you captive to just what we have if we know that there is a collection nearby which might better serve your research interests. We do not withhold that knowledge or keep you ignorant just to increase our stats.
  • We do not say, “Why do you want to know that? That has nothing to do with your major.” Or, “You’ll have to get permission from your professor before we process your ILL request.”

Now, my own theory of library usage–which has to be at the heart of any philosophy of librarianship–is that people who value and use academic libraries, our constituents, do so because they benefit from immediate access to relevant, significant or interesting titles, especially within the context of a meaningful and carefully considered collection.

To our constituents, academic libraries are not primarily “about” the services provided by librarians, at least not in an obvious way. They are about collections. They are about books, regardless of format. They are about publications. When people look forward to going to library they are not imagining librarians, they are thinking about interesting books and collections which they hope and expect to find there; things they like and find meaningful to them. Library services are always secondary to collections, to the extent that services exist to support and promote use of resources and publications. Collections (whether in print or online) do not exist to support librarians’ services. Getting information or assistance from a librarian is a very, very small reason people come to a library, public or academic.


  • I am not ready to declare collections to be dead or obsolete just because “the library can’t buy everything,” because large portions of it may exist in a different format, or because resources can’t be linked to assessment outcomes.
  • I am not ready to use library services as the sole indicator of quality for an academic library, or even the primary mode by which we academic librarians demonstrate our impact on students–even if evidence of direct student engagement may be the easiest way to justify ourselves.

The academic library is not primarily about inputs and outputs, users “getting answers to specific questions” or “satisfying specific information needs”–the latter are good things, of course, but despite the empirical information model which has often permeated our professional thinking about library operations–is not a correct model for any type of library, public or academic.

To scholars and regular library users, libraries are about the preservation of knowledge, sharing knowledge, facilitating the discovery of knowledge, and providing support for the creation of new knowledge through the quality of its collections.

The academic library is fundamentally a collection of research that inspires research.

To the extent that it does this well, it is successful as an academic research library.

Why Academic Library Collections Still Matter in the Age of Google.

I am asked this question not infrequently in graduate research methods classes. I know this can be my cue to promote myself and my services, and say, “Librarians are your greatest resource, and that is why libraries still matter!” But I do not believe that to be true. I am helpful, but I am not their greatest library resource. If I were, the library would be spending a million dollars on me and not on EBSCO, ProQuest, Gale, Elsevier and Sage databases. 

Anyway, the entire library shouldn’t revolve around “me” or my services. I want people to benefit from and enjoy the library itself. Thankfully, many people use the library regularly without ever needing to consult with a librarian, because if they did, that would be frustrating both to them and to me.

According to my aesthetic philosophy of librarianship, which is also a moral and spiritual philosophy, I should not benefit from the ignorance, frustrations, or disappointments of users in order to boost my own performance scorecard, desk stats, relevance or value: the wi-fi going down should not be a cause for celebration because, hey, my stats are going to go up

Website not intuitive? Students just need to take an information literacy class from me to learn how to use it.

People can’t find any books on “globalization,” “big data,” “noSQL” or C#? Students can get what they want through me, through ILL. (After all, it’s what we do that counts, not what we have. . .)

Can’t access an article from home? Call me at the Reference desk, we can download it and send it to you.

Yikes! These examples of poor customer service, of course. But in an environment where everyone is encouraged to assiduously document their own services, gathering evidence in the form of tally marks to make themselves more accountable, well, we just might not be as customer-service oriented as we might appear on paper. Managers need to take a holistic approach.

When I speak to students, I am merely the messenger. I try to represent good published authorities and the peer-reviewed Word. Although I provide library instruction, try my best to provide assistance, suggest and acquire resources which might be helpful, in my official capacity as an academic librarian I represent resources which promote disciplinary knowledge.

That is what the library as a whole ideally does better than Google and Google Scholar–provided that the library’s collections, access services and systems are maintained.

In a university library, students, aspiring scholars, and newcomers to a field of study should benefit from familiarizing themselves with what books, journals, publications and publishers others regard as influential, significant or authoritative in a field of study, as opposed to say, what rises to the top of a Google query, an EBSCO database, ebrary, or even our library’s discovery tool.

Some accrediting agencies may be impressed (thank goodness, right?), but personally, I really don’t care if we can retrieve 10,000 titles on “Health Administration” from our databases if we don’t have–or are incapable of making students aware of–the most significant, authoritative and recent references in their field of study. Awareness of authorities and trends in a discipline defines a person as a professional. Libraries have a vital role to play in this aspect of a student’s professional education.

Not through me or my services directly, but indirectly, through a well maintained collection, catalog and web presence, students and scholars benefit by seeing and experiencing what is new and interesting in their field of study, because doing so inspires their own creativity, research, teaching, and their disciplinary knowledge. The kind of disciplinary knowledge obtained through a good academic library collection is a very important part of an aspiring professional or scholar’s education–which should never be limited just to what is taught in classes, or prescribed by a curriculum.

The curriculum is the minimum requirement, not the upper limit, of what students can or should strive to learn when they attend an institution of higher education.

The library is a vital part of the education of our students. Apart from providing the student with disciplinary knowledge, including that which may fall outside of scope the courses taught at that particular college or university, the library allows students the opportunity to apply their newly obtained curricular knowledge in ways that are personally meaningful to them.

However, librarians are increasingly asked by QA plans to define themselves, their roles and their collections narrowly, in terms of measurable targets of student impactin terms of what they do (services), not in terms of what they have (collections)–even though what many of us do, or believe we should be doing–in addition to helping students of course–is creating and sustaining an exceptionally good college and academic research library collection.

Most surprisingly, we are even prompted by our own professional standards to redefine ourselves in terms of “institutional, departmental and student affairs outcomes. . . . student recruitment, retention, time to degree and academic success” (ACRL, SLHE, 2011, 1.1-1.6)–the university’s business objectives, as opposed to something more idealistic and perhaps less demonstrable within the plan’s reporting period: support for independent learning, knowledge, scholarship and the intellectual life of the university campus.

So then, after rewriting our library mission statements to express alignment with institutional objectives, as ACRL SLHE suggests we do, it is still not clear how we are to develop the recommended metrics and performance indicators to demonstrate contributions to “student recruitment, retention, time to degree and academic success,” that is, without fundamentally reforming the library to become something which is not an academic library, but something more along the lines of a tutoring center.

You can’t embrace the mission, goals and objectives of departments outside the library and just assume this will be good for the library or its constituents, or the university as a whole.

Many libraries have established “student success centers” and ramped up their instructional programs in an effort to be able to demonstrate their relevance and value to their parent institutions through mentoring students and increased direct engagement with them. These are worthwhile, but it would have been preferable to me had ACRL also succeeded in making the “library” part of the library less expendable.

I mentioned earlier a trend in the literature of library assessment of marginalizing the role and value of collections, or proclaiming them to be irrelevant to the success or quality of the library. Although we try to carve out new ways of expanding out services, in most instances, the campus computer labs, tutoring and writing labs, student affairs, and Blackboard, are handled by other entities on campus. Faculty show students how to cite sources (I do too, but there is redundancy). The only thing that makes the library unique, relevant and effective, to users are its collections, and the provision of support services related to these. 

A number of articles in library literature discussing service-oriented assessment techniques for measuring quality also justify the services-only approach by arguing that libraries can’t continue to grow their collections, and therefore must focus on expanding services to justify their value.

Many of these articles quote, or use an epigram, a line from Danuta A. Nitecki (“Changing the Concept and Measure of Service Quality in Academic Libraries.” Journal of Academic Librarianship 22.3, 1996), “The measure of quality based solely on collections has become obsolete.” Danuta sets up a straw man to exaggerate service-orientation, for if you go back and read the article no librarian ever equated library quality with “size of holdings”–we all know better than to do that.

But the very idea that services can be completely disassociated from the collection and evaluated as autonomous business units presents us with a false dichotomy (collections v. services). For one thing, there is interconnection between “library collections” and “library services” which cannot be glossed over.

  • Obviously, if your collection is inadequate, your users must resort to interlibrary loan for items which probably ought to be in your circulating collection. ILL service may be heavily used, responsive and popular with your patrons, but you are still providing users with poor service if they must resort to borrowing materials that should be in the library in the first place.
  • In information literacy classes, we teach students how to evaluate resources, with currency being a factor. A dated or poorly maintained collection reflects poorly on our own instructional objectives and professional competence. Most significantly, however, students will have less opportunity to exercise their research skills if they are not using the library because its collections are not relevant or appealing to them.
  • Reference services are needed to support research. If your faculty and students are doing their research at other libraries because the collection does not support research, or their particular research, then you are not going to have much demand for Reference Services, either.

Historically, library services have always existed to augment and promote use of library collections, not vice versa.

Another motive for minimizing collections in favor of services within library quality assessment plans–and this is the big elephant in the room–is the difficulty evaluating the impact of collections on students (in terms of measurable results which contribute to their “success”), whereas with library instruction, a some kind of test is possible to show that students 1. have attended, and 2. learned something. There is evidence of student impact. The emphasis now is to move away from passive support through resources to direct engagement with students to be able to better document how the library is directly contributing to student success.

However, “student success” is more often than not a euphemism describing the extent to which a student is progressing in his degree plan, not a measure of a student’s learning, extra- or co-curricular goals and activities, or his academic or professional growth outside of graded classwork. It is not a holistic view of the student, his success, or his education.

In reality, the library profession–and historically, our professional commitment to “access”–has always supported a more holistic view of students and their education than the college or university administration: Libraries and librarians help students achieve their educational, intellectual and personal goals. We help them achieve success on their terms. If they want to read a book, we try to get it for them. We do not judge and refuse service if we think it is not part of a class assignment. And this is a good thing for a university.

We can’t pretend to know what the future holds in terms of career opportunities for our students. Nurturing the passions and interests of our students may ultimately be what leads to their success in life–not necessarily their practical Nursing, Health Administration or Respiratory Therapy degrees. Perhaps they will prepare themselves in a career or a field of study not yet established. I recall a time when there were no degrees in Computer Science, and all programmers were self-taught through whatever books and resources were available.

We talk about promoting innovation and entrepreneurship. There is no better place to cultivate that spirit but in the library, where there is real freedom to individualized learning, knowledge and ideas.

The research library should not set as its highest objective “support for the curriculum”–the minimum needed for students to complete assignments–but should express as overarching commitment to disciplinary knowledge and academic achievement.

Now, many believe that the application of similar sorts of “quality assessment/quality management” techniques to K-12 education, with performance indicators, outcomes, standards, testing, tracking and recording for the sake of reporting back into a system, has not resulted in improved educational outcomes in the classroom, because the curriculum and methods of instruction have been changed in order to meet the needs of the assessment tools.

Assessing the impact of the library through some kind of matrix or rubric, where the only thing of value is what can be measured (what many university assessment plans require), is an impossible task for a library, but external pressures for greater accountability will ultimately transform it to become a remedial support or learning center, rather than a place people enjoy visiting, where they see themselves and their interests affirmed, nurtured and supported though a library’s investment in books.

We say that “Libraries transform lives,” but proving that is another story. Libraries offer intangible goods, very much like knowledge, and education–well, before education was redefined as a collection of discrete and measurable tasks tied to standardized test learning objectives so it could be properly “assessed.


Yes we have usage stats, but one never really knows the full impact of the library, its programs and its collections on users, especially on students. This is obviously a big and troubling problem for a library when it comes to evidence-based assessment methods.

  • Some students may choose to attend schools with a larger or nicer library, but we will never know whether the size or quality of the library factored into student recruitment. Did they choose that school because it offered a better library?
  • Some people may be motivated to change majors or go on to graduate school, some may develop a passion few people outside the ivory tower think about–like medieval semiotics, or “Is there really a Catholic literature of the South?” But we will never know the role of the library in terms of nurturing this passion, contributing (or not) to student success or “retention.”
  • One day, in a school library, a biography of Hamilton crosses a student’s path; years later, a Broadway musical is born. All the library may have to show in its assessment plan was that on that day a book circulated.

We can’t assess the impact of a library without assessing the impact of the collection on users, a task on par with measuring the subtle gravitational waves from the Big Bang or something out of Chaos theory. Collecting data demonstrating the impact of the library’s collection on students, especially according to “measurable targets,” is difficult, or even impossible.

This certainly puts the library at a disadvantage from a QA standpoint.

In fact, academic libraries have never been able to arrive at standardized measures and metrics to determine if a library is “good”. We simply benchmark ourselves against peer libraries, comparing their usage stats to ours, and try to figure out their secret sauce.

We must now demonstrate through evidence that we contribute to the business goals of the university through its “Rube Goldberg Machine” of Quality Assessment planning. When we hit upon just the right metrics and measures, it will be bound to attract enormous crowds at ALA conferences curious to see how it all works.


Let’s resist the temptation to teach to the test, to so eagerly re-establish the roles and priorities of the academic library and its librarians based on what is achievable through evidence, performance indicators and outputs, and what can and cannot be measured within the context of what is, essentially, a business model–whose relevance to education, teaching, research and scholarship has never been proven, and has already been placed into question by many.

Let’s not adopt as our goals and objectives those of other departments and other entities within the university to create redundancy, in an effort to more closely “align ourselves with them,” as ACRL SLHE advises, without at least considering the impact this may have on the our own customers and constituents, considering whether we are meeting the needs of the scholarly community we serve.

And let’s not be fearful of mission statements that are bold and visionary, making reference to things that cannot be quantified, such as “knowledge” and “creativity.”

Let us begin with the premise that libraries are intangible goods, offering intangible benefits to our community of users, rather than starting out with a management principle that if it can’t be measured, counted or assessed, then it is not a worth pursuing or has little value.

Consider that many goals in life are worth striving for, even if we can never know if they are achieved: objectivity, knowledge, wisdom, insight, truth and beauty, just to name a few.

Without consideration for the aesthetic and subjective element, libraries become boring, prosaic and perfunctory, a collection of what will be sure to be utilized in the course of a semester (or whatever time period is determined by “the plan”)–a collection of Norton anthologies, textbooks, courseware, test prep study guides, and a standard set of online databases required for accreditation.

The pleasure of coming upon something new and unexpected but deeply meaningful to the user, the subjective human element to collections which defy a vendor’s institutional profile, or just sharing with a fellow reader, are what makes a good library good to present and future scholars.

Good library collections are gratuitous. The problem with managing the academic library strictly according to the numbers–similar to the problem of “teaching to the test” in education–is that the library will fail to be a good library if ALL it does is pursue and measure tangible goals.

We can and should gather stats on usage and solicit input from our users, and yes, we should compare ourselves to peers to try to continuously improve, but we (and the professional organizations who represent us) should recognize and proclaim the fact that the library’s impact on students and scholars cannot be accurately measured, reduced to data points or KPIs, or translated to a dollar value that would ever justify its costs.

A university library that is well-managed, stimulating and up-to-date facilitates learning and helps students grow independently, as self-directed scholars. It inspires research, which brings prestige to the university. But try as we might, libraries cannot be concretely or tangibly mapped to student achievement, higher enrollments, increased retention, improved graduation rates, the focus of most university strategic or quality assessment plans.

The Library as a Place for Inspiration and Exploratory Discovery:
An Aesthetic Philosophy of Librarianship Explained

The most frequent, positive, and meaningful experience of academic libraries is through the user’s experience of a content-rich environment (i.e., a “library”) where independent learning, discovery, exploration, knowledge creation, sense-making and insight are likely to occur.

Although some librarians prefer to rationalize, intellectualize and objectify their own practice or contribution in terms of “information services”–responding to reference questions or providing instruction–scholars and regular library users most often think about the library in terms of ideas, scholarly discourse, disciplinary knowledge and personal discovery.

What people experience and value about academic libraries are primarily their own responses to a collection of works which they perceive to be relevant and interesting to them. Academic libraries are, in essence, collections of research that inspire research.

As much as some librarians may rationalize user behavior in terms of information-seeking and problem-solving–as if researchers are trying to be efficient, like mice running through a maze to get a piece of cheese–I believe that good libraries, those that people want to use, are inherently “aesthetic” in Kantian sense: if they are good libraries, they are places of insight, revelation, transcendence (time/place/culture) and self-discovery. If they are good libraries, people want to use them and are really in no hurry to reach the exit. It is the librarian’s duty to facilitate this experience called “scholarly research” or discovery, which is often deliberately inefficient and enjoyable to the person doing it–unless they must consult with a librarian to gain access to something they want.

How John Leinhard (Engines of our Ingenuity, Episode No. 1089) describes the value of art museums applies just as well to how people experience a good library: They allow us to enter into a “liminal state” of mind where we are opened up to new ideas and possibilities:

We all live in need of ideas. We all have problems to solve. At some point, most of us realize that, when our problems need creative solutions, they cannot be attacked with purely methodical tools. Method takes us down familiar roads. Creativity means seeing the shrubbery-shrouded side roads that we ignore by habit.


The hardest thing in the world is to leave the highway and float above the land. Music, theater, sculpture — they all cut us loose from the road of method and common sense.


The so-called creative leap isn’t a leap in the dark — without antecedents or stimulus. Rather, it happens when we find a liminal state, on the very edge of awareness, where ideas arrive without order or hierarchy. In that mental world, cowpaths are as important as freeways. And one way to find that creative state is to give ourselves over to art.


Inside the museum, we lay aside our shopping lists of needs to be met. Art serves us when we leave our supermarket lives to wander the woods, eating the unexpected nuts, berries, and wild fruit.

The information model made popular twenty-five years ago, when library studies morphed into information science, was a very convenient but limited model of what a library is and should be. According to that model, people come to the library to satisfy information needs–or get assistance fulfilling requirements for assignments–rather than seeking a kind of self-directed experience “wandering through the woods and tasting the unexpected berries.”

When taken literally, this pragmatic “reference mindset” or philosophy of librarianship (which limits patron motivation to satisfying some immediate need, and the role of the librarian to satisfying that need) has had repercussions in how libraries are managed, designed and funded today, such as treating libraries as service desks or remedial tutoring centers; and a singular focus on doing while discounting the importance of having, e.g., the right titles, an exceptional collection, displayed in ways that are appealing to users.

No amount of “doing” on the part of librarians can compensate for not having, because “having” is a core function of the library.

Academics and students at all levels don’t come to the library primarily for our services, they come for resources relevant to their interests and their assignments, and to keep up with what’s new in their field of study.

I believe it should be our mission as academic librarians to create that special place where people feel stimulated, inspired, supported, and encouraged to go beyond the curriculum to become whoever and whatever they want to be in life. Libraries help people realize their potential.

Even a small library with a small budget should strive to be a window to the world, that is, immersing students in a world of ideas.

One of the best academic library mission statements for a college library I have come across is this:

“Dedicated to enriching the life of the community through the expansion of knowledge and creativity.” (Woodbury University Library, Burbank, CA)

It is a beautiful mission statement for a beautiful library (scroll way down to see a picture, or click the link above to go to their library website).

This one is really good too:

“. . . advancing scholarship and teaching through the collection, creation, application, preservation, and dissemination of knowledge.” (Harvard Library Mission & Strategic Objectives)

Today, if one conducted a national survey of ACRL mission statements, many would mention Information, Information Literacy and Information Services, “empowering students in the Information Age,” but few would mention collections or knowledge, more durable goods than the commodity of information.

The Rise of Help Desk Librarianship:
Doing (Services) vs. Having (Collections) in the Digital Age.

In October 2015, the President of the American Library Association said as the opening statement of her editorial in American Libraries, “At ALA, we know that the future relevance of libraries and library professionals will depend on what we do for people rather than what we have for people.”50

For those inclined to think of librarianship merely as a service, perhaps or more specifically where information and/or instruction is provided in response to a query or information need–rather than imagining the library as place which (if done correctly) both anticipates and stimulates demand for its resources, a place which encourages discovery, browsing and new knowledge creationgetting rid of the “repository of books” formerly known as “the collection” is simply a no-brainer: a service desk certainly is very efficient and economical in comparison to a library–only it is not a library. It is merely a help desk . . . like this one:

26db360f10eb7848b8228853e1b8da7eBut nobody likes that model–except people who don’t use libraries, or have no need for them personally. They may even think it’s progress to unwind college and university libraries into bookless Learning Resource Centers (LRCs) that more unambiguously support the retention, persistence, academic achievement (grades), and the mastery of an increasingly task-oriented outcomes-based curriculum. One big philosophical difference between an LRC and a research library is that the latter supports learning (learning outcomes) that are not defined in advance. Because LRCs deal in predefined knowledge, such as mastery of a concept, a specific body of knowledge or a curriculum, LRCs can more more easily “account for themselves” in terms of institutional outcomes and assessment–graduation and persistence rates–than a library. While the intentions are good, LRCs are not libraries. They are tutoring centers.

Some librarians agree that it’s time to get rid of books, even though study after study indicate that students engage with physical books more intensively than with ebooks, and this is what people come to the library seeking. Struggling or poor readers don’t do well with ebooks–they scan them for content but do not read them or remember what they read as much as those who engage with a physical text. There is something about the physicality of the book that improves sustained engagement and attention. Perhaps the brain processes content from a screen as being ephemeral, while the permanence of the printed word suggest that the content worthy of remembering.

Although I cannot attribute the steady decline in library usage reported in so many libraries merely to impoverished models, missions and philosophies of librarianship–yes, Google has had something to do with it–it is indisputable that within many libraries, books (both print and electronic) are being eliminated, budgets to buy books have been eroded or reallocated, space is being re-purposed for faculty offices, and professional librarian positions are being reclassified and downgraded.

Our own philosophies, mission statements and messaging–that libraries today are mainly about work spaces and information services, for example–hasn’t helped the cause of librarians or libraries, and has hastened their demise. Not only does this model does not resonate with our users, but in some cases has justified neglect or lack of investment in collections to the point where we are not giving students or faculty any reason to come through our doors.

What I am calling “help desk librarianship” is the philosophy that the very essence of librarianship is the transaction which occurs at the public service desk, rather than through the user’s subjective experience of a good library collection. 

Many academic libraries which peaked in the late 80’s and early 90’s have devolved into bland learning resource centers or computer labs with the entirety of their dwindling book budgets spent to maintain increasingly costly online databases–exactly the same as their peers across the country subscribe to.

Small to mid-sized academic libraries with collections of 200,000 to 300,000 volumes (and enrollments to sustain that) have been the hardest hit, as they struggle to offer comparable access to online databases as what libraries with much larger enrollments can sustain. In addition journal prices have increased dramatically in ways that have cannibalized the book budget as smaller institutions where books have not been made a priority.51 Unless there are countervailing forces, the entirely of an academic library’s book budget may be going to database subscriptions, not toward maintaining a print collection.52

Libraries, particularly small ones, used to derive personality and character from their collections, each book hand picked by an expert selector, or at least someone who was familiar with the significance of that title and how it stood in relation to other titles in the collection and in the discipline. 

In the library field, this trend is either viewed fatalistically, or else heralded as “progress.” Many new academic libraries are being built on campuses across the county, gleaming monuments of light and glass, but with little or no physical or visible collections. Within these new bookless facilities dubbed “libraries,” what is left of the actual library has had to compete for space.

Despite an increasing portion of library budgets devoted to online materials and commitment to online services at user’s point of need–including in some instances 24/7 virtual reference and ebooks on demand and increasingly more services–customers continue to go elsewhere for books and information.

Content-Rich Websites. People enrolled in academic programs today would rather browse for books on Amazon and Google Books than in the library catalog. They would rather search for articles and information on Google (and Google Scholar) than in the library’s electronic databases.

The time has come for libraries to start offering a better, more interesting content-rich online experience.

For starters, what if the library’s home page looked more like this, emphasizing our content:


and less like this, emphasizing the librarian and library services:


Make sites more about the content that our users might want or find appealing, less about us librarians and our services.

Libraries as “Content-Rich Environments” (Library as Place–Physical and Virtual)

Ideally, the library’s mission statement, and the goals and objectives stemming from it, should embrace strategies for actively acquiring and promoting resources, and for using technology to put materials before our users’ eyes, because that is an important part of what a library does–not providing access to materials if and when they are requested.

We have an obligation to maintain a library in anticipation of use.

At the college level, the library should expose students to core titles and authorities in their chosen field, to disciplinary knowledge, to key publications, not merely to information in the abstract.

By providing access to everything “on demand” but acquiring nothing, we are abnegating our roles as librarians and as educators, and creating a bland environment that is neither aesthetically pleasing nor conducive to learning.

Putting “the Library” back into Librarianship. Librarians may not be able to compete with Google or remedy the parking situation at our respective institutions, but I believe there are things we can do to make our libraries a lot more appealing to our constituents:

  • Encourage browsing. Put books where users will see them. I believe that good libraries actively promote awareness of the significant titles in a discipline and knowledge of recent trends. This is a core function of libraries, not optional. You can’t sit back and subscribe to ebrary and be done with it. Browsing the shelves and the online catalog of a good college library helps students learn about a particular discipline in ways that retrieving a random assortment of books documents in response to a query can’t.
  • Make the library stimulating to the senses and the intellect. Good libraries have never been merely a “repository for books,” any more than a museum is a repository of artifacts. Just as with museums, aesthetics is vital to our success–especially now that there are so many other places for users to find and access information. By aesthetics, I am not referring merely to the attractiveness of the walls or the furniture, but to the subjective user experience of the library as a whole, including how interesting, useful and significant the library collections are or appear to be when patrons walk through the doors or land on the library’s home page. By all means though, if your users like music, play music. Serve coffee. Make it smell good. Make the library a destination.
  • Stop treating all questions as “information requests.” If stats are up at the Reference desk merely because directional signs were taken down and never replaced, or because people can’t locate what they are looking for on the shelves, or don’t know where to go to search the catalog or how to search it when they get there, or because the printer is broken, well, it all may look very good on paper (we’re responding to all these informational questions!) but the reality may be something very different. Likewise if stats for ILL are up because you don’t have the right books in your collection, and your students are having to continuously borrow materials, it may look good on paper (our department processed so many ILLs this month!), but it could also be a sign that your collection is not up to par.
  • Stop using “Information Literacy” classes to compensate for poor user interfaces and antiquated systems. Rather than concentrating effort and energy on Information Literacy to teach students how to navigate our antiquated and unintuitive systems, we should be conducting usability studies of our website and library and working towards making them more user-friendly to begin with. No one needs a class to know how to search Amazon or Google. Why should the library’s website be any different?
  • READ. Turn your users on to new things they might like. Librarians should never stop reading, never stop growing. You are the voice of the collection: familiarize yourself with it! Read, recommend, reach out. Learn what your faculty might be interested in, keep them apprised of new publications in their discipline.
  • Invest in New User Interfaces. Libraries must start paying as much attention to the architecture of their websites as they do to the architecture of their buildings. 21st century libraries don’t have 20th century websites, that is, static pages of text and hyperlinks. Our websites are often an ad hoc assemblage of various competing vendor-branded resources, platforms, interfaces, tools (e.g., SFX, “classic” catalog, LibGuides, “Literati by Credo Reference,” EBSCO Host, STATRef! and JSTOR ) and proprietary applications that don’t work well together, causing needless confusion among our users.
  • Focus on Content. Create libraries physical and virtual that are content rich environments, fun for patrons to explore.
  • If it is a Library, call it a library and live up to the ideal. Libraries are committed to the interests of its users, and to “student success” as defined by students. Goals for learning are not predefined. They can browse and learn what they want to learn. The goal of a Learning Resource Center, on the other hand, is the mastery of predefined learning objectives of a curriculum and to student success as defined by the institution.

Putting the Library back into Librarianship means offering intuitive, content-rich websites and facilities (“libraries”) that people actually enjoy coming to, to see what’s new in their areas of interest, or to learn more about a field of study or discipline.

Information Literacy and Instruction. A large study of California college library mission statements in 2006 “Thinking Boldly!53 concluded that many library mission statements have replaced “building strong collections” with “teaching information literacy.”

Reference and other types of public service librarians have always taught students, and always performed instruction, formally in classes and informally at the desk. This is nothing new, except the name has changed from “Bibliographic Instruction” to “Information Literacy,” and these days we sometimes teach people about the use and evaluation of Internet sources. However, never before has teaching received such intensive focus by our professional associations and literature.

Many Philosophies of Librarianship today place exclusive emphasis on teaching, specifically teaching Information Literacy.

This is a pretty typical PoL:

I acknowledge that libraries as an institution have a broader purpose, but in every library, librarians exist to teach people how to access and use information. Our role as educators and teachers is what makes us unique. In short, I see the heart and soul of libraries in information literacy.– Kim, “Our Philosophies of Librarianship,” In the Library With The Lead Pipe. Oct. 17, 2012. 54

University libraries who can afford it are hiring “Information Literacy Librarians” and “First-year Experience Instruction Librarians” to teach Freshmen the basics of how to find, evaluate and use information. Reference Librarians are being redefined as Instruction Librarians. The library journals oriented to directed at Reference Librarians are full of articles on Information Literacy.

Other libraries are urging professional library staff, including those who may have been working behind the scenes maintaining the library for the last 30 years–such as Catalogers, Systems Librarians, Acquisitions / Collection Development Librarians, Serials Librarians and Archivists–to get into the classroom and teach. For librarians conscripted to teach Freshmen IL courses, there may be some awkwardness stemming from the fact that the sources included in the IL curriculum may not be found in the library, or accessed through the library’s website. In my info lit classes (I have been teaching IL classes for six years), I sometimes introduce students to Google Scholar, and mention to them that if they set their link preferences to our library, they can often access full-text of articles by deep linking into our databases. 

Librarians vs. the Library

The new emphasis on Information Literacy in the library profession can be attributed to many things: more good information available on the Internet, sense that books are going away, even a shift in emphasis in running libraries and universities as businesses, or according to a business model: a focus on short term goals which can be assessed, rather than support for learning, research and scholarship, which may take a few years and cannot be adequately measured.

Accordingly, librarians must be able to demonstrate their relevance to the university or college in light of assessment plans and a common perception that everything–at least, everything that their students might need to complete assignments–is online, or soon will be. In addition, library directors are under pressure to demonstrate the library’s impact on students in terms of measurable results, which places more emphasis on instructional services. They are eager to correlate these with academic success and GPAs.

What is most interesting to me though, is how now so many older librarians (since I am an older librarian, I can speak freely), some of whom by their own admission have yet to download an ebook or read a book online, express outright disdain toward the traditional library and print, arguing that it costs x amount of money to “warehouse” each title/year “just in case” someone needs it–preferring an “on-demand” or “just in time” library service model, where access to the book is provided as needed–but then the book goes away, rather than hanging around collecting dust. 

Once treated with a kind of reverence as “works,” our books have now become dusty, unclean and obsolete, old school, at least regarded as a whole lot of trouble to keep on the shelves and not worth the expense. They say that online and on demand is what the library should be in the 21st century. Books are a thing of the past, with only 0-13% of the academic library budget now going to them. With library collections rapidly shrinking into a generic and predictable selection of vendor packaged content (which don’t require full-time staff to manage), it is easy to believe that teaching (or instruction) and empty space for collaboration is all we have left.

One can easily anticipate a time in the near future when only “better” schools will afford their students with the rich intellectual experience of what we used to call “a library”:


while others will offer a webpage with links to online resources in a learning resource center (a computer lab) and be done with it.

Bookless libraries: symbols of decline or cultural progress?

No one seems to have given much thought either to the visceral appeal or effectiveness or impact on student learning of a library without physical books, or more importantly, whether user experience of an online library provides comparable educational or “spiritual” benefit to its users. Yes, researchers tell us that users often assign great personal meaning to their happenstance discoveries in the stacks (spiritual or phenomenological value), which they sometimes value more highly than what is retrieved systematically or via technology.

Modern, minimalist libraries without physical books are in, and those libraries that have books are drastically reducing their numbers and placing them on the periphery, into storage, or completely out of site.

The University of Chicago’s Mansueto library, pictured below, stores books out of view (books are stored in an underground bunker, retrieved by robotic pages), a return to a time when the call number was actually used to call for the book.


The new Mansueto Library at the University of Chicago. Books are stored in an underground bunker, retrieved through an automated system.

This is not an isolated case. “How to re-purpose empty or underutilized space in your library” (since collections are shrinking and books will be gone) could be the subtitle of most professional conferences on the 21st century library. Now that print books are going away, research libraries are resembling waiting areas, such as airports or hotel lobbies, or modern open concept workplaces.

At the Mansueto Library, which serves as the primary research library at the University of Chicago for students in the sciences and the humanities, there are no works on display to celebrate scholarship, to stimulate interest when users walk through the door, to encourage independent learning, or help students and faculty keep up with trends in their field.

From this traditional librarian’s perspective, the Mansueto presents intellectually sterile environment, the antithesis of what a good library should be. Honestly, wouldn’t you rather be here, in a beautiful space with the weight of tradition at your back, without all that sunlight glare on your laptop, and still have access to the same online databases?


Woodbury University Library, in Burbank, CA.”Dedicated to enriching the life of the community through the expansion of knowledge and creativity.” What a wonderful mission statement.

Unfortunately, the highly acclaimed multi-million dollar glass facility (nicknamed “the blister”) named after billionaire donor Joe Mansueto (the founder of the Morningstar news agency), is what many in our own profession also believe a modern library should be: rational, efficient, impersonal and technological, glass and steel.

It also symbolizes a logical trajectory of the library profession from a focus on works and collections created and maintained by and for people–humanistic values–to “information in the abstract.” While ideas and works transcend time and place, information (like news) is inherently transient and continuously updated, it has no lasting value, so there is no need to preserve it for the future.

It is also the embodiment of a philosophy of librarianship encouraged by the library profession over the last 25 years which:

  • regards information services and libraries as interchangeable
  • defines services narrowly and in a reactionary way, in terms of merely meeting or responding to the information needs of students and faculty
  • stresses the function of librarians as existing apart from creating and maintaining exceptional academic and college libraries
  • fails to recognize that good libraries are conceptually much more about ideas than information

After encountering so many philosophies of librarianship and academic library mission statements which offer nothing more than “teaching information literacy” and/or “providing information and resources to support the curriculum,” I realize I do have a philosophy of librarianship which has to do with my commitment to creating and maintaining an exceptionally good academic library.

My philosophy of librarianship began in 1987, about the time when library science graduate programs across the country were either closing down (most famously the library program at Columbia University, which proclaimed the MLS to be a vocational degree lacking sufficient theoretical foundation to be at CU), or else reinventing themselves as schools of Information Science–taking the “L-word” out of their names and course descriptions, and adding basic programming, SQL and DOS to the curriculum.

Over the years, “iSchools” would continue to add information theory and technical computing courses to the traditional library school curriculum, including object-oriented programming, data mining, data management, Information Retrieval, web development, “Ontologies and the Semantic Web,” digital asset management and health informatics, but no matter how technical, relevant or cutting edge the curriculum, employers have continued to associate the Master’s in Library and Information Science with traditional reference work, filing, or something anachronistic and useless to the business enterprise.

The American Library Association has been too busy protecting library users’ civil liberties and fighting censorship to deal with the fact that, outside of libraries, the bearers of their ALA-accredited Master’s degree are unable to be competitive against other similar information-oriented degrees. Most employers do not know that MLIS degrees might require programming and database management. They were “MIS” before the MIS degree. 

After completing my Master’s degree in Library and Information Science in 1990, I returned to graduate school and took courses in the burgeoning and discipline of Information Science, and also MIS (Management Information Systems) in the School of Business. I returned again, this time to the community college, in the late 90’s and early 00’s to study computer programming, web development and database management, which were what my cohorts in iSchools were learning.

However, my interests when I first enrolled in Library School in 1987 were traditional and Humanistic: Rare Books and Manuscripts, along with antiquarian prints, Reformation history, Christian Humanism, medieval scholasticism, 18th century philosophy, 19th century Romanticism, English literature, art and art history, illustrated books, descriptive bibliography and cataloging.

In the late 1980’s and early 90’s I’d already studied a few years of Latin, a little Hebrew and two years of Ancient Greek, was a part-time book scout for a used and out of print book dealer, and had been attending book shows in Chicago, Boston, New York and San Francisco. Of course, I collected books, and still do. Any new city I visited, I looked forward to visiting the used and out-of-print bookstores. I subscribed to AB Bookman. In the 80’s, the art market was booming, and with it antiquarian books and prints. I loved the library, prints and printing, and most of all the intellectual history that went along with them.

An intellectually honest profession.

I went to Library School after having spent a year pursuing a Master’s in English, hoping to eventually earn a PhD. My grades were good, but I became discouraged by trends which sought to undermine historical context, author’s intent and objectivity for the purpose of generating misreadings, or deliberately incorrect interpretations of classical texts.

One example which sticks on my mind: a poet’s desire to “peer through the veil of Heaven” would be deliberately misinterpreted as an expression of the poet’s unconscious libidinous desires–since women wear veils–rather than as and expression of his spiritual longing. Words were exaggerated, taken out of context and used to “deconstruct” the text, which seemed to me like a pointless waste of time and tuition money.

Oppositional approaches such as this were justified by feminism, political radicalism, and/or else by referencing the writings of deconstructionist French philosophers whose cryptic works had been either ignored or discredited within the discipline of Philosophy itself, but yet somehow found cult followings within English departments everywhere. I continued to maintain just because objectivity may not be achievable doesn’t mean it isn’t a goal worth striving for. And I spent a lot of time in the library.

I went on to study more Latin at the graduate level and eventually migrated over to Medieval and Reformation History, thinking I could put my Latin to use. Plus, I loved Aquinas, church history and medieval scholasticism. Only the only Medievalist in the department–replacing a very distinguished historian of science and religion who left when the university presented him with an early retirement package–specialized in “Herstory.”

Not wanting to spend the remainder of savings learning how to “subvert patriarchy” or “divine women’s voices from the language of male denigration and misogyny”, I decided to pursue my library degree with the idea of becoming a Curator of Rare Books and Special Collections, or something where I could work with primary sources and perhaps, over time, defend the historical record that others seemed to be working so hard to subvert.

Librarianship for me and many other academic dropouts may have been a career of last resort, but it just seemed like a more intellectually honest profession and better aligned with my scholarly interests, and I was always in the rare book room anyway, where as far as I was concerned, much of the real scholarship in the Humanities was being done.


In Library School at the end of the 80s, I took my “Introduction to Information Services” class where we were discussing the role of libraries in society and their importance for delivering quality information to people. Libraries schools were interested in redefining library work in terms of information access and delivery. Whatever the type of library, we were taught that the output of library services, whether public, academic or corporate, is Information.

The fundamental logic, or philosophy, of library services at that time seemed to hang on a self-validating premise:

People go to the library to get information, to satisfy an information need–even if the need may not ever be fully or consciously realized by the library user.

It was up to the librarian to translate the often ill-defined and almost unconscious information needs of patrons into questions that could be answered quickly and efficiently using the library’s resources.

As a life-long user of libraries myself, I was never comfortable with this narrow, even anti-intellectual assessment of libraries or its users. Because here’s the thing:

  • If the library is a good one, people are motivated to come to it for many reasons, not simply to obtain information in response to a question or an information need.
  • If the library is a good one, people come to be stimulated (and to stimulate their own creativity), to explore possibilities, and to stay connected with scholarship, and even to have the opportunity to discover new things, very often inefficiently and serendipitously.
  • If the library is a good one, people will enjoy browsing and seeing what’s new in areas that interest them.
  • If the library is a good one, books and journals are placed before the user in a way that is immediate, aesthetically pleasing, intellectually stimulating, and emotionally gratifying (they can take books with them).

But only if the library is a good one.

Good libraries are not just about getting information the answers to pre-formed questions, but about stimulating new questions, raising new possibilities, and presenting new ideas to the user. It should entice users to explore, to pluck low-hanging fruit from the Tree of Knowledge.

It is a fundamentally aesthetic experience which cannot be strictly rationalized (question/answer), quantified or made totally efficient through Boolean operators. Library assessment models are based on a very limited transactional service model which does not capture the way academics, educated people and life-long learners use libraries, who are compelled to use libraries not merely to find answers to questions, but to stimulate their own knowledge, scholarly activity and creativity.

If the college or university library fails to deliver that kind of subjective experience to its users, it fails as a library–regardless of how many Info Lit classes are being taught, how much relevant information can be pulled out of databases in a response to some question, or how many transactions there are at the service desk. We talk about life-long learning, but a big part of that is the joy of self-directed learning and discovery which doesn’t involve direct contact with a librarian.

Of course, our students’ access to all of the commoditized content we expose them to through our subscriptions to EBSCO, Gale, ProQuest, ScienceDirect and SAGE databases, and all other academic databases in our Tree of Knowledge, is cut off as soon as the semester ends.


Porphyrian Tree: The Metaphorical Tree of Knowledge

Due to advances in search technology and more scholarly content being placed online by publishers and scholars, however, people can quite often find answers to questions without assistance from a librarian, and without going through the library’s website. It may not be “good” from an academic perspective, but it’s good enough for most real world purposes.

With the availability of so many Internet resources, it has become harder to justify ourselves to university administrators who don’t understand why, apart from accreditation requirements, a library staffed with librarians is still needed.

At many smaller institutions and public schools, they’re getting rid of the library, both its print books, which is probably another reason why librarians are formulating mission statements justifying their self-worth in some way that doesn’t require a one.

Unfortunately, what passes as “libraries” today may meet accreditation requirements, provide abundant access to information on virtually any topic, provide ample resources to complete assignments–but if this is ALL they do, they will fail to inspire a culture of learning across a college campus.

Erasmus of Rotterdam, 1526, by Albrecht Durer

Even back in the day, as schools were substituting “Information” for “Library,” I knew that people who actually used libraries rarely went there to get answers to specific questions. People went to libraries to stimulate curiosity and their own creativity, and to engage with others who share their interests, and to expand their knowledge–to alleviate boredom and browse; to realize their own potential and personal goals. The model was incorrect.

Similarly, when people read the Sunday New York Times it is because people find it insightful and enjoyable to read, and to commune with others who have similar interests, not to “get at” the news it contains. After all, the news in the NY Times could be distilled to bullet points and delivered up in a much more efficient format if all people wanted from it was to become more informed. They don’t want “the information,” they want the experience of great writing and insight afforded by that paper.

I can anticipate some saying, “Academic libraries are used to do research: therefore, provide information.” True, but users of academic libraries, just like those at public libraries, are more often looking for books and articles or ideas which they simply find interesting, stimulating and insightful in areas or on topics that interest them. Many people, myself included, find pleasure in browsing scholarly books and articles even when not looking to satisfy some specific information need.

We also find pleasure in browsing a collection that has been developed thoughtfully and with care. Librarians are curators and caretakers of collections and online content. Our users judge the library by how stimulating and interesting the library’s collections are to them whenever they come through the door and visit the library’s website.

I’m all for teaching students and faculty how to use the library’s resources and helping them locate the best materials on any subject. I do it almost every day. I explain peer-reviewed journals and help students understand the publication process, why it is important for them to cite their sources using a certain style format, and how to use the library’s databases. I promote my library’s resources, but want students to not to limit their research to just what our library has. I want them to search WorldCat and search Google Scholar, too.

A good library is nothing without its collections. I mean a collection that exhibits selectivity, consistency and thoughtfulness. It isn’t enough that our subscription to a vendor’s product offers access to over 100 titles on a particular topic: I want to know that it contains the best titles, the right titles, rather than stuff that got digitized by a content aggregator because it was in public domain, cheap or available.

And when people walk into a library, they want to see books with titles that excite them, even if they can download a copy of that same book in electronic format through the library’s online resources. In a smaller and more specialized library, they expect the librarian to be knowledgeable about the collection, to know what titles are best–not just to know how to search a database to pull information out of it when needed.

The importance of the Library as Place. My philosophy of librarianship is to maintain place, “a library,” where people are delighted and inspired by what they find there. Yes, I said “place.” And “delighted.” And “inspired.” And “library.” 

I believe that outside of a corporate setting, the physicality of the library is still important, because done right, it is affirming to individuals, and especially to students who may be struggling to get through school, and to seasoned researchers who may feel that no one cares about their passionate concerns in life except for those few scholars working in their same area. The library represents an ideal. It is the ivory tower in the ivory tower,

It is sanctuary of intellectual and artistic endeavor, and it keeps people from becoming too distracted by the real world–which too often tells students that what they are doing (pursuing that degree) is a waste of time and money, that they should be out there making money or pursuing short-term goals. The physicality and permanence and material expense of books, perhaps becoming a luxury that libraries can no longer afford, signifies respect for the work so much more than anything conjured up out of a database in response to a user’s query. It signifies that someone thought enough of the work to print it and care for it. Someone aside from the author invested in it. It is preserved in a durable format because it is deemed to be worth the expense. The physicality of the book inspires people to continue writing and publishing them.

Good libraries improve retention and encourage academic success. At my institution, I am amazed and impressed that students burdened with multiple jobs and small children and financial hardship and limited support systems, along with limited job prospects and mounting debt, can stay positive and focused on their studies at all.

I do not think administrators fully grasp the ameliorating effect that this “glorified study hall” can have, particularly on at risk and disadvantaged students. The library reinforces the values which keep students in school.

Far from being an anachronism, the library symbolizes in a tangible way opportunity and possibility and a better life. It also helps them connect with someone associated with the university when everyone else on campus has gone home (It’s 3 am during finals week, but we’ve left the light on for you. . .).

Ideally, the library provides a supportive environment for people to be with others who in the same peculiar mode of life, where one toils without the expectation of monetary reward, which is completely against the grain of our societal norms.

The library not only allows people to connect with others in their field of study, past and present, but it affirms the value of scholarship: people wrote the books, people published them, people selected them and made them available, each step along the way conferring value on the work in the same way a frame and layers of matting confers value and importance to a work of art.

Well-furnished libraries, with collections that appear to be grown and maintained with care, confer value, respect and dignity upon the academic endeavor and the people who were and are part of that process.

Bad libraries, on the other hand, convey that academic studies are a waste of time and money.

Stacks full of dated materials, no books or new books displayed, overly restrictive circulation policies, limited seating areas, negative signage, broken computers and equipment, an ineffective and poorly maintained website, run-down facilities, “dead zones” (lifeless or empty spaces where something once was, or is used for storage) and all other signs of benign neglect, serve to reinforce a student’s and faculty member’s sense of ambivalence, isolation and low self-worth as scholars.

While good libraries function as a hub or commons, reinforcing academic interests and pursuits and stimulating new research, mediocre libraries feel stagnant and lifeless, and drive students away–not just from the library.

Good Libraries offer meaningful collections. A second tenant of my philosophy of librarianship is that library services are not primarily about providing access to information, but rather about providing access to good collections built with deliberation and care (these collections can be physical or virtual or a logical combination of the two). If your book budget is very limited, this is even more reason why collection development should be strategic, to ensure the best use of the money you have.

Our users experience and judge the quality of the library by our collections, not by the discrete bits of information which can be pulled out of the chapter of an ebook or journal article on demand, or in response to a question. They judge it by whether the library has in its collections the key titles in their field of research, and if the library stays on top of scholarly trends in their field.

Above all else, libraries should be interesting places. Do patrons see titles of new books and on the covers of journals which stimulate curiosity and interest? Does the library provide services to make it easy for scholars to keep up with issues and ideas? Is the library a stimulating place for users to browse?

My mission and purpose as a librarian is to do what I can to support the fragility of scholarly research in a time when the value of information, precisely because of its widespread abundance, has undergone a serious deflation—and with it, the value of libraries and librarians.

So long as librarians continue to espouse an impoverished “information services” model of librarianship–where what we offer is “access on demand” to various “information resources”–a library’s value to a school will continue to be put into question.

Soon libraries will be entirely virtualized and outsourced to our vendors, who will be quite willing to provide our students with unlimited access to information, 24/7 chat, and Information Literacy courses on demand.

  1. “Defining Excellence in Academic Librarianship at USC (DEAL at USC) / Your Philosophy of Librarianship.” University of Southern California Library.
  2. Kolowich, Steve. “Bookless Libraries? Technology leaders and librarians consider how the digital age changes the physical space and role of one of higher education’s oldest institutions.” Inside Higher Ed. Nov. 6, 2009.
  3. “Nation’s First Bookless Library on College Campus is Thriving at UTSA.” UTSA Today, Accessed 27 Feb. 2017.
  4. Dwyer, Liz. “Are college libraries about to become bookless?” Web log post. The Daily Good. N.p., 13 July 2011. Web. <>.
  5. Riley, Sharon. “Academic: New Florida University Unveils Bookless Library.” Library Journal 139, no. 15 (Sep 15, 2014): 13-n/a,
  6. Hack, Husna. “‘Bookless libraries’ – has it really come to this?” Christian Science Monitor. N.p., 17 July 2012. Web. <>.
  7. See for example,
  8. Rebecca M. Sullivan (2010) Common Knowledge: Learning Spaces in Academic Libraries, College & Undergraduate Libraries, 17:2-3, 130-148, DOI: 10.1080/10691316.2010.481608, p. 135 “. . . innovative partnerships” such as “writing and academic support centers, teaching and learning centers, disability coordinators, diversity centers, service learning initiatives, undergraduate advising programs, and digital centers.”
  9. Ellis, Lindsay. “Texas University Libraries Renovate to Keep Student Interest.”, Houston Chronicle, 13 Jan. 2018,
  10. The Hunt Library Story,
  11. Temple University. “Temple’s New Library Is on the Rise.” YouTube, YouTube, 14 Mar. 2018,
  12. See for example
  13. See Rebecca M. Sullivan (2010) Common Knowledge: Learning Spaces in Academic Libraries, College & Undergraduate Libraries, 17:2-3, 130-148, DOI: 10.1080/10691316.2010.481608
  14. Digital School Library Leaves Bookstacks Behind”
  16. “How Hunt Library Redefined the Library for the Digital Age,”, slide 5
  17. EContent Quarterly, 1(2), 6-18. Retrieved from
  18. “On the Cost of Keeping a Book,”
  19. I quoted from the pdf, but it originally appeared here in print: Paul N. Courant and Matthew “Buzzy” Nielsen, “On the Cost of Keeping a Book”, The Idea of Order: Transforming Research Collections for 21st Century Scholarship. CLIR Pub#147. June 2010, p. 102
  21. an assumption or speculation that is reported and repeated so often that it becomes accepted as fact.
  22. Barr, Catherine, and Karen Adams. Bowker annual library and book trade almanac. Medford, NJ: Information Today, Inc., 2016. 360. Print.
  23. Lately, vendors of Library Management Systems have been concentrating on improving back-end functionality, workflows and analytics more so than enhancing the front-end user search experience, which has been hampered by inconsistent metadata and API restrictions by publishers. Publishers have more financial incentive to work with Amazon than they do with library vendors.
  24. Lindauer, B. G. (1998, November). Defining and Measuring the Library’s Impact on Campuswide Outcomes. College & Research Libraries, 59(6), 546-570.
  25. The term “Grand Narrative” was introduced by Jean-François Lyotard in The Postmodern Condition: A Report on Knowledge, in which he critiqued all forms of institutional and ideological forms of knowledge. Social scientists have used this concept to refer to an underlying ideological belief which provides societal legitimization to certain forms of knowledge over others.

    Historically, the value of libraries was tied into other, larger legitimizing values—democracy (the need for an informed citizenry), cultivating the habit of life-long learning; a European model of higher education where students are expected to function as independent scholars and investigators, taking greater responsibility for their own education (therefore needing access to a research library) as they moved up the ladder, rather than remaining passive consumers of instruction.

  26. According to Welsh and Metcalf, “The term ‘institutional effectiveness,’ promulgated by the Southern Association of Colleges and Schools, is interchangeable with a number of monikers for continuous improvement processes, such as ‘quality assurance’ and ‘quality enhancement.’ The specific initiatives included under these rubrics typically encompass activities such as student outcomes assessment, academic program review, strategic planning, performance scorecards, performance bench-marking, and quality measurement, each of which has numerous manifestations in academia. Despite variations in terminology, colleges and universities accredited by any one of the six regional accrediting agencies must demonstrate that they have designed and implemented acceptable processes of institutional effectiveness.” Welsh, John F., and Jeff Metcalf. “Faculty and Administrative Support for Institutional Effectiveness Activities: A Bridge across the Chasm?” The Journal of Higher Education 74.4 (2003): 445-68. Web.
  27. ACRL SLHE, Introduction,
  28. ACRL SLHE, Section 1.1 says: The library defines and measures outcomes in the context of institutional mission. 1.2 The library develops outcomes that are aligned with institutional, departmental, and student affairs outcomes. 1.3 The library develops outcomes that are aligned with accreditation guidelines for the institution. 1.4 The library develops and maintains a body of evidence that demonstrates its impact in convincing ways. 1.5 The library articulates how it contributes to student learning, collects evidence, documents successes, shares results, and makes improvements. 1.6 The library contributes to student recruitment, retention, time to degree, and academic success. 1.7 The library communicates with the campus community to highlight its value in the educational mission and in institutional effectiveness.
  29. Hernon, Peter, and Robert E. Dugan. Outcomes Assessment in Your Library. Chicago: American Library Association, 2002, p. 11
  30. LRCs provide remedial tutoring, curriculum resources (textbooks, study guides, and sufficient resources for student research papers), instructional media, collaborative study spaces, and computers. Their purpose is to assist students with the completion of course assignments and the mastery of specific concepts and skills–the achievement of “student learning objectives” tied to the curriculum. They are often associated with remedial, vocational and technical training, or the first year experience. See for example, Notre Dame’s LRC: Compared to libraries, it is much easier for LRCs to demonstrate student “impact” with a lot less overhead. Although both libraries and LRCs provide resources to students, they have very different missions. Cost effectiveness and close alignment with institutional objectives are reasons why LRCs are encroaching upon, or altogether replacing, the academic research library at schools which serve large populations of academically disadvantaged students.
  32. Berg, Maggie, and Barbara K. Seeber. The Slow Professor: Challenging the Culture of Speed in the Academy. Toronto: U of Toronto, 2016. Print.
  33. Ginsberg, Benjamin. The Fall of the Faculty: the Rise of the All-Administrative University and Why It Matters. Oxford: Oxford U Press, 2011. Print.
  34. Gerber, Larry G. The Rise and Decline of Faculty Governance: Professionalization and the Modern American University. Baltimore: John Hopkins U Press, 2014. Print.
  35. From
  36. The ACRL standards committee was guided by the idea that if we adopted the roles and missions of the institution and other business units, it would serve to “advancing and sustaining their role as partners in educating students.”
  37. For three years, my university experimented with incorporating formal information literacy instruction into the freshman experience, including the administration of pre- and post SAILs tests; but the impact of these efforts could not be correlated to improved completion rates or higher GPAs. It was my observation that showing students how to use the library’s catalog and electronic databases–“library instruction”–was more impactful than the prescribed information literacy curriculum, which exposed students to the concept of Boolean searching, broadening and narrowing topics, using concept maps, avoiding plagiarism, and evaluating information sources found on the Internet. Demonstrating how to use the library to conduct research using our electronic databases was the primary thing students and faculty wanted.
  38. Sarah M. Pritchard, “Determining Quality in Academic Libraries.” Library Trends, 44.3 (1996), 573
  39. Pritchard, 573
  40. Libraries are advised to rewrite their mission statements to reflect and conform with the mission statements of their parent institutions, and set goals accordingly.
  41. Rowena Cullen, “Measure for measure: a post-modern critique of performance measurement in libraries and information services.” Proceedings of the IATUL Conferences. Paper 10. http://doc
  42. Crawford, Gregory A. Developing a Measure of Library Goodness. Evidence Based Library and Information Practice, 11:3 (2016): 117,
  43. SACS, the accrediting agency for many southern colleges and schools, pioneered these techniques, and also developed more rigorous assessment and rule-based approaches than other institutional accrediting bodies. See Welsh and Metcalf.
  44. Dugan, Robert E., and Peter Hernon. “Outcomes Assessment: Not Synonymous with Inputs and Outputs.” Journal of Academic Librarianship 28.6 (2002): 376-380.
  45. Carr, Patrick L. “Serendipity in the Stacks: Libraries, Information Architecture, and the Problems of Accidental Discovery.” College & Research Libraries 76.6 (2015): 831-842.
  46. Larry, N. W. (2007). Unseen measures: The need to account for intangibles. The Bottom Line, 20(2), 77-84. doi:
  47. ACRL, SLHE, Introduction, “Accreditation language, trends, and contexts also inform the Standards. Academic library directors surveyed by the standards task force in spring 2010 stressed the importance of relating library standards to accreditation criteria. Accreditation agency library reviewers were asked by the task force to identify characteristics of library strength and weakness within the context of institutional accreditation. The task force also reviewed guidelines from each regional accrediting agency and extracted concepts and specific language (i.e., outcomes-based language, and terminology such as “sufficient” and “effective”). Trends in the accreditation process affecting libraries include an emphasis on using assessment results for continuous improvement; full library integration into the academic endeavor; a move away from a separate library standard within the overall accreditation standard; a focus on outcomes and bench-marking; recognition of information literacy as the catalyst for the library’s educational role; the library’s support of all student learning outcomes, not just those overtly library-related; an alignment of library and institutional missions; and a need for multiple forms of assessment and documentation.”
  48. Elmborg, James. “Tending The Garden of Learning: Lifelong Learning as Core Library Value.” Library Trends 64.3 (2016): 533-555
  49. Elmborg 553-4
  50. Feldman, Sari. “The Future of the MLIS.” American Libraries, Nov.-Dec. 2015, p. 5
  51. Walters, William H. “Journal Prices, Book Acquisitions, and Sustainable Library Collections.” College & Research Libraries 69.6 (2008): 576-87.
  52. Holley, Bob (2011) “Random Ramblings — Why Aren’t Faculty Complaining about Academic Libraries Not Buying Books?,” Against the Grain: Vol. 23: Iss. 2, Article 31. DOI:
  53. Bangert, Stephanie Rogers. “Thinking Boldly! College and University Library Mission Statements as Roadsigns to the Future.” American Library Association, September 29, 2006. Document ID: 1497510b-f35b-3224-5d15-5453a6cea87d
  54. Blog post. Retrieved May 3, 2014.