A View from IT
Unlike the often cozy cultures of small software shops and, at their best,
university departments, the IT departments of government departments or traded
companies tend towards factories. They have a tendency to be hierarchical, intensely
structured and risk-averse: project managers will themselves be managed by project
directors; teams of developers work off functional specifications written by systems
analysts who in turn work off business requirements produced by business analysts;
databases will be designed from class diagrams upwards by specialist teams and
critiqued by database administrators experienced with enterprise-class persistence
layers; release schedules will be managed by a cross-functional Change Advisory Board
(CAB) composed of senior managers from across the enterprise. Although there is a
growing willingness to import Agile methods into these environments, especially for
smaller projects, it’s frequently remarked that the method doesn't scale to large
projects. The fact is, of course, that when projects start to grow beyond the $4 or
$5 million mark, they become business entities in their own right. While they might
function on a principle of planned obsolescence, as long as they are active the
fiduciary and managerial functions need to be almost as robust as that of an
independent company. Agile is fantastic for software development, but software
development is only one component of a large project. Large projects don't only
deliver software, they deliver “Change”, leading the project to
focus on “transition management” as much as software development.
Complex teams develop within these environments, requiring in turn more scalable
development, governance and maintenance strategies. And this is perhaps what
interests me the most about enterprise IT: even the largest software development
projects are dwarfed by the logistics of deploying them into human environments.
Difficult as it may be because of massive disparities in scale and purpose, this
editorial is my attempt to consider what IT might have to offer the digital
humanities.
As impressive as some enterprise IT environments sound, few experienced
professionals could provide you with an example of one (whether composed of 50 or 500
staff) that runs seamlessly and without a degree of stress: the industry is known as
a challenging one. The obvious reason for this is that it is involved in engineering
and maintaining complex systems, and complexity brings with it difficulty. Another
reason is that the industry is young. Compare the 70 years since the development of
Colossus [
Copeland 2006] to the several thousand that have elapsed
since the major engineering feats of antiquity. We are only just beginning to find
processes that will genuinely assist our software engineering tasks. There are now a
handful of broadly accepted methodologies that claim – and generally do – make the
task of software engineering and maintenance easier (RUP, AGILE, PRINCE 2, ITIL), but
few organisations have either the will or the means to deploy these approaches in a
“purist” sense. For a variety of reasons, they will need to be
tailored to specific circumstances and the most extreme financial or legal
motivations, like Sarbanes Oxley or governmental archive standards, need to be
present to justify the expense of full deployment.
This is a perspective that digital humanists might find useful. Although the
enterprise IT world tends towards being over-engineered, and often seems to aspire to
a kind of 21st-century Taylorist nirvana, it struggles with exactly the same kind of
problems that the lone digital humanist does when confronted with a page of .php. The
difference relates, of course, to scale and purpose: where digital humanists’ IT
messes can usually be scrapped and restarted in a healthy spirit of experimentation
and discovery, an IT mess in the enterprise world has to be maintained and further
developed according to the dictates of the business, often over decades rather than
years. This can result in spectacularly complex mélanges of workarounds and patches -
a situation that even the most rigorous methods and large teams of people can only
“manage”, never tame. Much of the over-engineering (in both
technology and culture) is due to this fact rather than an innate desire on the part
of the workers to function in that way. Experience has shown that unless rigorous
development and operational methods are applied to building and maintaining
enterprise software systems, life can get messy. Hence the dictum that “no-one ever got fired for buying IBM”: Chief Information
Officers are quite happy to pay extra for the insurance of a trusted brand.
Two points bear comment here. Firstly, digital humanists might not only be the
advance guard of a movement of the humanities into the digital world. They might also
be, in effect if not intent, narrowing the gap between the commercial and scholarly
worlds. For the first time since World War Two, a significant humanist movement has
appeared that engages directly with methods and attitudes commonly held in the
commercial and governmental worlds. Far from being a flight into cyberspace, the
digital humanities might represent an emergent movement out of the ivory tower and
back to an engagement with the “real world”. If this is the case,
humanists might want to be concerned. Even if the intent isn’t there, the need to
control increasingly complex technologies demands a degree of rationalization and
control that runs counter to a great deal of our tradition. Secondly, if such a shift
is occurring, it provides us with a potentially fruitful area of research. Mathew
Kirschenbaum urges us to consider the entanglement of the digital humanities in the
material systems we use [
Kirschenbaum 2007]; there is equal reason to
explore the entanglement of those material systems with the discourse and
methodologies of the corporate and governmental worlds. It may not be a subject to
everyone’s taste, but it offers historical grounding and solid intellectual leverage.
We need only go so far as the role of DARPA in the birth of the internet, or worse,
the role of IBM Hollerith machines in the holocaust,[
Black 2001] to
find evocative examples of our debt to dubious aspects of technological history.
These are morally complex and decidedly humanistic topics, and as such they could
become central to our discipline.
The entanglement of the digital humanities with the commercial and governmental
worlds symbolised by DARPA and IBM is connected to the fact that digital systems (at
both a hardware and software level) are engineered. And as Thomas Hughes points out,
engineered systems are the products of highly complex social, cultural and political
processes: they are embedded in the fabric of history.[
Hughes 2004]
Rosalind Williams likens their architecture to the layers in the Wachowski brothers’
film
The Matrix: Reloaded (2003): as you descend to
deeper levels, more is revealed, but it is only at the deepest engineering level that
the truth really comes out.[
Williams 2007] Similarly, while robust and
satisfying exploration is possible at the uppermost levels (in the context of the
digital humanities, perhaps “merely” analyzing textual content
presented on the screen), a journey to deeper levels presents a more intellectually
rounded experience. The question for the digital humanities is what role these
broader cultural and historical contexts should play in the development of the
discipline. My feeling is that the digital humanities are about more than code and
applications, and that students should learn about the culture and history of the
tools they use as well. A slightly stronger position might suggest that digital
humanists, because of their understanding of computing and digital culture, have a
responsibility to pose these kinds of questions.
The question, then, is just what kinds of analysis digital humanists will bring to
the broader humanist culture. One thing seems certain enough: while there are a few
groups doing things on the fringes,
[1] the community doesn’t seem particularly interested in theoretical complexity
or grand narratives. Most practitioners seem to be quite practical people who
experience daily the laudatory effect of things breaking when they don’t design them
correctly or drop a semi-colon. It’s unlikely that people like that are going to
stand up and proclaim victory or special insight, because they harbor a sinking
feeling that the code could break, a bug could be introduced. They might even have to
reinstall the operating system and start again. It’s not the kind of job that’s
conducive to proclamations of universal truth. What it is conducive to, however, is a
sense of responsibility when it comes to questions of technology. Digital humanists
understand technology, and coupled with their background in the humanist tradition,
are extremely useful as analysts of our technology-obsessed age. Limited theorizing
(a little is always healthy), practical daily experience with the subject-matter, the
context offered by 2000+ years of history and culture. What more could be asked for?
The enterprise world is certainly crying out for it. [
Times 2011] While
the humanist tradition has (almost) always eschewed riches in favor of a commitment
to art and culture, we should remember that people are getting paid very good money
to provide technical analysis to corporations and government agencies around the
world. Demand is high for people who combine solid technical understanding with the
ability to write cogent, focused, easily-digestible prose. Computer Science degrees
have to pack so much into them that these skills often can’t be taught, and many of
the students might not be particularly interested anyway. This wasn’t a problem when
IT products were less embedded into businesses’ core operations, but those days are
long gone. Today, businesses need people who can answer those curly questions “What
will happen if I deploy this $3 million piece of kit into this particular human
environment? What impact will it have? What will I need to do to decrease any
financial, legal or cultural exposure? How can we design the technology to
minimize these risks?” The answer is often “hire a consultant”, but I see
no reason why it can’t be “read an article by this digital humanist I heard of”
or “hire one of those smart graduates from XYZ University”. It might take a
while, but one day digital humanists’ environments may well become complex enough
that we’ll have to devise new methodologies to make sense of that complexity, and
that could make our students sought-after in the job market.
This has been the case, broadly, in enterprise IT. Going by anecdotes from colleagues
(men as well as women) who have been coding since the 1980s, the transition from
mainframe computing to networked PCs during the early 1990s introduced a degree of
human complexity that demanded a fundamental change in thinking. The movement away
from mainframes not only decentralized computing power to the desktop, it also
embedded computer systems within complex human-driven organizations, destabilizing
the safe mainframe model and requiring a fundamental shift from “computer
design” to “solution design”. By the late 1980s the
complexity of distributed IT systems were beginning to engender new ways of thinking
about how to design robust distributed computing systems, to the point where
engineers were being forced to think on a continental and even inter-continental
scale. The end result was a (still relatively new) discipline known as Enterprise
Architecture. Part of my purpose in this editorial is to introduce this methodology
to the digital humanities community in the hope it will seed new shoots of thought.
I’m not sure how much of the practice will be taken up, but it might at least prompt
some thoughts about the scale we limit ourselves to.
Unlike solution architecture, then, which concerns itself with the functional and
non-functional specifics of a single system like a mainframe
[2] and is
therefore intuitively understood by anyone who has spent time building software or
web applications, enterprise architecture presents a holistic view of
many
related systems and exists to ensure those related systems are at once
compatible, extensible, and maintainable. Unlike solution architecture, which
functions at the level of components and code, enterprise architecture functions at
the level of standards definition, process and (importantly) purpose. It exists to
ensure solution designers have enough knowledge about the broader technical ecology
to design systems that are not only fit for purpose, but likely to function in an
optimal manner both in their immediate deployment context and into the future.
Significantly, because of the vast scale and corresponding degrees of complexity that
enterprise architects work with, this is the point at which the known hits the
unknown, leading their methodologies to take on some of the characteristics of the
humanities themselves. It is a level of abstraction that should come naturally to
most humanists, trained as we are in large-scale thinking. Just as it isn’t possible
to unravel the complexities surrounding the origins of World War One into a neat
formula, so it isn’t possible to reduce a description of a national health system to
a tidy technical diagram that only includes discreet physical models. Logical models
must also be used, and these need to be aligned to political purpose or
organizational intent. At an enterprise level, technological systems function within
a human environment that reaches beyond the archetypal “end user”
and into the cultural and political spheres. Decisions about fitness for purpose are
not only made through reference to basic technical architecture, but also more subtle
issues like risk appetite, strategic direction, and relationships to desired or
redundant capabilities. And hot topics include not only domain-specific issues like
these, but general problems like the movement towards the cloud, adoption of open
access models, social computing, mobile computing, security, and the implications of
open data and the semantic web. While the practice is almost antithetical to the
digital humanities’ focus on do-it-yourself, organic growth and a decentralized
‘networked’ structure, [
Scheinfeldt 2010] its ability to make sense of
highly complex, heterogonous IT environments suggests it might offer perspectives we
can use. The key here is that, unlike some of the more business and
efficiency-oriented enterprise methodologies, enterprise architecture aims to provide
a view of technological systems that assists with technical, commercial
and human decision-making. It is the most
“intellectual” of any of the IT disciplines (a fact which is
often noted with disdain by solution architects, analysts, coders and testers faced
with coal-face technical realities). In short, it grapples with large issues, and
that sits quite well with a humanist sensibility. Indeed, and perhaps at the risk of
stretching a point too far, if the technical nature of the digital humanities has
signaled a rupture between the old and the new, (elements of) enterprise architecture
might allow the closing of the circle.
John Zachman is widely considered to be the father of systems architecture. His paper
“A Framework for Information Systems Architecture”
appeared in IBM Systems Journal in 1987, in the context
of an exponential rise in the scale and complexity of information systems, prompted
in large part by the movement from centralized mainframes with dumb clients to the
vast networks of individual machines I mentioned earlier. As he put it:
... since the technology permits
“distributing” large amounts of computing facilities in
small packages to remote locations, some kind of structure (or architecture) is
imperative because decentralization without structure is chaos. Therefore, to keep
the business from disintegrating, the concept of information systems architecture
is becoming less an option and more a necessity for establishing some order and
control in the investment of information systems resources. The cost involved and
the success of the business depending increasingly on its information systems
require a disciplined approach to the management of those systems.
[Zachman 1987, 276]
System architecture, as my more experienced colleagues suggested, grew out of a need
to manage the explosion in complexity attendant upon the movement towards the
personal computers that dot our homes and workplaces today. At the true enterprise
scale, of course, we are not only talking about swarms of networked PCs, but vast
industrial computing systems that might process billions of transactions a minute and
be composed of hundreds of separate sub-systems. While my own discipline of History
always makes even the most complex computing systems seem manageable, there can be no
doubt that at the macro level – where the systems touch human social, cultural and
political structures – there is a need for methodological rigor.
Zachman spent a great deal of his article describing in detail how architects go
about designing buildings, and the different views that are required in order for the
architect, owner, contractor and sub-contractors to work together to a common goal,
even when the task might be so complex that none of the people involved have a full
understanding of what the others are doing. Extrapolating this to software
engineering, Zachman proposed a framework that, if completed, would offer a complete,
holistic view of any complex software system from the perspective of managers,
analysts, architects, testers and developers. As long as the framework was complete,
the business could be confident that the project would be a success, even if some
teams were never fully aware how their piece fitted into the larger picture.
In reality, and although still used today, few organizations have the resources or
the will to design and document a system with the three dimensional rigor demanded by
Zachman’s framework. It fitted well with the period in the history of computing from
the late 1980s to the 1990s when the IBM Rational Unified Process (RUP) and waterfall
software development processes held sway, and where complexity was controlled by
large teams, hierarchical management and strict division of labor: Fordism (with a
strong element of Taylorism) applied to software development.
[3]
While Zachman’s framework remains useful to any enterprise development project there
has been a change in approach over the last decade to a more flexible focus on
process and standards definition, business modeling, and strategic requirements
analysis. More than being a rejection of Zachman’s methods, the various new
approaches reflect an increasing demarcation between solution (or perhaps
“technical”) architecture and enterprise (or, perhaps
“organizational”) architecture.
As with software development methodologies, there are several different enterprise
architecture frameworks available, but the most widely accepted approach is that
offered by The Open Group Architecture Framework (TOGAF). TOGAF was released in 1995,
and was based on the “Technical Architecture Framework for
Information Management” (TAFIM) developed by the US Department of Defense
(DoD). The method aims to provide structure and process to the development and
maintenance of large, highly complex information systems. The Group describes the
framework as a “detailed method and a set of supporting tools -
for developing an enterprise architecture” [
TOGAF 2006]. It
is free to use by any organization wanting to develop an enterprise architecture, and
is run on a commercial open source basis, charging for publications and
certification. Simply put, TOGAF provides a set of seven guidelines, models and
procedures for developing an enterprise architecture that will help ensure the smooth
functioning and interoperability of heterogeneous systems. Unlike the Zachman
framework, which focuses on creating a complete set of plans for the development of
homogeneous systems, TOGAF assumes a splintered, heterogeneous environment composed
of many different systems, standards and methodologies. It is particularly focused on
the development of capability models, frameworks and standards that will foster reuse
and the successful implementation of open architectures, to assist with
interoperability in complex environments and ensure organizations aren’t locked into
proprietary systems or constrained by single-vendor models. The opening pages of the
framework point out that the approach is designed to be used either in whole or in
part depending on the maturity of the organization in question and the task at hand;
it offers a set of conceptual “components” as much as an
end-to-end process:
The intention of dividing the TOGAF specification into these
independent parts is to allow for different areas of specialization to be
considered in detail and potentially addressed in isolation. Although all parts
work together as a whole, it is also feasible to select particular parts for
adoption whilst excluding others.
[TOGAF 2006]
TOGAF focuses on the development of an enterprise architecture function within an
organization, and the development of that function over time by implementing
architecture repositories and fostering EA as a specialization for suitable staff
members. In practical terms, therefore, all that is required to start using TOGAF is
for projects to refer to the framework, and develop and store enterprise architecture
artifacts (such as their capability model, their development process, their
governance model, their technology stack) in a repository for future reference.
The development of enterprise architecture methods in the digital humanities
community may take some time, but it might produce benefits in terms of consistency
of approach and therefore potential future extensibility. It would also offer softer
benefits associated with the development of a new specialization within the community
and recognition of the benefits of specialization generally. Aside from developing a
healthy “ecosystem”, and the obvious financial benefits associated
with the use of Enterprise Architecture (lower software development, implementation
and maintenance costs, increased portability of applications, reduced complexity,
reduced risk, increased financial transparency), there are three other compelling
reasons for developing the specialization within the digital humanities:
interoperability, critical analysis and political transparency.
The benefits of developing interoperable systems seem almost too obvious to mention,
and to a large degree interoperability is enabled by the technological choices we
have in front of us when creating new information systems (in a lot of cases it
doesn’t really matter whether a project decides to use Apache Tomcat, Zend or
Glassfish on their web server, or Windows or Linux for their OS), but as the digital
humanities scale to a global level and implement more sophisticated layers for data
analysis and messaging this will become more important. This isn’t to suggest that we
are inevitably moving towards a situation where major digital humanities projects
developed in isolation aren’t going to be able to talk to each other, but it does
mean that people developing those systems might be working without a full toolset, or
might encounter integration issues down the track. At the very least I imagine it
would be reassuring for solution designers of major digital humanities projects to be
able to consult an enterprise repository to gain an insight into how similar projects
approached similar design issues. In some cases I expect they would find work that
has already been done for them, or perhaps a more elegant solution to a particular
problem. A related benefit to interoperability, then, is reusability: a good
enterprise repository should offer patterns that can be reworked and reused,
resulting in turn in further enhancements in interoperability. The aim is to
implement not only enterprise architecture, but a virtuous cycle of sharing,
interoperability and integration.
At the same token, of course, the development of enterprise architecture for the
digital humanities would foster analysis of the field at a “meta”
level that is necessary if the field is to gain respect among more traditional
disciplines. At the moment it is difficult to present a critical analysis of the
digital humanities, because we aren’t sure just what the digital humanities are.
Indeed, the last year or two have been characterized in part by a flurry of activity
focused on deciding just what the discipline is, with some progress but little
agreement.
[4] This lack of definition can be contrasted with my own discipline of History,
where historiography, historical philosophy and method are sub-disciplines in their
own right and have their own established journals. Centuries of scholarly research
and debate informs historical practice. Attempts by digital humanists to define the
discipline and prompt debate implicitly recognize this: an academic discipline
without a tradition of self-analysis will never enter the scholarly mainstream. By
working towards transparency, by defining the terrain, by questioning the
relationships between the technology we use and the purposes it was designed to
fulfill, enterprise architecture could well help us mature intellectually as well as
technologically.
One of the key questions that this level of transparency and attendant perspicacity
would raise relates to political transparency. The discipline is clearly driven in
large part, for instance, by social networks like Twitter that are first and foremost
commercial concerns. How deep is this relationship? Would it change if an open source
alternative became available? Conversely, what are the implications of gating
university resources like JSTOR, and do digital humanists have a role to play in
opening them up? If we have a choice, do we choose proprietary or open source
products? To what degree are those choices dictated by university IT departments
already heavily invested in certain technologies and unwilling or unable to change?
The development of enterprise architecture would lead digital humanists down a path
strewn with interesting questions, and in doing so offer a level of maturity the
discipline has to strive towards if it is to be taken seriously.
In order to indicate what an artifact in a digital humanities enterprise architecture
repository might look like, I’ve produced a tentative capabilities model. TOGAF
recommends the development of models to map relationships between objects, processes
and standards, and define the limits of the knowledge domain. An important point to
recognize is that enterprise artifacts are never complete. The aim is not to create a
finite body of knowledge, but begin a process of discovery that will enable more
sophisticated levels of engagement and analysis in the future. The approach should be
second-nature to humanists. I hope the model shows how useful (if not revelatory and
certainly not unarguable) enterprise architecture methods can be. The main point to
be gleaned from the capability model below is that the digital humanities function
mainly within the upper tiers of the model: the Tools & Application, Content, and
Theory / Method layers. This is understandable given the digital humanities are by
nature content-oriented; the development of content is supported by a set of tools
and applications, and methodologies which guide practice. While many areas of the
model are either poorly defined or simply unexplored, there are clear indications
that they will be ‘filled in’ as the discipline matures.
Theory / Method
This layer is self-explanatory, except insofar as it is anchored in the humanities
proper, rather than information technology. Two representative texts are perhaps
Dan Cohen and Roy Rosenweig's
Digital History: A Guide to
Gathering, Preserving, and Presenting the Past on the Web
[
Cohen and Rosenzweig 2005] and Matthew Kirschenbaum's
Mechanisms: New Media and the Forensic Imagination
[
Kirschenbaum 2007]. Both texts are firmly grounded in the analog
humanities, and are effectively attempts to graft the digital humanities onto the
main trunk of the tradition. Although a non-technical audience might find them
intimidating, to most digital humanists they represent readable and penetrative
overviews of the field. John Willinsky's book
The Access
Principle
[
Willinsky 2006] also fits into this layer (as well as the “Philosophy / Ideology” layer – see below), as do the
essays on the Centre for History and New Media’s essay list.
[5]
Digital Humanities Quarterly and journals like
Vectors and the
Journal of New Media
and Culture fill out the layer, as do practice-oriented sites like the
Stanford
Humanities Lab and machine-oriented sites like MIT’s
Media Lab. Indeed, the last 5 years
have seen a marked increase in essays and websites that seek to define methods and
theorize purpose for the field.
Content
This is where the digital humanities were born, where I would hope the bulk of the
activity still occurs, and where their core future lies. A decade or more ago,
publications like
Project
Gutenberg, Paul Halsall's
Internet Modern
History Sourcebook
,
Arts and Letters Daily
, the University at Buffalo's
Electronic Poetry Centre, the University of Virginia's
The Valley of the Shadow
and the Center for History and New Media's
Liberty, Equality, Fraternity:
Exploring the French Revolution
, provided clear evidence that good quality humanities work could be
presented online, and that the internet offered a radical new channel for
humanities output. Similarly, the arrival of Wikipedia may have provoked
widespread panic about the quality of online content, but it is also the perfect
example of how content-centric the digital humanities are. Above anything else,
the new media requires content, just like the old media. This will only increase
as the publishing industry transition more of their assets into the online world,
new delivery platforms like the iPad proliferate, and universities come to realize
the cost-efficiencies implicit in the online content model. When blogs and social
media are included in the Content layer, it becomes clear that, for the digital
humanities as for the rest of the online world, “content is
king”. There is little reason to launch into an extended discussion of
this layer, because it is where most of us work on a daily basis.
Tools and Applications
The Tools and Applications layer is another crowded space, but unlike the content
layer, it is of little interest to mainstream humanities scholars. This is the
layer where technical expertise takes over from content development, and in the
digital humanities this normally amounts to development effort that aims to
facilitate production and dissemination in the Content layer. It would be possible
to argue for a separate Tools layer at this point in the structure, but I'm
describing a single layer because tools and applications are bound by the Software
Development Life Cycle: they are developed in code and inevitably reference
each-other. For instance, at this layer we not only have operating systems like
Ubuntu, Snow Leopard and Windows, but tools like Zotero and Monk and web
applications like Omeka, not to mention the IDEs, code repositories and project
management tools used to build them. Note that at this tier we also have the
languages and frameworks used to write the applications: primarily .php and .css
but also perhaps application technology stacks like Zend or web development
frameworks like Ruby on Rails or Vaadin. Common content management systems like
Drupal, Joomla, Moodle and Wordpress would also fit into this layer, as do
developing web services like Google Maps and platforms like Hypercities. As the
digital humanities scale both vertically (in size) and horizontally (into the
“web of things”) we may find Java being used more,
and there is no reason to deny at least the possibility of DH-friendly languages
appearing in the future, like Cobol and Fortran in the maths and sciences. This is
a messy layer. It is essentially the engine-room of the digital humanities,
churning out products that enable the growth of the discipline beyond 'mere'
content creation. It actually needs a sub-model of its own. I suspect that most
digital humanists would argue that, for the moment at least, this is the most
crucial layer because this is the layer that will be filled completely by the
large corporations if the digital humanities fail to expand into mainstream
academia.
Middleware
The Middleware layer could be the next area to be “built out”
by digital humanists. I note this possibility because middleware will presumably
provide a key layer in the growth of the semantic web and the web of things.
Significant projects like
SUDAMIH are already underway, focusing on the development of
humanities-centric data management infrastructures. It could well be that the
engineering of this layer (and “engineering” is the defining
term to use for this layer, just as “development” is the
defining term for the layer above it) is left to commercial organizations who
provide “plug-and-play” middleware tools, but I suspect a lot
of work will be done by computer scientists working in tandem with humanists, as
with SUDAMIH and
Project Bamboo. It
isn't as though digital humanists are going to need specialist application servers
or other similar products, but there are fascinating questions around the
development of, say, an enterprise service bus (ESB) to facilitate data
interchange across connected humanities infrastructures. With that in place we
would presumably be one step close to a global Service Oriented Architecture (SOA)
for the discipline. Whether this is possible or even desirable at an international
level is beyond me, and the term “middleware” does tend to
escape precise definition, but it surely raises some interesting questions.
Organizations like the
Joint Information
Systems Committee (JISC),
Digital
Research Infrastructure for the Arts and Humanities (DARIAH) and
Coalition of Humanities and Arts
Infrastructure Networks (CHAIN) are best positioned to investigate these
questions, in combination with projects like SUDAMIH that are developing both
systems and expertise. It will be interesting to see whether they view generic web
middleware as adequate, or whether we need to put some effort into ensuring that
the various international digital humanities systems can function at an
inter-connected, global level. From their websites it appears they see some room
for growth at this layer, even if it remains in fairly specialist, circumscribed
areas. Defining the standards for the semantic web is one thing; ensuring our
myriad legacy systems are interoperable is another thing altogether. The
determining factor in the development of this layer will be whether the digital
humanities' emerging Governance bodies (see below) decide that normalization is
required to enhance interoperability across disparate infrastructures, or whether
– as is perhaps more likely – a more loosely federated model is required, with an
emphasis on clear articulation of standards and frameworks to prompt increasing
alignment over the long-term.
Standards
Our large public sector libraries have traditionally provided the most in terms of
standards, stemming from their centuries old investment in classification and
metadata, and their now decades-old move into the digital world. Like Governance,
the Standards layer provides a crucial vertical structure to support the core
Infrastructure, Middleware, Tools & Applications and Content layers. I have no
empirical evidence, but my feeling is that Europe-based digital humanists seem
more focused on this layer than US-based practitioners who tend to produce
applications and content, and engage with social media, undoubtedly due to funding
priorities. It's interesting to note that Project Bamboo have discussed not being
“involved in creating standards, but rather in helping
creators express their work”. Their notes point out the risk of “too much normalization” and “obstructing standards development”
[
Project Bamboo 2008]. This is understandable, especially in terms of TCP/IP
protocols that can be left up to network specialists (and could be viewed as being
part of the Middleware layer), but as I've noted above, digital humanists need to
remain aware of the issues and perhaps identify areas where we can contribute in
an efficient, focused manner. Following their discussion, Project Bamboo decided
on an eminently sensible approach:
- articulating, documenting, and demonstrating benefits that would
accrue to use of a specific standard
- adopting technical standards as necessary for internal Bamboo
operation
- endorsing or recommending domain-specific technical standards (EAD,
TEI, METS, VRA, etc.) which have methodological impact for scholars;
also, basing higher levels of functionality or interoperation on the
(optional) use of such standards
- communicating and raising awareness concerning the softest kinds of
standards: e.g. “business practices” such as work
flow, project management
- recommending best practices at all levels
- articulating the value of standards adoption for the
community
- acting as a focal point for the humanities community's
representation on technical standards bodies, to ensure that
humanities perspectives are represented in the future development of
these standards
[Project Bamboo 2008]
This approach leaves standards development up to the likes of those involved in
initiatives like Dublin Core metadata and the Text Encoding Initiative and
correctly places TCP/IP development outside their sphere of interest, while still
providing an oversight and educative function for digital humanists.
Governance
The digital humanities have no over-arching governance framework, which perhaps
accounts for the slight lack of clarity amongst the discussants on Standards at
Project Bamboo, who seemed to place TCP/IP middleware protocols in the same bucket
as metadata standards, before discarding them again. Like Standards, the
Governance layer provides a critical vertical structure to support the proper
functioning of the core Infrastructure, Middleware, Tools & Applications and
Content layers. This layer has only very recently started to be built out.
Although not all directly related to the digital humanities,
Our Cultural Commonwealth: The Report of the American Council of Learned
Societies Commission on Cyberinfrastructure for the Humanities and Social
Sciences
[
ACLS 2006], Peter Bradwell's
Edgeless
University
[
Bradwell 2009], and Cathy Davidson and David Goldberg's
The Future of Learning Institutions in a Digital Age
[
Davidson and Goldberg 2009], all present overviews that could broadly inform
future governance models: we are at the stage of initial analysis and exploration.
Bodies such as DARIAH, CHAIN, JISC and Project Bamboo clearly have an important
role to play in this layer too. The appearance of publications exploring the
field, and the growth of organizations focused on governance and the facilitation
of global interoperability is heartening. It suggests that the last layer in an
enterprise model is beginning to be filled out and promises the level of
co-ordination – or at least communication – necessary to the health of the broader
system. Governance of the digital humanities is a thorny issue, however. It will
not, and should not, be akin to the governance of an enterprise IT system: the
field is too broad, the parties too disparate in their priorities, and the
participants have a healthy disregard for processes and frameworks derived from
the government and business worlds. Standard enterprise governance frameworks like
ITIL and TOGAF are useful, but were designed for fundamentally different purposes
than those of the digital humanities. At a philosophical level there will
undoubtedly also be concerns about the intellectual lineage of such frameworks,
based as they are on Tayloresque efficiency-maximising systems that are anathema
to much of what the traditional humanities represent. But herein lies the problem:
the digital humanities are fundamentally tied to the systems that enable the
practice itself, and as the discipline grows so too will the complexities
involved. It makes sense to pick models that have worked for other undertakings
involving complex IT systems and apply them, critically, to our own. Perspectives
like this should remind us that the health (and therefore viability) of the system
as a whole relies on a balance between its component parts: the enterprise view
isn't so much a normative view, as a guiding process. When a model loses its
utility it should be discarded.
Infrastructure
The infrastructure layer appears to hold the least interest for digital humanists,
dealing as it does with the plumbing of the web, but it should not remain as
neglected as it has been. Viewed from one perspective (the one typically found in
the communications rooms of enterprise-scale IT departments), it isn't Microsoft,
Apple or IBM that rule the IT world, after all, but companies like CISCO who
provide the routers, switches and network infrastructure. In the future it may
well involve companies who offer cloud platforms like Amazon AWS and Rackspace,
both of whom are developing services of immense interest to digital humanists: on
the one hand it appears it’s becoming possible to outsource the IT department, on
the other there are warnings from experts of the pitfalls of cloud services and
the need for caution. Who is looking out for and providing advice to digital
humanists on these topics?
This opaque world is understood completely by a relatively small number of
specialists, but some things are clear enough: it is at this level that real
control of the WWW resides, at the level of routing and packet switching. Indeed,
this layer is so opaque that its main interest for digital humanists may well be
the point where the discipline intersects with philosophy. (As Matthew
Kirschenbaum has shown, there are equally beguiling problems to be found at the
level of logic gates, hard-drives and the machine code that runs atop them.) The
infrastructure layer includes a myriad of hardware and infrastructure: M9000 and
P7 servers, blade racks and SATA drives, not to mention supercomputing facilities
that measure performance in petaflops. Operating Systems could also be positioned
in this layer, but note that these will often be IBM AIX systems, or other
Unix-based ones like Ubuntu Linux, BSD, Solaris or Red Hat. They will not be made
by Apple and may not necessarily be made by Microsoft. Whether this matters to
digital humanists is moot in practical terms because they typically purchase
services from either university or commercial providers and only ask that those
services remain functional; as a discipline we are as much infrastructure agnostic
as infrastructure ignorant. In political terms, though, digital humanists should
surely be interested in the development of a safe and competitive ecosystem at
this level as much as they are at the application level, with a healthy degree of
variety and an emphasis on security. Perhaps of more topical concern at this layer
are the questions of data centers and virtualization: on the one hand we have
giant data centers being built by the likes of Google and Facebook, who are both
amassing an unparalleled degree of control over our personal data, and on the
other we have widespread moves towards virtualization which looks likely to take
us back to the days of thin clients and mainframes. The world's IT infrastructure
is moving full circle back to the days where HAL9000 was conceived: massive,
centralized computing centers accessed only by a monitor and keyboard. In our
case, instead of time-sharing on a single operating system we may well be served
our own copy of Windows, Apple or Ubuntu. The trend seems both economically and
environmentally sound, but there is ample fodder for the novelists among us. The
days of the Homebrew Computer Club, and the absolute level of control those days
offered us, is coming to an end.
Philosophy / Ideology
In terms of an enterprise model of the digital humanities, the weakest point could
well be that of Philosophy. It is because of that that I've bracketed it here with
Ideology, because it is my assertion that in the absence of a robust philosophical
approach to the digital humanities we will only have ideology, which is not a
pleasing prospect in the context of IT. Some of the potential topics for a
philosophy of the digital humanities were touched on in my introduction to
enterprise architecture and my discussion of the infrastructure layer, but there
are many more topics that require investigation. Open Access and academia is one
obvious area for further investigation. As I suggested above, I strongly support
the open access and open source movements and believe the digital humanities
should align to them. I also intuitively believe that the humanist tradition has a
natural affinity towards them, but is this the case when it comes to
university-based humanists? Academia has long been a bedfellow of the commercial
publishing world, and is closely allied to both government and private industry.
John Willinsky has given us good reason to accept the alignment between the
academy and open access as a natural one, but all of us know academics who would
vigorously disagree with him. Open source and open access principles are as likely
to be championed and practiced by a computer science student or employee of a
commercial IT company as an academic humanist schooled in the philosophies of John
Stuart Mill. What does this say about the state of not only the digital
humanities, but university-based humanities generally, and how would we gather
evidence to test the assertion? Do we need a renewed commitment to open access and
open source principles? Are we focusing enough on consciousness raising across the
academy? Are universities so dependent on a commercial business model that we
can’t go open access without undermining the entire enterprise? Cultural and media
studies have a lot to offer here, as do literary critics with a focus on
technology and ideas.
Another interesting question is perhaps the history of ideas that binds classical
logic with the logic of information systems, and the history of mathematics that
details the development of algorithms and the methods used in object oriented
programming. The history of technology and the humanities computing tradition have
a lot to offer in this layer, putting the discipline into its proper context and
reminding us of the engineered nature of not only the hardware, but the software
that runs on it. Without this kind of research, digital humanists are apt to
forget, or fail to adequately understand, the implications of working with two
state machines. The issue runs deeper than the relationship between hardware logic
gates and binary code: it bears upon a philosophical domain that sits somewhere
between machine-level logic and frontier-issues like cybernetics and artificial
intelligence. To locate this domain, we need to imagine a ‘continuum of
understanding’ that takes us from two state machines, to the application of
discrete mathematics and predicate logic to those machines in order to build
creative work environments. This much is clear enough, but our understanding is
severed here: as soon as we are presented with our creative environments we ignore
the prior continuum and work as though our tool was as natural as parchment and
pen. The continuum is then re-entered and we readily move to questions of
cybernetics and artificial intelligence, quite forgetting that there is a huge gap
in our humanist understanding of computers and the digital world at that earlier
and far more fundamental interface between two-state logic and human creativity.
Something seems to have been missed here. This is the precise point, after all, at
which the (classically derived) logic that powers our machines enables the
(classically derived) humanist logic that powers all that we create on them. It
is, in sum, the event horizon of the digital humanities.
Conclusion
A capabilities model such as that sketched here represents the “view from
40,000 feet”. By its very nature it is both general and liable to
adaption and change. It is also, however, one of the tried and tested means by
which large, complex information systems are conceptualized, governed and improved
through enterprise architecture. As the digital humanities grow, it is no longer
going to be enough to focus on code and content in the 'engine rooms' of the Tools
& Applications and Content layers. There will be a need for some people to
adopt a high-level overview of the undertaking as a whole so that they can create
philosophies, practices and frameworks that will ensure the transparent
functioning of the whole. Because as much as humanists may baulk at a view of
their world that seems to imply a growing leviathan, it is surely better to learn
from the history of systems development and deploy (and adapt) methodologies that
will help us understand the boundaries of our subject area, produce maximally
efficient designs, and point us towards the more esoteric limits of our
discipline.