Regents' Professor Induction Remarks

January 21, 2004 Tempe, Arizona Regents' Professor Induction Remarks My grandfather served as foreman of the pressroom at the Lincoln Journal during an era when employees still traded stories about the unconventional attire of the newspaper’s drama critic, Willa Cather. At fourteen, my father became an apprentice printer in the composing room. In 1963, his union—the International Typographical Union—went on strike to protest the introduction of computers, and he never again worked as a printer. Nearly three decades later, in 1992, when I retrieved a manuscript in Microsoft Word and changed its font with a few keystrokes, he simply smiled and shook his head. I still recall the exhilaration of seeing my name in print for the first time in 1962. My first book was typeset in Ireland in 1968—an early example of how publishers sought the lowest-cost labor even then. My professional life has been devoted to writing, editing, and publishing; the affinity for ink clearly runs in my blood. But what now, I sometimes wonder—plasma instead? Two revolutionary developments over the past twenty years have transformed both my work and that of my peers: the advent of personal computing and the rise of inexpensive telecommunications. These tools have enabled scholars to share the results of research with far broader audiences. Yet, at the same time, the commercialization of academic publishing has produced what is now called the serials crisis: a 250 percent increase in the cost of academic journals since 1986, coupled with publisher profit margins approaching 50 percent. For the first time, U.S. scholars are confronting a reality long familiar elsewhere—that the public, which funds research, is expected to pay again to access its results. This double burden is more than ironic; it undermines the democratic spirit of scholarship. In 1993, I founded the first peer‑reviewed journal in my field, education policy. Now in its twelfth year, it has published more than 300 freely accessible articles and continues to expand in Spanish and Portuguese as well as English. Education Policy Analysis Archives My colleagues and I have since established six additional journals based on the principle of open access. Another of which that enjoys world-wide attention is Education Review / Resensas Eucativas. The ASU College of Education has become a global leader in freely available, peer‑reviewed educational research; each week, nearly 4,000 users—from students and professors to teachers, journalists, and parents—download articles from our servers across the United States, South America, Indonesia, India, and Africa—regions where scholarly literature was once a costly rarity. Such innovation could hardly have occurred elsewhere. Arizona State University embodies entrepreneurship in the best sense of the word. It lacks the centuries‑old traditions and deep ruts that constrain older institutions, allowing us to chart new paths. There are universities where challenging convention in favor of open access would have been impossible; ASU is not one of them. I owe this institution much—and would have said so even before today. I am also deeply grateful to many individuals, though I must single out three. Terrence Wiley, my department chair, persuaded the Regents’ Professor Selection Committee that conferring its medal upon me would not diminish its luster. David Berliner—my colleague and friend for fifteen years—has countered my occasional cynicism with his steadfast belief in the power of research and his optimism for public education. And finally, to my wife, Sandy, whose unwavering companionship needs no medal to be recognized as distinguished. (Added in April 2026) The once lucrative academic publishing industry has entered decline. Paid subscriptions have become an anachronism in a world shaped by low‑cost digital communication. For decades, these subscriptions limited the circulation of scholarship among academics and the public, effectively charging the public twice—first through faculty salaries and again through the purchase of journals produced by publishers who contributed comparatively little to the final product. In a bid to preserve their business model, many publishers have embraced a new paradox: Free-to-Read but Pay-to-Publish. Academics, whose careers depend on their publication records, are now required to pay thousands of dollars—often between $10,000 and $20,000 per article—for the privilege of making their work open access. One hopes the day is not far off when universities will reclaim their responsibility for research dissemination and put an end to this unsustainable model.