On library design, the evolution of library work, and how community connections are weaving their way into all that we do.

You could call them the library whisperers. Not because they speak softly in libraries, but because library buildings speak to them. Joyce Sternheim and Rob Bruijnzeels have learned a way of listening to libraries, of hearing the stories of their collections and their communities. It’s a skill they want to teach us.

Bruijnzeels and Sternheim have spent years exploring how the design of public library buildings is influenced by the changing role of the library and the evolution of library work. Their new book, Imagination and Participation: Next Steps in Public Library Architecture, shares what they’ve learned through their experiences consulting on the design of award-winning libraries and experimenting with fresh ways of looking at libraries, the communities they inhabit, and the systems that support them (including library science education). The book features interviews with architects of library buildings, along with a methodology for librarians and architects to apply as they envision new buildings or reconceive old ones.

Longtime librarians, Sternheim and Bruijnzeels are part of the Ministry of Imagination, “a collective of creative thinkers and doers,” based in the Netherlands, “who jointly use their knowledge and imagination to help libraries and other cultural institutions make their future plans reality.” They also run Rogues, a nonprofit that organizes international study tours to learn about the visions and approaches of new public libraries.

Our conversation has been lightly edited for clarity. Full disclosure: I had an opportunity to review an early draft of the text for Imagination and Participation, but I have no financial stake in the project.

How did you become interested in library architecture?

Sternheim and Bruijnzeels: We’ve always had an interest in architecture, which was further sparked by the study trips to new libraries we organized. I guess Michel Melot, former director of the Center Pompidou Library in Paris, struck the right note when he said that every librarian is, up to a certain point, an architect, because he builds up his collection as an ensemble through which the reader must find a path.

But we also discovered that building a new library is pretty much the most creative phase in a librarian’s life. It’s a trigger to think about what you really stand for and how this should be reflected in the building. It’s the impetus to transform.

Why was it important to you to write this book?

All around the world we saw impressive new library buildings emerging, often designed by famous architects. We asked ourselves whether all these spectacular buildings really reflected a new vision of the role of the public library in society. We saw striking new buildings that, on closer inspection, had quite a traditional layout. The archetype of a library translated into ultramodern design. And then we also saw flashy buildings that offered space for a wide range of activities, but seemed to have lost their identity as a library.

We started wondering whether it was possible to design a building that is immediately recognizable as a library and at the same time gives shape to the new role of the library in society. So we embarked on an exploration into this new role of the library and, in particular, into the architecture that goes along with it.

We also discovered that there wasn’t a book yet that specifically deals with the architecture of public libraries. So all the more reason to write this book!

Some people see the role of the library building diminishing as we access more information online. What role do you see the physical building playing in the function of the public library and the life of a community?

If anything has become clear from the [COVID-19] lockdown, it is that physical meeting is essential for the well-being of people and of the community they live in. So the importance of the library as a public space, an open and accessible place where people from all sections of society are able to meet, cannot be emphasized enough.

But is has to be more than an inviting and attractive place to stay, with comfortable seating and study areas, good Wi-Fi and excellent coffee. There’s nothing wrong with that, of course, but it doesn’t automatically lead to an exchange of knowledge, ideas, and inspiration. And that is what we so badly need in today’s society. The fact that so much information is accessed online leads to a disturbing phenomenon: people increasingly become isolated within their own bubble of like-minded people, excluding themselves from opportunities to encounter different views and ideas. It leads to increasing inequality and polarization, and a declining sense of community. Complex issues that require a next step in the development of the public library. This next step concerns the redesign of processes aimed at stimulating and supporting active citizenship and participation. Processes that require a different layout of space, and thus a different architecture: a library building that stimulates curiosity, reflection, and conversation.

So as society changes, the work of librarians changes, and our concept of a library building must change as well. Tell me more about that. How does social change influence the way we think about library spaces?

In the past, library space was primarily defined by the number of bookcases and how they were arranged. Now we literally need to make way for new processes to engage people in face-to-face conversations, involve them in problems and topics that affect their lives and their local communities, and stimulate them to jointly come up with smart and creative solutions.

We need “the creative intelligence of communities,” or the “Scenius” as it is called by musician and producer Brian Eno. He introduced this term to counter the idea that innovation in art and culture comes from geniuses working in solitude, when in reality great ideas are often spawned by a group of creative individuals. For him, it simply confirms that good work does not come in a vacuum, and that creativity is always, in a sense, a collaboration, the result of a mind connected to other minds.

It’s a fundamental reform that goes beyond creating a welcoming space that is accessible to everyone. In order to stimulate participation and citizenship, the library must actively challenge people to join discussions, add their own knowledge and experience, and come up with new ideas that become part of the collection and are shared within the community. This calls for a library that triggers curiosity and encourages reflection—an environment that is thought provoking and sometimes even a bit disruptive, with a prominent role for the collection.

It’s an interesting combination of static and dynamic. When we invest in a physical building, we expect the structure to stand for a long time—but we also expect communities and library work to keep evolving. How do we create libraries that will adapt to change?

Well, it can certainly not be solved by introducing bookcases on wheels! In general, architects and designers are very capable of coming up with creative solutions for this problem. An example is the LocHal in Tilburg [the Netherlands], where designer Petra Blaisse introduced huge curtains to screen off space or to open it. But above all, flexibility must be found in the programming, in the application of the new work process of inspiration, creation, participation, that we describe. The continuously changing programming that results from this process leads to a different layout of space and a varied use of the makerspaces.

LocHal Public Library in Tilburg, the Netherlands. CIVIC Architects.

You put a lot of emphasis on each library having a unique identity in the local community. How do you find the essence, the uniqueness, of a particular library?

It’s important to investigate the DNA of the city and the community. What is the history, how can we describe the city’s character? But also: what do the residents and the city need? If you want to stimulate the Scenius, the creative intelligence of the community, you need to know how that community works and what the needs and issues are.

If the project concerns an existing building, it could be interesting to take the history of that building and/or its original purpose as the basis for your narrative. And finally, it is also about what you, as a library, want to be good at. Your mission, your motivations, etc. All of this together determines the library’s narrative.

To illustrate how different urban contexts can lead to very different libraries, the book contains a case study of Forum Groningen and LocHal Tilburg, two award-winning libraries in the Netherlands, that were both completed in the same year, but couldn’t be more different. Yet, both buildings perfectly reflect the character of the two cities. In the Forum, elegant, urban Groningen [below] has gained a stylish element of vertical city center, while the soul of raw, “maker city” Tilburg comes into its own in the industrial character of the LocHal [above].

The Forum in Groningen, the Netherlands. NL Architects.

When librarians and architects work together, it may be a new experience for both. What are some things librarians and architects can do to build good working relationships?

Instead of the traditional relationship between client and contractor, they should think of each other as partners. At the very beginning of the design process they should be open to each other’s ideas, reflect upon them and discover different perspectives, to ultimately arrive at a shared vision. They may also disrupt each other a bit by coming up with something that is not so obvious.

For instance, the indoor garden we created in the library of Schiedam, the Netherlands. The public library moved into a building from the 18th century with a rectangular courtyard and a surrounding gallery. It strongly reminded us of a cloister, and since most cloisters have gardens, this soon led to the idea of creating a splendid green space for the people of Schiedam. An indoor garden where they could read, relax, enjoy conversations, and “grow their brains.”

Schiedam Library, renovated 18th-century Korenbeurs building, the Netherlands. Hanratharchitect.

Many of the examples in the book involve Dutch architects and libraries. Do you see international differences in the process of public library design, or are the lessons here universal? Could librarians in other environments, like academic libraries, learn something from your thought process as well?

We think the lessons are universally applicable, because the starting point for the design of the library is the new work process of inspiration, creation, and participation. It is even conceivable that this process can also be used for academic libraries and museum libraries. After all, they also benefit from the exchange of knowledge and ideas.

Did your own thinking evolve in the process of writing this book? What did you learn?

We have found that architects have great ideas about what a library should be.

We talked to Jo Coenen, for instance, an internationally renowned Dutch architect with an extensive oeuvre, which includes the Amsterdam Public Library. When we asked him what constitutes a library, he emphasized the importance of gathering knowledge, and sharing it in order to be able to interpret current events. And to achieve this, the collection is of the utmost importance. A library building should celebrate its collection, he said.

We were also impressed by a comment from Rick ten Doeschate of CIVIC, the architects of the LocHal. He said: “The library is partly based on the principle that you don’t just come there to consume knowledge, but perhaps also to bring something yourself. That places different demands on such a space.”

It proves that what Michel Melot said about librarians also goes for architects, but then the other way around: to a certain extent they are librarians!  Ω

Words matter when we talk about the nature and impact of misinformation.

Every time I see a library program spotlighting “fake news,” I cringe.

Don’t get me wrong. These efforts are crucial, and we need even more. Librarians care deeply about information quality, and we know the value of media literacy. We’re vigilant about the content of our feeds and we can help others learn to filter theirs, separating fact from fiction. But we don’t need to use “fake news” as our framework.

Questionable information takes many forms, and the language we use to talk about it matters. The term “fake news” isn’t new, but it’s problematic. At best, focusing on “fake news” oversimplifies a complex problem; at worst, the practice supplies ammunition to a term that’s become dangerously weaponized. There are better options.

Word problems

The terms that define the dark side of information are evolving. For many, “fake news” has become a catchall that describes anything from honest mistakes to intentional deceptions. Dictionary.com, which added the term in 2017, defines it as “false news stories, often of a sensational nature, created to be widely shared or distributed for the purpose of generating revenue, or promoting or discrediting a public figure, political movement, company, etc.”

Anyone who’s stood in line with the grocery store tabloids knows that sensationalizing false stories to generate revenue is not a rare business model.

But the words become more ominous when “fake news” is deliberately used to discredit an individual or organization. Or when political leaders apply “fake news” labels to reporting, however accurate, in attempts to undermine the journalism we depend on to stay informed. This is not just happening in the United States. The “fake news” epithet has become a weapon in an international information war.

Accusations of “fake news” often segue into claims that journalists are “the enemy of the people”—verbal lobs that impact careers and lives. In 2019 Reporters Without Borders downgraded the United States to #48 on its World Press Freedom Index, noting that U.S. reporters are being subjected to more death threats than ever before. Ranked just below Romania, America is now categorized as a “problematic” place for journalists to work.

Words matter. “The words we choose to describe media manipulation can lead to assumptions about how information spreads, who spreads it, and who receives it,” writes Caroline Jack in Lexicon of Lies: Terms for Problematic Information. “These assumptions can shape what kinds of interventions or solutions seem desirable, appropriate, or even possible.”

Toward solutions

As information professionals, we can help shape solutions.

We can learn more. Researchers have developed detailed taxonomies and glossaries to map and define forms of falsity based on the content’s characteristics and creator’s intent. It’s important to be clear, for example, about the difference between misinformation, inaccurate information that is not intended to harm, and disinformation, false information that is intentionally harmful. Good vocabulary builders include Jack’s Lexicon of Lies and Claire Wardle’s Information Disorder: The Definitional Toolbox.

We can share what we learn, starting with our own teams. We can try out activities in Data & Society’s Lexicon of Lies: Teaching Resources and talk about the language of information disorder. We can make informed word choices, thinking twice before we headline “fake news” in a program or research guide, perhaps substituting a more specific title or introducing a broader term like “information pollution.”

When the Skokie [Illinois] Public Library produced a series of media literacy workshops in 2018—including “Mindful Media Consumption,” “How Do You Get the News?,” “What Makes It News?” and “How Do You Check Facts?”—librarian Mimosa Shah thought carefully about verbiage. “I labeled the series ‘Get a Grip’ because I wanted to reduce the anxiety felt around current events,” she explains. “I wanted to focus on what can we do as consumers of news media, what can we exercise when we scroll through our feeds, what is our choice when we look at something and think about it deeply, and how do we apply that to the work that we do in our lives.”

Clarifying the conversation

We don’t have to fear “fake news.” But when the term enters our discussions, we can explore nuances. We can look for ways to create context, to consider the history and impact of the term, to examine its use and misuse. We can help bring clarity to the conversation.  Ω

In a world awash in questionable information, libraries are commonly trusted sources. We need to honor, preserve, and protect that trust—and to be aware of the people who haven’t found trust in us yet. There are useful lessons to learn from a profession that’s seriously examining its own trust factors: journalism.

This is part two of a series. Part one is here.

People tend to trust libraries.

Multiple studies by Pew Research as well as studies by the Maine State Library and CILIP, the Chartered Institute of Library and Information Professionals, confirm the trusted status of librarians. When it comes to sources the public looks to with confidence, we sit near the top of the list, shoulder to shoulder with health care providers and significant percentage points above news organizations, government agents, and social media. Relatively speaking, libraries and librarians are known as credible sources, relied on by those looking for information that will make a difference in their lives.

Journalists are another story.

Our “information-gathering cousins” (David Beard’s coinage) have been grappling with serious questions of public confidence. As consumers negotiate the uneven landscape of “the media,” picking their way through a confusion of “fake news,” they aren’t always clear about how the news is generated, who is generating it, or whether it’s even real.

“I was a journalist before I came to the Pew Research Center, and it has been enlightening to me during our research to see how many points of similarity the worlds of libraries and news organizations have,” notes Lee Rainie, director of Pew’s internet, society, and technology research, in an interview. “At the same time, these institutions have different missions, and I think journalists are focused on reporting on public and civic life in a way that is very different and somewhat more controversial from the way libraries try to serve their communities.

“It doesn’t help that the news environment has become so balkanized and polarized, often without news organizations changing their practices. Audiences for news have changed in the internet era. That doesn’t seem to be the story in library patronage. Libraries aren’t deemed to be partisan institutions in the public imagination.”

So why should libraries think about journalism when it comes to questions of public trust? Because professional reporters practicing evidence-based journalism want their work to matter. They’ve been putting significant time and energy into studying the information environment, their communities, and their own practices, looking for ways to build confidence in their work.

While public trust is essential for libraries, we have not been studying the nature of trust the same way. As we work to preserve the trust we’ve earned and to build trust among those who are wariest of their sources and institutions, there are things we can learn from the journalism research: The significance of being local. The need to listen carefully. The importance of working transparently. The value of knowing and living up to our standards.

These things matter.

Local matters

When it comes to trust, it’s important to be perceived as part of the local community.

“Study after study after study has shown that as trust has plummeted across many parts of the media, local news has consistently been rated as more trusted,” explains Josh Stearns, director of Democracy Fund’s Public Square Program. “There are many reasons for this, including: Local news is viewed as more proximate, more relevant, more accountable, and more motivated by a shared sense of concern for the community. Local journalists are our neighbors. Indeed, the work of the Trust Project includes localism and local sourcing as one of eight core indicators of trust.”

Our communities are where we live and what we know, so it would seem natural for people to support and embrace their neighborhood institutions. When Pew Research looked at citizen engagement with libraries, researchers found that “the people who are most avid library fans are also quite civically minded [and] usually have great fondness for their communities and local institutions,” notes Lee Rainie.

How to build on that base of civic support could be a topic for brown bag lunches and strategic planning conversations. We can foster public trust as we strengthen local connections, stay visible, and make sure residents and leaders know what we’re doing for the people in our service areas. But to become fully embedded in a community, a library needs to be more than a service institution: it needs to be formed of the community itself. People need to feel, as Stearns says of local news, like the library is “not just something that happens around them or to them, but happens for them and with them.“ People need to be part of the programs, part of the collection, part of the planning process, part of the library.

“Local” matters, but this isn’t just a label or a location. It’s a mindset, among librarians and the public, that recognizes the library as an essential element of the environment, a community resource that’s locally sourced, locally grown, locally sustained.

Listening matters

If a community’s information ecosystem is to stay healthy, the community’s members need to have a voice. For trust to grow, we need to listen.

“Building loyalty and trust requires tuning into the concerns and voices of the whole community,” writes journalist Andrew Haeg, CEO of GroundSource. Listening to and engaging people, imagines Haeg, will “help news outlets speak as a genuine proxy for the community—left, right and center—at a time when people need more than ever a voice they can trust—that feels like it’s theirs, really.”

Journalists are taking audiences seriously and looking for ways to listen. The American Press Institute, the Listening Post Collective, Gather, and others are creating guides and resources for listening to audiences. The News Integrity Initiative has declared 2018 “The Year of Listening,” and a spate of new organizations and tools are helping reporters turn their work into two-way exchanges. Mobile apps from GroundSource, for example, let journalists “tap in and be more responsive to the conversations happening around you.” Software from Hearken (which literally means “listen”) encourages “public-powered journalism” by drawing audiences into the reporting process from the very beginning, when story ideas are generated. Open source tools from The Coral Project help to bring “journalists and the communities they serve closer together.” (These tools, by the way, can have applications in creative libraries. Check ‘em out.)

“We do this,” says The Coral Project, “to raise public trust in journalism, to increase the diversity of voices and experiences reflected in news reporting, and to improve journalism by making it more relevant to people’s lives. Because journalism needs everyone.”

Libraries need everyone too, and we need to hear the people who don’t use or trust libraries, as well as those who do. Thanks to Pew Research, we have a pretty good idea of who is and isn’t engaged with libraries, from the “library lovers” to those who are “off the grid.” Pew’s look at the spectrum of public library engagement and Lee Rainie’s analysis of where libraries fit into the information needs of citizens can give us frameworks for thinking about where we need to reach community subgroups and reinforce trust.

Where to focus is the next question. Do we reach out those who are barely engaged? Or could there be more opportunities to have an impact with folks in the middle, who may have more positive associations with libraries? The answers may be different in different communities. “One thing that’s clear from our data,” says Rainie, “is that library lovers are willing to help librarians answer this question. They’ll give feedback on ideas that libraries are pursuing to build their user base. They will network and advocate on behalf of libraries. It’s a resource that goes untapped by lots of the libraries to which I speak.”

All we need to do is ask. And then listen.

Transparency matters

Listening helps us hear those outside of our circles. Transparency invites them inside. When it comes to trust, it’s important to let people see inside the organization, exposing parts of our work we may not be used to sharing.

Sometimes people really do want to know how the sausage is made. They want to know the ingredients, understand the process, see the evidence. This is not a new concept—the American Press Institute reported on “the best ways for publishers to build credibility through transparency” in 2014—but it’s more important than ever now. “The transparency movement has finally come of age,” says Jay Rosen, associate professor of journalism at New York University.

When “transparency becomes the primary means of trust production,” as Rosen says, we need to understand clearly what transparency means. Beyond the basic expectation to cite sources and credit authors, according to Rosen, it means showing your work, so people understand how the results came to be and what influenced them. It calls for openness about where you’re coming from, so people know what lens they’re seeing through. It means sharing your priorities and agendas. Disclosing what it costs to do the work, and inviting the public into the process. “These are the new terms on which trust can be won in journalism,” says Rosen. There’s more, and there’s plenty that applies to libraries.

Librarians are clearly committed to citing sources, one of the key trust indicators identified by the Trust Project. Can we do more? Can we find ways to be more up front about how and why we do what we do? Can we be more open about how we set priorities and make decisions, about what it costs to serve our communities? There may be ways we can show more of our work, reveal our thinking, and publicly correct our mistakes.

Not everyone will want to look behind the scenes at the library. But trust may be earned when people feel you have nothing to hide.

Standards matter

Ethics and values also matter. It’s important to know what you stand for, to make your principles known and then stand by those principles.

“People trust an institution because it seems to have an ethic that makes those within it more trustworthy,” writes Yuval Levin in American Journalism as an Institution, part of a white paper series on media and democracy commissioned by the Knight Foundation. For journalists, “The value of certain formal, institutional structures—a code of conduct taken seriously, an overt professionalism, a system of vetting and fact-checking, a newsroom, an editorial team—should not be underestimated.”

A respected code of conduct. Demonstrated professionalism. A system of vetting and fact-checking—in library language, curating and authenticating. We can check those boxes. All staffers need to be aware of how important those professional practices are, and we need to make them visible to the public.

The Society of Professional Journalists details a code of ethics, and some newsrooms have taken things a step further, publicly defining what they stand for in their communities. Working from the premise that “Journalism is best when pursued with purpose,” the Voice of San Diego staff and board defined shared values and concerns that include things like “a well-informed, well-educated community ready to participate in civic affairs” and “high-quality education for all children.”

“We stand for certain things in the community,” Voice of San Diego editor-in-chief Scott Lewis told Neiman Lab reporter Laura Hazard Owen, and articulating those things helped clarify both their own work practices and the public’s understanding of their work. “When someone asks: What is your agenda? We can say this is our agenda,” says Lewis. “When someone asks: What is your bias? We can say this is our bias… and then we can be impartial about the solutions, nonpartisan about the way they are addressed.” (This is an interesting view to consider in the ongoing discussions of library neutrality, by the way.)

In addition to the ALA Code of Ethics or other national code, does your library have a statement of values, or something that documents what you stand for in the community? Does it guide your decision-making and your day-to-day work? Is it visible to the public on your website and in your building? (See also: Transparency Matters.)

Trust matters

Trust matters, especially for those who serve as public resources for information, learning, and community building. Yes, libraries already have relatively high trust levels, and that trust is extraordinarily valuable when our whole information ecosystem is under stress. But sustaining public confidence takes effort, and we still have opportunities to grow trust in the more skeptical patches of our communities.

Journalists are learning from our experiences. Let’s see what we can learn from theirs.  Ω

^{Illustrations by Kerry Conboy.}

In study after study, libraries are ranked among the public’s most trusted sources of information. But how confident can we be in our position as trusted institutions—and how can we sustain that trust? Pew Research’s Lee Rainie helps us put the research into a broader context.

This is part one of a series. Part two is here.

We are proud of the data, study after study, that says libraries are among the most trusted institutions around. And proud we should be. According to a 2016 study by Pew Research, 78% of adults—about 8 out of 10 of your friends, neighbors, and colleagues—say that public libraries help them find information that is trustworthy and reliable. So say a whopping 87% of Millennials, ages 18 to 35, who are among the biggest library users in the United States.

While trust in many institutions has been declining for decades, libraries have held their ground. “We don’t have long-term readings on trust in librarians,” says Lee Rainie, director of Pew’s internet, society, and technology research. “If I had to guess, my sense is that it was high when these trust questions were asked about other institutions decades ago, so I’m not sure there has been any great change over time. But that’s a story in and of itself… Holding your own in an era where there is widespread decline of trust in other institutions is a helpful thing for libraries and librarians.”

Even better than holding steady, we seem to be gaining ground. The number of adults who say they trust libraries “a lot” has risen significantly over the last two years, from 24% to 40%.* “One possible explanation is that this has been an era of increasing political polarization and that has impacted people’s levels of trust in institutions and each other,” suggests Rainie. “The debates over ‘fake news’ are the most dramatic examples of that. For some Americans it might be the case that in times of contention over truth and falsity there is a ‘flight to quality,’ and libraries have pretty high standings in those circumstances.”

It’s all good news, so far.

It’s complicated

But the whole question of trust… it’s complicated.

While confidence in libraries scores high with those who are relatively engaged with information and learning, there are those who are more cautious and much less trusting of the institutions around them. In an era of polarization and questionable news, perhaps it’s not surprising that Pew found one out of four American adults to be “information wary” when researchers looked at the different ways people approach facts and information. And only 14% of the wary folks said they trusted libraries a lot, even though more than a third had been to a library in the past year.

Look at it this way. If two couples have dinner together, one person at the table is likely to be wary, and there’s a very strong chance—an 86% chance—that the wary person does not have a lot of trust in libraries.

What does this all mean? When it comes to trust, it’s worth knowing our weak spots as well as celebrating our strengths. Libraries will never be everyone’s cup of tea. And public confidence is not something to get complacent about, especially when our environment is polluted with information that truly can’t be trusted and we, the librarians, are encouraging everyone to question their sources and think critically. Blind trust in anything is not a good idea these days, and every source has to prove itself worthy. We’re living “in the midst of persistent info-wars about news and information in public life,” points out Rainie. “These are challenging times for those who care about finding high-quality, reliable information.”

Established trust can also be compromised, weakened, lost, and sometimes it doesn’t take much for the ground to shift. Staying trustworthy takes conscious effort, and we’ll be in a better position to hold onto public confidence if we understand why people have granted us their trust in the first place.

Sources of trust

Why are libraries more trusted than so many other institutions? What is it that libraries are doing right? Well? Better? Differently? “We haven’t gotten into deep exploration of people’s trust in libraries and its sources,” says Rainie. “In focus groups and other encounters with library users, we hear that the nonpartisanship of libraries and librarians is a plus. They also talk about the abundance of information that is available at libraries. And they talk about the service ethic and basic disposition of librarians to be helpful without being heavy handed about how to navigate increasingly complicated information environments.”

“The other thing that is so fascinating in our data,” says Rainie, “is that people have watched libraries ‘reinvent themselves’ in the digital age and are pretty appreciative of that. A bunch of our studies highlight that affirmation.”

Journalist David Beard has also cited librarians’ mission of service—without a commercial motive—along with support for intellectual freedom and community engagement. “At a time when journalists are encouraged to engage with the community,” says Beard, “librarians have been doing that for years.“ Early experiences with libraries in childhood, he notes, also build positive associations with libraries that can last a lifetime.

Librarians like Dawn Finch have speculated that adherence to a professional code of ethics is a key factor, as it demonstrates a commitment to the public good that includes respect for diversity, equal opportunity, human rights, and individual privacy. “I firmly believe that the bedrock of this trust is the set of ethical principles around which we have built our careers,” says Finch, a trustee of the UK’s Chartered Institute of Library and Information Professionals. “The ethical principles set out by professional bodies like CILIP and the ALA are more than just a set of guidelines; they are a valuable public statement about who we are and what we do, and they protect both librarians and the people they serve.”

Trust is not something to take for granted, but something to hold dear, to protect and preserve. As Finch puts it, “this feeling of trust in our librarians is something to be nurtured and supported.” In part 2 of this story, we’ll look at some ways to do just that.  Ω

^{Illustration by Kerry Conboy.}

^{* Pew Research’s Libraries 2016 report noted, ”There was a large increase in people saying libraries help ‘a lot’ in deciding what information they can trust from 2015, when the figure stood at 24%, to 2016, where it now stands at 37%.” In 2017, Pew’s How People Approach Facts and Information report put the number at 40%. Rainie notes that the questions were slightly different, asked in slightly different contexts, but it’s clear that there was a large increase between 2015 and 2017.}

Libraries are well positioned to help the people of their communities become more informed and active citizens. A Library 2.016 panel talks about why and how libraries are getting more involved in civic programming.

For a long time libraries have supported democratic societies as centers of learning, information, and community.

Today this role for libraries is more important than ever, as issues get more complex, media sources multiply, and people regularly question the reliability of their news feeds (and rightly so). Among the more trusted institutions around, libraries are in a good position to help the people of their communities become more informed citizens and critical thinkers—people who are prepared to participate in a democratic society.

At a Library 2.016: Libraries of the Future conference panel, I joined Mark Hudson, head of adult services at the Monroeville [Pennsylvania] Public Library, and Tasha Bergson-Michelson, instructional and programming librarian at Castilleja School in Palo Alto, California, to talk about libraries and democracy. In our all-too-brief session, we explored why libraries can and should get involved, then Tasha and Mark highlighted the civic engagement programs already under way in their libraries, including civics discussions, news literacy education, and resource guides on current events.

Our slides are up on SlideShare, and a complete recording of the 30-minute session is accessible to anyone who creates a free Library 2.0 account. Additional resources, including links to the materials we reference in the presentation, are also online, open access.

This content will be especially useful for public, school, and academic librarians, and I hope it will be of interest to any information professional looking for ways to support informed communities in a democratic society. If you know of other good examples of civic programs in libraries—libraries of any kind, anywhere—please post them in the comments below. I’ll continue to collect examples and build resources we can all share.  Ω

Librarians and journalists both bring information and knowledge to their communities. A special MediaShift series looks at some of the people and projects bringing libraries and the media together.

If you follow MediaShift, you may have seen a special series on libraries and the media that I’ve helped pull together this year, thanks to the support of MediaShift founder and executive director Mark Glaser. MediaShift focuses on the evolution of the media, from the journalism education that trains new reporters to the metrics and analysis that give professionals insights into what’s possible and what works. Glaser recognizes that librarians and journalists have some important common interests, and he’s opened up the MediaShift space to begin exploring those interests.

As part of the series, contributor Alison Peters talks with two public librarians who have written columns for their local newspapers to share library news and connect with their communities. Peters also interviews Kate Torney, who’s seen the inside of both evolving professions as head of the Australian Broadcasting Corporation (ABC News) and now head of State Library Victoria, Australia’s oldest and busiest public library.

There’s also a podcast featuring Miguel Figueroa, director of the American Library Association’s Center for the Future of Libraries, and a story I contributed on libraries becoming more involved in curating current events and serving as hubs for community discussion.

And that’s not all.

The series represents just a few of the many stories about common interests and shared projects of libraries and the media. If you have other good examples, please post them in the comments below. Maybe sometime we’ll publish a sequel.  Ω

The John S. and James L. Knight Foundation team is shaping their next round of library innovation grants, and they’re looking for ideas. How might we help them support library evolution?

If you had a few million dollars to invest in libraries, how would you invest it? That’s exactly what the News Challenge team at the Knight Foundation is beginning to think about.

Last year the Knight Foundation ran a library grant initiative that pulled in hundreds of entries, an energetic discussion, and creative thinking from around the world. In 2016 they’ll do it again, and for starters, they’re inviting ideas on how to shape the challenge question participants will address.

There are so many ways to go with this. Since you asked, Knight friends, here’s what I’m thinking.

Given that (1) the foundation’s core mission is to “promote informed and engaged communities” and (2) libraries are built on community knowledge, I offer two related grant-shaping questions:

How might we leverage libraries as platforms for learning?

Libraries have long played a role in education: in all kinds of communities, librarians and library resources support formal education and enable personal development for people of all ages. That role has the potential to expand.

Once envisioned as the keepers and organizers of recorded knowledge, libraries today are helping create new knowledge in new ways. You can find libraries offering high school diplomas and trade certifications, creating and supporting MOOCs, and delivering courses in everything from U.S. citizenship and the English language to computer skills and financial literacy. Online and offline, libraries offer programs and resources that complement our schools, museums, and other elements of the community learning ecosystem. In a world where knowledge and skills are becoming obsolete more quickly, we need that ecosystem to be healthy and strong.

It’s no coincidence that new research from the Pew Internet Project establishes libraries as “opportunity hubs” for education, according to researcher John Horrigan, who presented preliminary findings at the American Library Association’s annual conference in June 2015.

How can libraries create or facilitate new and better opportunities for learning—in all its forms?

As a corollary, I would ask,

How might we help libraries share community knowledge?

Beyond the shelves and databases of codified knowledge, libraries are exploring ways to harness the knowledge of their own communities. That knowledge may be recorded but inaccessible for one reason or another, or it may be stored in the minds and experiences of local residents.

There’s great potential here, too, and we’ve just scratched the surface. “The community is the collection,” as David Lankes is fond of saying. Today library members are sharing their lives through human libraries, their expertise through TEDx talks, their personal stories through StoryCorps programs, their neighborhood smarts through LocalWiki collaborations. There are people who want to write things and make stuff and learn something, and other people who are willing to share what they have and teach what they know. And there are unconnected or inaccessible resources in local governments, nonprofits—even shareable private collections.

Libraries can be the connectors, the facilitators of knowledge sharing. How can we help a community tell its own stories? How can we tap into the expertise and experience of our neighbors? How can we create partnerships with organizations and agencies holding cultural, historical, or demographic information? How can we bring together those who want to know and those who have knowledge to share?

These are core principles of Common Libraries, where people aren’t just “patrons” or “users”; they’re participants who can ask:

Then there’s the question of real leverage

Whatever question the Knight Foundation seeks to answer, I think it’s worthwhile to consider not just the novelty of the responses but their potential for impact.

Local libraries are funded and managed independently, and that independence is both their greatest strength and greatest weakness. On our own we can better craft collections and services to meet the specific needs of a community, but it’s harder to leverage the resources and efforts of other libraries in other communities. As John Palfrey says in BiblioTECH, “We need radical collaboration in libraries, far beyond what happens today—not collaboration at the margins or collaboration as afterthought.”

Librarians are masters of sharing, and we need more ways to network our resources and spread our innovations.

So, in grants that are more than prototypes, I would favor proposals that encourage cooperative partnerships, help us build infrastructures, and make our national—and even international—library systems stronger as a whole. High-impact ideas will have the potential, ultimately, to reach broader audiences, support more than one library in one community, or be easily replicated (think open source code, shared documentation, and interoperable systems). We need proposals that will let other libraries take advantage of the good ideas without having to reinvent them.

How can we grow stronger together?  Ω

Original illustration by Kerry Conboy.

Update: This post was republished by MediaShift as “How Can We Support Library Innovation?” on November 30, 2015.

Why would librarians and LIS educators pay attention to a journalism textbook? Because the digital shift is affecting journalists and librarians in many of the same ways. And because we haven’t seen a textbook like this before.

Searchlights and Sunglasses: Field Notes from the Digital Age of Journalism is a free, interactive textbook by the Knight Foundation’s Eric Newton, and it’s worth paying attention to.

This ebook is a conversation starter. It wasn’t written for the library world, but it speaks our language. It tackles many of the same issues librarians and other information professionals are grappling with as technology changes fundamental elements of our work. It’s beautifully written and fun to read, and it gives us a model for texts that can come alive in the hands of students, educators, and professionals who want to learn more about the state of their craft.

The backstory

Those at the Knight Foundation say, “We believe that democracy thrives when people and communities are informed and engaged.” That’s a mission librarians can get behind.

The philanthropic legacy of a newspaper publishing family, the Knight Foundation has looked beyond newsprint to “promote quality journalism, advance media innovation, engage communities, and foster the arts.” Over the years foundation leaders have spent millions of dollars informing and engaging communities through library programs, and recent grants have encouraged entrepreneurial outreach, enabling the New York and Chicago public libraries to lend wireless hotspots and Tennessee librarian Jason Griffey to internationalize LibraryBox, a device that improves information access in areas with limited internet connectivity. In other programs, many of Knight’s media- and arts-related grantees are developing projects that complement libraries by meeting community information needs in creative ways.

Five reasons

So there are good reasons to know what the Knight Foundation is up to. There are also good reasons why librarians and library and information science (LIS) educators should check out Searchlights and Sunglasses. Here are five.

1. It’s a model of what learning media can be.

At first glance, you might mistake Searchlights and Sunglasses for something other than a textbook—perhaps anything but a textbook. The opening page pulls you into a multidimensional world populated by lively stories and graphic surprises. Curious objects drift by, waiting for you to interact with them.

But there’s more than visual appeal. For students and professionals, the basal text is informative, engaging, and thought provoking. It asks good questions and doesn’t claim to have all the answers. Educators can dig deeper into the “learning layer” and explore easily adaptable lessons, activities, and discussion questions, along with links to additional resources. Everywhere you look, every time you return, there’s more to discover. Let this be an inspiration to our textbook developers: it’s an experiment we can learn from.

Searchlights and Sunglasses also gives us a lesson in sustainability. The text was launched with a plan to extend the conversation through EducationShift, a segment of PBS’s MediaShift that hosts online discussions and curates coverage of journalism innovation, entrepreneurship, law and ethics, tools and tips, and perspectives. It’s “moving journalism education forward,” and it’s just the kind of program we could use to move library and information science education forward.

2. The metaphor works for us, too.

Newton points out that “through the centuries, we have used the symbol of a shining light to signal a search for truth,” but the metaphor was more useful when information was scarce and hard to find. Now it’s not. Today, along with searchlights to illuminate the right information, journalists (and yes, librarians) need to provide readers with digital sunglasses that help filter out a blinding abundance of information.

Librarians need new metaphors too, and this is a good one. Read the introduction, if nothing else, and see how closely the world of the journalist might relate to your world. “Almost everything is in flux: who a journalist is, what a story is, when and where the news arrives and how we deal with newly interactive communities,” writes Newton. “The challenge is to find our place as both chroniclers and curators of a new world, to add today’s digital skills and ideas to the mix, and get on with it, because much more is on the way.” This is our world too.

3. It helps us put libraries into the context of an information ecosystem.

Communities need a diversity of people, organizations, and resources to stay healthy, and the Knight Foundation takes a holistic view of those ecosystems. There’s a lot of emphasis on meeting community information needs. Even though the foundation’s roots are deep in journalism, its grant programs aren’t about sustaining existing media or institutions or jobs; they’re about understanding what helps a community thrive and finding the best ways to support those things. Maybe there’s a newspaper involved, and maybe the community needs something else entirely.

Searchlights and Sunglasses is a good reminder that libraries and librarians are part of a larger information ecosystem. We support informed and engaged communities, we capture and share knowledge, we nurture culture and curiosity—but we don’t do it alone, and we do it in many different ways. Along with the media, schools, museums, and a whole bunch of other organizations and individuals, we can be what Pew Internet Project director Lee Rainie calls “nodes in people’s social networks,” nodes that play different roles with different partners in different places. Sometimes there’s a book involved, and sometimes the community needs something else entirely.

4. It prompts us to think about how LIS education might need to change.

When a field of practice changes, its educational system needs to change too, and there’s some vigorous national discussion about the best ways to train modern journalists. Chapter 2 of Searchlights and Sunglasses focuses on the need for educational innovation in a profession where skills and expectations are moving targets.

Have we welcomed that kind of provocative debate in the library world? We talk a lot about the evolution of libraries, but do we talk enough about the evolution of library education? Are our degree programs teaching students to be omnivorous learners and ready adapters as they shift into the work world? Are we training students to be innovative thinkers and institutional entrepreneurs? Are we helping them learn to become embedded in their communities? Do we dare challenge our graduates, as Knight Foundation president Alberto Ibargüen challenges graduating journalists, to “go forth and accelerate disruption“?

In pockets, yes, absolutely. Overall, I think we can do better. Educators can help shape the future of libraries by reshaping LIS education.

The craft of journalism—like librarianship—has been evolving as paper and ink dissolve into
bits and bytes. In many areas, life in the field is moving faster than our educational systems.

5. It’s packed with useful information and resources.

Searchlights and Sunglasses can help us frame a discussion of how the digital world is affecting the information professions. Whatever your association with the library community, in this text you’ll find something worth knowing, or perhaps thinking about from a different perspective. Some topics point straight at library and information science, while others hang at the periphery. In chapter 1, there’s the evolution of human communication and storytelling tools. Chapter 2 looks at the transformation of education, and chapter 3 turns to freedom of expression and information policy. You’ll find community engagement and impact in chapter 4, and “simmering opportunities” in chapter 5. These are relevant topics, whether you’re a public librarian or a data journalist.

Time to explore. And start some conversations.  Ω

People with library and information science degrees are putting their skills to work in all kinds of interesting places. But the places may not be libraries, and the job titles may not say “librarian.”

From deep in the heart of Silicon Valley, San Jose State University’s School of Library and Information Science is actively training more than 2,000 online students who are spread across 47 U.S. states and 18 countries. This year alone, hundreds of them will earn master of library and information science (MLIS) degrees and hundreds more will enter the program, one among scores of similar programs accredited by the American Library Association.

Will so many new graduates be able to land jobs in libraries? Probably not. But that’s OK, according to San Jose State program director Sandy Hirsh. While many graduates will find career homes in traditional libraries, many others will take their skills into other settings where information experts are also valued. Their business cards may never say “librarian.”

If the modern MLIS needed a poster child, Sandy Hirsh could be it. With a PhD in library and information science, Hirsh has been a university professor, a public library advisory board member, and a leader of information research and user experience programs at high-tech companies like LinkedIn, Microsoft, and Hewlett-Packard. One bright autumn afternoon on the California coast, over fresh salads and fish tacos, we talked about today’s librarian. [Full disclosure: I am a part-time lecturer in the San Jose State MLIS program.]

Who’s signing up for library and information science (LIS) programs these days? What are they looking for in a master’s degree?

There’s a mix of students and interests, says Hirsh. Some come for the library, and others come for the information science. Many enter LIS programs for the love of books and literacy, the mingling of research and education and community service, while others bring a keen interest in information organization and technology. Some feel a general kinship with the field but want to get to know it better before they choose a specific career path.

“The traditional [LIS] recruit is someone with a humanities background, female, second career,” says Hirsh, “but that’s changing. The demographics are skewing much younger than they used to—a lot of people are now coming straight out of their undergraduate degree or shortly after. It’s fascinating.”

For many, traditional libraries remain at the heart of the profession—and Hirsh is quick to point out that libraries are still vitally important—but as the field expands beyond libraries, a new crop of students is surfacing.

Hirsh sees that as a good thing. She believes that the LIS world—as well as the communities and work environments her graduates support—would benefit from an even broader base. Yet those who associate the degree with traditional libraries may not realize that an MLIS can lead to other career pathways. “I think there are still a lot of people who might really enjoy the opportunities they would get with a degree in this area,” says Hirsh, “but they don’t see the MLIS as the way to get there.” At least, not yet.

“We’re interested in attracting a wider range of students from a variety of backgrounds because I think that would be useful to our field as a whole,” says Hirsh. For example? “We need people working in areas like big data who are coming in with the perspective that you get with an MLIS degree. You could get into big data from a computer science or MIS perspective, but it’s very different when you develop skillsets for big data from an LIS perspective.”

What makes the LIS perspective different?

For Hirsh, it’s a passionate focus on users: understanding their information needs and helping them navigate complex information systems, whether the venue is a library or an archive or a database or the internet. “I feel like our field was about user-centered design before people started talking about user-centered design,” she says. “We’ve always put the user at the center of things, whether we’ve been designing organization systems, creating a physical place at the library, thinking about the user and the content, or providing the best services to help users connect with the information they need to answer their questions. I don’t think we lose that user focus as we expand the profession beyond the library.

“I think the way we approach content from a user perspective is a differentiator. I don’t think you’re going to get that if you go to a computer science program or an MIS program or any of the programs that have some spillover with us now. The perspectives and the kinds of sensitivities and skillsets that we prepare for will be different—and will be sought after.”

So what are fundamental skills and knowledge sets for librarians and information professionals now? What’s the common core for the MLIS?

In San Jose State’s LIS program, user awareness becomes a dimension of every course and specialty. Core courses cover:

• Information users and the social, cultural, economic, technological, and political forces that shape their information access and use
• The different resources and services that information professionals provide
  for their user communities, and the systems and knowledge structures that connect users with information
• The organizations and environments in which information professionals work, and the ethical and legal frameworks that guide them

Hirsh explains: “They’re some of the same things I think we’ve needed to know for a long time, but we’re modernizing the ideas, contextualizing them for today’s environment, and thinking about them for the future. Whereas before we talked about ‘cataloging,’ now we’ve abstracted that idea so it’s about organizing systems. It’s not about MARC records;* it’s much broader and more inclusive to fit the kinds of evolving information environments we have today.”

Beyond the course content, Hirsh believes her program must also instill a mindset that nurtures an openness to global perspectives, a commitment to the profession, and perhaps most essential, adaptability, agility, and a dedication to lifelong learning. “The reality is that our environment is not going to stay static, and we need to get comfortable with change,” says Hirsh. “I tell new students in orientation, ‘This degree is just your starting point, not the end point of your learning. There will be things that will change, that you’re not going to learn in school. There was no internet when I was in school. Does that mean I stopped learning? Of course not! You have to continue learning. You have to continue to invest in yourself as a professional.’”

These professionals you’re developing are tomorrow’s librarians—though many won’t be called “librarians” or work in libraries. Where can they go with an MLIS?

Anywhere and everywhere, believes Hirsh. The job market is expanding because the information age has created a greater demand for user-friendly, service-oriented people who are adept at organizing, managing, and making sense of information. “There’s a huge range of opportunities for someone with a degree in the field, and it’s constantly evolving,” says Hirsh. “There are so many interesting areas—digital asset management, information architecture, virtual reference services, social media—this degree is preparing you for a whole suite of opportunities that engage with information of all different types. How you think about and apply your skills is limited only by your imagination.”

That imagination is still needed in libraries too, and many graduates will land in libraries and information centers in schools, businesses, government agencies, medical centers, and other organizations. “There are opportunities for librarians, and there will continue to be,” says Hirsh. But the traditional library is evolving, and Hirsh encourages all students—whether they want to be teacher-librarians in schools or data scientists in corporations—to become technically savvy, keep an open mind, and expect continuing change. Those best suited for the MLIS want to be in a dynamic field. In a 2013 study of LIS job trends, San Jose State found that 28% of the job listings assessed were for “emerging” positions—not what we’d recognize as traditional library jobs—and 32% required significant technology skills. “You can’t always predict what the opportunities will be,” says Hirsh.

This sounds like the information-age degree.

Could the MLIS be the information-age degree, a twenty-first century credential that could gain the caché of an MBA? Hirsh sees nothing but potential for an advanced degree, with a variety of concentrations, that prepares people for careers in information-intensive environments. “Our understanding of how to organize and make information accessible to meet user needs is unparalleled,” says Hirsh. “I love our profession. We have so much to offer, and I’m excited about the possibilities. I truly believe that we are only limited by our own creativity and vision.”

As data gets bigger, information piles up, and everyone has more tools for creating and sharing their own stories, surely the world could use more user-oriented people with LIS skills. Whether you call them librarians or information professionals, MLIS graduates will be embedded in our workplaces, our information systems, and our communities, helping us make sense of it all.

It’s a good time to have an MLIS. And it’s a good day to be a librarian.  Ω

^{* For those who have been spared the need to know, a MARC record is a machine-readable cataloging record, a computerized form of the information you used to find in your library’s card catalog.}

That depends on what you mean by “code.” But knowing how to make computers do things is a useful skill, and as Robert Hernandez notes, “It’s not magic.”

One thing I love about librarians is their ability to look backward and forward, to preserve the past and enable the future. When I was in library school, the professor who taught us about the history of books and libraries also taught us how to build websites. We can do both. We can speak JavaScript right along with the languages of ancient manuscripts.

Should all librarians learn to code? As David Holmes of the PandoDaily pointed out when he asked whether journalists should learn to code, this isn’t a yes-no question. “Learning code could mean anything from spending a few hours to get familiar with HTML [to] taking a full courseload of computer science classes at a university,” he says. Being able to make computers do things is a skill you can take as far as you like: Some of us will become proficient programmers, and others will keep it basic. Those who aren’t fluent in the latest computing language can still build blogs and infographics and online tutorials. And any information professional will benefit from knowing how to fix a bit of HTML web text and being able to talk about technical needs with the people who are the experts.

David Holmes was kind enough to allow me to adapt his flowchart on whether journalists should learn to code. Many thanks, David, for your generosity.  Ω

Source: Adapted with permission from a flowchart by David Holmes/PandoDaily.