Publishers exploit our data
Academia in a stranglehold
Door Christien Boomsma
By Christien Boomsma
Christien Boomsma
Christien is sinds 2016 achtergrondcoördinator bij UKrant. Ze plant de achtergrondverhalen en begeleidt de auteurs. Bij haar eigen verhalen ligt de focus op wetenschap en academisch leven. Daarnaast schrijft ze veel over onderwerpen als sociale veiligheid en maakt ze graag persoonlijke interviews. In haar vrije tijd schrijft ze jeugdboeken en geeft schrijftrainingen.When UG philosopher Titus Stahl is mulling over a new research topic, he has a range of tools available to help him get started. He could use academic search engine Scopus, for example, to point him to articles he could read online or download. He might also take notes using Mendeley, the useful software tool that helps you keep track of sources and references.
If he then writes a grant proposal to get funding, there’s a good chance that the people assessing it use SciVal – software that analyses research trends, but also contains individual researchers’ citation and publication data.
In the meantime, he could discuss his work on SSRN, a social platform used to share and peer-review early-stage research. And ultimately, of course, he’ll publish it in an open access magazine for which the university has paid article processing fees, or APCs, after which others will read it – at home, through their libraries, or again using Scopus.
Then, finally, he will enter his article in Pure, the database the university uses to register all research done at the UG. His profile might change to reflect he has done research on a new topic. Affiliations may be added, since his network has changed too, so everyone can see who he collaborates with and what his strengths are.
It’s all very streamlined and it all works beautifully. However, it doesn’t seem all that great anymore when you realise that every tool Stahl has been using, every platform on which he publishes, is owned by publishing mogul Elsevier. And Elsevier not only provides tools, it also collects user data. It logs everything Stahl does, every keystroke.
‘They know what you are working on, they know what you are submitting, they know the results of your peer reviews’, Stahl says. ‘They control every part of the process and register every action you take.’
Everything is recorded
And that gives them far more information than you might realise. When Eiko Fried, a psychologist from the University of Leiden, asked Elsevier for his personal data in December 2021, he received an email with hundreds of thousands of data points, going back many years.
He discovered that Elsevier knew his name, his affiliations and his research. That his reviews had been registered, as well as the requests for peer review he had declined. Elsevier kept track of his IP-addresses – leading back to his home – his private telephone numbers, and the moments he logged in, which showed exactly when he worked and when he was on vacation. There were websites he visited, articles he had downloaded or just viewed online. Every click, every reference was recorded.
The publishing infrastructure serves their interests, not ours
Fried’s blog posts about this came as a shock and a revelation to Stahl. ‘It’s a long-term danger to academic freedom’, he says. ‘They control the academic process with an infrastructure that serves their interests, not ours. And they use the collected data to provide analytics services to whoever pays for them.’
Stahl is one of a growing group of researchers inside and outside the University of Groningen who are concerned about the situation. He finds Oskar Gstrein on his side. ‘There is this ingrained power imbalance between the universities and the publishers’, says the data autonomy specialist with Campus Fryslân and the Jantina Tammes School of Digital Society, Technology and AI. ‘They own the journals people want to get into. And now they have taken over the whole publishing sphere.’
In a recently published call for action, the Young Academy Groningen (YAG) and the Open Science Community Groningen, too, sounded the alarm. ‘It is time to formulate a long-term vision for a sustainable, independent higher education system’, they wrote. ‘We not only endorse this ambition but call on our university to reclaim ownership over our research output.’
New business model
They have reason to worry. Big publishers like Elsevier make billions of euros a year. Historically by publishing academic articles, but they have recently changed their business model. Now, they sell data connected to academic publishing. And that is ‘insanely profitable’, Stahl says.
Profits of Elsevier’s parent company RELX rose to 10 percent in 2023 – 2 billion euros on a revenue of 10 billion. ‘Article submissions returned to strong growth, with pay-to-publish open-access articles continuing to grow particularly strongly’, RELX reported in February this year.
Elsevier’s Erik Engstrom was the third highest paid CEO in the Netherlands between 2017 and 2020, earning over 30 million. Only the CEOs of Shell and another scientific publisher, Wolters Kluwer, earned more.
Only a decade ago, it looked as if big publishers’ hold on academia was weakening. Universities and the Dutch government were done with first funding their research with public money, offering their papers for free to publishers like Elsevier (The Lancet, Cell), Springer (Nature) or Wiley (Advanced Materials), editing and peer reviewing those papers for free and then having to pay insane amounts of subscription fees to make those same papers available to their researchers again.
They moved towards open access and as a result, 97 percent of the publications in Groningen is now published open access. ‘Their traditional business model no longer worked’, says Gstrein. ‘So publishers had to reinvent themselves.’
Gold open access
And that is exactly what they did, helped by a Dutch government that suggested ‘gold open access’ as the norm. ‘It’s undoubtedly linked to the fact that many of these publishers, such as Elsevier and Kluwer, have Dutch roots’, says Ane van der Leij, head of research support at the UB.
They effectively turn science into shareholder returns and dividend payouts
‘Gold’ means you don’t make the whole publishing process free – that would be the diamond option. Instead, a university pays APCs up front for its researchers, and in exchange publishers make their articles available to everyone.
That’s great for the general public, which can now read those articles for free. But it’s not so great for the universities that still provide research papers and edit academic articles without any payment. ‘And the APCs are high’, Stahl says. ‘In some cases, I estimate there’s a profit margin of 75 percent.’
Not all magazines are open access, either. Most of the traditional journals are a hybrid now – the content for which APCs have been paid are open access; the rest is still behind a paywall. ‘Unfortunately “hybrid” has become the new status quo for most of these publishers’ journals, and it has become a very profitable business model’, Van der Leij says.
Package deals
These days, publishers negotiate ‘read and publish’ package deals for their titles, which have become around 20 percent more expensive in five years. ‘Taking into account an average inflation rate of 3 percent per year over this period, that amounts to a price increase of approximately 12.6 percent’, says Van der Leij.
Elsevier has received over 16 million euros in 2024 for their deal with umbrella organisation Universities of the Netherlands. Wily gets almost 5 million, Springer 3.6 million.
The increase is not the same for all publishers, Van der Leij stresses, and the packages themselves also vary, making it difficult to compare. ‘On top of that, it’s become increasingly difficult to figure out which parts are “read” and which ones are “publish”.’
Also telling: the maximum number of prepaid publications is reached sooner every year, because universities get fewer publications for their money. ‘Four years ago, we would be sending out our emails that we’d reached the cap halfway through November. Three years ago, we did so in early November. This year, it was at the end of October’, says Van der Leij.
Commercialised research
That’s not the biggest issue, though. What is worse is the other part of Elsevier’s business model, which they came up with when they realised they needed other ways to keep making money. And the hottest commodity they could think of was data.
Private parties having access to this data is a long-term threat to academic freedom
‘The entire infrastructure that science builds on is commercialised’, says YAG chairperson Lukas Linsi. ‘They effectively turn science into shareholder returns and dividend payouts, and it’s all public money.’
Pure, which showcases the research for almost all Dutch universities, used to be an independent Danish startup, but was bought by Elsevier in 2012. The formerly open platform Mendeley was acquired in 2013. SSRN in 2016. In 2017 Elsevier bought bepress, a repository used by six hundred academic institutes. ‘It has given them real time data access’, Gstrein says.
Publishing is no longer the main focus for RELX and its competitors; instead, they have become data brokers. They sell data to insurance companies for risk analysis, to banks for fraud detection, to universities to assess their performance, and, especially egregious, to the US Immigration Service to target illegal immigrants.
Less dependent
Many researchers are worried by this. ‘In the Netherlands, universities tend to be a bit optimistic regarding these companies’, Stahl feels. After all, universities have in the past made plans to develop ‘professional services’ together with Elsevier. ‘They just don’t seem to see the danger.’
In Germany and France, there is much more awareness about these issues. There, universities are less dependent on the big publishers, or are working to move away from them. ‘If some private parties have access to all this data, then that is a long-term threat to academic freedom. We have to do something about it. We need our own infrastructure’, Stahl says.
Per the contracts, the publishers aren’t allowed to share data. ‘There is the data processing agreement’, explains Marijke Folgering, head of the UB’s development & innovation department. That’s a legally required document stating how data will be processed. ‘They’re not allowed to just use our data. I’m sure they can find ways to do so anyway, but we also enter into these contracts on a trust basis. If they do abuse it, they hopefully hurt themselves as well.’
Critical
Researcher Taichi Ochi with the Open Science Community Groningen has his doubts about their trustworthiness, though. ‘We need to move away from them, or we risk detrimental effects’, he says.
Linsi points to the deal that academic publisher Taylor and Francis made: they sold the research published in their three thousand academic journals to Microsoft for 10 million dollars, to train their AI models. ‘This is happening now!’
If they do abuse it, they hopefully hurt themselves as well
Folgering and Van der Leij with the UB also worry about the seemingly unending stream of data that is flowing towards the publishers. ‘There are currently no indications that the system is being abused’, says Van der Leij, ‘but we’re getting increasingly concerned.’
‘We’re definitely critical of what they’re doing’, Folgering agrees. ‘We’re exploring our options. Several German universities have gone in a different direction. But there are limits to what we can do. We simply don’t have that many developers.’
The problem, of course, is that both researchers and university management want convenience. They want their publications in these publishers’ prestigious distribution channels. They want their tools and software to work quickly, and it’s all the better if these are available at a relatively low cost. ‘But we just don’t consider what that means in the long run. People underestimate how little choice we still have’, Gstrein says.
Long-standing reputation
The researchers don’t have an easy solution on hand. ‘If you want to move ahead in your career, you’re dependent on these companies’, Linsi realises. ‘They don’t decide what is published in their journals, but still, it’s their brands that are really important if you want to move up.’
Diamond open access journals – like the UG’s own University of Groningen Press, founded in 2015 – may be a solution in the long term, but at this point their reputation just isn’t good enough yet, compared to journals with a long-standing reputation and impact factor.
The tools the publishers provide do work very well, Linsi admits. Repositories in for example Germany – where universities are a lot less dependent on the big publishers – aren’t nearly as ‘attractive’ as the UG’s Pure.
And there’s the matter of safety too. Are universities able to build alternatives that are safe and that won’t be vulnerable to hacks? ‘In practice, this is quite difficult’, Linsi says. ‘But other countries show that there is a way back.’
Alternatives
The UG could start by using alternatives when possible, he explains. Zotero instead of Mendeley, Firefox instead of Google Chrome. ‘There are alternatives for almost every app we use.’
And it could – and should – find an alternative for Pure. ‘It’s a good first step’, Linsi feels. ‘It’s relatively easy and it is tangible.’
In fact, Van der Leij says, the UG is currently working on its own data warehouse that would hold all the UG publications’ data and metadata. ‘It might allow us to stop using Pure and keep a hold of our data.’
But it would be even better if Dutch – or even European – universities worked together on projects like these, to make sure there’s enough funding and that it is done right. In the long run, Linsi believes, it will probably be cheaper than paying huge sums of money to commercial providers.
‘We must understand our own worth’, agrees Taichi Ochi. ‘With the cost of publishing ever increasing, it also impacts how much money we can spend on other activities. We need to move away from a model that is draining money.’