My Academic Website (R.I.P., O.B.M.)
I think the year was 2008 when I created a professional website at the University of Arizona. Not very many professors there did so at that time, and none in my college. In the following years, I used my website not only to update an evolving academic record but also for two other purposes: In a section called “commentaries”, I posted methodological articles in which I expressed my analyses and viewpoints without needing to please reviewers and editors. Another section contained chapters in a book that I started to write (and never finished).
In 2018, when I retired from the university, my website remained dormant but intact. Over the years I even forgot how to use the software with which it was created. Nonetheless, my website was visited by many, before and after my retirement (over 10,000 views according to a counter). From time to time visitors sent me words of praise. In my biased opinion, some of my best scholarly work was posted there.
Last week, I could not access the URL anymore. A quick inquiry revealed that the university had switched server/host, or whatever it is called, and the website vanished last month. There were email messages that I missed, but the bottom line is this: If I want the content to remain in cyberspace, they will give me a new website and I will have to work on creating the structure and migrating the content. Here are some screenshots of FAQ.
No, thank you. I am retired and don’t have a team. I don’t work at the university anymore, and I don’t want to spend my time on recreating a website, just because some administrators decided to change server/host, or whatever it is called.
Those were the bad news. There are some good news too. For those who don’t know, there is Wayback Machine, a wonderful website that archives earlier versions of many websites. My website was archived over the years. It is there (click here.) I think that every link is functional except three commentaries and one book chapter.
So, my content remains accessible in cyberspace for the time being, but few will find it.
I am sure that those who decided to switch server/host, or whatever it is called, had nothing but good intentions. They even left the door open for me to transfer my content, but that’s not good enough. I don’t work for them anymore, and they, not me, have caused scholarly work to become hidden from most. For retired professors like me, they should have offered to create and transfer the content of existing websites.
By analogy, imagine the pre-cyberspace era. Would a publisher have dared to collect and discard all copies of an academic book, because a better printing service was found?
