Nature - Intertwingled: Information Changes Everything - page 15

over 100 websites, many with unique domain names, identities, and navigation systems. And
most users had absolutely no idea which site to visit for which purpose.
I wrote up a brutally honest report. I compared the Library's fragmented web presence to the
Winchester Mystery House, a well-known California mansion that was under construction for
38 years. Apparently, the widow who lived there had been told by a psychic that when the
building stopped, she would die. By the time Mrs. Winchester passed away, the house had 160
rooms, 40 staircases, 467 doorways, and no blueprint. It's not an unattractive house, and the
view from any given room isn't unusual, but as a whole, it's a findability nightmare.
So, after weeks of work, I flew to Washington, D.C. for a day of meetings in which I planned to
present my findings and recommendations. But upon arrival, my client told me that my report
had been put under embargo and my meetings were canceled. Managers were concerned that
my evaluation would upset the people responsible for the web presence. I was told “it's great
work, we agree with you, but the time's not right.”
I was surprised and disappointed, but I felt good about the work I'd done, and I continued to
work with the Library on small projects. I also reflected upon what had happened and realized
there was no way to tackle the problem from where I stood. I had been hired by a middle man-
ager who worked for one of the major service units. In such a big organization, you can't change
the system from within a silo. It was painful to see the problem so clearly but have no path to a
solution.
Then, months later, I was surprised again. My report had percolated through the Library, even-
tually making its way to the top. The Executive Committee decided it was time for the Library to
change the way it works on the Web. They formed a Web Strategy Board with delegates from all
major units and asked me to participate in creation of a digital strategy and information archi-
tecture. It was a massive, cross-functional, multi-disciplinary challenge and a truly exhilarating
experience. And while it's too early to know if our vision will be realized, major improvements
have already been made.
It's a story of success that came by surprise. But it's also a reminder that our work depends upon
an encouraging cultural context. I was lucky the Library was ready for change. I know this be-
cause I've learned the hard way that many organizations are not. For instance, several years ago,
I worked with a community college on their website redesign. When I talked to executives, I ex-
plained the course catalog and faculty directory were the most important and most broken parts
of the students' digital experience, and I laid out a plan for renewal. Then, politely but firmly,
the president told me that both were off the table. The catalog, managed by a vendor, was too
costly to modify, and changing the directory might upset the faculty and their powerful union.
So that was that. We restructured the whole website, quite nicely I might add, without touching
its most sensitive parts.
Code is a function of culture. That's one of the most important lessons I've learned in 20 years of
consulting. It's not that the tail can't ever wag the dog, but when it does, it usually happens
quite slowly. That's why I balance my specialist focus on the information system in question
with a generalist's eye towards the wider ecosystem. Information architecture is an intervention.
It disturbs an established system. To make change that lasts, we must look for the levers and