http://www.britannica.comThere is no source of reference remotely as authoritative as
Encyclopaedia Britannica. There is no brand as venerable and as veteran as this mammoth labour of knowledge and ideas established in 1768. There is no better value for money. And, after a few sputters and bugs, it now comes in all shapes and sizes, including two CD-ROM versions (standard and deluxe) and an appealing and reader-friendly web site. So, why does it always appear to be on
brink of extinction?
The Britannica provides for an interesting study of
changing fortunes (and formats) of vendors of reference. As late as a decade ago, it was still selling in a leather-imitation bound set of 32 volumes. As print encyclopaedias went, it was a daring innovator and a pioneer of hyperlinked-like textual design. It sported a subject index, a lexical part and an alphabetically arranged series of in-depth essays authored by
best in every field of human erudition.
When
CD-ROM erupted on
scene,
Britannica mismanaged
transition. As late as 1997, it was still selling a sordid text-only compact disc which included a part of
encyclopaedia. Only in 1998, did
Britannica switch to multimedia and added tables and graphs to
CD. Video and sound were to make their appearance even later. This error in trend analysis left
field wide open to
likes of Encarta and Grolier. The Britannica failed to grasp
irreversible shift from cumbersome print volumes to slender and freely searchable CD-ROMs. Reference was going digital and
Britannica's sales plummeted.
The Britannica was also late to cash on
web revolution - but, when it did, it became a world leader overnight. Its unbeatable brand was a decisive factor. A failed experiment with an annoying subscription model gave way to unrestricted access to
full contents of
Encyclopaedia and much more besides: specially commissioned articles, fora, an annotated internet guide, news in context, downloads and shopping. The site enjoys healthy traffic and
Britannica's CD-ROM interacts synergistically with its contents (through hyperlinks).
Yet, recently,
Britannica had to fire hundreds of workers (in its web division) and a return to a pay-for-content model is contemplated. What went wrong again? Internet advertising did. The Britannica's revenue model was based on monetizing eyeballs, to use a faddish refrain. When
perpetuum mobile of "advertisers pay for content and users get it free" crumbled -
Britannica found itself in familiar dire straits.
Is there a lesson to be learned from this arduous and convoluted tale? Are works of reference not self-supporting regardless of
revenue model (subscription, ad-based, print, CD-ROM)? This might well be
case.