I give a great credit to <em>The Walt Whitman Archive</em> co-director Kenneth Price for taking a critical look at the costs associated with an endeavor such as his.
<blockquote>[M]any people, myself included, have described our site as free, yet a considerable amount of resources continue to go into its making. I want to explore that conundrum. … When users visit a deep scholarly archive on the web they are experiencing the (mostly real) benefit of displaced costs. Instead of money being spent by the user at the point of contact, money is spent elsewhere along the line: by universities in the form of faculty time, equipment, graduate student assistance, and internal grants; by external funding agencies; and, in our case, curiously, by more than one publisher. …  We might ask: Is what the Whitman archive has done a sustainable model for the production of other full-scale scholarly editions on the web? We have been fortunate with grants, publishers, libraries, and generous universities. But if it requires such a constellation of good fortune to produce an electronic scholarly edition, do we have a sound economic model in place? As the questions imply, I don't think we do.[ref]Kenneth M. Price, <a href="http://www.whitmanarchive.org/about/articles/anc.00004.html">"Dollars and Sense in Collaborative Digital Scholarship: The Example of the <em>Walt Whitman Hypertext Archive</em>,"</a> <em>TWWA</em> (2001).[/ref]</blockquote>
Yet for all his candor, and the importance of that candor, he does not take the next (and even more difficult) step of analyzing the project’s benefits as well as its costs.  Saying such an online archival endeavor is not sustainable is, in part, to say it does not (cannot, I will suggest) provide sufficient benefits to sustain continuing such costs.  For me this is part of a larger question about how and why we allocate archival resources.  I have no particular bone to pick with the <em>Whitman Archive</em>; I have raised similar concerns about the disproportionate staff and monetary resources devoted by bricks and mortar repositories to literary collections as a genre, congressional papers as a genre,[ref]Mark A. Greene, "Appraisal of Congressional Papers at the Minnesota Historical Society:  A Case Study," <em>Archival Issues</em> 19:1 (1994), 31-44.<em> </em>Republished in <em>An American Political Archives Reader,</em> Karen Dawley Paul , Glenn R Gray , and L. Rebecca Johnson Melvin eds. (Scarecrow Press, Inc., 2009), 181-96.[/ref] university records as a genre, state/county/local court records as a genre, and general store records as a genre[ref]Mark A. Greene, “From Village Smithy to Superior Vacuum Technology:  Modern Small Business Records and the Collecting Repository,” <em>Archival Issues</em> 23:1 (1998), 41-58.[/ref]—all categories of records I believe are represented disproportionately in repositories and given disproportionate attention by archivists.

An argument that resource expenditure is disproportionate requires some comparison.  As my then colleague at the Minnesota Historical Society wrote in 1998,
<blockquote>while politics is an important component of Minnesota history, it is at least arguable that its importance is not so great as the resources that the Society has devoted to documenting it.  Neither the stack space nor the staff time is sufficient to swallow Congressional collections whole and still be able appropriately to document business, recreation, family life, etc. for Minnesota.  We had to ask:  ‘Do we really need 116 feet of material to document Congressman Tom Hagedorn’s eight years in office when we keep 110 feet for nearly seventy years of the St. Paul Area United Way?’[ref]Todd J. Daniels-Howell, “Reappraisal of Congressional Records at the Minnesota Historical Society,” <em>Archival Issues </em>23:1 (1998), 36.[/ref]</blockquote>
This was hardly a precise comparison, to be sure, but it was an early attempt to ask archivists to consider the theretofore reflexive resource allocation required to document congressional service to the nth degree compared to both the opportunity costs and the relative benefit (to a repository’s users) of shifting resources to other acquisition, processing, and preservation goals.  It is not that Hagedorn’s congressional tenure was value-<em>less</em> nor that the United Way’s records were objectively more valuable, only that we had never before considered the relative costs and benefits.

Such comparison is no easy matter, granted.  It might be abstractly valid to ask whether it is a good allocation of resources to develop an exhaustive online archives for Walt Whitman when there are not such efforts underway for, say, Theodore Roosevelt,[ref]At least so far as I can discover, though I did not perform a truly exhaustive search.[/ref] but the fact is we have no mechanism to determine, in any way that is even vaguely acceptable on a wide scale, whether one historical figure is more “deserving” of such a site than another.  And even if we did, we don’t have a mechanism for ensuring that the more deserving figure would automatically generate the structure necessary to solicit and manage the resources that might then be available.  And if we succeeded in identifying such mechanisms there would still loom the matter of judging relative quantity and quality of use of the sites—use being, I believe, the “end of all archival effort.”[ref]Theodore R. Schellenberg, <em>The Management of Archives</em> (New York: Columbia University Press, 1965), 108. I have pursued the idea of the centrality of use to archival work most extensively in “’The Surest Proof’:  The Use of Business Records and Implications for Appraisal,” <em>Archivaria</em> 45 (Spring 1998), 127-69 and later in Greene and Meissner, “More Product, Less Process.”[/ref]

So is this a purely rhetorical exercise?  I don’t think so.  As difficult as these questions are to answer with precision, they remain necessary questions and there are pieces of answers available once we start asking.  My plea is that we do start asking, that we do start expecting to define quantitative and qualitative measure of the costs and benefits of such projects and, by extension, of our bricks and mortar archival endeavors as well.  Not only do I think we owe it to our constituents and funders, I also believe it will increasingly be demanded by our administrators.