Reversing the Gaze: From Information-Centric to Document-Centric Thinking

Given the centrality of the concept of information—and our shared academic engagement with it—our conversation naturally began with a question about how Buckland’s conceptualization has shaped the broader understanding of the term within information science. What impact, I asked, has this had on the evolution of information retrieval over the past several decades?

In response, Buckland reflected on the intellectual, institutional, and personal journey that led him to reframe how we think about information, documents, and the systems we design around them.

“The original idea behind Information as Thing was essentially semantic housekeeping,” he explained. “I was reacting to the inconsistency in how people used the word information. There seemed to be three quite distinct meanings: information as process (the act of informing), information as knowledge (what is learned), and information as thing (the objects that are informative). The literature was muddled and circular, —people defining information in terms of itself. It became clear that separating out these senses was useful, even necessary, for making progress.”

He emphasized that many of the objects we casually refer to as “information”—books, databases, maps—are not themselves knowledge or processes, but physical or symbolic artifacts that inform. Michael Buckland pinpointed a foundational flaw in information science: the term “information” is so overloaded—encompassing data, knowledge, communication, and process—that it obscures precise discourse. “It is a bad word, it is to be abolished,” he declared, a rhetorical provocation to force clarity in the field. This ambiguity, far from mere semantics, poses a critical challenge: how should information science define its focus?

“So, the phrase information-as-thing was an attempt to ground the discussion. And I was genuinely surprised by how widely that distinction was picked up.”

Origins of Information as Thing

The roots of the Information as Thing paper can be traced to a period of institutional transition at UC Berkeley (UCB), when the School of Librarianship began evolving into a broader School of Information. This shift was prompted by a major departmental review in 1973–74, resulting in what came to be known as the Wheeler Report.

The Wheeler Report: A Call for Change

The report recognized that while training librarians remained important, other institutions were fulfilling that role. Instead, it urged the school to expand its mission to meet the growing challenges of organizing documents and data in a rapidly changing, increasingly digital information environment. The recommendation was clear: the school should not confine itself to libraries alone but address the broader terrain of information organization across various domains.

Embracing a Broader Mission

Taking this mandate seriously, the school began to diversify. The focus expanded beyond traditional librarianship to include archives, corporate records management, and emerging forms of data organization. Faculty embraced this transition enthusiastically, seeing fresh opportunities to apply their expertise in cataloging, classification, and critical analysis to new contexts.

“As it turned out,” Buckland recalled, “we had more ‘information scientists’ per square foot than any other school. This gave us the freedom—and the responsibility—to theorize more broadly about emerging information challenges.”

The expansion was intellectually invigorating for both faculty and students. While some alumni expressed concern that core library values might be lost, Buckland and his colleagues reassured them that they were continuing the vision of the school’s founder, Sidney Mitchell—just extending it to new frontiers. However, they admitted that the transformation was not communicated very effectively to the wider university.

Early Focus Areas: Databases and Corporate Records

At that time, archival education had not yet matured enough to support sustained academic programming. As a result, the school’s early expansion focused primarily on databases and corporate records management, areas where new organizational challenges were rapidly emerging.

A Moment of Reflection: The Austrian Sabbatical

Four years into this new direction, Buckland took a sabbatical in the Austrian Alps in 1980 to reflect on the path the school—and his own thinking—had taken. Two concerns stood out:

1. Faculty members were not deeply engaged with each other’s work.
2. The school had made a significant strategic shift without fully considering its theoretical foundations

From Special Theory to General Theory: à la Einstein

To make sense of these issues, Buckland began writing a series of informal essays for himself. His aim was to understand how the various components of library and information services might be integrated into a coherent conceptual framework.

His first synthesis took shape in the book Library Services in Theory and Context, which proposed a “special theory” of library services as a step toward a broader, more general theory that could apply across document-based institutions. It wasn’t until a second sabbatical in 1988—while slowly traveling around the world—that Buckland arrived at the more comprehensive generalization. During a stay at the University of New South Wales in Australia, he worked out a model to explain how different types of document collections relate to each other and to their wider environments.

Unpacking ‘Information’: From Conceptual Chaos to Clarity

“I began by trying to sort out the many ways in which people used the term information, a word that—like many others ending in -ation—is notoriously ambiguous. Words such as communication, regulation, and foundation can refer to a process, a thing, or an outcome, depending on the context. Take foundation, for instance—it could mean the act of founding, the structure beneath a building, or the institutional body itself. So, when we speak of information, what exactly do we mean? Books, bytes, documents, data, inscriptions on clay tablets? The ambiguity was unsettling, and I found myself increasingly dissatisfied with the imprecision of the term.

To make sense of this, I started mentally grouping the various uses of the word information. Most of them, though not all, could be sorted into three conceptual categories: information-as-process (the act of informing), information-as-knowledge (what is learned or known), and information-as-thing (documents, data, and other tangible or recordable objects). Once I had that framework in place, I felt much better—relieved, even—like I had sorted out something fundamentally muddled.

I initially developed these ideas in my book Information and Information Systems(1991), which I grandly thought of as a kind of comparative anatomy of collection-based information services. As I worked through the chapters, I considered that others might have faced the same struggle I had. Perhaps it would be useful to extract the section where I articulated the three different senses of the word information and submit it as a standalone article. At first, I dismissed the idea—surely it was too obvious, too elementary to warrant publication. But then I thought, ‘Well, if it gave me so much pause, maybe others would benefit from it too.’ So, I submitted the article. Ironically, it was that modest piece, not the book, that caught everyone’s attention. And that’s how Information as Thing came to be.”

Reintroducing the Document: Buckland’s Expansive Vision

In the evolving field of information science, the elusive concept of “information” often fragments into abstract debates. Michael Buckland tackled this challenge by revisiting a deceptively simple term: document. In his 1997 article, “What Is a ‘Document’?” (Journal of the American Society for Information Science, 48(9), 804–809), he posed a foundational question: What is a document? Far from merely reviving the term, Buckland radically expanded its scope beyond traditional paper records, prompting a profound rethinking of information artifacts.

Buckland stressed the need to distinguish a thing from its name, a frequent source of confusion in information science. He viewed the process of “becoming informed” as central, alongside information as knowledge—what we know or believe. Rather than favoring one form, he affirmed their coexistence, each essential. This perspective fueled a breakthrough in the 1980s, when information science rarely considered museum objects as carriers of information.

This insight crystallized at the Museum of Vertebrate Zoology. Opening a drawer of preserved woodpeckers, Buckland wondered why a university would allocate scarce space to dead birds. Initially, this seemed irrational, but a colleague’s advice—that apparent irrationality often hides an unknown rationale—sparked clarity. These specimens supported teaching and research, much like library books. Buckland saw them as documents— “documents with feathers,” he quipped—preserved to convey knowledge.

This epiphany reshaped his view of museum objects as documents, a concept he shared eagerly. During a 1988 sabbatical in Australia, he discussed these ideas with Boyd Rayward, head of a library school, who introduced him to Suzanne Briet’s 1951 pamphlet, Qu’est-ce que la documentation? Briet had argued that living antelopes could be documents when used as evidence, a view predating Buckland’s by four decades. Her work was both humbling and affirming, reinforcing that documents are defined by function—serving as evidence or fostering learning—rather than form. Inspired by Briet, Buckland refined his ideas, shaping his 1991 book, Information and Information Systems (1991), and his seminal article, “Information as Thing” (Journal of the American Society for Information Science, 42(5), 351–364, 1991).

Briet’s work connected Buckland to the early 20th-century documentation movement, led by figures like Paul Otlet, who sought to organize and universalize access to knowledge. Paul Otlet, a pioneer of the documentation movement, redefined “document” to encompass not only written and graphic records but also three-dimensional artifacts with informational value.

Buckland felt like an archaeologist unearthing a lost world, as this history was largely overlooked in information science at the time. Apart from Rayward, few shared his interest in the field’s intellectual roots. This rediscovery enriched Buckland’s vision, revealing documents as far more expansive than traditionally assumed. By embracing this perspective, we uncover the interconnectedness of objects, knowledge, and meaning-making processes—whether in libraries, museums, or beyond—repositioning documents as vital conduits of understanding.

Documents Reimagined: Historical and Humanistic Roots

Michael Buckland’s document-centric vision drew from diverse intellectual currents, revitalizing document studies in information science. A special issue of the Proceedings of the Document Academy (2023) featured work by Buckland on Robert Pagès, a student of Suzanne Briet, underscoring her enduring influence. Niels Lund, inspired by the French Annales school of history, founded the Institute for Documentation Studies at the University of Tromsø in 1996, a move deemed retro yet visionary for emphasizing documents over abstract information. These efforts, alongside Bernd Frohmann’s  Deflating Information: From Science Studies to Documentation (2004), critiqued library and information science’s (LIS) narrow scientific focus, which often sidelined history, theory, and cognitive dimensions.  Frohmann argues that scientific literature is not primarily about abstract ‘information’ but involves the material practices of assembling scientific culture. Rejecting information’s centrality, Frohmann advocates a documentalist approach, emphasizing tangible documents as functional entities in knowledge production.

The Annales school, pioneered by French historians in the early 20th century, revolutionized historiography by rejecting the German tradition of relying solely on certified written records. Instead, they treated any object—from artifacts to oral accounts—as evidence, inferring meaning from diverse sources. Lund, a Danish scholar who studied in Paris, drew directly from this approach, and Buckland and others speculate that Briet’s expansive document definition (e.g., antelopes as documents) was similarly influenced. This historical perspective broadened document theory, aligning with Buckland’s “information as thing,” where documents are defined by function—serving as evidence or fostering learning.

Equally influential was the social studies of science, which Frohmann leveraged to challenge LIS’s quest for scientific legitimacy akin to physics. By examining scientific practice as messy and human, this field highlighted documents’ contextual roles. Complementing this, phenomenological and hermeneutic approaches from the humanities emphasized interpretation, viewing information as subjective. As Buckland noted, “information is in the eye of the beholder,” shaped by how individuals make sense of objects, from ancient texts to modern data. This perspective, rooted in the interpretation of religious texts, underscores documents’ cognitive dimensions, neglected in LIS’s computational bias.

Buckland’s synthesis of these historical and humanistic roots, like his rediscovery of pioneers such as Emanuel Goldberg, reimagined documents as dynamic conduits of knowledge, bridging history, science, and human experience in information science’s evolving landscape.

From Antelopes to Algorithms: Redefining the Boundaries

This redefinition had powerful implications. Under Buckland’s broadened lens, museum specimens, biological samples, and digital files all became valid subjects of information science. His framework helped bridge historically siloed institutions—libraries, archives, and museums—into a more unified conceptual domain. In doing so, Buckland reoriented the politics of definition: what we count as information, who gets to decide, and what risks being excluded from scholarly and institutional attention.

Document Theory: From Latin Roots to New Frontiers

In his 2013 paper “Document Theory: An Introduction,” Michael Buckland argues that we live in a “document society” in which communication, cognition, and social control are increasingly mediated through documents—broadly defined as anything from which one can learn or that can serve as evidence. Tracing the historical impact of writing, printing, telecommunications, and copying technologies, Buckland explores diverse perspectives on documents, including their phenomenological, cultural, and physical aspects, as well as their technical, social, and mental dimensions. In his 2018 expansion of document theory, Michael Buckland proposes a document-centered perspective that looks outward to explore how documents engage with physical, social, and cognitive worlds. To better understand the relationships between documents and reality, we could reverse this approach. Instead of starting with documents and looking outward, we can look inward from these three environments to observe how documents shape and are shaped by our perspectives within them.

The word document traces back to the Latin documentum— “that which teaches.” Buckland’s conceptual reframing brings us back to this deeper etymological root. A document is any artifact that can instruct, provoke insight, or facilitate understanding. In this sense, his work intersects with broader currents in the social studies of science and the humanities—especially phenomenology and hermeneutics—where meaning is not embedded in the object itself but emerges through interpretation.

Just as “relevance” is not an intrinsic property of a text but a user’s judgment, so too is “information” not a fixed substance but a dynamic, situated process of meaning-making.

Towards Everything as Document

Michael Buckland’s concept of “information as thing” has been misunderstood for two reasons. First, some incorrectly assumed he was defining information, when he was only describing how the term is used to refer to tangible objects like documents or artifacts. Second, there is confusion about whether these “things” are inherently information. Buckland clarifies that almost anything can be considered informative depending on the context, as it’s impossible to definitively rule out any object as non-informative in every scenario. Thus, theoretically, anything can serve as information when perceived or used as such.

Buckland’s contribution is more than a shift in terminology. It is a profound reconceptualization of the field—an invitation to rethink what counts as information, how knowledge is structured, and who or what gets recognized within our epistemic systems. In a world saturated with digital traces, biological data, sensor outputs, and cultural artifacts, his idea of “document-as-everything” offers a capacious, inclusive framework for understanding and organizing knowledge.

This vision opens new pathways for integrating libraries, museums, and databases into a cohesive architecture of knowledge—one that is attuned to complexity, context, and the politics of interpretation.

Uncovering the Hidden Roots of Information Science: Goldberg’s Forgotten Legacy

Building on his redefinition of documents as expansive conduits of knowledge, Michael Buckland turned to the history of information science to unearth contributions overshadowed by dominant narratives. He got involved with the American Society for Information Science’s special interest group on the foundations of information science, which he and colleague Bob Williams later reframed as the History and Foundations of Information Science. This engagement fueled his skepticism of Vannevar Bush’s celebrated status as the “father of information science,” a narrative centered on Bush’s 1945 essay, “As We May Think” (Atlantic Monthly, 176, 101–108). Finding Bush’s attribution overstated, as his citations rarely acknowledged earlier thinkers, Buckland embarked on a quest to uncover “the rest of the story.”

As a librarian, Buckland methodically scoured archives for overlooked pioneers. A critical essay by Robert Fairthorne proved pivotal, arguing that Bush’s Memex—a hypothetical microfilm-based device for information retrieval—was neither novel nor technically sound, relying on an unsuccessful optical device unrelated to computers or networks. Fairthorne highlighted a similar device developed in 1930 by Emanuel Goldberg, a Russian-Jewish engineer at Zeiss Ikon in Dresden, predating Bush’s work by 15 years. Intrigued, Buckland devoted over a decade to researching Goldberg’s life and innovations, culminating in his book, Emanuel Goldberg and His Knowledge Machine: Information, Invention, and Political Forces (2006).

Born in Moscow in 1881, Goldberg fled Russian antisemitism in 1904 for Germany, rising to prominence at Zeiss Ikon, a leading photographic firm. By 1927, he designed the Statistical Machine, a photoelectric microfilm selector for document retrieval, patented in the U.S. in 1931 (U.S. Patent 1,838,389). Misnamed for its potential to process business records, it was the first successful electronic document retrieval device, yet its significance went unrecognized. In 1933, Nazi persecution forced Goldberg’s resignation after a kidnapping; he escaped to Paris and, in 1937, settled in Palestine, where he founded a laboratory that spurred Israel’s high-tech industry. Through interviews with Goldberg’s family and colleagues, Buckland uncovered a career marked by resilience but disrupted by antisemitism. Bush, aware of Goldberg’s work, attempted to patent a similar Rapid Selector but was denied due to Goldberg’s prior patent. While Goldberg’s machine succeeded, Bush’s failed, and credit for such innovations often went to others.

Buckland’s recovery of Goldberg’s legacy, like his redefinition of documents, revealed a hidden lineage of information science. By spotlighting pioneers like Goldberg, whose document retrieval device prefigured modern systems, Buckland affirmed the expansive role of documents—whether objects or machines—as vital conduits of knowledge across time and contexts.

Technology as Affordance: Documents and Big Data in Context

Michael Buckland’s expansive vision of documents challenged techno-deterministic narratives that prioritize digital computers and networks, like the internet, while overlooking earlier technologies’ profound impacts on information science. Paper’s portability shaped library practices for centuries, while photography introduced the Photostat process around 1910, enabling affordable, accurate photocopying. Microfilm, adopted in the 1920s, offered compact storage, shrinking a 50-year newspaper run into a mailable reel with speed and accessibility rivaling later digital systems. Buckland, drawing parallels noted in the 1930s, advocated comparing paper, microfilm, and computing to understand their affordances, broadening the lens beyond digital myopia.

This comparative approach revealed libraries’ resilience in managing “big data” long before the digital age. Handling vast print and microfilm collections, libraries developed innovative retrieval techniques, such as those in Emanuel Goldberg’s 1930 Statistical Machine, a microfilm-based document selector. Buckland emphasized that technology must serve purpose, not dictate it. For nearly a century, from the late 1800s to the mid-20th century, the stable catalog card system blurred the distinction between means (cards) and ends (information access). Librarians, mistaking tools for tasks, resisted computers, a confusion persisting in today’s algorithmic spaces. Robert Fairthorne cautioned against automating outdated processes, likening it to designing a steam locomotive to run on legs, urging alignment with new technologies’ affordances. By viewing technologies as affordances, not destinies, Buckland illuminated documents’ roles in addressing “big data” challenges across historical and digital contexts, from paper catalogs to algorithms, as vital conduits of knowledge.

IR: From Finding “Needle in a Haystack” to “Pin Cushion of Potential Pins”

In a recent episode of InfoFire, I spoke with Stephen Robertson, a pioneer in Information Retrieval (IR), about the evolution of the field. We explored the development of competing IR models and the significance of the Cranfield experiments—widely regarded as a landmark moment that shifted the field away from traditional classification-based approaches toward what became the core of modern IR: text indexing, term weighting, and evaluation metrics such as recall and precision. We also delved into the complexities of modeling relevance in a noisy, subjective world, a challenge that continues to shape IR research today.

While exploring the foundations of Information Science, Michael Buckland offered a sharp critique of a prevalent tendency within the field: the belief that the quantitative precision and methodological rigor characteristic of Bibliometrics and Information Retrieval (IR) evaluation suffice to establish the field’s scientific credentials. Buckland argued that this belief is misguided. Though these methods may exhibit technical sophistication, they often rest on unexamined assumptions and lack the empirical grounding expected of the natural sciences. As such, he contended, they resemble engineering practices—or, in more critical terms, verge on pseudoscience. While undeniably useful for analyzing citation patterns or evaluating system performance, these approaches fall short of the empirical rigor and theoretical robustness that define disciplines like physics, thereby casting doubt on Information Science’s claims to scientific status.

This epistemological concern underpins Buckland’s broader reconceptualization of core concepts such as metadata and information retrieval. Traditionally, metadata is understood as descriptive data—information about a document’s title, author, subject, or date of publication. Buckland, however, proposed a more expansive and relational view. Drawing on the etymology of “meta” (from the Greek for “beyond”), he emphasized metadata’s role in linking documents to one another, establishing networks of relevance and context. A single document might be connected to others by shared authorship, topical overlap, or historical setting. Rather than being merely descriptive, metadata becomes a means of constructing intellectual relationships—contextual bridges that situate documents within a broader web of meaning.

Similarly, Buckland challenged the conventional metaphor of information retrieval as “finding a needle in a haystack.” Retrieval systems, he argued, do not deliver singular, correct answers. Instead, they offer a curated set of plausible documents—a “pincushion” of potential needles—from which users must choose based on their interpretive needs and situational judgments. This reframing shifts the focus from algorithmic exactness to what Buckland called “context engineering”: the creation of meaningful contexts in which documents can be evaluated, interpreted, and used. In this view, retrieval is not about locating isolated facts, but about shaping interpretive possibilities—less a search for certainty than a practice of constructing relevance.

This also aligns with his view that information is in the eye of the beholder—that what counts as information depends not solely on intrinsic properties, but on the context of use, the needs of the user, and the interpretive frameworks they bring to bear.

Libraries as Agents of Ideology and Cultural Engines

The roles of reading, books, and libraries have frequently been theorized through the lens of ideology, generating significant debate—especially in relation to the rise of free public library movements. 

Michael Buckland’s exploration of information science extended to the ideological foundations of libraries, as detailed in his book Ideology and Libraries in California, 1900–1960 (2020). Addressing the question “why bother,” Buckland argued that libraries are purposeful investments requiring talent, funding, and space, driven by values rather than neutrality. A robust science library reflects a commitment to scientific advancement; quality school and public libraries foster a knowledgeable, competent populace. Conversely, authoritarian regimes, as depicted in George Orwell’s 1984 or seen in historical book bans, suppress libraries to maintain control. In liberal democracies, expansive library services signal a dedication to open access and informed citizenship.

Buckland’s book examines these dynamics through three case studies. First, early 20th-century California’s progressive movement leveraged scientific management to establish free public libraries, actively shaping social progress in communities, a narrative underexplored in East Coast-centric American library history. Second, during the World Wars and Cold War, the U.S. and British Council strategically funded public libraries in Latin America and India to sway geopolitical allegiances, using libraries as neutral propaganda—rhetorical tools to promote democratic values. These efforts, like the American Library in Delhi, provided unparalleled access for students and journalists but waned post-Cold War. Third, post-World War II Japan, under U.S. occupation, saw initiatives to rebuild its dismal library infrastructure. Buckland engaged with pioneers, including a colleague who established Japan’s first college-level library school in 1951, introducing Western democratic library models to counter decades of militaristic control.

Libraries, Buckland argued, are cultural engagements actively shaped by ideological contexts, explaining differences across academic, public, and special libraries and national systems. This perspective aligns with his “information as thing,” where documents—curated by libraries—serve functional roles in cultural narratives. Like Emanuel Goldberg’s 1930 Statistical Machine, libraries engineer contexts, combating misinformation, a modern extension of propaganda, by fostering critical engagement with knowledge.

iSchools and Unbounded Scholarship: Search for a New Identity

The iSchools movement began in 1988 with the “Gang of Three”—Syracuse, Pittsburgh, and Drexel—formalizing as the iSchools Caucus by 2005, growing from library science roots to a global consortium of over 130 universities by 2025. Evolving from library and information science, iSchools now integrate computing, social sciences, and fields like data science and human-computer interaction, focusing on the interplay of information, technology, and people. This shift reflects a broader, methodologically agnostic approach, with programs expanding to include digital preservation, information policy, and user-centered design. Today,  iSchools represent an international community of over 130 university faculties having a shared interest in research and teaching about information.

Michael Buckland, recruited to transform Berkeley’s library school into a School of Information, viewed the rise of iSchools as inevitable in research universities, where every department must function as a think tank. At Berkeley’s rigorous academic environment, departments failing to produce cutting-edge scholarship risk closure. iSchools, balancing professional training with research, face pressure to teach practical skills but must also advance knowledge. Buckland, serving as dean (1976–1984) and later as a University of California library planning coordinator, engaged with this challenge during the pivotal late 1970s and early 1980s, when digital technologies began reshaping information systems. He advocated a two-stage approach: first, using digital tools to improve existing processes safely, then exploring their potential for innovative practices.

The iSchool movement, partly an elitist marketing strategy, addressed broader needs: managing library-like services beyond libraries, tackling censorship and education, and leveraging digital advancements. Buckland, while not involved in the iSchool Caucus, worried about their opportunistic tendencies and lack of strategic vision. Collaborating with Vivian Petras of Humboldt University, whose 2024 article on information science’s identity sparked widespread interest, he argued that iSchools must avoid disciplinary traps. University politics favor rigid disciplines, but information science thrives as an unbounded field, employing methodological versatility to address complex problems.He provided a detailed reflection on the challenges and strategic directions of iSchools:

At Berkeley, we adopted a functional approach to designing programs—combining areas like records management, archives, and museum curation to achieve economies of scope. By sharing common courses where appropriate and offering specialized ones where needed, we created a more cost-effective and pedagogically coherent structure.

Another approach, often unspoken, is hiring “great minds” in hopes of building a strong department. While attractive in theory, this can lead to what I call “expensive, extinct volcanoes”—brilliant but outdated faculty unable to cover essential curriculum, resulting in programmatic failure.

A third model is the intersectional approach, popular in areas like user studies, UX, and informatics. It focuses on the convergence of the social and technical—something iSchools often champion. While important, this lens is too narrow and not unique to LIS; nearly every discipline now engages with technology in some form.

Then there’s the concentration model, where schools narrow their scope, either by doubling down on core strengths—like becoming the premier school for librarianship—or retreating from overextended ambitions. It’s a valid, though often reactive, strategy.

A more troubling tendency is reliance on the “self-evident good”—the belief that librarianship’s value is obvious and doesn’t need justification. While comforting, this mindset doesn’t hold up in discussions with budget officers or university administrators.

Looking ahead, I remain cautiously optimistic. The challenges we tackle in LIS are too important and too compelling to ignore. But our survival depends on choosing to confront significant, not trivial, problems—and doing so with intellectual rigor and elegance. We must also remember our roots in organization and access, which are increasingly overlooked in today’s iSchool discourse.

Epilogue

In 1981, I studied under Anthony Debons at the International Graduate Summer School in Aberystwyth, UK, engaging with his Information Science: Search for an Identity (1974) and course “Foundations of Information Science.” This experience shaped my understanding of the field’s interdisciplinary challenges. While recruiting graduate students for my Vidyanidhi Digital Library project, I encountered a mismatch in perspectives, knowledge, and skills—neither LIS nor computer science graduates fully met the project’s needs. Recognizing this gap as an opportunity, I launched a new program and founded the International School of Information Management—India’s first iSchool—in 2005. Though it closed in 2015 due to the absence of a sustainable model, the experience gave me a deep understanding of both the promise and the perils of pioneering. In 2022, following the rise of data science, I examined its integration into iSchool programs and found that it represents a significant new phase in the evolution of iSchools.

Conversing with Michael Buckland decades later felt like a cyclical reconnection to these foundational questions. Debons explored information science’s identity amid competing definitions; Buckland extended this quest, critiquing “information” as ambiguous and championing document theory. Our dialogue, spanning documents, libraries, and iSchools, reaffirmed the need for clarity in defining the field’s focus. This conversation highlighted information science’s ongoing evolution, a journey this article seeks to advance through Buckland’s transformative insights.