Why We Built OALWorld -By Thomas René Løvenvilje  

My interest in family history did not begin as a project.

It began, as I believe it does for many people, at a moment when family suddenly felt different.

When my wife became pregnant, I was no longer in my early twenties.
I was over forty.
And the meaning of family had changed.

Twenty years earlier, when I had my first daughter, life was about momentum — not continuity.
Now, standing in a different place in life, the idea of family carried a deeper weight.
Not just who we are — but where we come from, and what we pass on.

That curiosity felt natural.
So I followed the path many others take.

The classic entry — and the classic mistake

I took a DNA test.

Shortly after, I was offered a heavily discounted one-year subscription to a genealogy platform.
The marketing promised simplicity:
Just enter the family you know — the rest will come to you.

And at first, it seemed true.

Smart Matches appeared almost instantly.
"Instant Discoveries" connected me to great-grandparents on my mother's side and to my paternal grandmother's line.
With a single click, fifteen new relatives could be added to the tree.

Genealogy became something I could return to during parental leave.
The tree grew quickly.

When it started to feel too good to be true

Some of those branches led into noble lineages.

Old aristocratic families.
Eventually, even medieval kings.

I was skeptical — but I mentioned it casually to my mother, almost jokingly.
She wasn't surprised.

My grandmother on my farthers side had done genealogy long before digital platforms existed.
Manually.
With church records and archives.

She had often spoken about "blue blood" in the family.

So I assumed I had simply connected into those same lines.
On my father's side, it seemed plausible.

But then similar noble lines began appearing on my mother's side.
And they kept going further back.

Some reached Viking kings.
Others went all the way to biblical figures — Adam and Eve included.

That was the moment I stopped.

When curiosity turns into doubt

I knew enough history to understand how intermarried the nobility was.
It's not unusual for noble lines to cross repeatedly.

But the sheer number of separate branches leading into aristocracy felt wrong.

So I began looking more closely.

I joined genealogy groups.
Read discussion threads.
Looked for others who had experienced the same thing.

It wasn't hard to find.

Across forums, languages, and countries, the pattern repeated itself.

What the research revealed

I began checking key ancestors from the 1500s and 1600s — the points where these noble lines supposedly connected.

Problems surfaced quickly.

No sources explaining why this "Maren" was the correct Maren.
Generations living on opposite ends of the country.
Assumptions built on name repetition.

In some cases, the logic went like this:

This woman must be the correct ancestor because she named her child Erik —
and Erik happened to be the name of a nobleman several generations earlier.

Pure speculation.

The deeper I looked, the more inconsistencies appeared.

Eventually, I had to face the uncomfortable truth:
the tree had become so unreliable that it could not be repaired.

If I wanted even minimal confidence in my family history, I would have to start over entirely.

The real wake-up call

What struck me most was not the errors themselves.

It was the absence of honesty.

At no point had I encountered a clear disclaimer explaining that using these "smart features" — the very tools used to sell the subscription — could result in a family tree that could not be trusted.

I began asking myself a simple question:

Am I the only one who ended up here?

The answer was clear.

This was a well-known problem.
Documented across countless forums.
In multiple languages.
In virtually every European genealogy community.

And yet, the platforms continued as if nothing was wrong.

That realization became the starting point for everything that followed.

When the sources revealed a second truth

When I began working directly with historical sources, another realization surfaced — one that was just as important.

I discovered how difficult traditional genealogy actually is.

I struggled to read Gothic handwriting.
Even after individual words were deciphered, meaning often had to be interpreted.
Context mattered. Language mattered. Assumptions were dangerous.

And slowly, something became clear to me.

What I had been doing before was not really research.
It was, more honestly, a search for plausible relatives.

The difference between searching and researching

At first, the digital side of genealogy felt inviting.

Searching.
Matching.
Adding new relatives.

It was something I could engage with casually.
Comfortably.
Without deep technical skill.

But as I encountered original sources, archives, and handwritten records, my motivation changed.

I did not find the traditional research process particularly engaging.
Deciphering scripts, navigating archives, interpreting old language — it felt slow, difficult, and demotivating.

And yet, my family history itself fascinated me deeply.

Not just the grand narratives —
but where my family came from,
what my ancestors did for a living,
and how their lives actually unfolded.

When real research created real meaning

Occasionally, I encountered something entirely different.

A match created by someone who had done genuine, careful research.

One ancestor, for example, had served as a judge in witch trials.
But the researcher had studied the court records so thoroughly that a nuanced story emerged —
how the man gradually developed doubts,
how he began defending the accused rather than condemning them.

In another case, a well-documented theory followed the life of a farmhand.

He was quickly married to a maid after an unexpected pregnancy.
The landowner stood as godfather.
Paid for the wedding.
Shortly afterward, the farmhand became bailiff on the estate.

The researcher's theory — carefully argued — was that the landowner's son was likely the real father of the child.
They even hoped that DNA evidence might one day confirm it.

When I encountered work like this, I felt genuinely enriched.
Connected.
Rooted.

This was not data.
This was family history with depth.

Realizing I was a different kind of user

It was in this phase that I understood something fundamental:

I was not a traditional genealogist.

I respected the craft deeply —
but I did not enjoy practicing it myself.

The painstaking work with handwriting, archives, and interpretation felt overwhelming and time-consuming.
Yet my interest in my family's history was profound.

That realization led me to define a category I had not seen acknowledged anywhere before:

The family-history–interested user.

A person deeply invested in their heritage —
but not in the traditional research methods.

A dangerous gap no platform addresses

This was when another uncomfortable truth emerged.

Platforms had not been designed to distinguish between these two user types.

The result?

People like me — well-intentioned, curious, and motivated — were unknowingly contributing to massive error propagation.

Not out of carelessness.
Not out of disregard for accuracy.
But because the systems actively encouraged it.

Matches looked verified.
Discoveries felt authoritative.
Warnings were absent.

When frustration turns into abandonment

As I explored genealogy forums and communities, I noticed a recurring pattern.

Experienced genealogists were frustrated.
Angry about errors spreading uncontrollably.
Often directing their criticism toward "careless users".

But those users rarely saw themselves that way.

Most discovered — sooner or later — that something was fundamentally wrong.
That they could not trust what they had built.

And instead of untangling a deeply flawed tree, they simply walked away.

They left their trees behind.
Public.
Unmaintained.
Still spreading errors.

That, at least, was the story I heard again and again from almost everyone I spoke to.

The missing distinction that changes everything

What struck me most was this:

No one had given this user group a name.
No one had designed a system to protect them — or genealogists — from each other.

Yet they represented a massive portion of platform users.

Not indifferent.
Not reckless.
Simply misaligned with the tools they were given.

Understanding this divide changed everything.

Because it revealed that the problem was not bad users —
it was bad system design.

Why this insight mattered

This realization became one of the core foundations of OALWorld.

Because preservation cannot succeed if:

• different user motivations are treated as identical

• interest is mistaken for expertise

• and systems reward speed over accuracy

Family history deserves better — for everyone involved.

When the numbers didn't add up

Around this time — during the pandemic — the platform I was using publicly stated that it had 112 million users worldwide.
In the years since, that number has fluctuated between roughly 90 and 112 million.

At the same time, something else caught my attention.

The people who were active in genealogy forums, Facebook groups, and associations were almost always the same kind of users:
traditional genealogists.

They were the ones joining associations.
The ones attending events.
The ones debating sources, methods, and standards.

Occasionally, someone like me would appear in these spaces — asking for help.

And what they usually wanted help with was simple:
confirmation.
reassurance.
or help doing the research.

But the answers they received were almost always methodological:

• "Here is how you find the church records."

• "Here is how you check the sources."

• "Here is how you verify it yourself."

The gap between what was asked for and what was offered was striking.

A question I couldn't ignore

That led me to a simple question:

How large is the group of traditional genealogists — really?

And more importantly:
How large is it compared to the total user base these platforms claim?

To find out, I began looking systematically.

Looking beyond one country

I didn't limit this exploration to a single country.

I searched genealogy communities across multiple regions — and, as far as it was practically possible, across all 27 EU countries.

I am fully aware that Europe does not represent the entire world.
North America, Australia, and other regions are not fully captured in national associations or local forums.

However, these regions are to a large extent represented through:

• large international Facebook groups

• English-language genealogy forums

• and cross-border online communities

Which makes the picture broadly comparable.

I examined:

• Facebook groups

• independent online forums

• national genealogy associations

The pattern was consistent everywhere.

When I began adding up membership numbers — even without removing overlap between groups — the result was striking.

Even under the most generous assumptions, the total number of active, organized genealogists represented only a tiny fraction of the user numbers publicly stated by genealogy platforms at the time.

And even if those numbers were multiplied many times over, they would still fall dramatically short.

Something was clearly wrong.

Talking to genealogists directly

I didn't stop there.

I began asking genealogists how many people in their families actively helped with genealogy work.

The answer was almost always the same:
none.

I attended genealogy-related events.
Spoke with researchers in person.
Asked about their families, their motivation, and their support.

Time and again, I encountered the same reality:

The genealogist usually stands alone.

A small offline test

To test my assumptions further, I decided to ask people outside online genealogy communities.

I spoke with 130 individuals who had previously created profiles on genealogy platforms.

I asked them one simple question:

How would you describe yourself as a user?

The result was striking.

• 124 out of 130 identified as family-history–interested users

• Only 6 considered themselves traditional genealogists

Four of those six, it should be noted, happened to be guests staying in my Airbnb at the time —
they were in Silkeborg specifically because of genealogy research.

Had I not asked them, the split would have been even more extreme.

But even taking the real numbers as they were, the conclusion was unavoidable.

The imbalance no one talks about

At this point, the picture was clear.

Platforms were overwhelmingly used by people who were not traditional genealogists —
yet almost everything about their design was built for that minority.

And as someone who naturally looks for opportunities to improve systems, I began noticing something else.

When optimization meets reality

While using these platforms, I constantly saw potential improvements.

But the more I looked, the clearer it became:

Every major genealogy platform was fundamentally optimized for the source-critical genealogist —
despite that group representing only a tiny fraction of the actual users.

The needs, motivations, and limitations of the majority were largely ignored.

That was the moment the concept began to form.

Not as an idea for a product —
but as a response to a structural imbalance that had been hiding in plain sight.

Why this mattered

Because if:

• most users are not researchers

• most families rely on one person

• and platforms amplify errors instead of containing them

Then preservation, accuracy, and family engagement are all bound to fail.

Understanding this imbalance wasn't just informative.

It made the existing system impossible to accept.

And it made the need for something fundamentally different unavoidable.

What the research made impossible to ignore

After spending countless hours in genealogy forums and Facebook groups, speaking with users outside the online communities — who largely represented my own user type — and through my own extensive use of multiple genealogy platforms, a clear picture emerged.

The issues were not isolated.
They were structural.

1. Two fundamentally different user types — treated as one

No major genealogy platform formally acknowledges that there are two fundamentally different user types.

• The source-critical genealogist, trained in method, interpretation, and documentation.

• The family-history–interested user, motivated by stories, identity, and connection — not research craft.

These two groups require very different user experiences to be satisfied.

Yet they are placed in the same system, given the same tools, and the same rights.

2. Platforms are designed for a tiny minority

Despite representing only 1–5% of the user base, platforms are almost entirely designed around the needs and workflows of traditional genealogists.

The remaining 95–99% are expected to navigate the same systems — without the skills, time, or motivation required to do so responsibly.

3. Error propagation is not accidental — it is designed

The vast majority of users build family trees primarily through:

• Smart Matches

• Instant Discoveries

• Automated hints

They are not source-critical — yet they are given the same ability to create, modify, and distribute data that feeds into matching systems.

As a result, unreliable data spreads exponentially.

4. Only a small fraction of data should be matchable

In reality, only the 1–5% of users who practice source-critical research produce data that should reasonably be used for matches.

Yet platforms make no meaningful distinction between verified and speculative data.

5. The first endgame: user exhaustion

For the majority of users, a predictable pattern emerges.

After 1–2 years, they hit a wall:

• Smart matches run out

• Or the number of discovered errors becomes overwhelming

At that point, there is nothing meaningful left to do on the platform.

What remains feels like an expensive storage solution — often locked behind a paywall once the subscription expires.

6. The second endgame: researcher alienation

For traditional genealogists, the endgame is different — but equally problematic.

In theory, they should be lifelong customers.

In practice:

• Matches cannot be trusted

• Carefully researched work is diluted by low-quality data

• Their contributions are treated without sufficient respect

7. The uncomfortable economic truth

There is a quiet but growing awareness among genealogists of an underlying unfairness.

Online genealogy has become a billion-dollar industry — and its core asset is connected family lines.

DNA tests may generate revenue, but without documented lineage, a DNA match has little meaning.

In effect, the source-critical genealogist is both customer and commodity.

Their work fuels the platform's value —
yet they receive no meaningful recognition, control, or compensation.

8. A business model that discourages quality

The platform's primary product is connections between ancestors.

Restricting matches to verified data would dramatically reduce:

• the number of available lineage paths

• and therefore the platform's commercial appeal

Quality control directly conflicts with the existing business model.

9. Retention by discount, not value

When users reach the endgame and leave, platforms respond not with structural change — but with aggressive retention tactics.

Phone calls.
Automated emails.
Deep discounts.

In Europe, it is widely known that one should never renew a subscription at full price — waiting can result in discounts of up to 80%.

This alone signals a deeper value problem.

10. Single-user platforms for family history

Despite working with family history, most platforms are designed for individual users.

They do not meaningfully support:

• family collaboration

• shared ownership

• intergenerational engagement

11. The genealogist stands alone

In most families, one person carries the entire research effort.

They lack tools to:

• involve relatives

• distribute responsibility

• or share history in a way that feels relevant to everyday family life

12. The fear of losing a lifetime of work

Among genealogists, a recurring concern appears again and again:

What happens to my work when I am no longer here?

There are few guarantees.
Little protection.
And no clear system for responsible stewardship.

13. Willingness to pay — but not alone

The majority of users are willing to pay for verified ancestry.

They understand the value of correct data.

But they also understand that:

• a lifetime of research

• at modern wage levels

• across multiple family branches

is far beyond what most individuals can afford alone.

14. A vast adjacent market is left untouched

I discovered a significant adjacent market that exists outside the genealogy platforms —
and is almost entirely ignored by them.

Services, tools, and needs related to:

• legacy preservation

• family storytelling

• heirlooms, traditions, and rituals

• video, voice, and lived memory

These needs exist regardless of whether a user is a genealogist —
yet platforms do nothing to integrate or support them.

15. No focus on preserving the present

No major platform meaningfully supports the preservation of contemporary family history.

Family history is treated exclusively as something to be reconstructed from fragments of the past —
never as something that is actively created in the present.

As a result, the cycle continues:
history is always something families look back for —
never something they consciously preserve forward.

16. Stories are the key — yet platforms ignore storytelling

Again and again, I observed that stories are what spark interest.

Not charts.
Not dates.
Not matches.

Yet platforms offer almost no meaningful tools to:

• surface particularly important stories

• help genealogists communicate their findings

• or make family history engaging for the rest of the family

The researcher is left alone to translate data into meaning —
with no support from the system itself.

17. No system for correcting serious errors

Even when platforms are made aware that severe errors are spreading through their match systems,
there is no visible, structured process for correction.

No escalation paths.
No accountability.
No independent review.

Errors remain — and continue to propagate.

18. No investment in the future of genealogy itself

Despite depending entirely on high-quality research, platforms do little to:

• support local genealogy associations

• collaborate with research communities

• or help educate the next generation of source-critical genealogists

There is no visible effort to strengthen the very foundation the industry relies on.

19. A growing concern about ownership and data ethics

Particularly among American users, a recurring concern surfaced.

Most large genealogy platforms are owned by major investment funds —
the same funds that often hold stakes in:

• insurance companies

• pharmaceutical firms

• hospitals and healthcare providers

This creates unease.

The idea that large-scale family structures, combined with DNA data,
could reveal patterns that affect insurability or medical profiling
raises ethical questions many users feel powerless to address.

Even when data separation is promised, trust is fragile —
especially when ownership structures overlap so extensively.

20. The final and defining problem

And this leads to the twentieth problem — the one that ties all the others together:

No platform takes responsibility for the long-term stewardship of family history

Not responsibility in a technical sense.
But responsibility in a human, ethical, and generational sense.

No one asks:

• Who safeguards this work when the researcher is gone?

• Who ensures accuracy over decades, not subscriptions?

• Who protects both data quality and family meaning?

Platforms optimize for:

• growth

• engagement

• and short-term retention

But family history operates on a multi-generational timescale.

Without a steward, history fragments.
Without responsibility, trust erodes.
Without trust, everything collapses.

Why this mattered more than any single feature

At this point, it was no longer possible to see genealogy platforms as neutral tools.

They had become:

• custodians of enormous cultural value

• without the structures, incentives, or ethics required to carry that responsibility

And that, more than any individual flaw, made it clear:

Something fundamentally different had to exist.

The unavoidable conclusion

These problems are not accidents.

They are the natural outcome of platforms built around:

• the wrong incentives

• the wrong assumptions

• and a refusal to distinguish between fundamentally different users

At this point, the question was no longer whether something should change.

It was whether anyone was willing to take responsibility for changing it.

From problems to principles

These twenty challenges formed the foundation of the OALWorld concept.

They led to a clear set of requirements:

1. Separate the two user types — with distinct roles, rights, and user experiences — and build a meaningful bridge between them.

2. Create a family-first platform, designed to communicate history to the entire family, and to act as a natural place for preservation and generational transfer.

3. Limit matches to source-critical research only, protecting data quality at its root.

4. Introduce a cashback model, allowing genealogists to earn from sharing verified work.

5. Make it easy for family-history–interested users to receive professional help — without pretending to be researchers themselves.

6. Enable collaborative crowdfunding, allowing users with shared ancestors to fund further research together.

7. Allow users to hire genealogists to verify their own work, with clear roles and boundaries.

8. Make verified research economically viable, by assigning earning rights to the paying party — turning research into a potential long-term asset rather than a sunk cost.

9. Build direct bridges to local genealogy associations, so families can quickly get proper guidance.

10. Support genealogy associations financially and structurally, helping recruit and sustain the next generation of source-critical genealogists.

11. Balance past, present, and future equally — not privileging reconstruction over preservation.

12. Automatically surface the most meaningful stories in the family tree, not just the largest ones.

13. Design the family space as part of everyday life, engaging at least three generations simultaneously — because history only survives where families return regularly.

14. Accept that errors are inevitable, and build a structured, multi-layered correction system — never allowing silent edits to verified work.

15. Ensure long-term stewardship, so a genealogist's work is protected and respected even after they are no longer here.

16. Avoid extractive ownership structures, prioritizing private and user-based financing over venture-driven growth.

17. Begin with preserving the near and living history, making the platform relevant immediately — and building deeper genealogy on top of that foundation.

Why OALWorld exists

These requirements were not theoretical.

They emerged from lived experience, observation, and years of research across platforms, communities, and families.

Once the full picture became clear, there was no meaningful way to continue using existing systems —
and no responsible way to ignore what they failed to address.

So we built OALWorld.

Not as another genealogy platform.
But as a family platform where genealogy belongs.

A place where:

• family history is preserved as it happens

• verified research is respected and protected

• stories live alongside everyday life

• and responsibility extends beyond subscriptions and lifetimes

Today, OALWorld exists as an early version of that vision.

A family space designed to preserve history across generations —
starting with what families still remember,
and extending carefully into what must be researched.

The work is far from finished.

But for the first time, the problems that shaped this industry have been taken seriously —
and addressed as a whole.