There is fear among a growing number of job-seeking and precariously employed researchers who have switched their social media accounts to private. Maybe it’s not an entirely unfounded fear. But few have acknowledged him as famously as the nickname “Ivan Tribble” in an essay for the Chronicle of Higher Education in 2005. “Several committee members expressed concern that a blogger who joined our staff might air dirty laundry. department (real or imagined) on the cyber clothesline for the world to see. Past good behavior is no guarantee against future lapses in professional decorum,” he wrote.
A classic “kids these days” rant, the very act of living publicly in a connected age was apparently reason to ditch a promising academic career early on. Without evidence to the contrary, I think we have to assume that Tribble’s victim was real.
Fast forward a generation. The social media landscape has evolved. Few people still have blogs, but many others are tweeting, #LivingTheirBestLife, and posting videos of themselves trying out the latest dance trends as a break between writing sessions or simply to connect with people who share their passions. theirs.
Tribble ultimately lost the debate about social media in academic life. Soon after his essay was published, blogs became so central to “outreach” strategies (especially in the humanities) that they were included in almost every major grant proposal as a way to reach a wider audience. Some, including the Network on Canadian History and Environment and Active History are still going strong more than a decade later.
Not even the departments succeeded in keeping their dirty laundry off the grid, and thank God. A social media-led campaign in 2020 saw famous TV historian David Starkey resign his fellowship of the Royal Historical Society after making deeply disturbing comments in a video interview about #BlackLivesMatter and the transatlantic trade of slaves.
Meanwhile, this year at Oxford University, a pair of humanities academics accused of long-term sexual harassment had their access to students revoked after drawing international headlines and a subsequent social media campaign. An extension of the fourth position, social media is now playing an important role worldwide in helping academics keep their houses in order, whether Tribble likes it or not.
Sanitized versions of ourselves
Still, many researchers continue to follow Tribble’s advice by making their accounts private, at least when they’re on the job market. Even those with fairly benign profiles worry that they might not be platformed, canceled or pinned or woken up too much or not woken up enough by a panel of strangers for a silly photo, a frustrated insult or a political rehash. It is most noticeable during the hiring season when people are waiting for the results of their applications. Quietly and unceremoniously, the little lock emoji appears next to the username. Tweets are now private. No one asks why, but we silently wish them success with the application.
What remains public is the sanitized version of itself; one carefully crafted for the research committee outlining our teaching philosophy and research plans. The stakes are understandably high, and so shutting down Twitter seems like a reasonable precaution. It’s probably no different than adding a beauty filter to our Instagram selfie before sharing it with friends, or asking someone to help us choose photos for our dating profile.
The strategy will likely not work, mind you. At least not long term. If you’ve done or said something really awful, they’ll find out eventually. Even if you’re not a monster, if your field is small enough and your reputation precedes you, then you may already have search committee members among your social media followers who already consider you a professional contact. They may have been getting to know you online for months, even before they had a job to advertise. If so, they may still be able to see your closed posts even when they consider your app, either through deliberate search or passively as part of their daily scrolling of their social media feed. We are all now, at least a little, public.
More worrying is what social media tapping represents. If Tribble is combing through your Tweets and Instagram photos looking for a reason not to hire you, he’s already waving the red flag of a toxic workplace. Tracking won’t stop once you start working. Academic posts are long-term relationships, often lasting as long as a typical marriage, and one that starts off on the wrong foot is unlikely to be a happy one. Tribble doesn’t deserve you and you don’t deserve what his workplace beliefs will do to your mental health.
Research shows that fears are justified and that employment processes remain deeply flawed. We know that in the West, people with European names are more likely to get job interviews in general. We know that some people are racist, sexist or ableist, including within universities, and sometimes they are on interview panels despite best efforts to ensure fairness.
We know that our social media profiles may reveal details about our race, gender or disabilities, whether or not we have children, or participate in local politics. All this information, in the wrong hands, can be quietly used to justify bypassing our application in favor of someone who will be a “better fit”. Even automated attempts to avoid these biases using machine learning have only reinforced the racism or sexism they sought to resolve.
Social media as an advantage
There are certainly good reasons that people may want privacy and may not want to share their social media with the world. But for those who live publicly most of the year and shut it down during hiring season, how can universities make applicants feel confident enough to be themselves?
Here, Tribble’s swearing failure provides the solution. Just as blogging moved from a hazard to an asset for universities, so too can social networking become an asset to an applicant if we let it.
Social media has long been a space where academics passionately discuss and debate how the university sector can do better – for staff, students and the communities they serve. This is not a new phenomenon. In the early days of the scholarly blog, a Canadian historian working precariously in the United States, anonymously, gave her heart. Titled The Invisible Help, between 2003 and 2004, it offered a wordy, raw portrayal of what it felt like to teach while on an insecure contract. The content is extremely personal and emotional: “The black dog of depression is snarling at my feet and I’m desperately trying to get rid of it with whatever means I can find.”
Her anonymity, which was common for early career bloggers at the time, may have been a shield from professional repercussions. But blogs like this were important examples of communities of scholars challenging higher education to do better, and of scholars using writing as a form of self-care. As mental health awareness has risen up the agenda over the past generation, it is time for universities to step up and recognize and celebrate this form of public writing that is both cathartic and community-building.
Also, it’s time we recognized the valuable skills of the savvy social media researcher. In 2004, blogging was unusual. But most of today’s applicants have grown up online, and in doing so have learned incredibly important skills that prove their readiness for academic work.
From effective presentation, to creativity, to social activism, these future communicators are already equipped with the skills to engage with diverse audiences. They possess the very talents that many of us take professional development courses to try to learn. Scholars like Jessie Loyer are breaking ground on TikTok by helping its thousands of followers better understand the complexity of indigenous knowledge in the Western-centric library systems of our universities. Meanwhile Shina Novalinga and her mother share their Inuit culture and throat singing with millions on the same platform, contributing to extraordinary opportunities for cultural exchange that did not exist a generation ago.
Many more are reaching across cultures and space to find communities of interest in the same issues that matter to them, making an impact like never before. They are collaborating, building networks, sharing passion and doing everything we would expect from a colleague and academic in the digital age. It’s time to celebrate them for it, the time we loved them and followed them for more – and made it clear that the scholarship is a public endeavor and we’re looking for the next set of leaders.
Adam Crymble is a lecturer in digital humanities at University College London. his book, Technology and the Historian focuses on how historical professions have evolved and adapted to the information age.
