Some people are confused.
Some people are confused.
Annie Thorn is a sophomore history major from Kalamazoo, Michigan and our intern here at The Way of Improvement Leads Home. As part of her internship she is writing a weekly column titled “Out of the Zoo.” It focuses on life as a history major at a small liberal arts college. In this dispatch, Annie challenges us to take war seriously. -JF
About a month and a half ago, after President Trump ordered the assassination of Iranian general Qasem Soleimani and the Iranian government promised retribution, the internet briefly exploded with fears of a third world war. I remember opening twitter on my computer to see that “#WorldWar3” was trending worldwide. American teenagers were the primary culprits of the trend, for they (in true Generation Z fashion) took to social media to express angst about their “impending doom.” They posted memes comparing Soleimani to Franz Ferdinand, and filmed tik-tok videos joking about how they and their peers would respond to a draft. It took me a few minutes of Google searching to be assured that the possibility of a third world war was rather unlikely; yet I was struck by how quickly young people like me turned to social media to craft fears of World War III into a budding internet trend. It was curious to me that my peers could so easily make light of an escalating national crisis, even one with a potentially devastating outcome.
This semester at Messiah College I’m taking a class on Europe in the twentieth century. Over the past week we’ve been reading All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Maria Remarque, a fictional story which details the experience of a World War I soldier through the eyes of its twenty-year-old narrator Paul Bäumer. Not much older than most culprits of the “#WorldWar3” social media trend, Paul witnesses the gruesome tragedies of war first-hand as a volunteer in the German army.
In one chapter Paul describes a man crying out from no-man’s land for days on end, never to be found despite several search parties. In another chapter Paul stabs a Frenchman who falls into his shell-hole. He is unable to escape his hiding place in the daylight and is thus forced to watch him die a slow, agonizing death. Later still, Paul gets injured and makes his way to hospital nearby, where men with amputated limbs, tetanus, lung wounds, abdominal injuries, and a host of other atrocities are carted off to the “death room.” They never return. Paul and his comrades hearts’ are quickly hardened by the horrors of war—poisonous gas, trench rats, exploding shells and meaningless death after meaningless death.
Did teenagers growing up in 20th-century Europe joke about World War I? Did they make light of international crisis by laughing about it with their friends? They didn’t have twitter or tik-tok, but did they too cope with wisecracks about their impending doom? There are several instances of humor woven throughout All Quiet on the Western Front, but for the most part the book reminds us that war is no laughing matter. It reminds us that World War I brought fear, death, and destruction on a scale wider than anyone expected. What went through the minds of nineteen-year-old boys when they volunteered for the war, or were drafted? Did they laugh? Were they hopeful, or were they just plain terrified?
I don’t have answers to any of these questions, nor do I quite know how to reconcile my peers’ naive response to threats of world war with the actual experiences of young men and women whose lives were turned upside-down by global conflict just over a hundred years ago. But comparing the two certainly helps put things in perspective.
…few think that the acquittal of President Trump is a triumph for the Constitution. Instead, it reveals a different, disturbing lesson, about how the American political system—and the Constitution itself—might be fundamentally flawed.
Since the writing of the Constitution, three developments have substantially altered the effectiveness of impeachment as a check on presidential misconduct.
See how he develops these points here.
Over at the Pedagogy & American Literary Studies blog, Clay Zuba, a high school English teacher in Phoenix, shares an assignment he gives his students asking them to use social media to communicate 18th-century texts to 21st century readers.
Here is the assignment:
Do you ever wonder what the literature of the American revolution might look like if it was distributed through chats and memes????
If so, then you are lucky. This project asks you to convert a passage of revolutionary writing into a style and format (text, video, meme, or maybe something I don’t even know about) that would persuade your peers, and which they would be enthusiastic to read or watch.
Choose a passage from the selections by Thomas Paine, Patrick Henry, Benjamin Franklin, Red Jacket, or Abigail Adams that we have read this semester. Then, in groups of 2 students, you’ll work together to accomplish the following:
Read more here.
Here is one example of what his students produced:
The Conference on Faith and History is seeking a Social Media Coordinator.
The Social Media Coordinator will work with CFH’s secretaries to communicate to the membership, expand the conference’s social media presence, and empower the CFH’s member historians to communicate more effectively to a broader public.
To do so, the Social Media Coordinator will be in charge of the CFH website, Facebook feed, Twitter feed, and monthly newsletter. The CFH would request development of additional social media activity, such as on Instagram and via podcasts and digital video. The expectation would be at least two impressions weekly.
The Social Media Coordinator would need competencies in website design and function, Search Engine Optimization, Social Media Marketing, and emerging digital skills.
The Social Media Coordinator position is a year-round position. Annual remuneration is $3,000.
Although open to all CFH members, this position may be of special interest to advanced graduate students and early career academics.
If interested, or if you have questions, please email firstname.lastname@example.org.
Jordan Taylor, a history professor at Smith College, writes, “Our familiar challenges with verification, fake news, irresponsible sharing, and partisan media would have been familiar to those who lived through the tumultuous 1790s.” She adds, “spend an hour with the newspapers of the 1790s and it will be easy to spot their similarities with our present media landscape.”
Read his entire piece here.
Fact-checking website Snopes linked the network to Kelly Monroe Kullberg, the founder and president of The America Conservancy, whose aims, as Kullberg has described online, are “advancing Biblical wisdom as the highest love for people and for culture.” All 24 Facebook pages had financial ties to Kullberg directly or organizations she helps lead.
Posts on the network decry “Islamist Privilege and Sharia Supremacy” and claim that Islam is “not a religion”; that Islam promotes rape, murder and deception; that Muslims hate Christians and Jews; that Muslims have an agenda to “spread Sharia law and Islam through migration and reproduction”; and that resettling Muslim refugees is “cultural destruction and subjugation.”
The tactics seem to mirror the playbook of Russian troll farms, with page titles purporting to originate with diverse demographic groups like “Blacks for Trump,” “Catholics for Trump,” “Teachers for Trump” and “Seniors for America.”
Snopes found that Kullberg and her associates’ agenda appeared, at least in part, to be working to re-elect President Donald Trump in 2020. The “astroturfing” campaign — referring to efforts made to look as if they come from legitimate grassroots supporters — was at least in part funded by right-wing political donors, including a prominent GOP donor who served as a fundraiser and campaign board member for 2016 presidential candidate Ben Carson.
I was happy to contribute to the Khan’s report:
“If you would have told me about this investigation 20 years ago I would have been very surprised,” said John Fea, a professor of American history at Messiah College and author of the book “Believe Me: The Evangelical Road to Donald Trump.” But given Kullberg’s more recent politics, he said, it’s hardly shocking.
Once a mainstream evangelical Christian figure, Kullberg is the founder of the The Veritas Forum, a prominent non-profit organization that partners with Christian college students to host discussions on campus about faith. The discussions attract non-evangelical, non-Christian and secular speakers as well as leading mainstream evangelical voices.
Her 1996 book “Finding God at Harvard: Spiritual Journeys of Thinking Christians” topped bestseller lists. Now based in Columbus, Ohio, she has served as a chaplain to the Harvard Graduate School Christian Fellowship and spent time as a missionary in Russia and several Latin American countries.
Most recently, Kullberg appears to have shifted further right politically, taking what Fea described as a “pro-Trump, Christian Right, culture war posture” laced with anti-social justice rhetoric. The American Association of Evangelicals, for which Kullberg is the founder and spokeswoman, is “essentially a Christian Right organization whose supporters read like a list of evangelical leaders who have thrown their support behind Donald Trump as a savior of the country and the church,” he said.
“She seems obsessed with the influence of George Soros on progressive evangelicals and believes that social justice warriors have hijacked the Gospel,” Fea noted.
Read the entire piece here.
While running the Veritas Forum, Kullberg worked with Christian speakers such as Francis Collins, Robert George, Os Guinness, Tim Keller, Peter Kreeft, Madeleine L’Engle, George Marsden, Frederica Mathewes-Green, Alister McGrath, Richard John Neuhaus, Alvin Plantinga, John Polkinghorne, Dallas Willard, Lauren Winner, Nicholas Wolterstorff, and N.T. Wright. She put some of these speakers into dialogue with the likes of Anthony Flew, Christopher Hitchens, Nicholas Kristof, Steven Pinker, and Peter Singer.
In her new role with the “The American Association of Evangelicals” she works with court evangelicals and pro-Trump evangelicals such as Eric Metaxas, James Garlow, Everett Piper, Tim Wildmon, Wayne Grudem, Steve Strang, David Barton, and Lance Wallnau (the Trump prayer coin guy).
The divisions in American evangelicalism are widening. The American Association of Evangelicals (AAE) is now the conservative, Christian Right alternative to The National Association of Evangelicals (NAE). Here is how it understands its relationship to the NAE:
Kullberg is also a leader with Evangelicals for Biblical Immigration (EBI) a more conservative evangelical immigration group that appears to be an alternative to the Evangelical Immigration Table (EIT). While the EBI includes many of the culture warriors I mentioned above, the EIT includes people like Leith Anderson (President of the NAE), Shirley Hoogstra (President of the Council for Christian Colleges & Universities), and Russell Moore (President of the Southern Baptist Ethics and Religious Liberty Commission).
New alignments are forming. Evangelicalism is changing and fracturing.
The Beto/Trump hand gesture skirmish—Trump jerks and floats his arms and hands around in even odder ways—was another inanity of this 2020 campaign, one that is sure to be followed by many more. This is because a campaign of this length demands programming. As cable channels peaked in the early 2000s, TV producers realized they had a lot of dead-time to fill and only so much money to spend filling it. Hence, the birth of reality TV: Survivor, American Idol, and, to the detriment of our future selves, The Apprentice. They were all aspirational, promising us stardom, great wealth, or the kind of self-discovery that can keep any average schmuck alive on a desert island.
Today, the hours, days, weeks, and months of the perma-campaign must be filled, too. Beto’s hands, Amy Klobuchar’s salad comb, Bernie’s head bandage, Elizabeth Warren’s beer chug, Cory Booker’s girlfriend, Kamala Harris’s musical tastes while she smoked pot in college. No triviality is too trivial for an underpaid journalist somewhere to bundle into an article, video, or meme in the hopes of attracting attention and driving fleeting dollars to a collapsing media ecosystem. The perma-campaign is the apotheosis of reality TV because the stakes are so high—we are choosing a world leader with the power to drop civilization-annihilating bombs, and therefore every plot twist in the extended marathon can be justified in the solemn, self-satisfied way a political reporter will defend just about every absurd practice of the profession.
Beto, Bernie, Biden, Kamala, and more—these are characters the American people must get to know through their TV screens and social media. This year and next, they are all Democrats, and they are auditioning for us. They will speak to us, rally for us, and construct events in states ten months before a vote. Why? Well, the show needs content. And if you aren’t producing content, you are irrelevant. Imagine a presidential candidate deciding to take April, May, and June off, arguing that an entire six months of campaigning before the Iowa caucuses is probably enough to win votes. The horror! What will be tweeted, Instagram storied, Facebook lived, and packaged into lively, anecdote-addled reporting for a New York Times political memo?
Thirty-four years ago, the media theorist Neil Postman published a book that is distressingly relevant today. Amusing Ourselves to Death was a prescient indictment of TV culture that drove to the heart of the matter in ways few academic texts ever do. Postman’s problem wasn’t so much with TV itself—people have a right to entertain themselves—but with how the rules of this dominant technology infected all serious discourse. He fought, most strenuously and fruitlessly, against the merger of politics and entertainment.
We’ve only metastasized since Postman’s time, with the internet and smartphones slashing attention spans, polarizing voters, and allowing most people to customize the world around them. What’s remained constant, at least in certain quarters, is the principal of entertainment: most political content operates from this premise first, that it must captivate before it informs. The image-based culture triumphs. Beto told you in a crisp three minutes and twenty-nine seconds why he wanted to be the leader of the free world.
Read the entire piece here.
I wrote this on my Facebook page last night in response to the ongoing conversation on my John Allen Chau post. I thought I would post a version of it (slightly edited) here. –JF
Recent posts about the “presuppositions” of those commenting prompted me to write this long note to everyone who participates in conversation here at my Facebook page (which I see as an extension of my blog).
I hope everyone realizes that the people on this page come to the conversation with all kinds of presuppositions. Some of the people posting here are evangelical Christians. Others are Christians who may not identify with evangelicalism. Some are Jewish. Some do not identify with any faith. This is what makes these kinds of conversations on Facebook so difficult and awkward. As one of the few people (and maybe the only person) here who knows something about the presuppositions of just about everyone by virtue of the fact that it is my page, I can see how most folks are talking past each other. One problem with my Facebook page and my blog is that I have readers who share my faith and others who do not. Much of my career and work has existed in both the evangelical community and the academy. I thus have conversation partners in both worlds. I think a conversation about Chau might look very different among fellow evangelical Christians than it might among those who are not Christians. This is indeed a mixed group, but it doesn’t have to be a problem.
I like to think that my Facebook page is a place where it is difficult to remain in our silos.
I hope evangelicals (and there are many here) can learn to appreciate the insights of non-evangelicals, even if they disagree. I hope they realize that this space is not an extension of a Sunday morning service. Evangelicals who come to the table must come with a public voice. This does not mean that they abandon their religious convictions at the proverbial door. It means that they come with a realization that not everyone in the conversation may share their presuppositions and then behave accordingly. I realize that this is hard for some evangelicals.
I also hope that non-evangelicals or non-Christians also realize that this is a public space where many kinds of people come to read and discuss. My blog and Facebook page is not an extension of the faculty lounge. My non-evangelical academic friends have a lot of work to do in respecting and listening to people with different presuppositions and ways of viewing the world. Some folks do this better than others.
All of us are prone to self-righteousness in spaces like this. I hope we can learn from each other and find common ground and not demonize those with whom we have deep and fundamental disagreements. On an issue like Chau, it is very, very hard to find common ground. But we must try.
If this is not a project that interests you or you do not have the inclination to engage in a civil way with people who see the world differently, I would encourage you to just stay in your social media silo where everyone thinks the same way you do. You will be more comfortable there.
But if you do want to engage in a spirited but civil fashion, you are always welcome at my page.
And I will try to be less cranky! 🙂
Great stuff here from Jacobs. I did not know the practice of taking the long view–a mental habit historians know well—could be viewed as the antidote to a phenomenon with such a technical name. “Recency bias.”
Here is a taste:
Increasingly, I think, the people who rule our society understand how all this works, and no one understands it better than Donald Trump. Trump knows perfectly well that his audience’s attachment to the immediate is so great that he can make virtually any scandal disappear from the public mind with three or four tweets. And the very journalists who most want to hold Trump accountable are also the most vulnerable to his changing of the subject. He’s got them on a string. They cannot resist the tweets du jour.
This tyranny of the immediate has two major effects on our political judgment. First, it disables us from making accurate assessments of threats and dangers. We may, for instance, think that we live in a time of uniquely poisonous social mistrust and open hostility, but that’s only because we have forgotten what the Sixties and early Seventies were like.
Second, it inclines us to forget that the greatest of social changes tend to happen, as Edward Gibbon put it, insensibly. Even when they seem sudden, it is almost always case that the suddenness is merely a very long gradual transformation finally bearing fruit. There’s a famous moment in Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises when one character asks another how he went bankrupt. “Two ways,” the man replies. “Gradually and then suddenly.” But the “suddenly” happened because he was previously insensible to the “gradually.” Likewise, events are always appearing to us with extreme suddenness — but only because we are so amnesiac that we have failed to discern the long slow gradual forces that made this moment inevitable.
And so we float on, boats with the current, borne forward ceaselessly into an ever-surprising future.
Read the entire post at Snakes and Ladders.
Some of you will recall this post from last week. Since my critical review of Matt Stewart’s piece “Stop Talking about Wendell Berry on Twitter,” several other folks have responded to it at the Front Porch Republic. So far the only person to really defend all of Matt’s piece is Eric Miller.
I actually brought this debate up very briefly yesterday in our live podcast episode, “Flourishing in a Digital World.” I imagine that my friends Eric and Matt think it is heresy to even consider putting the word “flourishing” together with “digital world,” but this is exactly what we tried to do yesterday at Messiah College. Frankly, I was blown-away by how our guests connected their digital footprints as historians, writers, community activists, bloggers, social media-users, and story-tellers to particular places and communities. I hope you get a chance to listen to this special bonus episode of The Way of Improvement Leads Podcast when we release it next month.
In the meantime, I encourage you to read Tara Ann Thieke’s critique of Stewart’s essay: “Alone Together on the Internet.” Here is a taste:
Wendell Berry was able to reject the computer. I think it was the right decision. But his choice and his work have come to us through the connections he made by going to Stanford and Europe, teaching at NYU, earning himself an audience, and allowing the publishing industry to use the best technology at their disposal (including computers) to make his work accessible. Later on, once he was well-established, audiences were able to hear out his reasoning for preferring the pen to the keyboard (a choice I agree with; most of my writing is first done in notebooks with a trusty blue rollerball pen). The computer was still a fundamental part of the supply-chain connecting Mr. Berry to the reader; we are none of us islands and the supply-chain is inescapable except to true hermits.
Twitter and social media have allowed me, an arm-chair amateur, to use the system’s tools to advocate for a different vision. While I am surrounded by the cultural consequences of all these wires and flashing screens, these tools have permitted me to find other wandering voices. Do I talk about Wendell Berry on Twitter? Guilty. But I have also started several clubs through Meetup which allows those of us who share these interests to meet face-to-face. Other armchair amateurs, caught in the confines of suburbia, of work, of the ceaseless din of advertising, have found one another through the threadbare wires not closely guarded enough.
We schedule gatherings through Facebook to watch Wendell Berry documentaries. We talk on Twitter and move on to start discussion groups elsewhere; people drive from 50 miles away to come discuss the Inklings, those foes of Mordor, once a month. We gather in an old park to serve the homeless. Imperfect? Always. But Joel Salatin wrote that expecting a first-time cook to bake a perfect cake is as silly as expecting a baby to suddenly stand and walk rather than stumble. Social media, in particular private Facebook groups and Twitter connections, have allowed those of us afraid of stumbling to receive mutual encouragement, advice, and solidarity.
Read the entire piece here. I guess I identify more as a Wendell Berry evangelical than a Wendell Berry fundamentalist. 🙂
Here is FLOTUS telling people that “adults need to take the lead” in encouraging good habits on social media.
First lady Melania Trump: “I have been heartened to see children across this country using their voices to speak out and try to create change. They’re our future and they deserve a voice.” https://t.co/JGmZLDpO0P pic.twitter.com/mpdNmgJZOj
— CNN (@CNN) February 26, 2018
You decide which one, or perhaps offer another option.
Yesterday I was in Northfield, Minnesota where I gave a talk about blogging, The Way of Improvement Leads Home (the blog), and the relationship between social media and civic engagement. I spoke as part of a series on digital publishing sponsored by faculty and staff from Carleton College and St. Olaf College. (Thanks to the DeAne Lagerquist for the invitation!)
During our conversation several professors talked to me about the possibility of starting their own blogs.
I don’t pretend to believe that our blogging model at The Way of Improvement Leads Home is normative. We post a lot here and have developed a unique approach. So yesterday I tried to suggest some ways that busy academics might make blogging work for them as teachers and scholars.
Here is a taste:
Before I created a research blog, I used to carry a series of ornate notebooks in which to record my ideas, reflect on what I had read, and sketch out my plans — or rather I tried to carry them. Inevitably I forgot them at the most inopportune moments, reducing me to scribbling notes on scraps of paper, only to fail to transcribe them at a later date. Even when I managed to record my notes, my overly-enthusiastic scrawls often proved indecipherable when I came back to them.
In contrast, my research blog is accessible to me wherever I have a mobile phone or computer. The expectation that others might read my notes forces me to work out what I am trying to say, rather than scribbling down in shorthand ideas that might feel meaningful to me at the time but are often confusing later.
Sharing those blog posts through my social-media feeds often leads to useful conversations — at a much earlier stage in the research process than would otherwise be the case. It creates an awareness of what I’m working on, and has often been the first step in eventual invitations to speak or collaborate. The fact that I can categorize and tag my online notes helps me see connections between different projects I am working on, highlighting emerging themes and deepening my understanding of how the topics fit together. Having my notes online also makes them extremely easy to search, providing a fantastic resource when I am writing papers and chapters.
My point is not that everyone should use a research blog. There are many reasons why it might not be suitable for you: (1) Without a smartphone, a blog would be much less useful; (2) some people find that writing by hand actually helps, rather than hinders, the creative process; and (3) many academics are uncomfortable with sharing work-in-progress online with an unknown audience.
Exactly which technology works for which person will depend on many factors. But in my case, moving from a research notebook to a research blog helped me become a more efficient and effective scholar. Rather than being an unwelcome drain, social media has helped me use my time more effectively.
Read the entire piece here.
Here is a taste:
Scholarly research has lent credence to anecdotal claims about social media’s growing importance as a networking tool for academics at all stages of their careers. In a 2012 paper that represented one of the first systematic studies of social media’s impact on academia, George Veletsianos, a professor at Royal Roads University in British Columbia, analyzed the usage patterns of academics. He concluded that “the participation observed on Twitter presents opportunities for … scholarly growth and reflection,” though it was still too early to make a definitive statement about what that might entail. (He also noted, rather tellingly, that “online practices may not be valued or understood by peers and academic institutions even though scholars themselves may have found scholarly value in participating in online spaces.”)
Four years later, the researchers Charles Knight and Linda Kaye evaluated the social-media practices of academics at a large university, determining that these academics’ “use of the [Twitter] platform for enhancing reputation is an implied acknowledgement of the importance of research within higher education and the increasingly public engagement agenda.” Professors on the campus they studied were far more likely to use Twitter for this purpose than they were for pedagogical reasons: “Academics want to use Twitter to inform the wider community of their activities rather than engage their students.” Networking, it seems, is one of social media’s principal purposes for those in academia.
“Twitter is great for academic networking, because it can be an awesome way for introverts and people who aren’t already in close proximity with the people they want to talk with to start building genuine relationships,” said Jennifer Polk, a friend and academic and career coach who runs the From PhD to Life website. “Of course, it’s all public [unless you adjust your security settings], so you should be professional—whatever that means in your field. And I recognize that in this context, ‘professional’ is a loaded term.”
Read the rest here.
I think Twitter, Facebook, blogs, and other social media sites are great resources for networking, sharing ideas, and raising questions. (Perhaps this is simply stating the obvious at this point in my career). Graduate students and young academics should be using them for these purposes.
But I also think graduate students and young academics should always remember that while social media is a very democratic space, academia is not. Academic life, in order to function properly, must have some degree of hierarchy based on expertise and experience. In other words, a young scholar who submits a journal article or book for review will inevitably have a senior scholar evaluate the manuscript and make a decision on it. Senior scholars at colleges universities will often have a lot to say about who gets hired in their departments. In the course of searches for academic appointments and fellowships that have residency requirements, the search committee will often contact outside scholars who might be familiar with the candidate’s work and sense of collegiality. And yes, I have been asked about a job or fellowship candidate’s sense of collegiality based on their social media presence. It has actually happened more than once.
I entertain several of these requests a month. I have even been in a position where a person argued with me on Twitter in a very unprofessional way and then applied for a job in my history department. When I saw the application I went back to review the series of tweets this person had written, but they were deleted. This person did not get the job. There were stronger applicants in the pool that better served the needs of our department. But I would be lying if I said that this Twitter exchange did not influence the way I thought about this person’s application. And I can tell a host of other stories like this from other committees on which I have served.
In the best of all possible worlds, decisions about publishing and teaching jobs should be made entirely on the merits of a candidate’s scholarship or teaching, but we do not live in the best of all possible worlds. Young academics should have this in mind whenever they tweet or post. I am often amazed when I see graduate students picking fights on Twitter or Facebook with senior people who one day might have to make a decision about the course of their future career. Hopefully, for the sake of the candidate, that senior scholar will lay aside their memory of these social media exchanges and judge the candidate on the merits of their work. But to do so requires a superior degree of discipline and professionalism.
I was recently a guest on a Messiah College web show called “Breaks.” (The show will drop in a couple of weeks). The topic was technology and politics. One of the things we discussed on the program was how we tend to only “follow” and “friend” people on social media who share our political convictions. I argued that such political silos are not good for our democracy since they are not conducive to understanding those with whom we differ.
I thought about my appearance on this show when I read my friend Scott Huelin’s proposed social experiment for Facebook users.
Here it is:
Go to Donald Trump’s page and see how many friends like it, go to Hillary Clinton’s page and see how many friends like it, and then go to Gary Johnson’s page and see how many friends like it. Then, copy and share.
I decided to play along. (I also added Jill Stein and Evan McMullin to my list). The results:
Hillary Clinton: 44
Gary Johnson: 25
Donald Trump: 20
Jill Stein: 9
Evan McMullin: 9
How politically diverse is your Facebook feed?
Here are some of the history tweeters who are ahead of us on the list:
I am sold on Twitter. (You can follow me @johnfea1). I rarely use my feed to post personal or mundane things about my life (although some may beg to differ). Instead, I use it professionally–to promote my work at The Way of Improvement Leads Home, share links and the tweets of others, provide coverage of history conferences and lectures, and network with other historically-minded people.
I follow a lot of people on Twitter. I do this for two reasons. First, I am always looking for links that I can use on this blog. Second, I am generally curious about the ideas of like-minded people. I follow a lot of K-12 history teachers because they often share some great resources that I can pass along to the students in my “Teaching History” course or even re-purpose for my own courses. I follow clergy because I want to get a better sense of their world so that I can be more effective in bringing historical thinking to local congregations. I follow #twitterstorians because so many of them are doing incredible things in their teaching and scholarship.
So needless to say, I thoroughly enjoyed “Motorcityclio” recent post about historians, social media, and networking. Here is what she has to say about Twitter:
Filling your Twitter feed with university departments, scholars, and academic publications is easy enough, but what do you do once you’ve developed an academic social network? Like networking at a conference, you need to be a bit more proactive than we, as academics, are sometimes comfortable with. The good news is that we can still hide behind our computer screens to a certain extent! So here are six ways to use social media to build your network.
Read the entire post here.
Chris Gehrz of Bethel University in Minnesota asked his readership at the Pietist Schoolman to share with him “some indispensable Christian academic Twitter accounts.” Here are the results of the survey:
Christena Cleveland (@cscleve) of Duke University
Alan Jacobs (@ayjay) of Baylor University
O. Alan Noble (@thealannoble) of Oklahoma Baptist University
James K.A. Smith (@james_ka-smith) of Calvin College
Alissa Wilkinson (@alissamarie) of The King’s College
Read all about these tweeters here.
Believe it or not, I also made the cut (@johnfea1). Chris had some nice words to say:
If he never did anything on Twitter, I’d still still hope to be John Fea when I grow up: I don’t know any other historian who so adeptly draws on his academic training for the benefit of public audiences, let alone conservative Christian audiences whose Platonic ideal of a historian is often David Barton. But on top of his widely-read blog, acclaimed books, and new podcast series, John’s decision to take a sabbatical during the election year of all election years has resulted in some pretty compelling tweeting as well. There’s no shortage of opinions about politics on Twitter, but John’s refreshing blend of historical context, insightful analysis, irenic engagement, and humor stands out.
Thanks, Chris. Now I need to get back on Twitter and follow some of these folks!
Andrew Henry is a Ph.D candidate in Religious Studies at Boston University. He is a scholar of Late Antiquity and the host and creator of Religion for Breakfast. Follow him @andrewmarkhenry. Andrew is covering the annual meeting of the American Academy of Religion in Atlanta for us this weekend. Here is his first dispatch: “Religious Studies Blogging Comes of Age, but Grad Students Need Not Partake?” –JF
Even a few years ago, academic bloggers of religion needed to defend their online endeavors to their colleagues. In a market where ideas are currency, why would you share these ideas publicly for free and especially without the careful vetting process of peer review?
It seems, though, that academic blogs of religion have come of age, or at least, that is what James McGrath announced at the start of the AAR/SBL panel on Blogging and Online Publishing. Formerly dominated by personal blogs, the religious studies blogosphere now features slickly designed sites ranging from non-profit web journals such as Ancient Jew Review to inter-disciplinary platforms like The Religious Studies Project which produces regular podcasts, interviews, and articles from leading scholars in the field.
The AAR/SBL panel featured several heavy-hitters to showcase this newly triumphant religion blogosphere—Bart Ehrman, Wil Gafney, and Lawrence Schiffman.
All three panelists shared a deep commitment to public engagement. An academic blog, they argued, can be a vital aspect to your teaching and research as you share complex ideas with a broader audience. Moreover, academic blogs offer an opportunity for academics to collaborate on projects, providing instant feedback to half-formed ideas that can eventually grow into a larger project such as an article or monograph.
Despite these benefits, all three panelists strongly cautioned graduate students away from blogging. Graduate students, according to Bart Ehrman, should be focused on their research. Blogging is a huge “time suck” that can slow down their progress toward finishing their dissertation. The other panelists warned that graduate students might inadvertently torpedo their careers by writing something that will be held against them in a hypothetical interview for a tenure-track job. Of the three panelists, only Wil Gafney saw some benefit in graduate students blogging, though she did note the possible negative effects blogging could have on job searches outweighed the benefits.
It seems that academic blogging is great, but, according to this panel, the risks outweigh the benefits.
After tweeting this unanimous opinion, something of a firestorm erupted on Twitter. Several newly-minted tenured professors cited their blog as a critical factor that secured their job. Others stridently defended graduate student blogging, saying blogs can help hone writing ability, develop ideas, and forge professional relationships between academics.
In a battle of anecdotal evidence, though, what advice should graduate students follow? The blogosphere of religious studies has clearly justified its existence, but where the graduate student fits into this community still remains tenuous.