¶ 2 Leave a comment on paragraph 2 0 As a historian, I study change. But like many other academics, because I understood computerized machines as tools, until recently I missed the cultural and intellectual significance of their evolution. The historical process that shrank them, multiplied their power, and put them at the service of a single human being was occurring out of my sight even as I put that typewriter, a gift from my grandfather, in the closet forever. I did not know that the Selectric, with interchangeable typefaces on an unjammable ball, was the leading edge of computerized “word processing.” I did not know that my Kaypro II, purchased in 1986 with a federal student loan, had made digital technology my new intellectual partner. I did not know that networks of computers were already linking historians to each other.
¶ 3 Leave a comment on paragraph 3 1 But had I not been a historian, I might have known these things: social scientists, engineers and other visionaries had imagined electronic information networks driven by personal computers by the 1950s, and that they would paly a critical role in everything from social life to higher education. By the 1960s, they foresaw that I would write this page and you might read it, on a screen. They apprehended the intellectual and social changes that digital technology would activate even before they occurred. They also predicted that the pace of technological change would become swifter, computerized thought and digital expression ubiquitous. These essays call historians to tracking these changes more carefully, and to the need for evaluating our own digitized past, present and future. Technology has reshaped social life, work, and intellectual relationships across the science, social sciences and humanities; social media in particular has empowered some of us to slip back and forth between traditional forms of intellectual labor and popular history. Computer technology has transformed the nature of our work: archives, methods, writing, intellectual rigor and audience — to name a few. Yet, almost two decades after the first article about digital scholarship appeared in a major history journal (one that introduced readers to mysterious terms like “URL,” “hypertext,” “browser,” and “interface”), many of us have not fully come to terms with how computers are implicated in what it now means to be a historian.
¶ 4 Leave a comment on paragraph 4 1 The shifting use of language is evidence of these subtle changes: take the word “network.” When I was in graduate school in the 1980s, and cybernetic thinkers had been thinking and writing about electronic networks for over thirty years, the word “network” was a verb that meant: “working on your career by meeting other historians face to face.” It meant traveling to conferences and being alert to opportunities for personal connection. Being aware of job opportunities and professional news required membership in the American Historical Association (AHA) and receiving Perspectives on History, a monthly paper newsletter. Our offices (where historians actually worked) were strung down long halls terminating in an open office space with mailboxes. Mail came twice a day; student papers, memos and the United Parcel Service deliveries and excess garden vegetables arrived randomly. At the mailboxes, historians paused to sort, read, throw, and talk. Plates of cookies and snacks left over from events fueled conversation.
¶ 5 Leave a comment on paragraph 5 0 No one gets mail anymore. We are connected by electronic networks; each of us sits alone typing rather than talking, more likely than not in a home office. Business and social life occurs on email, Twitter, Facebook, LinkedIn, Instagram, Academia.edu, in blog comments and private messages. Like the rest of the world, conversations among historians became more trouble – and less fun — than sending data packets on electronic networks, often to hundreds of colleagues at once. Some media scholars see the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, as a crucial pivot point towards our cultural preference for digital networking.
¶ 6 Leave a comment on paragraph 6 1 Yet, even by then, historians often worked at home for a portion of every day (I reviewed one small history department whose members were now required to be in their offices from nine to five.) And why not? Whole conversations happened online and outside formal meetings. We got used to speed, and “snail mail” dwindled. Saving paper was declared to be an economic and ecological virtue, and liberation from the office so advantageous that many failed to notice that department and university work workdays extended into nights and weekends as we typed, sorted, deleted and replied to all. “It has lately become clear,” one literary magazine noted in 2007, “that nothing burdens a life like an email account.” In 2016, a department chair who had just put in two eight hour days sending and returning electronic messages, echoed this sentiment on Facebook: “academic life has been destroyed by email.”
¶ 7 Leave a comment on paragraph 7 0 A decade later, computerized work, play and education have transformed the historical profession and its workplaces. Personal computing intellectuals had long been divided about whether machines would replace or augment human intelligence, but all imagined that “collaborative networks of independent peers,” similar to their own, were the future of intellectual work. My former employer by urged skilled, unionized clerical workers to retire as part of a strategy to increase its endowment. Initially, one technology professional was hired to tend to the largely computer illiterate faculty in five social science departments. After two years, she was hospitalized for exhaustion.
¶ 8 Leave a comment on paragraph 8 0 Between 2001 and 2012, when I left Wesleyan for The New School in New York City, except for teaching and faculty meetings, the university had shifted all of its daily work – grading, teaching evaluations, registration and the course catalogue, and University Handbook – were all on digital platforms. A colleague who refused to do email throughout the 1990s was absolutely correct when she characterized the computerization of our work c as a form of labor “speedup.” Sometimes, by the end of the day, my hands hurt. Historians complained of carpal tunnel syndrome, a repetitive motion disease previously most common among industrial workers.
¶ 9 Leave a comment on paragraph 9 0 Yet computerized networks linked us to colleagues and departments beyond our own universities to an extent that face-to-face, telephonic, and print connections never had. Founded in 1992 as a list serve, H-Net and its various H-babies delivered professional opportunities to our desktops. Publications went online, and others were born online; by 2007, historians had access to “a global virtual common room” powered by social media. The AHA began a blog in September 2006, “some ambivalence,” as one insider put it, about whether history’s largest and oldest professional organization should embrace a popular form inhabited by political gadflies, stay at home moms, and amateur journalists. “As anyone who reads blog postings regularly knows well,” wrote blog editor Robert Townsend, “this medium tends to blur the line between the professional and the personal that seems much more secure in traditional print publication and their web-page analogues. This blog will try to maintain that line.”
¶ 10 Leave a comment on paragraph 10 0 Digital technology offered historians something shiny and new, which in turn, often created new gaps in our practice. Finding aids were available on line, eBooks zipped straight to our mobile devices, and cloud servers allowed us to store, share and access things that would have been filed in banker’s boxes ten years earlier. Instead of taking notes, or duplicating documents, many of us were scanning or taking photographs in the archives, reading little until we came home, and then realizing that a citation had slid out of the frame. Google retrieved information previously obtained from a book across the room or in a library – but also made our brains feel softer. Ascertaining a fact for a lecture that used to take five minutes now takes “five seconds,” Siva Vaidhyanathan writes; “I don’t need my own memory anymore.” Getting grants and conference submissions in on time had meant catching the 5:00 overnight mail pickup. Now an electronic submission time stamped by 11:59 p.m. gives us another 30 hours to tweak and tinker.
¶ 11 Leave a comment on paragraph 11 1 In 2006, I joined the “blogipeligo” with Tenured Radical, a platform that injected my historian’s voice into a network of humanities scholars wrestling with the changes I have just described. By 2011, I had so many readers that the Chronicle of Higher Education (one of the first newspapers to create a web version of itself) picked it up to woo younger academics as potential subscribers. Unexpectedly, blogging injected my more “conventional” writing formats with a burst of creative energy, liberating my voice and expanding my audience well beyond academia.
¶ 12 Leave a comment on paragraph 12 1 By that point, the newly digital me was on the job market, where I experienced applying and interviewing as the youngest historians now did. Instead of a letter sent by registered mail, I uploaded everything through human resources portals, filing one application from South Africa. Instead of the awkward shuffle to find appropriate seats in a hotel room, I did semi-finalist interviews by Skype, imagining my home office as a TV newsroom and the interview as a broadcast. I improvised a teleprompter behind the computer screen with notes about the department, the university and the search committee written on a white board. As a backdrop, I arranged an assortment of books behind me on a shelf that encouraged each committee to see me as intellectually up to date for the job they had advertised.
¶ 13 Leave a comment on paragraph 13 0 The work of being a historian is radically different, yet many of our assumptions and practices about what historians do require far more thought than they are receiving. When I completed my Ph.D. in 1990, I deposited a six- chapter, single-authored dissertation, one-inch margins all around, approved by five scholars. A hundred and fifty years after it became a requirement for the Ph.D. in history, this is still the defining rite of passage, even though it may now be delivered to the committee and the library as an electronic file. In 1997, when I came up for tenure, the standard expectation in history departments was that the dissertation would have evolved into a single-authored book, printed on paper, and refereed by two experts in the field. Preferably, the dossier would include a few journal articles, vetted by two anonymous referees, also single authored and printed on paper. Despite the advent of digital history, crowd-refereeing, electronic journals, and enhanced possibilities for collaboration and public scholarship, that hasn’t changed either. The shape of publishing has also changed very little. Promising experiments like as the Gutenberg e-publications project, established by the AHA in 1999, sought to make text versions of scholarship in marginalized fields available to broad audiences for free. But the success of this program has not substantially altered historians’ view that the best scholarship is printed, and refereed by only two scholars in one’s field.
¶ 14 Leave a comment on paragraph 14 0 Although both the AHA and the Organization of American Historians (OAH) have been promoting conversation about digital history since the early 1990s, it is still too often perceived as a new print genre, an easier and cheaper way to produce and distribute historians have always done. “As books get smaller, articles get longer, and it all goes digital, distinctions of genre are further eroded, perhaps rendered artificial,” wrote Paula Findlen in 2013.. The AHA’s 2015 “Guidelines for the Evaluation of Digital Scholarship by Historians,” produced by a committee on which I served, were created to address this confusion. They are also important evidence of what we all know: that most historians do not understand the ways in which digital scholarship is different from print, digital tools have transformed research, and digital evidence poses new problems and opportunities.
¶ 15 Leave a comment on paragraph 15 0 All of these digital literacies need to become central to graduate education in history, as should the impact of digitized teaching environments that offer complex intellectual and pedagogical challenges. Emerging historians are unlikely to have been trained to master online environments, even though both tenure stream and contingent scholars are increasingly likely to be teaching online. Instead, graduate schools focus on how the historian will function in a brick and mortar classroom, lecturing, inspiring discussion, teaching close reading of primary sources, and perhaps, putting together an awesome Power Point. As for colleagueship, online environments now offer far more pitfalls to the historian who comments on a political or social question on Twitter, Facebook or Instagram than hallway gossip ever did.
¶ 16 Leave a comment on paragraph 16 0 An important premise of this book is that history, not unlike the humanities and social science fields from which it emerged in the late nineteenth century, is conservative with a small c. None of this conservatism, in and of itself, is necessarily good or bad, but it needs to be sifted and re-examined in light of the many advantages and challenges that digital and new media practices offer. A second important premise is that a book, or “read only” environment need not be replaced by “read/write” digital history methods by which the historian’s product is continually subject to revision or displacement by its consumers. Both of these genres have value, but at present, the vast majority of historians do not understand the value of “read/write” to a collective project that has traditionally produced closed texts.
¶ 17 Leave a comment on paragraph 17 0 One important step forward, as many of these chapters argue, would be to worry less, experiment more, and apply our critical thinking skills to the present and recent past. We could worry less about losing tools that really work, like printed books. The production of deeply researched, text-heavy books that can be marked up, re-read, and filled with post-its and fingers marking passages for citation, seems to have an enduring role in our work. What is less clear is how these books will be produced affordably, and how they will be curated and shared in a period when funding for education, and libraries, is shrinking. Similarly, we may wish to worry less about the “decline” of history majors and think more about how historical training is relevant to digital work environments, networked global economies, and political campaigns that are being produced through online tools and entrust organizing.
¶ 18 Leave a comment on paragraph 18 0 These are not dramatic intellectual shifts. However, they do require the incorporation of Internet literacies if history is to hold its position as an anchor for professions like the law, politics, journalism, film, consulting, and policy making as the landscape of higher education shifts towards professionalization. As a popular form, history is thriving, and like all other forms of knowledge, widely available for digital viewing, downloading, gaming and streaming, but it remains to be seen whether the best historians will agree to participate in that project. The failure of the vast majority of history departments to acknowledge and embrace the enhanced role of digital technology in popular learning is a critical, may in fact be an understudied aspect of the so-called “crisis” in the humanities, a crisis has congealed as a chronic state of underfunding and underemployment.
¶ 19 Leave a comment on paragraph 19 0 When historians ignore the tremendous demands and possibilities of digital technology, they miss crucial connections to twenty-first century literacies, archives and publics. Global and national histories have been written in cyberspace, and recorded in digital archives, for over twenty-five years now. They ignore critical scholarly interventions and alternative narrative forms pioneered in digital humanities initiatives, institutes, and long-established centers like the Roy Rosenzweig Center for History and New Media at George Mason and the American Social History Project/Center for Media and Learning at the City University of New York. More close to home, they may be under-informed about creative and cutting edge work being done by their own graduate students and younger colleagues in their spare time, work that is never listed on c.v.’s or submitted as part of a promotion dossier.
¶ 20 Leave a comment on paragraph 20 0 Yet, the digital frontier moves at a rapid pace. It is all around yo(u), embracing and impinging on every aspect of our work whether we acknowledge it or not. So let’s start with our own digital histories.
¶ 22 Leave a comment on paragraph 22 0 I used to write about mass media; now I participate in it. News outlets contact me in real time for quick responses to ongoing events, or to jump in a cab and get to a television studio. My sources have also changed. Many are online, as are scholarly and popular articles, legal cases, grand jury transcripts from Ferguson, MO and Staten Island, NY and the latest Lady Gaga video. If I want to know something quickly for a chapter I am writing, I put it up on Facebook and tag up the people most likely to know the answer to the question. And as for the oral histories I am doing for a project on radical feminism? I have located most of my subjects on Facebook and Twitter, and if I have a question about a document when I am in the archives, I drop an email: more often than not, I will hear back in minutes.
¶ 24 Leave a comment on paragraph 24 0 I became digital me when, using two separate floppy discs and a third to capture the text file, I booted up my new Kaypro2 computer in 1986. Although it took almost fifteen years for me to take an interest in what a personal computer could do and why I should care, this was the first of many incremental, digital changes that culminated in my emergence as the networked history blogger Tenured Radical. In my imagination, this first electronic baby step should have been an Alexander Graham Bell moment, but it was not: it was just the first step of writing a dissertation. Similarly, why do I not also recall opening a web browser for the first time, an action once as new and vivid as riding a bicycle for the first time?
¶ 25 Leave a comment on paragraph 25 0 It is impossible to disaggregate my intellectual history as a digital practitioner from my education as a historian. As a scholar, I have been ambitious and successful in conventional ways; simultaneously, like many people who are drawn to digital history, I am often impatient with, and flout, well-known disciplinary rules. I am by nature an autodidact, a real advantage to a career in both non-digital and digital history. Graduate school, where I was offered the opportunity to read many books but few practical lessons about how to actually research and write one, was where I perfected both my capacity to learn independently and my ability to fail once or twice before I am able to bring a project to conclusion. For example, when asked to write an essay or give a talk, I often choose something I want to know more about and then learn it, whereas many historians would use such an invitation to finish a pre-existing piece of writing. I learn things as I need to know them, and because I acquire skills for instrumental reasons, do things in counterintuitive ways. In my non scholarly life, I never read the directions on an Ikea furniture kit: I just plunge in, often put it together completely backwards, and then have to take it apart and reassemble it.
¶ 26 Leave a comment on paragraph 26 1 Oddly, the intellectual quirks I have just described have served me very well in the digital world where a historian needs to know how something beyond a complex grammatical phrase works. Doing something wrong can be a ferocious waste of time, but diagnosing, debugging and redesigning a project can not only help a person understand the nature of the problem better, but also produce an unusually creative solution. Digital historians tend, because of their inclination towards open source knowledge cultures and disinclination to enforce rules and knowledge hierarchies that don’t serve the ends of a project. They often don’t care what I (or you) don’t know, as long as I (you) want to talk and learn. Differently from print historians, making better use of what already exists is valued as highly as discovering new things. Whereas the conventional historian might ask: what is the value and legibility of my research to a group of specialists in my field, the digital historian might ask instead: how have I made this specialist knowledge legible and useful to the most people, many of whom are not historians at all? Whereas the conventional historian might win prizes and build a career by mining a prized archive that, alone, she decodes and presents as a virtuoso work, the digital historian might ask: if I put this archive on the web and get others to help me decode it, what will we all learn together?
¶ 27 Leave a comment on paragraph 27 1 Belief in the power of the group is one of the most basic, underlying principles of digital practice. None of us are immune to the pleasures of individual success. But a successful book is still primarily viewed as a credit to the author, not to the foundations, teachers, colleagues and family members listed in its multiple pages of acknowledgments. Many books are considered to be a great success if only a few thousand copies are sold, and a half dozen reviews propel it into the hands of a few hundred more readers with access to a university library. Not so a digital project, which withers and dies without actively engaging an audience of users willing to expose its faults and its virtues to the team that has produced it. That team might also include people who are vital to the site’s success, but are not historians at all: engineers, designers, coders, archivists and librarians. When I began to explore instructional technology and migrate some of my writing to the Internet at Wesleyan University, I sought exclusively outside the history department from a growing number of Informational Technology (IT) specialists. These colleagues were often former humanities graduate students who had taken a hard look at the academic job market and walked into a computer lab instead. As I discovered, the same people who were mostly made available for mundane installations and repairs that most of us could learn to do on our own loved talking to other humanists about research, teaching and scholarship.
¶ 28 Leave a comment on paragraph 28 1 The emergence of social networks became a critical resource in my journey towards becoming digital me, an emphasis this book largely reflects. A colleague introduced me to Friendster, s social network that was soon displaced by Facebook, which I joined in 2006, at a time when faculty seemed to be logging on in droves. At no point, before or since, have I issued and accepted so many requests to be a “friend,” than when we were all frantically grading and getting ready for the spring term of 2007. The exchange of tentative status updates (Facebook had not yet progressed to the point where we could link articles, and post pictures) began to expose the new forms of colleagueship becoming available on “The University of Facebook,” where ideas could exceed a close circle of colleagues. Around this time, I became one of the first faculty members invited to pilot an open access university platform where, prior to the creation of the social networking site Academia.edu in 2008, we were encouraged to upload our research and make it available to the public. I soon learned, to my astonishment, that in a world where most journal articles are read by specialists and graduate students, if they are read at all, that one essay I posted was downloaded more than 100 times in a month.
¶ 29 Leave a comment on paragraph 29 0 Even before establishing Tenured Radical in the fall of 2006, I recognized that digital tools, and social networking platforms in particular, gave me access to colleagues and audiences hungry for ideas, and I could make contact with them by the stroke of a key. But is it enough to know that your work is interesting to a larger public if you never hear back from them? Assisted by my tweenage nephew who had just established a gossip weblog for the sixth grade at his New Haven primary school, opening an account at Google’s Blogger was the next step. I stepped out over the cliff and became the pseudonymous academic blogger and virtual historian Tenured Radical, an experience that I describe in chapter 2. Often using a distinctly non-scholarly tone, I repurposed a range of experiences and knowledge about how universities work at Tenured Radical. Blogging opened the door to public writing and a digital humanities world of which I had not been fully aware, much less understood as relevant to the rapid professional transformations I was experiencing on line.
¶ 30 Leave a comment on paragraph 30 0 That’s when I really met digital (yo)u, a range of historians who were digital cowboys like me. I became interested in digital history as a method and a field, and I became interested in the Internet as an intellectual, cultural and political space that had drawn the attention of cultural and media scholars, but few historians. I also met a lot of people I had never talked to in real time: parents of college students, policymakers, contingent faculty, people who think higher education is a huge waste of money, army wives, mommy bloggers – you name it, I’ve met you in the comments section, on Twitter, and on Facebook. Unevenly, sometimes rudely, we have begun to talk. At a certain point, I looked back and thought, why don’t we recognize these conversations for what they are: a big, unruly public square where we are debating and writing history?
¶ 31 Leave a comment on paragraph 31 0 Networking has changed how we talk, and to whom we talk, yet even as human connection is transformed we discuss these changes too little. Here are some odd facts about me. At this writing, I have 1,461 Facebook “friends,” but probably fewer than twenty actual friends. I don’t know most of my Facebook friends, although there are more than a few who I enjoy exchanging ideas with in virtual space. I rarely speak to actual friends and colleagues on the telephone now; most of us use our mobile devices for computerized textual exchanges rather than for talking. We make appointments by email, and confirm them via text message; Facebook suffices for much of life’s daily sociality, albeit with a far larger group of people, many of who live hundreds or thousands of miles away and who we may never have met in real life (IRL).
¶ 32 Leave a comment on paragraph 32 0 These forms of sociality are neither good nor bad; they simply are, and I disagree with some media scholars who view them as insufficient to sustaining social and intellectual life. Digital spaces are spaces for human engagement and as such, they are a crucial place for practicing, discussing and disseminating history. We can have both. I belong to a writing group that meets once a month in real life; but I also belong to one that meets throughout the day, every day, all night and on weekends, on Facebook. A graduate student in Texas who challenged Princeton historian Anthony Grafton to a writing contest began the group in 2013 (“It is on, like Donkey Kong!” were her exact words to this eminent scholar after he revealed in an online interview that he writes several thousand words before going to work). The #GraftonLine Challenge now has over 250 members. Anthony Grafton belongs too, and occasionally logs on to leave comments and “likes” as the rest of us record the completion of blog posts, articles, chapters and entire books (he is too kind to record his prodigious daily output.) If Gore Vidal once famously said, “It is not enough to succeed – others must fail,” the ethic of the University of Facebook’s virtual history department declares: it is not enough to succeed – others must succeed too.
¶ 36 Leave a comment on paragraph 36 1 Although digital humanists speak of an “academic blogosphere” and “academic social media” it is no longer possible to separate the part of the digital public square occupied by universities and that part occupied by everyone else. A broader conversation about humanistic values is already occurring in and beyond the academy. It is a conversation that can connect those of us who have made careers in history to citizens who have an equal stake in higher education and in the health of public humanities projects. We also have similar problems to solve. Replacing letters with email, social media and Skype has shifted the experience of twenty-first century war. But haven’t smaller distances between people – a state, a town, across campus, down the hall – been transformed too? How have shifts of space, time, tone, language and grammar altered the nature of everyone’s life and work?
¶ 37 Leave a comment on paragraph 37 0 The major purpose of university and college history departments has never been to produce professional historians, but to enable the vast majority of students who follow other career paths to do research, think critically and be thoughtful about their role as citizens. Our students now do these things in a digital world and will need to be digitally literate to succeed. Alan Rusbridger, editor of The Guardian has pointed out that one of the most revealing aspects of Edward Snowden’s release of United States classified documents in 2013 was how little he, and other decision-makers, understood about what they were looking at. “I did not myself spot that story—of how law enforcement agencies are trying to undermine private encryption capacities—that was nested in the GCHQ/NSA documents,” Rusbridger wrote; “and even when it was explained to me by the young specialist technology reporters who did grasp its significance, I did not immediately understand it. Embarrassingly, I had to sketch a childlike drawing to confirm what I thought Jeff Larson, a Web developer and reporter at ProPublica, and James Ball, our own twenty-seven-year-old reporter and technical whiz kid, were telling me.”
¶ 38 Leave a comment on paragraph 38 0 Just like poetry, art, history, philosophy, languages and literature, digital literacy will be critical to twenty-first century moral citizenship. We should be press higher education, politicians and public audiences on the following points: Why not more history Ph.D.’s, many trained to work outside the university, rather than fewer trained only for university based scholarship? Why can’t all history Ph.D. programs include training in digital tools? Why not privilege the ways that technology transforms the world of ideas?
¶ 39 Leave a comment on paragraph 39 0 The residual purpose of university and college history departments actually is to produce professional historians, and that work — whether in higher education, archives, public history, or policy — now occurs in a digital environment that professional historians must master. History’s recent past reflects several decades of transformation in the relationship between the humanities and the public sphere that may be more rapid than any other, except perhaps the 1890s, when research universities emerged as a powerful force in American life; and the post-World War II years, when science and war brought millions of dollars into higher education. Currently, however, university-based historians of all ages are as likely to be suspicious of the role technology is playing in transforming the academy, as they are to embrace change, sometimes even imagining that refusing digital literacy is an option. The historical profession desperately needs to adapt to a new world of academic and non-academic employment that is already digital. Furthermore, digital history is no longer a separate track: it is embedded in everything we do, and everything we will be in. Graduate programs are not keeping up with the ways that the web has changed the practice, and the ethical challenges, of historical research. As the AHA’s Robert Townsend noted in February 2013, research shows that “fundamental changes in the ecosystem for historical research” have not been matched by attention to issues as basic as organizing one’s evidence in a legible way. Librarians and archivists who do keep up with developments in information technology, and who used to be the first stop for any researcher, are now far less likely to interact with a scholar at an early stage of research. Furthermore, as Townsend notes, historians make “very limited and often haphazard use of the available tools.” Given the power of mentorship in graduate training, it is likely that we are reproducing new generations of historians who are “individualistic and poorly trained in one of the most fundamental areas of their work.”
¶ 40 Leave a comment on paragraph 40 0 A photograph of neatly organized index cards marked with post-its that accompanies Townsend’s article provokes another question: to what extent do historians of all ages stubbornly seek to make the digital world into a simulacrum of what they have always known? And under what conditions might this be a useful way to incorporate technology in our work?
¶ 41 Leave a comment on paragraph 41 0 Professional historians have always played a critical academic, political, corporate and civic leadership roles: the first departments of history were created with precisely that in mind. All institutions now rely on digital tools and digital environments that will only grow more complex and less transparent in their design. Digital literacy is part of our mandate. Digital tools are more than tools: they are a way to think and a mode of connection, and are a crucial opportunity for historians to promote a 21st century humanities agenda. Understanding the implications of technology, its capacities and its limitations, is becoming a central administrative literacy. Reports and manifestos addressing a crisis in the humanities too often view technology, in the form of Massive Open Online Courses (MOOCs) or “student success software,” as simply tools for expanding university-based learning at a low cost. These accounts, whether they view such developments as positive or negative, nearly always neglect vibrant intellectual exchanges occurring an Internet unregulated by provosts, department chairs and dissertation advisors. Social media is where higher education experts and the public already debate each other: Facebook, YouTube, blogs, memes, tumblr and Twitter is where the real humanities action is.
¶ 42 Leave a comment on paragraph 42 0 This book argues that there has been no “crisis” in the humanities, but rather missed connections and conversations that are undervalued because they occur in social media. One might almost argue that we have mislaid the public humanities conversation that academic experts and journalists say they want to have.
¶ 43 Leave a comment on paragraph 43 0 The new quickly become commonplace, with subsequent innovations pushing the frontier for what counts as “digital history” further out. As Sharon Leon explained about her own digital turn, “I wrote a manuscript dissertation and dealt with a lot of photocopies. But all along the way I thought about how to use technology in the classroom as a way of encouraging more robust student interaction and keeping the conversation going outside of the traditional classroom and as a way of exposing students to a wider array of primary sources — really commonplace things today.” Brought to the Roy Rosenzweig Center at George Mason University to work on digital pedagogy in 2004, however, Leon found technology leaking back into her scholarship. “Things have unfolded as necessary from there,” she said.
¶ 44 Leave a comment on paragraph 44 0 Basic familiarity with html and willingness to try new apps on a mobile or tabletop device does not put a person on the cutting edge of digital history. But that a technology, or putting a particular technology to use in a new way, can be the entry point for becoming a more wide-ranging digital practitioner is indisputable. It may also be the case that to refuse these moments of entry may also have consequences as history, and the humanities more generally, move into digital environments.
¶ 45 Leave a comment on paragraph 45 1 Eventually, what looks like a hybrid career that straddles digital and traditional practices — my own, for example — will drop the digital modifier, and just be called “history.” The choice historians need to make is whether this will happen sooner or later, and historians are notoriously slow adopters. As one former AHA president said to a group of history bloggers and #twitterstorians over a beer, ”Historians study change. We don’t endorse it.” Of course, there are plenty of reasons to be suspicious of technology. Along with other humanists, we worry that “faddishness,” the push for instant employability, and foundation dollars that support the newest work will render our curricula and intellectual preoccupations unrecognizable. We take grim note of the endless “software solutions” and webinars emanating from Human Resources, pricey answers to sexual harassment and budget management that seem to not fully address either of these problems. There is loss: administrative staff, or tangible archives of our work like course catalogues, absences that sometimes make it seem that the older we get the less able we are to answer a simple question about institutions we know well. Reassured that these innovations are making our work easier, our daily lives unaccountably become more complex. Although I no longer have to be on site to sign student time sheets, because my students submit them online for my approval, I receive what seem like hectoring emails from someone named Irwin Kroot if I have not logged into our workplace solutions portfolio by a certain hour on Monday. Worse, I realized at one point that I did not even really believe that Irwin Kroot was a person: he was just an email account from which I received messages.
¶ 46 Leave a comment on paragraph 46 0 I hope that humanists and social scientists find this book useful too, since I doubt that historians, or history departments, are especially recalcitrant when it comes to technology. Of the seven rules that historian Marshall Poe has devised to theorize the creation, introduction and adoption of media, rule 6 seems especially pertinent: “When it comes to technological adoption, organized interests are reactive and not proactive.” Such interests are “conservative: they generally don’t fix things that aren’t manifestly broken.” Historians have tended to adopt technology in a piecemeal way that only addresses specific needs or institutional constraints, a process that has not cultivated an imaginative convergence between digital cultures and our own preoccupations as scholars.
¶ 47 Leave a comment on paragraph 47 0 Furthermore, how do we separate out “historians,” as an organized interest, from the larger organized interests in which historians are embedded, or to which historians contribute –journalism, the law, other social sciences and humanities, community organizing and politics might be a few of these. The fields to which historians contribute have embraced digital technology with enthusiasm; thus, critical digital thought that is developed in a university context ought to be portable to these larger public interests, and vice versa.
¶ 50 Leave a comment on paragraph 50 0 This book is about our opportunity to become better historians and connect to one another across the divides of department, campus and discipline. I decided to write it, not because I am a technology pioneer or a digital humanities innovator, but because I came into this conversation as a blogger, and I interact online with humanists who are not scholars every day. Digital technology has had an enormous impact on teaching and scholarship, and on what counts as education more generally. However, it should not distract us from assessing the impact, and implications, of ordinary technology – Facebook, Google Hangouts, Twitter – on the conversation spaces where the lifelong humanities practice that higher education hopes to inspire is occurring.
¶ 51 Leave a comment on paragraph 51 0 In Chapter 1, “Virtual Historians: Why Networking Matters,” I write about what it has been like for me to listen, and try to understand, these voices, how it has caused me to rethink strategies for promoting the humanities, and what these “virtual scholars” have to say to every member of the public who has a stake in the future of higher education. How can we know what they think if we never see them? And what might we learn if we choose to enter the social networks they inhabit?
¶ 52 Leave a comment on paragraph 52 0 It would have been difficult to imagine in the fall of 2006 that Facebook and Twitter, then in their infancy, would become as central to academic networking as they are; or that they would have the troubling impact they have had on academic freedom. Woven into digital history practice as a way of engaging potential audiences with projects, social media are also of interest to historians as archives, as well as forums for real-time historical debate and discussion about professional and scholarly. As sociologist Mark Carrigan has pointed out, social media may be emerging as a new form of “digital scholarship,” and one that is “increasingly influential as a marker of capacity for engagement and impact, something increasingly in demand across higher education systems.”
¶ 53 Leave a comment on paragraph 53 0 In Chapter 2, “The University of Facebook,” I look at what role historians should be playing in debates over social media a critical humanities practice. In its commercial forms and as it has migrated into learning management systems (LMS), social media can also create a classroom community that exceeds or replaces a physical teaching space. Yet, what are the student privacy issues in play when we make social media part of a class? Under what conditions should we presume that it is reasonable to integrate the data collection practices typical of all web tools into an educational enterprise?
¶ 54 Leave a comment on paragraph 54 0 Under what conditions is social media a desirable or undesirable way of maintaining networked conversations when, to paraphrase psychologist Sherry Turkle, we are all increasingly alone together? Conversations on Facebook simulate a comfort zone where people teach by sharing gossip and humor, and expressing views that they would never repeat to their own students, colleagues or families. But how private is your network of friends? Conversely, how racially or class diverse is it, if the core connections that lead you into a larger network are also limited by spatial, social and occupational segregation? If crowd-sourcing a syllabus, finding a link to an article, or being privy to an exhilarating conversation about a book, movie, or public event, may be satisfying and stimulating, what are the rules for sharing research findings that have yet to be digested or which you have no permission to publish? If one’s house is no longer easily separated from one’s work space, under what conditions do we need to imagine our utterances on social media as occurring in a space that is neither fully personal or fully professional?
¶ 55 Leave a comment on paragraph 55 0 Chapter 3, “Fibber McGee’s Closet: Archives and the Digital Challenge,” takes us back to the world of research – a world that, for many historians, is growing more disorderly by the minute as our capacity to collect and store information and store outpaces our ability to organize and make them useful. Yet, research is our most basic skill, one that every citizen ought to be able to do. Taking its title from a popular 1930s radio show, in which opening of a hall door often resulted in a cascade of poorly stored and unintelligible objects, this chapter also argues that historians do not just have an obligation to disseminate finished ideas to a public, but to make their research methods apparent. Furthermore, the best planned research, transported from the archive or downloaded from an online archive to our own digital devices – can quickly become muddled, unidentifiable and intimidating junk. Having thousands of documents on a hard drive or cloud, literally at our fingertips, is an amazing phenomenon and a tremendous democratization of knowledge – unless you don’t know how to organize those things, or access them in a systematic way.
¶ 56 Leave a comment on paragraph 56 0 I have chosen feminism as a site for exploring inequalities of access in digital history practice. In Chapter 4, “Disorderly and Chattering Women: Why Digital History Needs Feminism,” I argue that the Internet has, in fact, fulfilled some of aspirations of making feminist insights and art available to community-based groups. When we move online, however, we discover that there are new questions within a public humanities practice that require feminist attention. Among them are the digital divide between the university and its publics; messy conversations about politics; transnational linguistic barriers; the technology “gap” between rich and poor; the uncertain future of feminist journals in an altered reading and publishing environment; and the gendered history of digital technology itself.
¶ 58 Leave a comment on paragraph 58 1 In Chapter 5, “A Hacker in Every Department,” I address the employment question. Here, I argue that we might reverse the trend of academic unemployment by building digital scholarship, and the capacity to speak to a public humanities audience, into our curricula now. Rather than making the next generation of humanities Ph.D.’s redundant or contingent laborers, digital technologies and the Internet have the potential to revive full time teaching through advancing public engagement. Although digital humanities is growing rapidly as a field, few humanities departments have yet tapped into its power to teach critical thinking and research skills, or to respond swiftly to questions of public importance. Focused on making, rather than banking, knowledge, digital scholarship emphasizes flexibility, originality and most importantly, the capacity to speak clearly and forcefully to multiple, non-expert, audiences. Furthermore, by giving historians the technical and design skills to work outside the academy, it not only produces a new source of employment but also forces universities to compete for historians just as they do for lawyers, economists and scientists.
¶ 60 Leave a comment on paragraph 60 0 The Internet offers tremendous opportunities for humanists, but it has its hazards too. Those hazards can be particularly unexpected when we transpose ordinary activities, like conversation and the sharing of information or humor, into digital environments. In Chapter 6, “Why We Write: the Benefits and Costs of Being an Internet Intellectual” I argue that blogs and other social media offer special challenges to those who work in them, as well as those who hope to do research in them. Although they can be frozen and password protected, the content of blogs is easily altered and augmented by both the original author and the commenter; and it is frequently contested by guests, invited and uninvited. Blogging alters our understanding of what it means to be educated by strangers, either in real time or in returning to their utterances at some later date. Rather than being educated by the comments section, since comments do not necessarily help us learn more about the original post, the existence of this aspect of the digital commons should provoke us to think about how knowledge is created in an unruly public sphere that can be edited and re-edited by producers and consumers alike, not just now, but even well into the future. What are people who comment on blogs learning, from each other, and from the blogger? What are they revealing about themselves as an audience? How does the blogger respond to challenges of various kinds by either modifying the post or developing those positions – and others – in order to skool the commenter?
¶ 61 Leave a comment on paragraph 61 0 Digital historians need to adopt strategies to address the misunderstandings and criticisms that public figures take for granted. When posting casually, historians have to be cautious about what Alice E. Marwick and Dana Boyd call “context collapse,” in which one form of self-presentation appropriate to friendship clashes uncomfortably with how one appears to family or colleagues.
¶ 62 Leave a comment on paragraph 62 0 My conclusion, “Is Fast Always Better?” summarizes the transformation of historical practices launched by computerized social networks, as well as those things that have remained stubbornly, sometimes puzzlingly, the same. This transformation has occurred unevenly, and in such a breathtakingly short period of time that it barely has a past. Perhaps the difficulty of grappling with the significance of a very recent past is one reason why many scholars often feel that they do not have the intellectual tools, or the desire, to think through what technology does and will mean to the most basic features of the world we are handing off to the next generation of scholars. Each essay grapples with the activities that are central to our lives in the modern university: writing, teaching, research, and forming relationships with each other.
¶ 63 Leave a comment on paragraph 63 0 But under what conditions might historians, without turning away from the digital, choose to work more slowly and deliberately? As applications like Zotero, a note-tagging and organizing system, a Scrivener (the writing system on which this book is being composed) become “solutions” to the difficulties digitally-driven research promotes, it is worth pointing out that they replicate the index cards that people employed as a primary technology for organizing and visualizing research in high school and college. Scrivener even switches into a mode in which digital “index cards” can be pinned to a digital “corkboard.” Using this as an example: under what conditions, and for what cognitive tasks, might we selectively revert to index cards or some other pre-digital mode? Under what conditions are books and paper a better tool than an e-book, .pdf, or scan?
¶ 66 Leave a comment on paragraph 66 0 I still think books and articles are important, even though I am as likely to publish them online as on paper (and you may be reading this on an e-reader: that’s how I read your last book!) Entering these conversations, and embracing these technologies, has transformed my vision for why history matters, and what historical scholarship can achieve. Open as it seems, digital historians often take many of the things I write about for granted, and writing a book may be the only way to get to some of you who need to read it most.
¶ 67 Leave a comment on paragraph 67 0 Digital media has created urgent new challenges for historians. Some, such learning how to produce digital artifacts, or navigate social media, can be avoided for now, much as learning a language can be avoided until you honestly need to use it. Other challenges, such as evaluating digital scholarship produced by graduate students, job candidates and colleagues up for promotion, will be increasingly less easy to avoid as younger scholars schooled to digital tools begin to produce their work in born digital or hybrid form. Over the next decade, historians who refuse to engage with digital projects, or who categorize them as a technique rather than a method, will risk becoming intellectually marginalized as scholarship relies more heavily on creative use of data and argument by design; and scholars who use digital techniques are able to make bigger arguments by grappling with larger and newer archives. But this book is not here to make that case: instead, I propose that we take the inability to avoid technology as a starting point and work towards identifying points of entry that permit broader engagement and interest from the profession as a whole, and promote digital literacy as a baseline requirement for teaching and learning history.
¶ 68 Leave a comment on paragraph 68 0 Ten years ago, I went to the blogosphere, and when I returned, I was a changed person with a bigger vision of why the Internet matters to the future of history. This book is about the journey I took to become digital me, and how you can take that journey too.
¶ 71 Leave a comment on paragraph 71 0 Between 1960 and 1965, the architects of personal computing at Stanford University envisioned a future in which machines would not just process data, but “respond as an idea amplifier.” After the emergence of programming technology in 1965, that became possible. On December 9, 1968, Stanford’s Doug Engelbart demonstrated text editing for the first time at the annual Fall Joint Computer Conference in San Francisco; see John Markoff, What the Dormouse Said: How the Sixties Counterculture Shaped the Personal Computer Industry (New York: Penguin Books, 2005), x, 43, 148. Matthew Kirschenbaum argues that the computerized writing technology created a definitive break with manual typewriting by the mid-1980s; see Track Changes: A Literary History of Word Processing (Cambridge: Belknap Press, 2016), xiv.
¶ 72 Leave a comment on paragraph 72 0  A good introduction to the first two decades of digital history, its methods, and its aspirations, can be found in a posthumous collection of Roy Rosenzweig’s digital history essays, Clio Wired: The Future of the Past in the Digital Age (Columbia University Press, 2011); Daniel J. Cohen, Digital History: A Guide to Gathering, Preserving and Presenting the Past on the Web (University of Pennsylvania Press, t2005); and Jack Dougherty and Kristin Nawrotzki, Ed. Writing History in the Digital Age (Ann Arbor: the University of Michigan Press, 2013).
¶ 73 Leave a comment on paragraph 73 0  Markoff, What the Dormouse Said, 107. Perhaps the most prescient of these intellectuals was Gordon E. Moore, who perceived the pace at which personal computing would advance. See “Cramming More Components onto Integrated Circuits,” Electronics v. 8 no. 8, April 19 1965. See also Nicholas Negroponte, Being Digital (New York: Knopf, 1995), and Esther Dyson, Release 2.0: A Design for Living in the Digital Age (Broadway Books: 1997)
¶ 74 Leave a comment on paragraph 74 0  See Claire Potter and Renee Romano, “Just Over Our Shoulders: the Pleasures and Perils of Writing the Recent Past,” in Potter and Romano, Ed., Doing Recent History: On Privacy, Copyright, Video Games, Institutional Review Boards, Activist Scholarship and History That Talks Back (University of Georgia Press, 2012).
¶ 75 Leave a comment on paragraph 75 0  Michael O’ Malley and Roy Rosenzweig, “Brave New World or Blind Alley? American History on the World Wide Web,” Journal of American History v. 84 no. 1 (June 1997), 132-155. Sixteen months earlier, O’Malley, Rosenzweig, and Andrew McMichael had introduced members of the AHA to digital history in a short essay, “Historians and the Web: A Guide,” Perspectives, 34 (Jan. 1996), 11-15.
¶ 78 Leave a comment on paragraph 78 0  For 9/11 as a triggering event, see Antoinette Pole, Blogging the Political: Politics and Participation in a Networked Society (New York: Routledge, 2009); Matthew Currier Burden, The Blog of War: Front Line Dispatches from Soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan (New York: Simon and Schuster, 2006), p. 3; Tanni Haas, Making It In the Political Blogosphere: the World’ Top Political Bloggers Share Their Secrets to Success (Cambridge, UK: The Lutterworth Press, 2011) e-book locations 3323 – 3438. David D. Perlmutter’s research does not reveal a “9/11 bump for blogs;” blogwars (New York: Oxford University Press, 2008), 68.
¶ 79 Leave a comment on paragraph 79 0  The Editors, “Against Email,” n+1 (Winter 2007). Accessed online at https://nplusonemag.com/issue-5/the-intellectual-situation/againstemail/ on June 24 2016.
¶ 81 Leave a comment on paragraph 81 0  Joan Greenbaum has chronicled the first phase of these changes in Windows on the Workplace: Technology, Jobs and the Organization of Office Work (New York: Monthly Review Press, 2nd ed., 2004).
¶ 82 Leave a comment on paragraph 82 0  Fred Turner, From Counterculture to Cyberculture: Stewart Brand, the Whole Earth Network and the Rise of Digital Utopianism (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006), 1, 8; Walter Isaacson, Steve Jobs (New York: Simon and Schuster, 2011).
¶ 83 Leave a comment on paragraph 83 0  Josh Brandstadter, “Trustees to Discuss Budget Cuts,” The Wesleyan Argus, November 18 2005. Wesleyan had embraced “voluntary retirement,” paying staff bonuses to leave their jobs (see Pei Xiong Liu, “Wes Station’s Hours, Staff Not So Stationary,” The Wesleyan Argus, (September 15, 2009). There were not enough volunteers, and direct staff cuts were initiated a few months later: Erin Newport, “Staff Cuts Implemented Despite Voluntary Retirement Program,” The Wesleyan Argus, November 6 2009.
¶ 84 Leave a comment on paragraph 84 0  Pat Thomson and Inger Mewburn, “Why Do Academics Blog? It’s Not For Public Outreach, Research Shows,” The Guardian, December 2 2013, https://www.theguardian.com/higher-education-network/blog/2013/dec/02/why-do-academics-blog-research, accessed September 1 2016; Robert B. Townsend, “AHA Today: the New Blog on the Web Site,” Perspectives on History (December 2006), https://www.historians.org/publications-and-directories/perspectives-on-history/december-2006/aha-today-the-new-blog-on-the-web-site, accessed September 1 2016.
¶ 86 Leave a comment on paragraph 86 0  Jodi Dean argue that the use of the word “sphere” infers accessibility to all as well as “a kid of conversational unity, as if bloggers addressed the same topics and participated in one giant discussion. The term `blogosphere’ tricks us into thinking community when we should be asking about the kids of links, networks, flows and solidarities that blogs hinder and encourage;” Blog Theory: Feedback and Capture in the Circuits of Drive (Cambridge: Polity Press, 2001), locations 875-892.
¶ 87 Leave a comment on paragraph 87 0  The Chronicle Blog Network lasted for about five years, although several of the bloggers invited into it seemed to freeze almost immediately; it preceded the creation of Vitae, a free “career hub” with its own blog-like articles, a syllabus bank, and job listings that is probably intended to recruit young scholars to an eventual paid subscription.
¶ 88 Leave a comment on paragraph 88 0  James M. McPherson, “A Crisis in Scholarly Publishing,” Perspectives on History (October 2003) https://www.historians.org/publications-and-directories/perspectives-on-history/october-2003/a-crisis-in-scholarly-publishing, accessed February 9 2016; Kate Wittenberg, “Digital Technology and Historical Scholarship: A Publishing Experiment,” Perspectives on History (May 2002), https://www.historians.org/publications-and-directories/perspectives-on-history/may-2002/digital-technology-and-historical-scholarship-a-publishing-experiment, accessed February 9 2016; Robert Darnton, “What is the Gutenberg e-Program?” American Historical Association Website, https://www.historians.org/about-aha-and-membership/governance/divisions/research/gutenberg-e-program/what-is-the-gutenberg-e-program; accessed August 25, 2016.
¶ 89 Leave a comment on paragraph 89 0  Paula Findlen, “What Counts: On Books, Articles and Productivity,” Perspectives on History (September 2013), https://www.historians.org/publications-and-directories/perspectives-on-history/september-2013/what-counts-on-books-articles-and-productivity; accessed March 1 2016.
¶ 90 Leave a comment on paragraph 90 0  See Seth Denbo, “AHA Council Approves Guidelines for Evaluation of Digital Projects,” Perspectives on History (September 2015), https://www.historians.org/publications-and-directories/perspectives-on-history/september-2015/aha-council-approves-guidelines-for-evaluation-of-digital-projects. The guidelines are posted here: https://www.historians.org/teaching-and-learning/digital-history-resources/evaluation-of-digital-scholarship-in-history/guidelines-for-the-evaluation-of-digital-scholarship-in-history. Accessed August 20 2016.
¶ 91 Leave a comment on paragraph 91 0  As James Grossman has pointed out, when teaching is taught that tends not to occur in history departments, which overwhelmingly train graduate students as researchers, but in teaching centers on campus. Yet only 25% of historians will find themselves employed on the tenure track and in “high research activity institutions,” making it critical to integrate the teaching of history into graduate education; “To Be a Historian is To Be a Teacher,” Perspectives on History (November 25, 2015), https://www.historians.org/publications-and-directories/perspectives-on-history/november-2015/to-be-a-historian-is-to-be-a-teacher. Accessed March 17, 2016. In 2011, the Pew search Center reported that 89% of four-year public colleges and 60% of private colleges offer online courses; see Paul Taylor, Kim Parker, Amanda Lenhart, and Eileen Patten, “The Digital Revolution and Higher Education: College Presidents, Public Differ on Value of Online Learning,” (August 28, 2011), 1; http://www.pewinternet.org/files/old-media//Files/Reports/2011/PIP-Online-Learning.pdf. Accessed February 15, 2016.
¶ 94 Leave a comment on paragraph 94 0  American Historical Association, “What Can You Do with an Undergraduate Degree in History? Many, Many Things,” undated, https://www.historians.org/jobs-and-professional-development/career-resources/careers-for-history-majors. Accessed July 17 2016.
¶ 95 Leave a comment on paragraph 95 0  The first of these may have been J.H. Plumb, Ed. Crisis in the Humanities (New York: Penguin Books, 1964.) For the unfolding of the “crisis” as a conflict over culture itself, see Andrew Hartman, A War for the Soul of America: A History of the Culture Wars (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2015.) The most high profile booster of technology as a solution for budget gaps that are bleeding resources from the humanities is Mark C. Taylor, Crisis on Campus: A Bold Plan for Reforming Our Colleges and Universities (New York: Alfred Knopf, 2010).
¶ 96 Leave a comment on paragraph 96 0  Darren C. Brabham, Crowdsourcing (Cambridge: MIT Press, 2009); Clay Shirky, Here Comes Everybody: The Power of Organizing Without Organizations (New York: Penguin Books, 2009.)
¶ 98 Leave a comment on paragraph 98 0  L.D. Burnett, “The Grafton Line,” Saved By History July 21, 2013, http://savedbyhistory.blogspot.com/2013/07/the-grafton-line.html; and Matthew Pratt Guterl, “Life on the #GraftonLine,” Inside Higher Ed, February 10, 2014, http://www.insidehighered.com/advice/2014/02/10/essay-significance-twitter-hashtag#sthash.fuhMPrhA.dpbs.
¶ 99 Leave a comment on paragraph 99 0  Matthew Currier Burden, The Blog of War: Front Line Dispatches from Soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan (New York: Simon and Schuster, 2006). Research suggests that constant communication can be as much a source of stress as it is comfort; in one horrifying incident in 2012, a British officer was killed in a sudden attack in Afghanistan while Skyping with his wife: “Deployed Captain Died During Skype Chat With Wife,” armytimes.com, http://newsmilitary.com/pages/4028950-deployed-capt-died-skype-chat-wife.
¶ 101 Leave a comment on paragraph 101 0  Dorothy Ross, The Origins of Social Science (New York: Cambridge University Press), Peter Novick, And The Noble Dream: The “Objectivity” Question and the American Historical Profession (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1988).
¶ 102 Leave a comment on paragraph 102 0  Robert B. Townsend, “Report Claims History Discipline Failing in Modern Research Practices,” Perspectives on History (February 2013) http://bit.ly/YVNUnn. The report Townsend is citing is Roger Schonfeld and Jennifer Rutner, “Research Support Services for History Scholars: A Study of evolving Research methods in History” (New York: Ithaka S+R, 2012), http://bit.ly/UPzsQ3.
¶ 103 Leave a comment on paragraph 103 0  Melissa Dinsman, “The Digital in the Humanities: an Interview with Sharon Leon,” Los Angeles Review of Books, July 10 2016. https://lareviewofbooks.org/article/the-digital-in-the-humanities-an-interview-with-sharon-m-leon/#! Accessed July 11 2016.
¶ 105 Leave a comment on paragraph 105 0  English seems to be a site where the digital is being hotly disputed; the vast majority of articles in the special issue “In the Shadow of the Digital Humanities,” Differences v. 25 no. 1(spring 2014) ranged from skeptical to openly hostile about the emergence of DH as a field.
¶ 106 Leave a comment on paragraph 106 0  Marshall T. Poe, A History of Communications: Media and Society from the Evolution of Speech to the Internet (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 8-9.
¶ 109 Leave a comment on paragraph 109 0  Alice E. Marwick and danah boyd, “I tweet honestly, I tweet passionately: Twitter users, context collapse and the Imagined audience,” New Media and Society, vol. 20 no. 10, 1-20.