Separating from the Pack

Almost two years ago, I made the decision to go to graduate school. At the time I was basking in what could only be called a history nerd’s dream summer break, spending my workdays as an intern at the New-York Historical Society‘s public programs department doing background research on professors and authors we could invite to give talks. While learning about traditional history occupied my days, learning about digital history began to occupy my evenings (at least when I wasn’t occupied with being a 21 year-old enjoying NYC). I had used GIS extensively the previous summer through a research project and had caught passing glimpses of the broader digital history universe, but I hadn’t fully explored it as a possibility for future study or (gasp) a future career. By the end of the summer, I had realized with a crystal-eyed clarity that digital history is what I wanted to “do” – in the airplane conversation sense of, “So, what do you do?”

By the time I began the actual application process, things had become even clearer, but certainly not easier. I loved history – I loved reading it, researching it, writing it, speaking it, teaching it. The idea that I could potentially spend my life doing these things made me embarrassingly giddy. At the same time, I was endlessly fascinated by the potential that lay in digital scholarship as an exciting frontier with seemingly limitless possibilities. When I sat down to my computer to start looking at schools, I began to feel the intense tug-of-war between these two impulses that would become a constant throughout the next nine months.

On the one side of the spectrum lay the traditional academic program, ivy-wrapped in prestige and brimming with names that fly off the jackets of some of my favorite books. On the other side lay the digital history program, sleekly packaged in technology and humming with voices that build the blogs and websites I trawl. On the one side, my college professors and the academic job market counseling me to apply to the very best schools I could. On the other side, my own geeky impulses were urging me to take a chance and apply somewhere new and different and exciting. I did my best to split the difference, and in the end, I was lucky enough to be accepted to a school with a fantastic combination of these two sides.

My experience led me to the conclusion that just as digital methodology is shifting the scholarly landscape of historical study, it is also altering the competitive landscape of the field. Schools are rapidly carving out digital niches for themselves, and this will prove increasingly attractive to successive waves of graduate applicants and job candidates. Most of these individuals will be reliant on accessing databases and articles online, many will be familiar with new forms of media and technology, and some will be interested in areas of visual design, data mining, or spatial analysis. However, if any of them were to ask their advisor or mentor for suggestions on programs that are strong in digital history, they’d likely hear a one-name (if any) reply: George Mason. Most advisors wouldn’t be able to point towards Nebraska-Lincoln or University of Virginia as digital history strongholds, the same way they would be able to point towards Duke and North Carolina for their strength in African-American history.

This will change. At first glance, the general structure will remain the same. “Top-tier” schools aren’t likely to start hemorrhaging applicants to less-established programs immediately. Innovative schools like UNL will continue to fight the persistent prestige-and-name-recognition battle. Nonetheless, subtler transformations will occur. Even five years ago, it would have been inconceivable that a school like George Mason (whose doctoral program has only been in existence for eight years) would be able to compete on an even footing for history applicants with a school like Stanford. Now, their success in establishing themselves as the dominant industry leader gives them an unparalleled advantage for anyone interested in digital history.

Even for schools on traditionally similar footing, an established track record of integrating new media can easily tip the scales in their favor. Much like special collections and on-campus archives, showing off a sparkling digital infrastructure will emerge as a “sexy” way to pull in both applicants and candidates. Wealthier schools may begin to invest in humanities computing centers and new kinds of software, even if for the simple goal of keeping pace with their competitors. The day is not far off when the mainstream academic history-verse buzzes with the news that an ivy-league school has “poached” a leading history professor in media and technology. Grant proposals for more applicable digital initiatives will cut out bigger slices from an expanding NEH pie.

The schools that will truly separate themselves from the pack, however, will be the ones that demonstrate their support for digital scholarship on an ideological level.  Those programs that establish a sustained committment to encourage, guide, and reward the members of their department (both faculty and students) for digital methodological inquiry will be the ones that will emerge in the best position to attract and train historians eager to tackle the technological opportunities inherent in today’s world.

7 thoughts on “Separating from the Pack

  1. Candace

    “they’d likely hear a one-name (if any) reply: George Mason. Most advisors wouldn’t be able to point towards Nebraska-Lincoln or University of Virginia as digital history strongholds”

    and don’t forget Concordia University’s Digital History Lab in Montréal, Québec!

    I’m currently finishing up my Masters and looking at PhD programs. I realize I have to choose whether to follow the research area or the tools. In the end it looks like geography will be the deciding factor for me but if there were a digital history opportunity in my part of the country I’d be drooling.

    I’d like to see the tools helping to make connections between departments at different universities. In my own department I seem to be the only one with any interest (everyone’s busy, learning curve seems too high, etc) but I just keep talking about what I find. We might see two groups emerge: historians who develop the tools and historians who use the tools. For now I’m okay with being in that second group, appreciating the work of the first!

    Reply
  2. Cameron Blevins Post author

    Candace,

    Your comment is making me brainstorm a possible new post or maybe even a community wiki on a guide to applicants looking at digital history programs.

    I also think you bring up a good point about the rise of a two-track path for pioneers developing the tools and historians using them (although can’t forget the third one – those historians who won’t use new tools).

    Good luck with looking at PhD programs, it’s an exciting (albeit sometimes stressful) process!

    -Cameron

    Reply
  3. Candace

    Hah! yes, that third group is one I’m familiar with! I was part of a campus learning community for graduate students this past year and had many conversations about implementing different teaching methods in a traditional discipline. Luckily my own supervisor is open minded but I sure got some funny looks when I showed up with crayons and chart paper for classroom discussion days.

    I wonder how the first two groups of historians will treat each other and how it will impact tenure. Where will/do digital historians publish and will they be perceived as pseudo-computer scientists/librarians/?? rather than “real” historians? I guess that anytime a field grows there are growing pains.

    Reply
  4. Susan

    I think you’re right that there will be an emerging group of schools that have paid significant attention to issues in digital history. But — as an old fogey who went through grad school when computers were going to change history in the late 70s — I think it’s important to remember that tools are tools. You need to know when you need a hammer and when a screwdriver. If a tool will help me explore the questions I am interested in, I’ll learn it. But if the tools don’t help me do that, well, I am glad they are there, but I have a pretty full plate. So I’m a cautious observer right now — waiting to see where this leads. In other words, I’ll let my intellectual curiosity guide me, rather than using technology and figuring out what it can do.

    Reply
  5. Susan

    Sorry, that sounded more negative than I meant it. I guess it’s a reminder that there are benign non-participants and hostile ones. I’m benign. I’ll use what works. (So I use Zotero.) It’s also that it’s important to know what keeps you intellectually humming. History can be a large tent. I’m delighted that my program will have an undergraduate track in digital history in a year or so; I’m not interested, right now, in teaching courses that fit it.

    Reply
    1. Cameron Blevins Post author

      Susan,
      I think that’s an important take-away. It’s sometimes easy to get into cheerleading mode about new technology, but you’re exactly right – ultimately the success or failure of integrating tools is making them applicable for that “large tent.” Zotero has done a great job of doing that, so even scholars reluctant to pick up digital tools can see the immense benefit and ease of use for that particular application. Making digital history accessible to a wider audience is really important, we can’t just sit at our computers virtually patting each other on the back for writing a new string of code. Pulling in those “benign” historians (and, to a lesser extent, the hostile ones) into the conversation is critical to the widespread adoption of new tools.
      -Cameron

      Reply
  6. Pingback: teaching carnival « Bethany Nowviskie

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