Beardbook

The current target of my wrath is a technological development which has brought our society closer to a complete stripping of privacy. It has rendered us open to all kinds of invasive private censorship.

It is of course that scapegoat of all evils, Facebook.

A friendly SSLC representative informs me that my academic department has issues with Facebook. Namely groups created on them. Namely groups created specifically about lecturers. Apparently there are 16 related to the English department alone.

Out of sheer curiosity I attempted to track said 16 down. I also didn’t particularly fancy reading Frankenstein. By typing in ‘English literature’, only 1 student-created group in any way relevant to lecturers appeared. (Debating the resemblance between a tutor and Rasputin, incidentally). It’s a fun game – try it with your own department.

This leads me to conclude that some poor clerical munchkin (let’s call him Dobby) spent some small, yet irretrievable fraction of its lifetime constructing imaginative search terms in order to track down the other 15 groups. What were they?

I saw no reason to follow the footsteps of the clerical munchkin, but I can only assume Dobby typed in the name of each and every lecturer, module and – shudder – novel which has any link to the English syllabus. My own minutes of research have mostly revealed much aesthetic appreciation of several tutors (including, bizarrely, their facial hair). This presumably means Dobby’s search terms will have also included ‘beard appreciation’ and ‘sex god’. I found nothing personally insulting as such, although there was the occasional grumble about modules, unsurprisingly. I did spend minutes on this, though. Irretrievable minutes.

Evidently the English department is not the only victim of such churlish behaviour. Dobby’s colleague over in the business school (let’s call him Kreacher) and other clerical munchkins across the arts subjects have similarly spent irretrievable minutes on the subject. Kreacher – like his department – is particularly efficient, and fans of pro-whisker groups and the like may expect impolite e-mails from him suggesting that you remove the textual manifestation of your beard-appreciation. If you don’t, Kreacher will tell your personal tutor. And the senior tutor. And another undergraduate bigwig. So nyah.

Quite what these brass hats will do about your beard-appreciation remains a fudged matter. Suggest therapy perhaps?

If on the other hand, you have taken the opposite stance and are particularly anti-beard, you should also refrain from commenting. Any expression of personal dislike on these groups is deemed, it appears, inappropriate. Inappropriate for what? Have a look in your undergraduate handbooks. There are rules forbidding you from plagiarism, cheating in exams and pushing deadlines. What I can’t find – and please e-mail me if you do – is the clause: ‘Students found expressing anti-barbigerous sentiments via Facebook will face disciplinary action.’ And they would use barbigerous. Just to be unnecessarily spiteful munchkins.

Because that is what this whole debate is – whether you’re the clerical munchkin or the creator of a group. Good lecturers are necessarily subject to scrutiny from their young observers. It’s the inevitable fascination with the mentor figure and frankly, an inevitable consequence of any form of teaching. Look at JD and Dr Cox. Our beard fantasies look positively healthy in comparison.

Facebook is exactly what it claims to be, and no more. Academic departments make fools of themselves and their students by taking this new form of social communication much too seriously. Attempting to police the groups simply shows a reactionary and worryingly suppressive attitude. Certainly derogatory groups are lamentable but ignore it, for crying out loud. Weren’t you taught that in the playground?

The moral of the story is: never assume your lecturers and tutors have personalities. Take no mark of their mannerisms, foibles or academic merits. In no way analyse them amongst yourselves, personally or physically. Analysis? What do you think you are – a student?