Last week, I read two postings on LinkedIn that I’ve thought about every day since. The first was an essay extolling the virtues of social science. The argument went something like this: As social scientists, we’re dispassionately committed to finding the truth. When we’re proved wrong, we accept it and move on, so the truth, in the end, prevails. Society benefits as we become better and better at treating mental disorders.
One can take many issues with this argument, but let’s set those aside for the moment and consider the functions LinkedIn serves for social scientists. Until this year, I’d paid little attention to LinkedIn since shortly after it launched in 2003. At that time, LinkedIn was used mostly to find jobs, and I hadn’t been on the open market in decades. That changed when I recently left academia, so onto LinkedIn I went.
I expected the same old professional networking site people used to find jobs back in the day. Yes, that job-finding function remains, but there’s much, much more to LinkedIn than before (e.g., the opinion piece I mention above). What I found most surprising is the deep entwinement of social and professional networking. Many users post content and comments every day, with extended discussions that countless others weigh in on, often in socially familiar terms (there are no doubt upsides to this, but that’s for another day).
The Blending of Social Media and Professional Networking
I’m sure the melding of social media with professional networking is news to no one but me, yet the contrast between two decades ago and now is instructive. Like all social media, LinkedIn curates its content. As users visit others’ announcements, comments, and postings, they get fed more of what they like and less of what they don’t like. They build their own networks by adding contacts, and many praise their colleagues with assorted emojis. “Likes,” “celebrates,” “supports,” “loves,” and more. In these ways, LinkedIn is just like Facebook, Instagram, or TikTok.
Among other acts, users post their journal articles, write opinion pieces, and repost articles from others that agree with or reflect well on their own work. Because LinkedIn is curated, users are more likely to see scientific content they agree with and that aligns with their own views, creating echo chambers that elevate selected perspectives and minimize others—not a recipe for objective or dispassionate thinking.
This brings me to self-promotion, a natural outgrowth of modern social media. It seems, at least by my read, that overstatements and exaggerations have become the norm on LinkedIn. Last week alone I read of “scientific breakthroughs,” “game-changing therapies,” “profoundly innovative technologies,” “milestone achievements,” and “turning points” in research on mental illnesses including addiction, schizophrenia, autism, and post-traumatic stress disorder.
Misleading Impressions and the Reality of Scientific Advances
What might an intelligent but social science-naïve reader take from these descriptions? If every week brings scientific breakthroughs, game-changing therapies, innovative technologies, and milestone achievements in research, shouldn’t we have cured or at least come close to curing mental illness by now? The objective “truth,” however, is that we’re little better at treating most mental health problems than we were 50 years ago, a few bright spots notwithstanding.
How does this stack up with the argument that social science is dispassionate and truth-seeking, and with the notion that society benefits as we become better and better at treating mental disorders?
The second LinkedIn post that stuck with me all week concerned public trust in science, which is now at an all-time low. The author placed blame squarely on politically motivated cynicism, based on an article in the public domain. I have no doubt politics contributes, but we need to examine our own unending promises of breakthroughs, innovations, and cures that never materialize. In the long run, over-promising and under-delivering isn’t the way to gain public trust. To the extent “big T” truth exists and can be discovered, exaggerating our work’s importance and implications isn’t the way to get there.