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— Written by Reece Barlow

On Tuesday September 1st 2026, I worked furiously until 11:53pm, feeling the pressure of the midnight deadline. I had made a commitment to myself, but also publicly via my Instagram page, that by the 1st of September a proposal for my independent PhD program of study would be finished. I had documented parts of this journey over the course of the previous few months in addition to sharing, what I consider to be, normal "PhD style" content. I must admit though, that lately the thought of my content on Instagram attracting comments has filled me with a strange sort of dread.

These days, it is typical for creators sharing content online related to science, research or academia to shelter under the cover of their institution. Hooks such as "Harvard Neuroscientist Explains" or "I'm a PhD student at Cambridge" abound, forming a sort of shield around the claims that creators make in their content. It is also not uncommon for creators to venture out of their immediate, institutionally sanctioned area of expertise (neuroscience is particularly popular, of course). The reason for my aforementioned dread, I have realized, is my belief that my content has been attracting scrutiny of an abnormal intensity. In my attempts to explain this, I have arrived at my lack of affiliation with an institution.

Recently, I shared a Reel presenting five myths about scholarship and research that I believe are widely held. They were:

One of the comments is given below.

I do agree that my position on Open Access is unusual. Controversial. For now I'll say that three years working for Open Access publishers has given me my reasons and leave it there. The rest of the list however, particularly 4 and 5, seemed fairly innocuous to me (in truth, I expected comments pointing out the notion that "intelligence beats hard work" is so obviously false that it would not qualify as a myth). What particularly struck me though, was this person's assertion that I had no business to be making those claims because I hadn't "done any research to begin with". I found myself wondering if had I been affiliated to a university, would these claims have been dismissed so easily. Granted, this individual's position on these points may not have changed, however, had I included "PhD student @ University of X" in my bio, or the words "PhD Student" in the hook, would they have disagreed without implying I lacked the credibility to hold those opinions?

Such comments and their implications have become more common as I have progressed further into my program of independent study. Anonymous strangers on the internet have confidently declared that without institutional support, my endeavors are sure to fail. They do not appreciate my presence, or my participation, in an online space which is inhabited by "normal", that is institutionally affiliated, researchers and academics. I have no intention of making an exit from this space, but I will not lie to you, at times I have considered succumbing to this pressure. Perhaps I should submit my recently finished proposal to a proper program? I believe it stands a chance of being considered. Or perhaps, I could apply to a distance PhD program, such as the one offered by the University of Edinburgh. Both of these options would allow me to obtain the commodity of credibility, the price of which is my independence.

In writing this reflection it has occurred to me that one of the greatest challenges of independent scholarship is not a lack of institutional support, but a lack of support from ones peers as a consequence of ones independence from an institution. It follows therefore, that one of the greatest boons an independent scholar can hope for, is the support of their peers. Commonly, support and assistance for scholarship are attributed to institutions, as though a scholar can draw strength from the very bricks the buildings are made of. In truth, it is communing with the people who gather within those buildings that brings the relief from the self-doubt and uncertainties which seem to be inherent to the practice of scholarship. To simply exist alongside others, as one individual in a sea of many other individuals, is not in and of itself, a form of support. This is especially the case when they may, at any time, pose as competitors, reviewers and gatekeepers. If anything, such co-existence has the strange capacity to amplify negativity, enlarging challenges to the point where they seem all but insurmountable. Academics, researchers and scholars may find themselves in such an environment within their university, at a conference, or within this particular niche of social media.

Yesterday evening, during the weekly meet-up of the "In/dependent Scholars" group in Scholar Square, I gathered with friends, some old, some new, who listened patiently as I talked for several minutes about writing the proposal, my fears regarding its rigor, my pride at the end result. When I had finished one asked me:

"How can we support you?"

I must admit, having spent the last week or so wallowing in a feeling that my credibility as a scholar was being subjected to extraordinarily sharp skepticism online, her question caught me off guard. It soothed the aches and pains inflicted by anonymous strangers that had bothered me so. The relief lasted long after we had bid each other goodbye, for to be asked that question has also cleared some space in my mind. Thoughts about the solidity of my online credibility had been chased away, just long enough for the voluminous space they vacated to be filled by recollections of the times that I had been supported in this journey. Anonymous strangers, of a different variety, have extended offers of help in various forms ranging from proof-reading, to sharing their own PhD proposals for my reference.

After the sting of the injuries inflicted by these, unnecessarily hurtful, comments fades, the question emerges: why? Why is it that men seem to be largely absent from positive engagement with our aims and efforts to build an alternative space for scholarship, while women seem to be overwhelmingly present through encouragement, participation, and involvement? How come women participate in meaningful ways that help us build, while men seem disproportionately present when it comes to breaking us down? 

I must confess that despite their relative abundance, I had been forgetting such instances of positivity far too quickly of late. Moreover, I had allowed myself to become swept up in the concerns and logics of the academy, which I have explicitly chosen not to enter. How wonderful then, to be reminded of the potency that a question arising from a place of genuine sincerity and care can possess. The members of the In/dependent Scholars group who communed yesterday evening were not situated in a brick building on a sprawling campus. Nevertheless we took shelter, and found respite, in our shared space brought to life by the supportive presence of our peers.

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