A Professor Liked a Photo on Facebook. Then a Political Aide Said He Was Supporting Vandalism.

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The latest campus flap over politics and academic freedom started with a fart joke. It ended with what one professor considered threats of political retribution.

The spark that lit the fuse wasn’t something that the professor had said or written; it was what he liked on Facebook. At a time when professors have found themselves increasingly under attack for their scholarship and their political commentary, a complaint about the least-considered form of social-media activity represents a new manifestation of the outrage toward academe.

At the center of the case are Ari Kohen, an associate professor of political science at the University of Nebraska at Lincoln, and a staff member for U.S. Rep. Jeff Fortenberry, a Republican running for re-election in Nebraska.

Campaigning means political signage, and any sign brings an opportunity for vandalism. In October, the Nebraska politician was hit. A picture surfaced online of a Fortenberry campaign poster that had been altered. The vandal had slapped a pair of cartoonish eyes on the lawmaker’s face, and changed one letter in his name. Jeff Fortenberry became “Jeff Fartenberry.”

U. of Nebraska at Lincoln

Dozens of people liked a Facebook post of the poster that soon spread. Kohen was among them. He told The Chronicle that he knows the message isn’t subtle, but he found it funny.

It’s unclear how, but Fortenberry’s staff found out about Kohen’s “like.” And William (Reyn) Archer III, the representative’s chief of staff, called Kohen in late October to complain about it. When he didn’t hear back, he went up the ladder, complaining to Kohen’s department chair, his dean, and the university’s chancellor, Ronnie D. Green.

Kohen had been traveling when Archer called. Moreover, he didn’t have any reason to believe he was of any interest to the campaign. “I wouldn’t have imagined the congressman knew my name,” he said.

Putting his confusion aside, Kohen called Archer. What followed was a nearly hourlong conversation in which Archer insisted that liking the post was tantamount to supporting vandalism. Kohen disagreed. (Kohen recorded the conversation, and it’s available online here.) Kohen said he was threatened. Archer told the Lincoln Journal Star that wasn’t the case. (An email to Fortenberry’s spokesman, James Crotty, wasn’t immediately returned.)

Here’s what Archer did say: “Frankly, we have a First Amendment opportunity to basically to put you out there in front of everybody.” The question, Archer continued, would be: “Why is a professor liking vandalism? We can do that publicly, would you like that?”

Kohen has since filed a complaint with the Office of Congressional Ethics. Meanwhile, if Fortenberry’s campaign was hoping to limit the sign’s visibility, the opposite has been true: The story has spread rapidly online following the initial report by the Lincoln Journal Star.

It’s tempting to laugh off the episode as nothing more than a veteran lawmaker who doesn’t appreciate a bit of fart-based humor. But Kohen argues that there’s more to the story. Professors have felt the wrath of digital mobs, he says, and he feels Archer was threatening to summon just such a mob.

The American Association of University Professors appears to agree with Kohen, who is the group’s chapter president at Lincoln. In an open letter, the advocacy group decried Archer’s actions, characterizing them as “harassment.”

The relationship between Nebraska’s flagship campus and its conservative lawmakers has already been strained by debates over civility, censorship, and the political leanings of faculty members. A standoff last fall between a teaching graduate student and an undergraduate morphed into a statewide contretemps that pitted state lawmakers against professors and campus officials.

The incident also represents the increased paranoia that many professors feel online. A “like” on Facebook takes little to no effort; it means different things to different people. Kohen said he didn’t even remember liking the post.

He suspects that one of his friends on Facebook had alerted the campaign to his fateful click. Even those “friends” now warrant a second look, and Kohen says he’s learned his lesson: Now he’s planning to further restrict access to who can see his account.

Chris Quintana is a staff reporter. Follow him on Twitter @cquintanadc or email him at chris.quintana@chronicle.com.