The Philosophers' Cocoon

Against 'commonsense'

I was reading this review of Timothy Williamson’s new (introductory-level) book recently when I came across this striking remark: “philosophy, Williamson tells us, starts from common sense, that is, 'what most members in a society know' (p. 8)”. This sentiment should be familiar to anyone who does academic philosophy. During conference talks and in books and articles, one often hears the phrase “that seems counterintuitive” as a strike against an argument or theory. Yet although this appears to be a very common view—that philosophy should begin with and ‘answer to commonsense’—it really could not be further from my own conception of what philosophy should do or the methods it should involve.

My concerns about philosophy ‘starting with commonsense’ are partly rooted in history. To put it bluntly, commonsense has a terrible track record, both in the sciences and in philosophy. Begin with science. Here, we learn that Galileo was basically run out of town from the University of Pisa because his mechanistic philosophy contradicted the Aristotelian ‘commonsense’ of the time. (Cropper, pp. 5-6) Then of course there was Darwin, whose theory of evolution by natural selection was assailed by numerous critics as an assault on the ‘commonsensical’ idea that humans are unique, divine creations. (Clark, pp. 135-41) Then there was Einstein, whose theory of relativity was mocked by a number of eminent scientists—most famously Philip Lenard—for flouting the “simple, sound common sense” that space and time must be absolute. (Hillman et al., pp. 37, 55, 57) As physicist Sir Oliver Lodge once put it, relativity is just "repugnant to commonsense." (Brian, p. 102) Suffice it to say, all of these affairs (and many others) turned out to be a pretty bad look commonsense. Throughout the history of science, commonsense has a pretty awful track record.

What about philosophy? Here, ‘commonsense’ hardly fares better. For example, in 17^th Century England, Sir Robert Filmer enjoyed widespread fame for defending the ‘commonsensical’ idea that God endowed kings with a divine right to rule. This ‘commonsense’ did not stand the test of time. Instead, it was John Locke’s heretical idea that all people have natural rights—contrary to the classist and religious prejudices of the time—that served to influence future political and philosophical thought. Similarly, if we go back much further, to ancient Greece, we find that Aristotle took it to be simple commonsense that some people are fit to be slaves; that Pythagoras thought it simple commonsensical that one should not eat beans, look in a mirror beside a lamp, or worship without shoes on. (Baird, p. 16) And so on. What we find here, again—throughout philosophical history, as in scientific history—is that what one generation takes to be commonsense the next takes to be foolish prejudices.

This is illustrated perhaps nowhere better than the neo-Platonist Thomas Taylor’s satirical response to Mary Wollstonecraft’s A Vindication of the Rights of Woman entitled, “A Vindication of the Rights of Brutes”—where Taylor satirically argues, ‘if women have rights, why not animals too?”. Yes, in Taylor's satire, we get the following gem, where Taylor openly mocks the idea of moral equality:

IT APPEARS AT FIRST SIGHT SOMEWHAT SINGULAR, that a moral truth of the highest importance, and most illustrious evidence, should have been utterly unknown to the ancients, and not yet fully perceived, and universally acknowledged, even in such an enlightened age as the present. The truth I allude to is, the equality of all things, with respect to their intrinsic and real dignity and worth.... (p. 5)

And thus much may suffice, for an historical proof, that brutes are equal to men. It only now remains (and this must be the province of some able hand) to demonstrate the same great truth in a similar manner, of vegetable, minerals, and even the most apparently contemptible clod of earth; that thus this sublime theory being copiously and accurately discussed, and its truth established by an indisputable series of facts, government may be entirely subverted, subordination abolished, and all things everywhere, and in every respect, be common to all. (p. 28)

Of course, Taylor and his followers thought that extending rights to animals was so obviously antithetical to commonsense that it sufficed to demonstrate the absurdity of extending equal rights to women--not to mention the basic principle most of us now take to be obvious: that everyone is entitled to equal moral concern.

More broadly, if we look at philosophical history, it’s simply not ‘commonsense’ theories that have survived the test of time. In their time, Thomas Reid and William Whewell—commonsense moral intuitionists—were considered a leading moral philosophers. However, moral philosophers today hardly study or engage with them. Why? Because, as John Stuart Mill put it, in his time 'commonsense' was used to defend the divine right of monarchs, the superior status of aristocracy, and the power of the church. (Reeves, p. 164) Mill found this repugnant, arguing that, “the regeneration required, of man and society…can never be effected under the influence of a philosophy which makes opinions their own proof, and feelings their own justification.” (Ibid.) For Mill, ‘commonsense’ is little more than “an apparatus for converting…prevailing opinions, on matters of morality, into reasons for themselves” (p. 241).

I am with Mill, Hume, Patricia Churchland, Dan Dennett, and other naturalistically-inclined philosophers. I don’t think philosophy should be in the business of ‘beginning with’ or ‘answering to’ commonsense at all. Commonsense is often (usually, I’d say) mistaken. Our task should be to place philosophy on better evidential foundations than that--specifically, the findings of natural science, or at least the principles of theory-selection that govern scientific practice. I know that not everyone shares my enthusiasm for ‘natural philosophy.’ Still, for all that, I am increasingly inclined to think it’s the best way to ensure that philosophical arguments and speculation are rooted in facts rather than in ill-founded, regressive prejudices of 'commonsense'—the former of which the world, it seems, now needs as much as (if not more than) ever.

In any case, whenever I hear philosophers say things like, "That's counterintuitive", "That's a serious bullet to bite", or "commonsense dictates", my inclination is not to find a way to make philosophy consistent with commonsense, but instead to figure out whether--given the actual facts that can be posited consistent with sound principles of theory-selection--commonsense has any truth to it at all!

Query on Open Ed Resources

A reader wrote in:

I am not writing to become a contributor, but to offer a suggested topic that I (of course) hope would benefit me and others: experience using Open Educational Resources. 

There is a push at my institution to use and adopt them. It seems that the main development in this area is in science textbooks since they cost so much. But perhaps you could start a thread on experience with them in philosophy: what texts have people used/found and are they good?

This is a great query. I recently went to update my course text for Philosophy of Law, and found that the only recent textbook that meets my needs (in terms of offering the kind of content I am looking for) runs for $200(!). That's an absolutely exorbitant cost, one that seems unfair to visit upon students given all that they are already spending on higher ed. But I've sort of been at a loss when it comes to finding a more affordable book that offers anything remotely close to the material I care to teach.

So, Open Ed Resources sound like a great alternative. Yet they are not something I know much about. So it would be great to learn more. Do any of you have experience with Open Ed Resources? If so, what texts have you used/found to be good?

How to be a philosopher at large (John Wilkins)

Guest post by John Wilkins, University of Melbourne

I wanted to be a philosopher from my youth, but I was not able to get my PhD until my late 40s. I used to joke that my full-time employment in publishing was supporting my philosophy habit. This meant my chances of an employed career were minimal, and despite getting two postdoctoral fellowships, I was not able to establish a regular tenure-track career. So it goes, as Vonnegurt often said.

However, I was able to get positions at two universities as what Australians call an “associate” or “honorary” fellow. This meant that I am able to continue doing research and publishing so long as I have food and a roof (with internet), or as I call them, the ancillary necessities of life to doing philosophy. As I am a self-funded retiree, until the money runs out, I will continue to publish.

So here is my summary of how to be an unemployed philosopher.

There are several basics required:

1. Access to academic literature;
2. Outlets for your work;
3. Inspiration and criticism from peers.

Access to literature

My work deals mostly with historical literature of science, so I was able to access a range of increasingly digitised books and journals via public libraries such as the Bibiliothéque National de France, the British Library, and various other sources back in the 2000s. Now, of course, such material is broadly available through sites like archive.org, and various specialty sites (the Biodiversity Heritage Library is my favourite).

However, you can find almost any philosophical text you like, so long as it is published prior to the current copyright date cutoff (in the US, 1928 due to Mickey Mouse laws). This means that you can cite the original edition of Locke’s Essay or Hume’s Treatise or Enquiry.

Many journals have open access archives also. Since philosophy, more so than science, cites a large historical range, access to Mind or Noūs even if they are older publications is essential.

But one also needs to keep up with current work, and be able to search on topics to see what the state of play is now. For this, Google Scholar is central. Most philosophers’ papers are accessible through online manuscripts, or services like ResearchGate, which also allows readers to contact many researchers for PDFs of their work.

In the end, though, nothing beats access through a university library. This is where honorary status comes in. The university gets to claim the credit for your work in exchange for giving you library access (and often some other benefits). Contact your alma mater for information.

Outlets for your work

In order to be a good philosopher, one must engage with one’s peers. You also have to craft your arguments through teaching and engaging with up and coming philosophers. For this, you are best placed if you have some teaching engagement and the credentials to present at conferences, workshops and seminars.

Spring sounds

Query on research support

A reader writes in:

I was wondering whether you knew of any place where data is collected on what research support [mostly conference] is provided? I imagine that support runs the full gamut, especially depending upon the sorts of university involved. But I was hoping to find some actual data...If you happen to know of anything, that would be great!

It would be great to know things like how research intensive the job is, teaching load, public v private, grad program or no. (I wonder if it would also be helpful for people headed out on the job market next year--there seemed to be way more flexibility in asking for research money than in asking for salary money for me.)

This is a great query - one that might help job-candidates in negotiations and departments in advocating for increases. A while back, one of my social media acquaintances ran a thread where people volunteered information on how much conference support their university provides. And, if I recall, the numbers were all over the map. So, unless anyone has any actual hard data on this, I was thinking it might be good for readers to share information about their own case--namely:

1. How much research support your university provides (e.g. conference-travel funding, etc.).
2. Which kinds of research support is provided (just conference funding, or additional?)
3. The type of college or university you work at (public, private, grad program, undergrad only?).
4. Teaching load.

I'm really curious to see what people report!

Writing and Publishing at Teaching-Heavy Institutions

In today’s post, I wanted to take a look at research at teaching-heavy institutions. Before moving forward, I wanted to explain my motivation in writing this. First, as more and more job seekers seem to be taking an interest in colleges with heavy teaching loads, including two-year institutions, I thought hearing the views of someone at a heavily teaching-focused institution might be of some value. I also hoped to hear from others who teach at such colleges about their own experiences and views on writing.

I will organize this post around several questions that have arisen in discussions with other faculty at similar institutions or others who are seeking employment at these sorts of institutions.

First, a word on what I mean by teaching-heavy schools. I have in mind schools that both have a heavy teaching load (let's say, 4-4 or higher) and also see themselves (as reflected in tenure requirements, contract specifications, and culture) as concerned solely or almost solely with non-research requirements. If we think of colleges as falling along a spectrum, my own institution is firmly toward the teaching side. It transitioned from a 2-year institution to one offering 4-year degrees about a decade ago, but the requirements for faculty and the cultural norms have remained the same. The load is 5-5-2 (2 in the summer) and the tenure process involves significant scholarship of teaching and learning. (We must attend many pedagogy seminars and workshops, and we must submit about 300 pages of research examining elements of our teaching, but there is no push for anyone to publish any of it.) There are no research requirements for tenure or in our contracts other than the pedagogical writing we need to do for the tenure process. I know of other colleges with 4-4 loads that also require little or no research and involve lots of interaction with students outside of the classroom. I think of these as teaching-heavy as well.

What are the downsides for writing in this environment?

There are a few, I think. First, there is no pressure to publish, and for many of us (myself included) it is easy for writing to get pushed onto the back burner if there is no pressure. Second, it can be difficult to find others in our institutions who wish to be actively engaged in research. This can make those of us who wish to write feel a bit alone. Third, we tend to have smaller departments, and so have less opportunities for the sort of engaged philosophical discussion that can inspire writing projects. Fourth, at some of these institutions (certainly at mine), there is almost no opportunity to teach courses related to our research interests.

Choosing job-talk papers

In our newest "how can we help you?" thread, Anon writes:

About the paper that you focus a job talk around. Suppose you have something at every stage of the pipeline - including, say, a manuscript that's not quite submitted for review, a manuscript that's under review, a manuscript that got an R&R decision, a manuscript that you've revised and resubmitted, and a conditional acceptance.

Are any of these options clearly a bad idea? On the one hand, as we get towards the end of the list, they're more polished, and you'll presumably look better presenting them. But also, as we approach the end of the list, they're more "done", and you run the risk of looking like you don't have new things coming.

'One-Time Job Candidate' then answered:

Just my opinion here, but I think the choice of topic for a job talk depends a lot on where you are giving the talk. If it's at a place with a PhD program, I would choose something new, interesting, ambitious, that may not be as far along in the process.

But at teaching-oriented places, I think it's better to give a safer talk in the sense that it's on a better-known topic which is accessible to a lot of people. At least, this was my experience with the job talks I had a few months ago. All were at teaching-oriented places, and none of the talks were based on a paper. Rather, they were overviews of my research program as a whole, tying my work into recognized and accepted philosophical problems that everyone can appreciate.

It was clear that the audiences appreciated this, including the undergraduates in attendance.

I found this interesting, as I would have thought the opposite to be the case: that it would probably be best to present something very polished at research institutions (given the concern for rigor in research, particularly in Q&A's), and something more ambitious at teaching institutions (that might excite the faculty and undergrads there, even if not terribly polished). But this is just my off-the-cuff reaction, and I don't really have much to go on besides my experiences and One-Time Job Candidate's.

What do you all think, particularly those of you who have done well on the market or been on the hiring side of things?

Taking time off work/the market for motherhood?

In our newest "how can we help you?" thread, Anonymous writes:

Would it be career suicide to skip the job market and adjuncting for a year (or maybe even two) to expand my family and be a stay at home parent for a little while? I would still attempt to write, publish, and present at conferences (in fact I'd have much more time to attempt to do these things if I wasn't adjuncting and on the market while parenting a young child). I was on the market during my first pregnancy and adjuncted right up until my due date. I'm not keen to try that again while also parenting a toddler. I also don't want to put off having another kid until after I get a permanent job (since it may never happen anyway). Would schools consider hiring someone with this kind of gap in teaching? If so, would there be a good way to explain it in my cover letter and/or CV when going back on the market at a later time?

'B' then answered:

Make a point of listing it on your c.v. or in your letter that you were on maternity leave. There are civilized departments out there. Hopefully no one will ask you to show the placenta to prove it.

While I think this is right--and I think this is an important issue--I also think that whether Anonymous should bet on 'civilized departments' may be a difficult question to answer. Allow me to explain.

I have heard two things anecdotally from a number of people. The first is that search committees may have a tendency to look askance at 'gaps' in one's employment record. The second is that, at many places, there may be fairly clear discrimination against women on the basis of motherhood. For example, I have heard from women academics I know personally that things like the following have been said in their presence, "Oh, she just had a child. Say goodbye to her productivity." Not only that: there is plenty of empirical research showing a very real "motherhood penalty" in hiring and wages--whereas men actually appear to benefit in the workplace from being fathers (whereas motherhood is prejudicially associated with less productivity, fatherhood appears to be prejudicially associated with greater productivity).

If you put these two (very) unfortunate things together--the anecdotal possibility that hiring committees may hold 'employment gaps' against candidates, and real evidence that motherhood is used against mothers in hiring--then B's advice may, sadly, not be the best advice to follow (at least if Anonymous does not want to risk these things, as the concerns in her comment suggests she is concerned about). That being said, I am neither a father nor (obviously) a mother, so I cannot pretend to speak to Anonymous' situation beyond this.

What do you all think?

Representation in professional organizations

Updated: 7:10pm, 6/11/2019

Last week, the APA announced the results of its most recent elections. I think everyone elected is highly qualified and deserving of their new positions, and I congratulate them all wholeheartedly. Nevertheless, I would like to make a modest suggestion to the APA and other professional organizations about representation. To be clear in advance, the suggestion I will offer is not intended as a criticism. I appreciate what the APA does, and have benefited from it tremendously as a member. Further, a voluntary association, I think the APA is probably well within its moral rights to represent its members in the way it currently does and traditionally has. Rather, I merely want to make the positive suggestion that it might be good for the APA, the profession as a whole, and many of its members for it--and other professional organizations like it--to pay additional attention to some issues concerning representation. Allow me to explain.

Upon receiving the notification of the APA's election results, I quite naturally looked at who was elected. I was in turn pleasantly surprised that a number of people I voted for were elected--which made me happy, both for them and for the profession. However, I then noticed something interesting: that of the nineteen people elected, 18 are from research universities (the lone exception being Rebecca Copenhaver from Lewis and Clark College). Because I found this striking, I looked at the APA's Board of Officers page to see what the composition of its Board has been. When I went down the list of 26 people listed, I found that 23 officers work at research universities. Of the remaining three officers, two--Rebecca Copenhaver and Jeffrey S. Dunn--work at liberal arts universities, and the third (Matthew O'Brien) has a non-academic affiliation. In other words, across both pages I found that 41 of 45 the APA's officers, or 91.1%, are from research universities.

While I understand that research plays a central role in the discipline, this strikes me as potentially a missed opportunity in several respects.

Expectations about becoming a professor

Last week, I wrote a post answering a recent undergraduate's query about managing expectations heading into grad school. In brief, I suggested to 'Cautiously Optimistic' that they take a great deal of care not to let their cautious optimism morph into reckless optimism - as I have seen many a grad student (including myself!) become socialized in grad school to expect an academic career, and hence not take enough care to ensure they have a viable 'plan B' if an academic career doesn't work out.

In today's post, I want to address another part of Cautiously Optimistic's query that I didn't focus on the first time. In their query, they wrote: 

I have gotten a taste for academic life (as a TA, presenting in conferences, etc.), and I enjoy producing scholarship and am most interested in working with students. While in high school, I job shadowed professors (in music and in English), since the profession appealed to me. So I would like to be a professor. (my italics)

Here is what I would like to focus on: Cautiously Optimistic's desire to be a professor on the basis of their 'taste of academic life.' As I explain below, I think undergraduates and early-term grad students (i.e. MA students and PhD students before the dissertation stage) can and often do have dramatically inaccurate expectations about what is actually involved in becoming and being a professor--that is, a dramatically inaccurate 'taste' of what academic life is actually like. Allow me to explain.

Supporting Our Transgender Peers in Philosophy

After reading several accounts by transgender colleagues reporting very negative experiences in the profession--accounts that a number of other trans colleagues wrote on social media cohere with their own experiences--Helen and I commissioned the following guest post on ways to support our trans peers better. We hope the post will lead to constructive, supportive dialogue on this important issue - as we believe that our profession should be a welcoming and supportive place for all of its members, particularly those who have been marginalized and who experience the profession as less welcoming that it should be.

Although we recognize that recent discussions of these and surrounding issues have been very contentious, our aim in hosting this post and discussion is--in line with the Cocoon's safe and supportive mission--to provide a safe and supportive forum for constructive dialogue. Bearing this in mind, we will moderate discussion carefully, so as to ensure that discussion is constructive and conforms to this forum's mission. Many thanks to the co-authors of this piece for composing it, and for their work on these important issues!

Supporting Our Transgender Peers in Philosophy

By Isela González Vázquez, Jules Holroyd, and Rory Wilson

Department of Philosophy,  The University of Sheffield

Many of us will have been saddened to read the two pieces – here and here –  from trans students describing their experiences within academic philosophy. While we strongly disagree with the views of 'gender critical' philosophers, and are grateful to those who have engaged with their arguments, that's not what we want to do in this post. We don't want to add more fuel to the flames here. Instead, we want to ensure there is space to discuss the kinds of support we should be making available to trans staff and students. What we can do better? How can we, academic philosophers, cis and transgender, together support trans staff and students within our departments and within our discipline?

What It's Like to Be on the Philosophy Job Market: A Simulation

About a month ago, I gave a presentation to a group of graduate students about the philosophy job market. During that presentation, I showcased a short video that was designed to be a simulation of what it's like to go on the academic job market in philosophy. I think it's fair to say that it's not the most optimistic portrayal of how the job search can go. But given what was going on at the time I came up with this idea, that's probably not surprising. On the bright side, it did provide some use for the rejection notices that I had been accumulating over the past few years, and my search this past year was ultimately successful (though that story will have to wait for another post).

Anyway, I have now uploaded that short video to YouTube so that you can have the experience of going on the philosophy job market condensed into a mere 75 seconds. The video is embedded below, but I'd recommend full-screening it if you want to actually read some of the text. Note that all the rejection emails in the video are legitimate except one, and you'll probably be able to figure out which one that is.

Spring sounds

Still one of the best bands most people have never heard of.

More below the fold...

Query on transferring PhD programs

In our most recent "how can we help you?" thread, a reader writes:

Is there any specific advice about how to write your application for transferring Ph. D programs other than the obvious — don’t trash talk your old program, etc.?

I don't know, myself. I did transfer successfully from one program (Syracuse) to another (Arizona). But I don't recall doing anything special, aside from getting good letters from the faculty in the first program (who were supportive of my leaving, given that I was leaving in response to four of our professors--all of whom I planned to work with--being hired away by other programs over the course of a single year).

Aside from trying to get positive letters, though, I guess I only have one other piece of advice. When I applied to Arizona, I initially used a 'safe' but (I thought) clear and rigorous epistemology paper as my writing sample (one I had gotten an excellent grade on in a grad seminar). At one point, a member of the admissions committee (David Chalmers) asked me if I had any other writing samples to consider (perhaps because the committee was not too enthused with the first - though I don't know for sure). In response I sent a much more ambitious paper (on vagueness) as my second writing sample...and I was accepted into the program later that same day. So, for what it is worth, my sense then--and my sense now, based on my experiences on the academic job-market--is that people may be much more interested in ambitious rather than 'safe' work. But this, again, is just a hunch.

Anyway, that's all I have. Do you any of you have any helpful tips for someone interested in transferring PhD programs?

Confessions of a Skeptic About Teaching

The following post was submitted by an anonymous reader:

By Anonymous

This is an essay about teaching. But it's going to start with a discussion of driving, for the purpose of making an analogy.

About driving, I want to make the following four broad observations:

(1) It's important to drive well enough. That is, you should be able to drive safely, competently navigate your home city, etc. And it's important to be able to do this.

(2) One can take advanced driving courses and learn to do lots of cool things with cars. One can then try to apply these things to one's daily driving -- e.g. one might try to accelerate through curves in an optimal way, brake in a way that conserves fuel, etc. But really, once you can do an ok job driving (that is, once you can safely and competently get around -- something we think 16 year-olds can do) it's not particularly important to learn these other tricks.

(3) On the other hand, one might enjoy taking advanced driving courses and learning to do cool things with cars. Or, one might enjoy going on long drives. Both of these are perfectly good reasons to put more time into your driving. But they're not reasons why we all should do this. They're reasons why you might, for your own enjoyment, put more time into driving. If I don't do those things, though, this isn't some sort of failing on my part. Maybe I get my kicks out of reading poetry or mowing my lawn instead. You know -- different strokes and whatnot.

(4) If you are the sort who gets their kicks out of driving, you're also likely the sort who wants to go drive on tricky roads -- e.g. maybe you're in to off-roading, or you want to drive up treacherous switchbacking mountain passes, etc. What you probably don't do is just rave about and look forward to your daily commute, or to driving to the grocery store. That is, it's probably driving unusual and/or difficult roads, or making long drives that gets you going, not just ordinary old motoring.