The Philosophers' Cocoon

A search committee member on writing samples

A search committee member writes in:

I'm running a search committee right now, and so have just read something like 120 application files.  Here's something I've noticed that might be worth discussing on the blog:

For many of the application files I'm reading, applicants are submitting something published as their writing sample. But in a significant group of those files, this choice doesn't seem to make much sense in the larger context of the file. For instance, there'll be a candidate coming out of their PhD whose dissertation is about one big project, their research statement proposes carrying that project farther, but the writing sample is about something totally unrelated.  If this is your big project, what you expect to do going forward, and all of your letter-writers are talking about it, I want to see what a chunk of that project actually looks like!  Just because you have only one thing published doesn't necessarily mean that's the best thing to send along.

Why is this happening?  I dimly remember getting this kind of advice when I was on the market, along something like the lines that an actually-published piece of writing looks more impressive to committees.  But as a committee member I can read your cv; I know whether you've published things or not. Also I totally get if the published piece is your most polished piece of writing—dissertation chapters may still be in an unfinished state. But beyond that, is there a good reason to send a published piece over a piece that better represents what you do? 

I'm curious whether other search committee members have the same take. As a job-candidate, I would normally send my best piece of work (published or unpublished) from my big research program--but for jobs in other specialty areas that I worked in (e.g., AI ethics, etc.), I'd normally choose to use a writing sample on that. 

Any other search committee members care to weigh in? Update based on first comment: it could be good to hear from job-candidates too, on their rationale for how they choose a writing sample (as this might help search committee members like the OP better understand their choices!) 

How do search committees view ABD candidates?

A reader writes in,

I wanted to see if I could post a "how I can help you" thread about going onto the academic job market as an ABD. I am curious what former committee members' impressions of an ABD applicant and an applicant with a degree in hand. 

Excellent query. Do any search committee members care to weigh in?

Tips for developing expertise in a new area? A query from a grad student

In our newest "how can we help you?" thread, a grad student writes:

A thread on developing expertise might be helpful. It often feels like there's always so much more to read on a topic, and it can be hard to be sure that you're saying something new or that you have a grasp of the subject at hand.

One reader submitted the following response:

[T]here are a number of ways to track relevant new research. SEP is a starter, though it isn't up to date if a particular entry was updated a few years ago. Then you have PhilPapers, where you can declare your research interests, and occasionally get email updates of potentially relevant papers. Another way is google scholar. You can search the keywords you know and limit the search to within one or two years. You can also find several articles as indicators, and see who cites them on google scholar, and reiterate the process to see the new papers citing the near new ones. And there's this website called Philosophy Paperboy, where you can screen through the titles of new papers, though it is a bit too much information daily; there's a search function in it though, which makes tracking easier. And if you can, monitor the call for special issues, and see who presents at certain conferences that look relevant to your research area. All this takes time, but who knows when you will encounter a reviewer or two who are angry at you for not citing their recently accepted paper just declared on PhilPapers five days after you submitted your paper etc.

Do any other readers have any helpful tips or insights?

Specifications grading?

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

I have heard many teachers starting to use specification grading as a way of maintaining high standards without stressing the students out too much. Has anyone tried this and liked it/not liked it?

One reader submitted the following reply:

[T]he downside of this sort of approach is that students' answers can become very formulaic. They try to hit the points, if you know what I mean, and do not think creatively about their academic assignments. It perpetuates the worse vices of the American high school experience - teaching to the test. I hope this helps.

I honestly don't know that much about the practice, so I am curious to hear from people who have tried it on how they do it and how well they've found it to work!

Insights on applying for jobs at religious institutions when not of the faith?

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

I'm curious in the perspective of those who work at schools with religious affiliations. I know it will vary with the school, but do those working at such (for instance Catholic) schools have a general sense of what they would look for from applicants who are not of that faith? I'm starting to interview at such institutions, and I'm a bit unsure of myself.

I imagine that no one wants an applicant to misrepresent the extent to which they are religious in general or have beliefs that align with a particular faith. At the same time, I wonder if true honesty is a virtue if, for instance, an applicant considers herself an atheist. Might an honest atheist have a shot at being employed in a Catholic university? Or is it best to profess some sort of amorous spirituality to be more palatable?

And I know that a non-religious candidate might be more fulfilled at a non-religious school. We just all need to be realistic about the sort of choices that job candidates are faced with these days.

Good questions. A Catholic reader at a Catholic institution responded:

As you may have guessed, "Catholic schools" are not all alike, and what one search committee prefers is not a guide to what another search committee prefers. However, as a Catholic who has served on a search committee at a Catholic school, I can tell you what has rankled me, as answers to our mission-oriented questions. We once had a candidate who could not say the word "Christian" or "Catholic" without disdain in her voice. She was also very dismissive of this part of the country (non-coastal). It was not a good fit, and I think even the atheist/agnostic committee members found this all very off-putting. Another candidate spoke of our benighted student body, who all have unthinkingly accepted the religion of their parents. She could benefit them, she told us, by teaching them to finally think and question ... She went on in this vein for a while. In addition to mischaracterizing our student body (which in itself is not a huge deal), this person also expressed some really nasty stereotypes about religious people. Again, I am one person at one institution. But I take our mission seriously and yes, I would be open to hiring an atheist, so long as they are not prejudicial or dismissive of religion. Quite a few intelligent, very reflective people are religious, and Catholicism in particular has an extremely rich intellectual tradition. Candidates who are curious, interested, respectful, and not shamefully ignorant will likely not be rejected for mission reasons (at least not by me).

A non-Catholic reader added:

When I was on the market I interviewed at a few Catholic colleges - first round interviews at the APA. I have a really solid history of philosophy background that suits the whole person education that such schools aim for. I am not religious, and I do not hide it. But I am not aggressive about it either. My experience then was that they had a way to select appropriate candidates - they would ask about your knowledge of Catholic philosophers. I surprised some when I mentioned Jacques Maritain, for example (I am Canadian, though). But I never moved on to the on-campus interview. So do not think you can "pass".

Do any other readers have any helpful insights? It would of course be good to hear from search committee members, but also from any people who have obtained jobs at religious institutions while not sharing the relevant faith.

Tips for expanding one's professional network for a neurodivergent 2nd-year PhD student?

A reader writes in,

I'm a second year PhD student and I have substantial problems finding my tribe. Sure I'm a neurodivergent introvert, but I don't want to let that get in my way anymore - at least as much as I can. Not easily find[ing] people doing the same is, in a way, a good thing I guess: nobody is really doing what I am doing. But on the other way, it's difficult to find colleagues with whom I can discuss or get advice from: they are either inexistant or way out of my league - I probably wouldn't get an answer to my cold emails from these high profile people. I've been monitoring closely CFP or talks but there is rarely something corresponding to my field of research. I found one conference this year - and this is because their topic is broad enough for me to fit in. My question what's the best way to find the people I could discuss my ideas with and develop professional relationship? Could building a research group or organizing conferences would help?

Fair questions! It's hard to say without knowing more, but I guess I'm a bit worried by the OP's statement that there aren't any CFPs or talks in their field of research. Perhaps this isn’t a problem—I’m not sure—but I guess if I were a 2nd year grad student I’d worry about working primarily in an area for which there isn’t much interest. Are there any jobs in the area? Then again, maybe they are poised to break new ground in an under explored area, and that might serve them well on the market later on down the line. Again, I think it’s hard to say without knowing more.

In any case, do any readers have any tips for the OP? It would be great to hear from readers in general, but especially from neurodivergent and/or introverted readers. As a neurodivergent introvert myself, I’ve grappled with similar issues my entire life, including in grad school and beyond. To be honest, over time I’ve mostly just learned to enjoy doing work by myself, while cultivating close relationships with a few close friends and colleagues. At the same time, like the OP I’ve always wished that I could better expand my progressional circle, as I’ve always loved talking shop. So I too could use some tips! :)

Generative AI and student assessment: what are you/your departments doing?

A reader writes in,

I would really like to know what other philosophy departments are doing around generative AI and assessment. As people will know, this issue is tricky for a number of reasons. But not least because -

1) There are a number of different ways that generative AI can be used in producing assessments, some of which seem problematic, and some not. It's hard to draw the line between what is acceptable and what isn't.

2) Generative AI is not going anywhere and our students will almost certainly have to use it in their lives after university.

3) There are no reliable tools for detecting material produced by AI at present.

The steer from my institution has been (partly) to design assessments that are harder to write using AI, but the sorts of things that AI is good at doing, are the sorts of things that we assess our students on. So what are you all doing?

Good question, and I'd love to hear from readers!

Nursing babies and campus visits

In our newest "how can we help you?" thread, a reader asks:

I'm anticipating having a nursing infant during flyout season. How have women with nursing babies approached campus visits, and how has that gone?

This is an excellent question, and I hope that readers with experience choose to share what they did and how things went.

One reader submitted the following reply:

I was not a nursing mother but times are changing - at my former state college, we had nursing rooms in some buildings. People now know that motherhood is normal ... can you imagine?! Philosophers have an infinite capacity to change with the times.

I know that my university has nursing rooms as well, and that we of course more than happy to set extra time aside in a visiting candidate's schedule for childcare. But obviously, neither of these comments really address the OP's query, which is how candidates like her have approached campus visits, and how it's actually gone for them.

Do any readers with job-market experience while nursing babies care to weigh in?

On papers that are hard sells for journals

I recently submitted a paper to a journal. It's a triple-anonymous journal so the editors don't know that it's me, and I won't discuss its content here, so anonymous review is not compromised by talking about the paper here. It's been a while--over a year--since I last sent a non-invited paper into the anonymous review void, having worked at my monograph Wonderstruck (which is coming out soon) and various invited and public philosophy pieces.

I feel confident the paper will be a hard sell. It's the kind of paper that I would not have written five or ten years ago, because doing so would be a waste of my time, as it would not help me career-wise. But now, I became intrigued by the idea the paper explores. It would not let go of me and I lay awake thinking about it several nights and tinkering with it in my head. And so, I wrote the paper in a kind of fever dream over the space of about a week in between other things to do. I sent it to some friends for feedback, reworked it, and submitted it. I expect a rejection in three months or so with the something along the lines of "In the interest of speed we cannot comment on individual papers" (what I call a slow desk rejection). 

Tips for using research funds?

In our newest "how can we help you?" thread, a reader asks:

I would like to ask your advise on how to best spend research fund (maybe just viable ways of spending it). Other than buying books, the things I can think of are (1) fund my trips (2) invite visitors (3) organize conferences. I am not sure if I am ready to do (2) and (3) as a junior person. If I do them, I will probably do them on behalf of my department and therefore will not use my personal fund.I can do (1) but usually my trips are funded by inviters. Maybe I should just gather the courage to do (2) and (3)? Or are there other easier and useful things that I can do with my fund?

The ironic thing is that the largest expense for me research-related is not to visit anyone and any place, but to stay at a hotel solo and write (which is weirdly necessary for me to do the research that requires intense focus). I suppose I cannot reimburse such an expense without "faking" an invitation, by which I mean asking a friend to write a research invitation and let me stay nearby. (For the record, I have never tried to do something like that.) Anyway, I just want to hear people's advice and their experiences on using personal research funds.

Sadly, I've never had any research funds, so I have no tips to share. 

Do any readers with experience have any helpful suggestions or other insights?

Tips for choosing a job-talk?

In our newest "how can we help you?" thread, a reader asks:

I would appreciate advice on how to choose what to present for job talks. How do people go about it? Do they give different talks for different jobs? Do people ever present their writing sample, or other published work? Overall, should one prioritise showing that one has new work and/or work that fits the AOS very well, or rather just giving one's strongest talk?

All good questions. It would be good to hear from job candidates and search committee members!

Non-Traditional Paths into Philosophy (Guest post by Luke William Hunt)

This is the fifth entry in the Cocoon's series, Non-Traditional Paths into Philosophy, a series of guest posts by people who entered academic philosophy later in life or otherwise took a non-traditional path into the field. Today's post is by Luke William Hunt, Associate Professor of Philosophy at the University of Alabama. If you took a non-traditional path into philosophy and are interested in contributing to the series, feel free to email me at [email protected]!

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Don’t be an FBI Agent

Luke William Hunt

Here is one concrete piece of advice, for what it’s worth: Do not become an FBI agent as a way to break into academic philosophy. There are probably worse ideas (bank-robber-to-philosopher?), but surely FBI-agent-to-philosopher is near the top of the list of bad ones.    

My sense is that the best way to get a job in academic philosophy is to take a look at the Philosophical Gourmet Report rankings, and then be sure to do your doctoral work at a school that’s very close to the top of the list. Having an article or two in the Philosophical Review would be a good idea, too. I don’t think it’s particularly controversial to say this approach gives one the best shot at getting a job in academic philosophy, all things considered. 

Because FBI-agent-to-philosopher is a terrible idea—and because the surefire path may not be a realistic option for a lot of people—this post is for everyone in between: You’re not a bank robber, but neither are you traveling the NYU-by-way-of-Princeton route. (Of course, I welcome reformed bank robbers and Princetonians into the profession.)

My guess is that most people are simply trying to overcome the challenges of becoming a twenty-first-century-philosopher—a decidedly radical career choice. Even if the challenges are reserved for those who are privileged - as those of us who read, write, and teach philosophy surely are – they’re no less frustrating. Some of the challenges I faced were unusual, but I suspect others will sound familiar.

When I was preparing to go through the FBI’s lengthy application process—leading to a spot at Quantico for New Agent Training—I was also studying for the Graduate Record Examinations (GRE). So I was drawn to academia from the beginning: Four months “off” every summer? Sign me up. It was a close second to Quantico, but that scene in “Point Break” in which Keanu Reeves and Patrick Swayze fight Anthony Kiedis on the beach made it seem like the FBI would be more fun than academia.

After four months at Quantico, I posed for a picture shaking Director Mueller’s hand receiving my FBI credentials and was sent into the field as an FBI special agent. I was in the Bureau for seven years, working cases involving everything from crimes against children and, yes, bank robberies, to terrorism and foreign corruption. It was a unique and valuable experience for which I am grateful. 

But I had my doubts. After my wife gave birth to our first child, the prospect of fighting gangs of surfer-bank-robbers began to seem less appealing. Some of my misgivings about the job were more idiosyncratic, including those related to my introverted need for space and autonomy. The FBI was (for me) a bit suffocating; I felt like I was losing my sense of self, so to speak.

This is a long way of saying that I thought I could reclaim some of my autonomy by leaving the FBI for academia. For starters, in academia—unlike the FBI—one is not routinely interrogated by a polygrapher about whether one is the next Robert Hanssen because one failed to lock one’s computer before going to take a piss. True story. 

There were of course more substantive worries, such as misgivings about the way law enforcement officers must handle confidential informants (whom officers use to secretly gather information and evidence in support of investigations). Although I do not think that all use of informants is unjustified, the practice is inherently dishonest and deceptive (and potentially dangerous for the informant). 

Suppose, hypothetically, I had an informant who was in a position to gather information or evidence about criminal or national security matters in another country. Suppose further that engaging in such operational activity would be dangerous (for example, if targets in the other country learned that the informant was an informant). Finally, suppose the informant desperately did not want to engage in such operational activity, including because the informant had regular, domestic concerns regarding safety and family commitments (not unlike myself).

Why would such a person agree to operate for law enforcement and intelligence agencies? One reason is that such agencies often have leverage over informants—such as evidence that the informant committed a crime. In exchange for gathering evidence, the officer might agree to ask the prosecutor to consider reducing the informant’s criminal exposure. In other words, a bargain is reached between the informant and the officer, even if the bargain is steeped in deception and dishonesty. Did the informant have a “real choice” given the nature of the government’s leverage? Was the government justified in subjecting the informant to the risk of harm in order to acquire evidence?

The broader point is that these situations troubled me in part because I could identify with the criminal subjects and informants I handled. That may sound odd. But even if our lives appeared to have taken dramatically different paths (which wasn’t always the case), I could typically see how I (or anyone) could end up in the informant’s position had things been slightly different. I was especially uncomfortable with the institutional power—the power to compel one to engage in dangerous operations relying on deception and dishonesty—law enforcement officers had over people who weren’t much different from you and me (aside from a few chance twists and turns in life).

These are some of the topics that became research areas when I made the jump to academia for my doctoral work at the University of Virginia.  Some of the same themes became important in my first book, The Retrieval of Liberalism in Policing, as well my new book: Police Deception and Dishonesty – The Logic of Lying.

A word about that jump from FBI agent to graduate student at a relatively late stage (I began my doctoral work when I was 33 and finished it when I was 37). It was a bit jarring to turn in my badge and gun at the Hoover building one week, and then find myself in a seminar on Plato’s Metaphysics a few weeks later. But I was fortunate to land in what I found to be a very kind and supportive community at the University of Virginia, both in terms of my fellow graduate students and the faculty—especially my dissertation supervisor.

I certainly wasn’t as cool or smart as the other graduate students, but they were all welcoming and patient with me as I awkwardly tried to settle in and knock off the rust. I suspect my biggest challenge is a familiar one to many others: A general lack of confidence and a feeling that you’re the least knowledgeable person in the room. I do think this sort of thing can improve with time and experience, but it can be especially difficult for us introverts. 

One of the things that helped the most was that I think I was able to figure out the angles. This will of course be a bit different for everyone. But in my case, it involved trying to make sense of my unusual background instead of turning away from it altogether. I tried to write about things I knew from experience—things that were interesting and important to me—with an eye toward showing why those things might be interesting and important to others.  And I tried to stop worrying about looking, sounding, and acting smart, which can seem to be half the game in philosophy.

Another important point is that I quickly understood the need to discard perfectionistic goals. I finished my Ph.D. in four years (my wife and I had mouths to feed), and I didn’t send my work to journals with a 2% acceptance rate. That would have been unrealistic and inefficient in my case, so I looked at my relatively modest goals and worked backwards. The “best” philosophy journal in the world wasn’t in the cards, nor was being a famous philosopher who people discuss in 200 years. But, well, okay.

Being a pragmatist is not always easy in philosophy, where we are naturally driven by ideals. What I do think is important—almost a necessity—in the philosophy racket is a sort of gritted-teeth-optimism: A sense that one will figure out the angles (whether one remains in academia or leaves) in the face of ridiculously bad odds that might include unfairness (bias regarding class, race, gender, ideology, and so on) or simply poor luck.  What else can you do—rob a bank?  

I haven’t said anything new in this post, but I hope that sharing my non-traditional career path (which candidly involved a significant amount of underserved good fortune, along with a lot of support from family, friends, and colleagues) helps others in some small way. Just don’t be an FBI agent.

Assessing a college/university's financial health while on the job market?

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

I seem to recall on the Cocoon, back in the height of the pandemic, someone offering a resource (from some kind of financial rating agency or consulting firm) for assessing the financial health of colleges/unis. This came up in the context of someone worrying about taking a job at a college that might do under during their time there. How do you all approach this issue? Can you recommend specific ratings sites/catalogs/etc.?

These are really great and important questions. I've personally heard of a few cases where people accepted a job at a university, only to have their job threatened or eliminated a couple of years later--not to mention, of course, the unethical ACU debacle reported here. Given the ongoing threat to the humanities, and near-constant news stream of universities closing programs and eliminating faculty positions, it behooves job-candidates to find out whether any job they accept is likely to be stable. But is there any good way to find this out? I don't recall the earlier discussion at the Cocoon, and am curious to hear any tips that readers have.

Anyone have any tips or other insights to share?

Grappling with department feuds as a new prof?

In our newest "how can we help you?" thread, a new prof writes:

[I]magine yourself in the situation where you have just been hired as an assistant professor in a new department. Your initial sense of euphoria and busy work for the fist year and a half or so prevents you from seeing it, but slowly, it dawns on you that there is a long-standing ugly feud going on which has been going on for maybe decades, long before you arrived. For instance, a dispute between secular and religious people in a religious-identifying school, continentals vs analytics, a sexual harassment scandal involving a faculty member who is still around that made a deep rift but where no accusations resulted in, say, a title IX case.

Battle lines are drawn. Usually it's quiet but you find yourself in a search committee where it comes to the fore, for instance. How are you supposed to deal with this? Pick a side? Try to be "neutral"? Trying to resolve the situation, which people have tried before of course, will probably not work for someone who comes in new (and who only gradually realizes what work culture they've unwittingly been hired into). Any tips welcome.

I'm sorry hear about the OP's situation. I've never been in this situation myself, but have known people who have--and, from what I've heard, there may be no easy answers. Sure, you could try to "stay above the fray", but the problem then can be that people on different sides of the feud may blame you for not picking sides. So, I don't know--and again, I'm probably not the best person to provide any real advice on this, as I haven't had to deal with anything like this first-hand.

Does anybody with more experience with situations like this have any helpful tips or other insights to share?

Tips for good book proposals?

A reader writes in,

Do any readers of the blog have words of wisdom for putting together a great book proposal? There are scattered tips on Twitter both from academics who have successfully gotten contracts and from people who work for publishers, but I'd like to gather insights in one thread. I've heard writing a book proposal is akin to writing a book review for your own book (that you may not have finished yet).

Additional tips are welcome for the specific experience of writing translation proposals (I'm working on translating lesser-known 20th cen. German philosophy), but I don't want to limit the feedback sourced here to that. Let's hear advice for any kinds of book proposals.

Good question. Although I've written three successful book proposals, I'm not sure that I have any special tips except for this: good book proposals should probably be pitched so that they make a compelling case for the project not just to specialists, but also to editors who aren't specialists themselves. It is, after all, an acquisitions editor who in the first instance will decide whether to move forward with a proposal (e.g., request a draft manuscript or chapters to send to reviewers), and in turn, an entire editorial committee at a press who will decide whether to offer a contract.

So, I guess my one big tip would be this: try to write the proposal in a "down to earth" way that is likely to make the project make sense and be of interest to specialists and non-specialists alike. Another more basic tip would be: look on the websites of various presses how they want book proposals to be structured. Some of them even have templates they'd like you to download and follow, so if you put together and send in a proposal without following their procedure, that might be a bad initial look!

Anyway, these are just a few of my thoughts. What are yours? It would be great to hear from book authors, as well as from editors and reviewers!