The Philosophers' Cocoon

Impostor Syndrome and First-Year Struggles

I've happily noticed recently that some friends from grad school and other people I've met around the way are about to begin their first jobs. This got me to recall my first job, particularly the difficulty of transitioning to it. My first year I felt like a fish out of water. Although I'd finished the dissertation and taught summer classes in grad school, I found having to teach my own classes of a few hundred students apiece while simultaneously writing publishable articles to be spectacularly daunting. I spent almost the whole year working on papers that went nowhere, and my teaching wasn't that great (writing papers *and* teaching multiple courses for the first time is tough work!). Like many people in these circumstances (or so I hear), I contracted a serious case of Impostor Syndrome: the deep conviction that I was completely incompetent and unfit for my job.

Ultimately, like most afflictions,the syndrome eventually passed. Although it still raises its ugly head from time to time (in response to brutal paper rejections, etc.), in my case I found that the way through it is to simply keep working, seek out feedback from others (even if it's uncomfortable), and wait it out.

Here, then, are some words of encouragement to all the new faculty and post-docs out there. You are not an impostor. If you made it through grad school and got a job, you have what it takes. You have accomplished a great deal and leapt many hurdles. Your first year will most likely be very hard. There will likely be many times that you feel completely lost and inept. Try to be good to yourself. It is your first year, after all. You'll figure things out in due time. Just be sure to put yourself out there and ask for help and advice from others. Yes, not everyone will be so helpful, but some people will, and their help can make all the difference in the world.

Ryle on my Mind

As a follow-up to my Good but not good enough post (which was a follow-up to my Peer Disagreement & Peer Review post), I'd like to thank Joe for referring me to Warnock's (1976) Gilbert Ryle's Editorship (Mind, 85, 47-56).

As I was reading Warnock's article, the following questions came to mind:

1. Who (or what) determines the character of a journal? Is it the editor, the authors, the readership, or something else?
2. Who (or what) should determine the character of a journal?
3. According to D. H. Hamlyn, "except for Greek Philosophy, [Ryle] tended not to accept papers on the history of philosophy." Should an editor have the authority to rule out of hand certain areas (e.g., early modern philosophy, philosophy of biology, etc.) as publishable areas in his/her general journal?

Hamlyn also says the following about Ryle:

• "He gave his reasons for his decisions." (Warnock adds that Ryle was convinced that "decisions are usually not made worse for being made quickly" and that "the judgment of one good judge is likely to be as good as that of a board or committee, even if its members are quite good judges too.")
• "He tried to publish the first piece that a young philosopher submitted to him."
• "He liked short pieces and abhorred footnotes." (According to Warnock, Ryle believed that "plain, short points are best made in plain, short language" and that "the best way of communicating what one thinks is directly to say it.")
• "He thought that it was possible to deal with most philosophical issues in a paper which it would take not much more than half an hour to read, and the paraphernalia of scholarship were, with a few exceptions, foreign to how he thought that the subject should be pursued."

Do you think that these are good editorial policies? Is Ryle your ideal editor?

Cover Letters

What makes for a good cover letter? Mark Alfano suggests that they should, "be short and sweet – at most one page unless you have strong indications that a long letter is required." But what, beyond that, does a good cover letter look like? Also, what do people (particularly people in the know) make of Mark's suggested one-page limit? For my part, I've found it very difficult to write something that short. I'm operating under the assumption that my letter should search committee readers a brief overview of my main "selling points" -- e.g., a brief overview of my research programs, teaching experience and philosophy, and finally, my campus and community involvement. Yet all this comes out to be quite a lot, well over a page. Given that I'm no longer fresh out of grad school, I don't just have one central research program (centering on my dissertation): I have four, and saying a little about each of them takes a little time. Is this a mistake? I'd love to hear -- and would be very appreciative for -- everyone's thoughts on this, and on anything else about good cover letters more generally. Thanks! 

Two posts on publishing at New APPS

Eric Schliesser and Mark Lance have recently posted two helpful pieces at New APPS on publishing in the early years of your career, especially while in grad school. Schliesser's piece offers lots of very detailed advice--tactics more than strategy, despite the title of his post. Lance's piece offers advice on maintaining a balance between publishing and all of the other things that hiring committees are interested in.

Thoughts?

On Doing a Better Job of Keeping One's Head Up

I wrote a rather upbeat post several days ago about dealing with failure and disappointment. It's become clear to me the the interim that my go-to strategy -- getting back to work -- is good in some respects but completely inadequate in others. Getting back to work helps one keep moving forward, which is good. But it does very little to heal wounds. As readers of that earlier post will recall, the post was inspired by a professional failure: a rotten performance at a fly-out. Since then, and since my initial post, I've been struggling with predictable emotions: frustration, self-directed anger, etc. Getting back to work helped me...get back to work -- but it did nothing for the emotions I was struggling to conceal. Then, just now, as I was upset at myself for dealing with my emotions rather poorly, I enjoyed an unexpected stroke of good fortune. I don't ordinarily listen to classical music, but I was out walking the dog and "Clair de Lune" came on Pandora on my IPhone. It just happened to be the song that played just over a year ago as my (now-)wife walked down the aisle on the best day of my life. Then and there it hit me like a ton of bricks. There is a simple and easy way to deal with professional disappointment: realize that your career, as important as it may be to you, should pale in importance to other, far more important things. Things like being good to people, and appreciating them. Getting back to work may be good for the career, but as Kant once said the trick is not in being happy (though that is quite a trick in itself); the trick is to deserve it. I realize this is a sappy, cliched message. Whatever. It's true.

Good but not good enough

Commenting on my Peer Disagreement & Peer Review post, Joe writes:

The external referee should judge whether the manuscript is worthy of publication (E.g., Is there an argument? Does the conclusion follow from its premises? Etc.)

Now, if manuscripts are deemed publishable or not based on the quality of their argument, then what could a referee mean by saying "This paper is good but not good enough to be published in Prestigious Journal"? (I've received this sort of comment from referees on several occasions.)

Presumably, if a paper is good, then it makes a good argument (i.e., the conclusion follows from the premises and the premises are true/probable/plausible). If that's the case, then on what grounds can such a paper be said to be "good but not good enough for Prestigious Journal"?

Poster Presentations

A few weeks ago, I mentioned that I'd be providing a commentary at the upcoming Rocky Mountain Ethics Congress (RoME). My other contribution to the conference will be a poster presentation. Evidently, these are becoming more common. They are, for instance, now featured at some meetings of the American Philosophical Association. (They are discussed on the section of the Paper Submission Guidelines page for the Pacific Division meetings.)

The organizers of RoME do provide some information on designing good posters, but this struck me as an issue worth tossing out to the Cocoon community. What constitutes an excellent poster presentation? How should the poster be designed? What advice would you give presenters at these sessions?

For those unfamiliar with the format of these presentations, presenters will stand next to their posters for an extended period of time (75 minutes at RoME) while other conference attendees browse through the various posters and ask the presenters questions. Given the format, I assume that poster presentations would be slightly less formal than conventional presentations and heavier on spontaneous philosophical discussion, but since my only experience with poster presentations was in 8th grade, these assumptions might  be mistaken.

What's the deal with post-docs?

In many sciences, having a post-doc is required if one eventually wants to be in a tenure system faculty, among other career paths that a post-doc supports. Getting a post-doc at a good place is a big deal, and very competitive; some folks do several post-docs before applying to tenure system faculty positions. But the significance of a post-doc is not so straight forward in Philosophy, I feel, and it seems like there are less of them available than in most sciences (I could be wrong here). Some people complete their degrees and go straight into tenure system jobs, perhaps even advising graduate students within months after depositing their dissertations. Others may do several post-docs, but were likely also applying to tenure system jobs at the same time they applied for those post-docs. But not all post-docs are created equal. Some require no teaching whatsoever. Others might involve teaching. Some are at research universities, others at liberal arts colleges. Some are one year, others are two or three years. I know many philosophers who see post-docs as what you do when the tenure system job market is tough, so post-docs are mere back-ups (part of the so called "1 year/fixed term market" that occurs after APA Eastern). Then there are Visiting Assistant Professor positions, some with more or less teaching. Do these hold the same weight as post-docs, whatever "weight" means in this case?

I've often wondered, from the stand point of an early career Philosopher, how should we understand the role of post-docs in our career planning? Should they be conceived exactly as they are in many science disciplines? If so, what benefits do they provide for Philosophy careers (such as concentrated time to do research or build a teaching portfolio)? Or are post-docs really something that may have significance in some cases; however, it is ultimately always better to land a tenure system job as soon as you can?  

Book Reviews: Should You Do Them?

Book reviews can be a tempting way to get a quick publication as well as a free book, and they can be a good way to keep up to date about literature relevant for your research. But they can also take a lot of time, and it's not clear that the benefits are worth the trouble. I'm currently writing a book review for Philosophical Quarterly, and I'm once again reminded about how much work that can be, so I've been thinking about whether it's worthwhile or not to do them. I've only done a couple of book reviews, but I've turned down several invitations. However, I also feel that I might lose an opportunity if I just flatly reject all invitations to review books. It's not clear to me that people read book reviews very often either -- I rarely do -- so that's another aspect that might influence your decision. Let's try a simple cost-benefit analysis.

Potential benefits:

• You often get a free book, at least unless your review is unsolicited.
• You get a certain publication fairly quickly.
• Someone might read your review and remember your name.
• The author of the book at least will probably hear about you and your review.
• You basically have to read a book from cover to cover, which will certainly make you more knowledgeable about the topic than most.

Potential disadvantages:

• It can take a lot of time, especially if the book is long or very technical.
• No one might actually read your review.
• The publication will probably not count for much, even if it's in a top journal.
• Instead of a review, you could perhaps use the time to write a short critical piece about the book and get a proper publication.

Any other benefits or disadvantages you can think of? I think it's quite clear that a book review in your CV is not going to get you a job. But is it equally clear that *not* having done any will not count against you? I'd be inclined to think so. Of course, if you can spare the time and the book is something that you would've bought or wanted to read anyway, then there's not much to lose -- except that you have a deadline. But if the book is not quite in your area, if the publisher isn't very good, if you've never heard of the author, or if the journal where your review would be published isn't great, then you're probably better off turning it down.

The way I see it, reviewing books is a type of "service to profession" similar to refereeing articles for journals. You certainly get some potential benefits though, compared to virtually none in the case of refereeing, but those benefits on their own may not be enough to justify the effort.

What do you think, is it worthwhile to write book reviews, and why?

On Keeping One's Chin Up

    "But man is not made for defeat.  A man can be destroyed but not defeated."

        -- Hemingway, "The Old Man and the Sea"

So I am in a land far, far away for a TT fly-out. The job is in many respects my dream job. Far away, but in an absolutely stunning place I have always dreamed of living, and with a lovely teaching load. Yet I absolutely blew the fly-out.  Blew as in tanked, shanked, torpedoed, royally screwed up, mucked up, failed. I had prepared like crazy.  Put together a great talk and teaching presentation, practiced them til I was blue in the face, knew everything about the faculty, grad students, school, its mission, etc. But I got here and...I just mucked it up. Perhaps I practiced too much, or perhaps (and I think this is the more likely explanation) it was the 25-hour airline trip out consisting in two overnight flights, neither of which I slept on, and six-hour time change.  All I know is that I felt like I was operating at about 20% of my normal mental capacity, and that my talk and teaching demo were utter disasters. It was the most embarrassing day I can remember. I knew then and there that I was done: no chance, nada, nil, job be-gone! I went back to my bed-and-breakfast afterwards totally devastated and embarrassed. After Skype-ing my wife of the disaster, I went to bed at 3pm and woke up 20 hours (!) later for my interview the next day.  At least I got some sleep. Yet the interview didn't go a whole lot better. Still exhausted, I answered a few questions poorly and uncharacteristically stammered my way through the whole thing.

It's times like this -- and there are many of these times in an academic career, not to mention life in general -- that one is tempted to give up, if not explicitly, then somewhere deep in one's soul. But it's also at times like this that it can be helpful to reflect on what is the right way to respond...and then perhaps write a blog post about it. ;) Anyway, I want to reflect on this a little bit because, in my (admittedly anecdotal) experience, how one responds to failure is one of the very most important things one can learn, not only in an academic career but in life.

Like most people, I have endured many failures in life, both large and small. I had my first dissertation prospectus defense cancelled the night before it was scheduled due to my proposal being crap. I have had papers rejected by countless journals, often with rude, sometimes cruel comments. I have blown interviews. I have blown fly-outs. I have made interpersonal faux pas. I have done wrong. You know, the usual human foibles. The question then of course arises: how should one respond to one's failures?  

I don't know if my response is right for everyone, but I'd like to share it anyway: I immediately get back to work. I move forward. I tell myself, "There is no time to waste. There's no use dwelling on what happened. You can either spend time getting better at what you do, or not." This attitude is difficult to keep up, but I believe it is the right way to go. It not only keeps me sane, it keeps me moving forward (and really, what other direction is worth going?). When I blew my fly-out yesterday, I went back to my room...and wrote an entire draft of a paper from page 1 -- a paper I'm now very excited about. Despite the disaster this trip has otherwise been, I found a way to make something positive out of it. 

Trust me, I'd rather not share my failures. I'd rather not fail at all! But we rarely talk publicly about failure, or how to deal with it -- and I think now's as good a time any that we did. Because I've seen talented people react very badly to failure, by giving up. I've seen people become failures by giving up. I've almost given up many times myself. And yet I believe the most important thing in the world is not to. Failing is painful. But giving up only makes the pain permanent. Do not give up. Move forward. Keep moving forward until you become more capable at what you do -- and if you do, it will probably pay off. There are of course no guarantees in this world besides death and taxes, but still, the world tends to reward those who improve themselves. Move forward.  And then pay it forward. Pass the message along. We owe to it each other to help each other up, and then forward. Or so say I. Or so, at any rate, I ramble. :)

What makes ye of it, Cocooners? How do you deal with failure? How do you respond to disappointment? 

Peer Disagreement & Peer Review

[cross-posted at Think: Just Do It!]

Roughly speaking, the problem of peer disagreement is the following:

You judge that p and an epistemic peer (i.e., someone who is just as competent and well-informed) judges that not-p. Should you stick to your guns and give more weight to your own judgment? Or should you give equal weight to both judgments, and so suspend judgment until further evidence comes to light?

On the one hand, sticking to your guns in the face of peer disagreement seems unreasonable and dogmatic. On the other hand, if giving equal weight applies across the board, then it seems that you should also suspend judgment about whether or not to give equal weight to incompatible judgments made by epistemic peers, which seems incoherent.

To sum up:

1. When A and B are epistemic peers, and A judges that p, whereas B judges that not-p, A (or B) can either stick to her guns or suspend judgment.
2. If A sticks to her guns, then that seems unreasonable and dogmatic (given that B is an epistemic peer).
3. If A suspends judgment, then A should also suspend judgment about whether to give equal weight to peers’ judgments, which seems incoherent.
4. (Therefore) A is in a position in which the options seem either unreasonable or incoherent.

Now, I think that the problem of peer disagreement raises interesting questions about peer review.

• Suppose that an epistemologist submits an epistemology paper to a journal that specializes in epistemology. The editor judges that the paper is worthy of consideration and sends it off to two referees (who are epistemologists, too). The reports come back with one “publish” verdict and another “reject” verdict. Should the editor give more weight to one verdict rather than another? If so, which one? Or should the editor give them equal weight? In which case, how would the editor decide whether to publish the paper or not?
• Similar questions can be raised even if the number of referees is odd. Suppose that an epistemologist submits an epistemology paper to a journal that specializes in epistemology. An epistemologist reviews the paper and decides on rejection. However, the author of the paper, who is an epistemic peer of the referee, obviously thinks that her paper is worthy of publication (otherwise, she wouldn’t have submitted it). So, should the editor give more weight to the author’s judgment or to the referee’s judgment? Or should the editor give the two judgments equal weight? If so, how would the editor decide whether to publish the paper or not?
• Similar questions arise at the level of the editor as well. Suppose that an epistemologist submits an epistemology paper to a journal that specializes in epistemology. The editor, who is an epistemologist, judges that the paper is not worthy of consideration. But the author obviously thinks that her paper is worthy of consideration (otherwise, she wouldn’t have submitted it). The editor and the author are epistemic peers. Should the editor give more weight to her own judgment? Or should she give equal weight to her judgment and the author's judgment, since the author is her epistemic peer? If so, how would the editor decide whether to consider the paper for publication or not?

By the way, a somewhat related set of questions arises with respect to expertise quite generally.

Keeping up with the Joneses' research

One challenge I've encountered as a junior faculty member is trying to stay abreast of the latest developments in philosophy generally and in my subfields in particular. The stack of books that I intend [sic.] to read grows much more quickly than I can read them. The same goes for articles, and I'm sure there are many more books and articles that should be on my list but aren't.

Here are a few inadequate measures I've adopted to try to stay current:

• Getting weekly updates from PhilPapers. I told PhilPapers what areas interest me and signed up to get a weekly email containing titles and abstracts for new papers in those areas. When the email comes in, I scan the titles looking for interesting articles and read their abstracts. If a paper looks particularly interesting or important, I download it, add it to my PhilPapers reading list, or do something else that helps me pretend that I will one day read it. If I had more patience and self-discipline, I'd probably just go to the PhilPapers site every day and scan titles of all of the new articles, rather than looking at those in my discipline.
• Reading Philosophy Compass articles in the morning. Every month or so, I download nearly every article in the latest issue of Philosophy Compass into my Dropbox folder, along with a back issue or two. Most mornings, while I drink my coffee, I open Dropbox on my iPad and read one of the articles. This helps me stay abreast of developments in other subfields. Conveniently, it takes me about as long to read one Philosophy Compass article as it does to get my fill of coffee.
• Going to conferences. My university has been great about providing travel support. This has enabled me to go to conferences, where I find out what other people are working on at the moment.
• Reading books and articles, both recent and not-so-recent, that relate to whatever paper(s) I'm working on at the moment. A lot of the reading I do is motivated by papers that I'm working on. I'll run across a problem or issue and set out to find out what other people have said and are currently saying about it. PhilPapers and the "cited by" links on Google Scholar help me find recent stuff on the topic, which usually leads me down a very informative rabbit hole of further reading.

I've tried other things, such as following journals' RSS feeds and blocking out time in my schedule to read new books and articles that aren't directly related to my own research, but I've had trouble sticking to those routines.

What strategies have people tried for staying abreast of current developments in philosophy? What's worked well? What hasn't?

Explanation is cheap (at least cheaper than argument)

Following up on an issue that came up in the comments to my post about keeping it short, I have the impression that there is a lot of "giving an account of X" (where X is the explanandum), but not enough "giving an argument for E" (where E is the explanans), in the philosophical literature.

Clearly, the two are not the same. For example, to give an account of free will in terms of rational deliberation is not the same as arguing that free will consists in rational deliberation.

Of course, one could argue that the best explanation for X is E. But that requires a lot more than merely telling a coherent story. To show that E is the best explanation for X, one must consider alternative explanations, compare explanations in terms of their theoretical virtues, and test their implications. For an example from the realism/anti-realism debate in philosophy of science, see Why the ultimate argument for scientific realism ultimately fails (2012).

So I think that we should resist the temptation to tell just so stories and insist on making (good) arguments. What do you think?

Keep it short, please!

Along the same lines as Marcus' publishing advice that less is more, I think that philosophers should answer Jonathan Wolff's call for brevity. I think we should keep our presentations and papers short. To lead by example:

1. Before you submit your paper for publication, either you can state your main argument in premise-conclusion form or you cannot.
2. If you cannot state your main argument in premise-conclusion form, then your paper is probably not ready for publication, and you should revise your argument to make it clear and concise.
3. If you can state your argument in premise-conclusion form, then your paper is probably not ready for publication, and you should revise your paper to get rid of extraneous stuff.
4. Therefore, before you submit your paper for publication, either make your argument clear and concise or get rid of extraneous stuff. (In other words, make it shorter, either way.)

I think this will make everyone's job a lot easier. By "everyone," I mean authors, editors, reviewers, and readers. What do you think?

Notes from the Other Side of the Job Market

Some really helpful pointers from a search-committee member here.

Job Market Preparations

The job market begins in a couple of months. If you plan to go on the market, it is important to start preparing your materials now. Because a good dossier takes time and care to put together, I think now's as good a time as any to start discussing the issue. I've listed below Mark Alfano's earlier suggestions below, as well as some comments/questions of my own on each. My hope is to get a discussion started -- so please, by all means, don't feel constrained by my post. If you have any questions about dossier materials you'd like to ask the Cocoon community, feel free to ask them in the comments section.

• Cover Letter Template.  Mark says that a good letter should be, "short and sweet – at most one page unless you have strong indications that a long letter is required.  Put it on electronic letterhead, and be sure to include inside addresses and a scan of your signature." Here are some of my thoughts: I've heard elsewhere (on blogs where search committee members have shared their wisdom) that cover letters matter little if at all at most R1 departments but a LOT at smaller, liberal arts colleges.  More generally, I don't think you can hurt yourself -- and may help yourself a lot -- tailoring your cover letters to each institution, showing real familiarity with the school and department. This is especially true with liberal arts schools. 

• Curriculum Vitae (CV).  Mark writes, "A CV lists all of your many accomplishments as succinctly as possible." Some of my thoughts: I agree, but I've heard that it can matter very much how your CV looks.  I've been told you want your CV to look as professional as possible, not flashy.  Let your accomplishments do the talking, not your fonts or designs. Indeed, use a normal font, preferably Times New Roman.  Also, don't list merely submitted manuscripts under "publications."  Only published or forthcoming articles belong there. 

• Biographical Sketch.  Mark writes, "This is a one-paragraph description of you and your research, written in the third person." My thoughts: I've actually never heard of including a biographical sketch before. Has anyone else? Is this standard?

• Dissertation Abstract, short.  Mark writes, "You will want a one-paragraph abstract of your dissertation, which will typically be included in your CV." My thoughts: entirely agree -- I've heard this should be standard.

• Dissertation Abstract, long.  Mark writes, "You will also need a longer abstract of your dissertation, approximately two double-spaced pages."  My thoughts: yes, and it should be non-technical. Remember, most of the people reading your abstract will not be specialists in your area.  Make it simple and easy to understand -- particularly the importance of your project. 

• Statement of Research.  Mark writes, "A research statement of your most prominent research so far, as well as laying out your plans for future projects. At most two pages single-spaced."  My thoughts: I'm not sure if you should put one of these together in addition to the long diss abstract, unless you have publications in other areas. The default assumption is that your dissertation is a stepping stone to a long-term research program. Am I wrong?

• Statement of Pedagogy / Statement of Teaching Philosophy.  Mark writes, "A pedagogy statement describes your strengths and experiences as an instructor.  At most two pages single-spaced." My thoughts: be honest, both about your strengths and areas for improvement. This is really just me speaking. If I were on a search committee, I would want honesty here, as opposed to exaggeration (which, I suspect, is too common). 

• Statement of Faith.  Mark writes, "If you plan to apply to religious institutions, you will want a statement of faith.  Not all religious institutions require such a statement, but many do.  One or two pages single-spaced." My thoughts: don't lie. :)

• Teaching Portfolio.  Mark writes, "A teaching portfolio is not the same thing as a teaching statement.  The portfolio lays out as succinctly as possible which courses you have already taught, includes your student and faculty evaluations, and describes any curriculum development efforts in which you’ve been involved." My thoughts: if I ever have to go on the job market again, I need to spend more time on this. I just included my teaching pedagogy and student evaluations.  Oops. 

• Sample Syllabi.  Mark writes, "A sample syllabus is not a syllabus.  It’s basically a one-paragraph course description followed by a reading list of at most two pages, sequenced into about 13 weeks with thematic headings.  You will want sample syllabi for every course in the union of your AOSs and AOCs, and perhaps for more.  Some schools will want syllabi included in the initial application; others may ask for syllabi prior to the first-round interview; still others will want (even if they don’t say so!) syllabi during the first-round interview." My thoughts: oops. I missed that one too. Mark knows more about this stuff than I do.

• Transcripts.  Mark writes, "Get scans of both undergraduate and graduate transcripts, which you may be required to submit with your applications."  My thoughts: I've never heard of anyone asking for undergraduate transcripts. Am I wrong?

• List of References.  Mark writes, "This is a comprehensive list of all your letter-writers, including mailing addresses, email addresses, and phone numbers." My thoughts: I have heard from many, many people that it is important to have 1-2 references from people outside of your department. I didn't start making these kinds of connections until I was a couple of years out of graduate school. The people I know who got outside references during grad school (and after) fared much better than those who didn't. 

• Writing Samples.  Mark writes, "Yes, samples.  You should aim to have two or three AOSs, so you will want at least one writing sample for each (between 15 and 25 pages, double spaced)...Your writing samples can be publications, money chapters from your dissertation, or even other research that you think is of the highest quality.  Revise them.  Revise them again.  Edit the revisions.  Proofread the edits.  You want your writing sample to be so tight you could bounce a quarter off its ass."  My thoughts: it's certainly good if you have multiple samples, but if you have to choose (i.e. if you are strapped for time, as most are), get one piece as good as possible.  It's better to have one really great writing sample than two merely decent ones.  Also -- and this isn't something Mark mentioned -- I have heard that your writing samples should be as "punchy" and accessible as reasonably possible. Your first page (indeed, first several sentences) need to "hook" the reader. If all you have is a very technical piece, I guess that'll have to do...but most of the people reading your sample(s) may not be specialists in your area. Even if some of them have your AOS, they might know little to nothing about your topic. The more "intuitive" your writing sample (without sacrificing content) the better. [Question: although I've been told this, part of me worries it may be wrong. Do we perhaps make a better impression looking impenetrably smart and technical?]

• Research Proposals.  Mark wrote, "If you plan to apply for post-doctoral fellowships, you will need a research proposal.  It might be good to have a couple.  The most common thematic fellowships for philosophers are in bioethics, but most fellowships are interdisciplinary.  That means your research proposal should be intelligible to a non-specialist audience.  About 2 pages double-spaced."  My thoughts: what Mark said.

• Amass a small fortune.  Mark wrote, "You should expect to spend between $400 and $2000 on applications, depending on how many you send and how many you need to send via express or priority mail.  You should also expect to spend several hundred on getting to and finding a hotel at the APA." My thoughts: good thing most applications are online now. Still, the APA is very costly.  Also, go to the APA even if you don't have interviews, if only to get a handle on the atmosphere (my experience: it's very tense, but not nearly as bad as people tell you in grad school).

Anything I/we forgot?  Looking forward to comments/questions/etc.!

Mission Re-Statement

I'm going to re-post this site's mission-statement from time to time, so as to alert new visitors to our mission, and hopefully draw some of them into the fold as contributors.  Here, then, is the blog's mission:

This blog aims to be a safe and supportive "grass roots" forum for early-career professional philosophers -- graduate students, post-docs, and entry-level faculty members -- to discuss their work, ideas, and personal-professional issues.  Philosophers who are not in the "early" stages of their careers are also invited to become contributing members, as their experiences in the profession may, for obvious reasons, be very much relevant to the blog's aims. 

Blog participants (i.e. any philosopher who wises to participate!) are invited to post (A) working papers and ideas, as well as (B) comments, questions, or concerns on issues including but not limited to:

• Navigating graduate school
• Publishing
• Work-life-family balance
• Etc.

This is not intended to be "my" blog.  My hope is to serve as primarily as blog moderator, and for the blog's content to be driven by and for any and every early-career philosopher who wishes to contribute. As blog moderator, I promise to rigorously ensure a safe and supportive environment for all.  I will not approve, and will immediately remove, any contributions or comments that I (or anyone else) reasonably finds remotely derogatory or threatening.  Finally, anyone who wishes to make an anonymous post (e.g. to discuss an issue they are not comfortable attaching their name to) is welcome to email me their post and request that I post it anymously.  I will post any and all such requests, provided they otherwise satisfy the aims described in this mission statement.

If you would like to become a contributor to the Philosopher's Cocoon, please simply send me an email at [email protected].  Please also be sure to tell me in the email your present status (grad student, etc.), and feel free to provide me with a link to your homepage.

 

How to Write a Dissertation -- Part II: Getting the Dissertation Moving

After you've found a dissertation topic, the obvious next steps are to sit down, read a lot that has been written in the area, think things though, etc. I don't have much to say on these steps, aside from that I think it's helpful to do less thinking and more writing.

I've seen so many grad students get bogged down in "thinking" about their dissertation that months and months go by with little results to show for their time. If my experiences and the experiences of others I've known are any indication, the best way to think out a project is to simply start writing it.

I'll say more about this below, but one of the very best pieces of advice I was ever given -- a piece of advice that I've seen work absolute wonders with at least a half-dozen other people I've passed it on to -- was to get ideas out on paper and then whip them into shape. It can help to think of yourself as like a sculptor, or a painter. It doesn't behoove a scultor or painter to spend too much time refining an image in their head. It's only when they start whittling down a stone, or putting paint to canvas, that the image really starts to take shape. My first suggestion, at any rate, is:

Suggestion #1 -- Don't Write Later, Write NOW.  The sooner you get stuff down on paper, the sooner you'll have some real material to work with. 

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I will now present the single best piece of writing advice I was ever given. Before I was given this piece of advice, I had none of my dissertation written. After I received it, my dissertation -- all 262 pages of it -- was done in about 9 months. I passed on the very same advice to a struggling friend, who also had none of her dissertation done. About 9 months after giving it to her, her dissertation was done. And so on: I've seen it work wonders with person after person.

What's the advice?  It's this:

Suggestion #2 -- Make Yourself Write 5 pages a day, no more, no less, NO editing (...seriously, NO editing -- just let it flow).

Because this suggestion might sound very strange, let me give you the rationale for it, as it was given to me. Getting a difficult project done has a lot to do with momentum. When you wake up tomorrow, do you want to work on the project -- or does it seem like a chore? Anyone who has worked on a dissertation knows how soul crushing it can be; what a collosal mountain writing it can seem like climbing. This is precisely the problem that writing 5 pages a day -- no more, no less, no editing -- helps you solve. When you force yourself to get 5 pages out of your head in a day and stop (do NOT write more this, even if you get all 5 pages done in an hour), you go to bed that night knowing that you got something done.  When you wake up the next day, and write 5 more pages, you go to bed that night having got more done. Every night you go to bed, and wake up the next morning, you have gotten something done. The psychological effects of this are, in my experience, totally profound...and again, I've seen it have these effects not just with me, but with others.  When you get a little done every day, you feel better the next day...every day. Your attitude snow-balls from "I can't" to "I can." You'll not only believe you can. You'll do.

Let me say a little bit about the 5 page cap. If you get five pages out of your head in an hour, it can seem pretty weak to stop yourself there, put your laptop away, and go home. Why not do more? Trust me: don't. The key to the whole piece of advice is to develop a positive feedback loop, where you feel a little bit better every single day.  This requires being consistent. If you go past your 5-page limit, anything can happen: you can overexend yourself, not leaving yourself enough energy for tomorrow; you can get frustated ("The first seven pages were great, but I really got confused after that"); etc.  The point is to go to be every night in a positive frame of mind.  The best way to do this is to set a hard-line goal every day, meet it every day, and go no further.  You'll go to bed each night content that you did what you were "supposed to"...and you will wake up in the morning just itching to get your 5 pages for that day done. Your entire day-to-day attitude will change.  No longer are you the person getting nothing done. No, now you are the dude/dude-ette getting five pages out a day.

Now...about those five pages. Will they be any good? Of course not. Most of them will be truly awful. But that's the point of the "Zero Draft."  You get stuff out of your mind and onto paper, and things slowly start to take shape (just like a sculptor's statue begins to take shape after a bunch of very coarse whittling).  Here's how it worked for me: after five days of writing 5 pages a day, I had twenty-five pages. The next two days, after I'd written my requisite 5 new pages on those days, I spent an hour or so whittling down the 25 pages from the previous five days. I found that in the 25 pages, I had about 10 pages of good material.  And that was a huge step forward (ten good pages was ten more than I had a week before!).  This brings me to...

Suggestion #3 -- "Throw up, and clean up": we are accustomed to working through ideas in our heads.  It's actually much easier to work things out when they're out of your head. Many great writers and artists know this. Hemingway used to type out pages and pages of prose, dropping page after page into a waste basket. DaVinci used to paint and paint over his previous paintings.  Why? Because you gotta get ideas out of your head before you can clean them up. Ideas take shape better out in the world, not in your head.  Make a mess, then clean it up. You'll make progress faster. Again, I've seen it work.

Hope some of you find this helpful, my cocooning friends. Looking forward to comments & questions!

 

 

Footnotes to Plato: What Counts as Philosophical Innovation?

I've had a few papers rejected for the following reason:

We recently published a paper which argues that p, like your paper does, and so we cannot accept your paper.

This is not a particularly good reason to reject a paper, it seems to me, for then virtually nothing will get published. (After all, it's all just footnotes to Plato, right?)

But seriously, if I were an editor, I wouldn't reject a paper that develops a new argument for the existence of God, say, just because my journal just published a paper that proves the existence of God.

In other words, I think there are at least two ways to innovate in philosophy: (a) argue for a novel conclusion, and (b) offer a novel argument for a familiar conclusion.

I don't think we should ignore papers that innovate in the latter way. What do you think, fellow pupae?

How to Write a Dissertation -- Part I: Finding a Topic

Like many other people I know, I got seriously hung up in grad school at the dissertation stage. Writing term papers was one thing. I knew how to do that. But writing a dissertation? I felt more or less completely lost for about 2-3 years. Because I've seen so many grad students get stuck at roughly the same stage, I thought I'd make a multi-post tutorial on how to write a dissertation. Please be forewarned: the tips I will give are purely lessons/suggestions that I believe may be helpful. I have little doubt some of you out there will disagree with some, or even much, of what I have to say. Hopefully, those who do disagree will post comments. My hope is that, if anything, my posts on the subject will generate some discussion.

On the Importance of Dissertations

I'm going to begin my discussion by getting on my soap-box for a minute. I've heard that many departments -- including my alma mater (Arizona) -- are moving away from requiring actual dissertations, and are instead accepting a handful of papers (so-called "star papers") as sufficient for the PhD. I think this is a mistake for at least two reasons.

First, as I've written elsewhere and others have remarked as well, our entire discipline is arguably becoming overly specialized. There seems an ever-growing trend in the direction of "smaller", nuts-and-bolts-type thinking, and away from grand, systematic ideas. I don't think this is a good trend, and I think the "star paper" approach only feeds into it. Learning how to put together and develop a Big Idea is an important thing to learn, and I think it needs to be learned early on (i.e. before one becomes a prof).  If you don't learn how to develop a Big Idea in grad school, when will you learn?  Your first several years after grad school you're trying to publish standalone papers, so you won't learn it then. What about after you get tenure? Will you suddenly learn how to develop Big Ideas then, after you've spent your entire time in grad school and your professional life before tenure developing Small Ideas? Again, probably not. Our discipline should try to generate Big Thinkers, and there's just no better time to begin developing Big Thinking skills than in grad school, through writing a dissertation.

Second -- and I'm sure I'll take some heat for this -- I think dissertations build character and are important as a test of will. Writing small papers involves a certain amount of discipline, stress, and risk. It's very hard to write a good paper, as we all know, but if a single paper "goes down the tubes" one can always write another one. Not so for dissertations. There are times during a dissertation when it looks like the whole thing will crash and burn, and when this happens one must find a way. Or sometimes one must scrap the whole thing a begin again. Writing good "star papers" is hard. Writing a halfway decent dissertation is very, very, very hard. It is a surpreme test of will, and a test that I think benefits us in the end. Because if you think grad school is hard, you have no idea. Being a professor is far more difficult. One needs to know how to really push oneself to the brink. This is no joke. You never have enough time as a professor. You need to learn how to do more than you think you can. And I think writing a dissertation helps one learn this. I can't tell you how many times during my dissertation I thought to myself, or even said out loud, "I don't think I can do this." I've never said this about single papers. I've always thought I could do those. And it's because of this difference that I think dissertations are important. It's because, next to a dissertation, the only thing that's ever led me to say, "I don't think I can do this", is being a professor. It's better to learn that one can do what appears "impossible" as a grad student than to try to learn it as a professor. Because if you didn't learn how to do the "impossible" as a grad student you may well sink instead of swim as a prof. Those, anyway, are  my thoughts. Dissertations are horrible to suffer through...but I think they enable one to swim later on.

How Not to Find a Good Topic

Finding a good dissertation topic is probably the single most difficult part of getting a PhD in philosophy. It took me about three years to find a good topic -- three years of completely spinning my wheels -- and the vast majority of students I've seen have trouble finishing the PhD got hung up at this very stage.  Why is it so difficult?

Prior to writing a dissertation, grad school taught you how to write individual papers. Finding a topic for a single paper is hard enough. Now, all of a sudden, you need to find a single, great book-length topic. Nothing you've done so far in grad school prepares you for it...and yet, somehow, you have to figure it out.  Actually, things are much worse than this -- for in my experience writing graduate level term-papers positively mis-prerares you to find a good dissertation topic. Let me explain why.

Let's reflect for a moment on how one typically arrives at a term-paper topic.  I'm probably oversimplifying, but if I remember right the process goes something like this: You read some papers in Field X.  You find an argument/position in Field X that you don't think works very well, but which you think you can improve on.  What you do then is write a term paper laying out that argument/position, criticizing it, and finally, having your say.  This is no way to go about trying to formulate a dissertation topic.  I'll use my own case to illustrate.

When I started out trying to formulate a dissertation topic, I decided I wanted to defend normative reasons internalism -- the view that all genuine normative reasons depend on the subjective states of the agent to whom those reasons apply. This view, obviously, stands opposed to normative reasons externalism, which is the view that there are normative reasons that in no way depend upon said internal states.  Okay, now think for a moment about what a dissertation on this topic would entail.  I would have to learn, think through, and try to refute every argument out there -- arguments already published by super-duper-smart people -- in favor of normative reasons externalism.  What a mountain to try to climb!

I've rarely seen a dissertation of this sort succeed.  This isn't to say it can't be done...but I will say I've never seen it done.  Here, then, is my first piece of advice:

Suggestion #1 -- Don't Focus in on a Big Issue or Big Position Prematurely: you'll never get your dissertation started, let alone done, if you task yourself with having to refute everything that's ever been written on a particular side of a well-established issue. That is too tall, and too steep, of a mountain to climb.

How to Find a Good Topic

Suggestion #2 -- You have to find a Big Idea: Every successful dissertation that I've come across is based upon a Big Idea.  My dissertation's Big Idea was to systematically apply John Rawls' original position to the domain of nonideal theory.  Other Big Ideas I've come across include: viewing moral theories as *advice*-giving, understanding and evaluating political theories on the basis of cutting-edge empirical psychology, etc.

There's a simple reason why it's important to find that  Big Idea: once you find it, the dissertation more or less writes itself.  After all, once you find your Big Idea, you don't need to "refute" every existing argument in the literature on your topic.  All you have to do is show how your Big Idea illuminates the topic in ways that the existing arguments in the literature generally miss.  In other words, the Big Idea makes things easy for you.  Instead of attempting the near-impossible (refuting every other smart person out there), your dissertation aims to change the conversation (or at least show a different way of looking at the conversation).

Suggestion #3 -- To Find a Big Idea, Read...and Read Widely: "Okay," you say, "I realize I should try to find my Big Idea...but that's easier said than done! How am I supposed to find it?"  In my experience, one primary reason grad students have trouble finding their Big idea is that they ran afoul of Suggestion #1 above ("Don't pick a Big Issue or Big Position"). After all, here's what happens after you fix in on a Big Issue or Big Position. You read that literature, and try to come up with your Idea. The problem with this is: you might not have a Big Idea on your favorite Big Issue!  I had this problem myself. As I said, early on I had my mind made up: I wanted to defend normative reasons internalism. So what did I do? I read everything I could on the subject and tried to come up with my Idea. And I failed. Much later on, after a rejected disseration topic, one of my profs at Arizona, Mark Timmons, told me, "Just read." I took Mark to mean: don't just read on your favorite issues. Read other things.  And so I did.  I set aside normative reasons internalism and started reading political philosophy. I read a bunch of stuff on legitimacy. Then I read, and re-read, Rawls' A Theory of Justice, Political Liberalism, and The Law of Peoples...and at last my Big Idea came to me.

The lesson I took from this is that you never know where your Big Idea will come from. If you have your mind made up about the Big Issue you want your dissertation to be about early on, you're dramatically narrowing your chances of finding a good Big Idea. If you read, and read widely, about many different topics, the greater your chances of finding your Idea. The larger the net, the more likely you'll catch a fish.

I hope you all found this discussion interesting, and I'm curious to see what y'all have to say. More later. 

 

Why Isn't There a Political Philosopher Celebrity?

Neil deGrasse Tyson, an American astrophysicist, has taken it upon himself to raise the scientific literacy of the general public. His entertaining persona and excellent oratory skills makes him the perfect person for the job. In fact, he is so good at being a communicator that he has become somewhat of a celebrity. On top of hosting his own TV program NOVA scienceNOW, Tyson has been a frequent guest on multiple talk shows. Indeed, I would go as far as to say that most people who know who he is are not scientists. I am, of course, a perfect example.

My serendipitous discovery of Tyson was quickly followed by the sad realization that there is no equivalent of him in my field. There is no Neil deGrasse Tyson of political philosophy. This tragic fact has been disturbing me for some time now. However important we think it is to raise the scientific literacy of the general public, I would say it is equally, if not more important, to raise the public's political literacy.

About a month ago, I was watching an episode of Real Time with Bill Maher. The topic was income inequality and how almost half of Americans do not pay any federal income tax. The republican panelist responded to this fact by saying how unjust it was because if we were back on the Mayflower on our way to America, we would never have agreed to such a policy. Upon hearing this, I almost pulled out my hair. If only they knew about the original position! If there had been a political philosopher on the panel, that argument would have been shown to be silly. But there wasn't. Too often I find myself thinking “If only a political philosopher were on the show!”

We need to improve the quality of our discussions about the fundamentals of politics. From the debate about gay marriage to the fight for economic equality, questions of justice permeate through our society. That there is no Neil deGrasse Tyson of political philosophy to help direct our political discussions is a grave tragedy, the consequences of which will be felt on a societal level.

John Rawls was the most influential political philosopher of the latter half of the twentieth century and yet, no one outside of academia knew who he was. He should have been a common household name. He should have been our Neil deGrasse Tyson, but he wasn't.

Society at large desperately needs a political philosopher to take the next step and go beyond the boundaries of academia, but I have found it difficult to even get other philosophers on the same page. Why is it that no one wants to be a philosopher celebrity? It certainly is possible; we have people such as Noam Chomsky and Cornel West who have received wide attention. But for some reason, we do not have such a person in political philosophy.

I would love to hear all of your theories as to why this is.