The Philosophers' Cocoon

New Contributor: Chike Jeffers

I'd like to welcome our newest contributor: Chike Jeffers. Chike is assistant professor at Dalhousie University (Halifax, Nova Scotia). He specializes in Africana philosophy and the philosophy of race, and has general interests in social-political philosophy and ethics. Welcome!

And...They're (Almost) Off!

Given that the fall JFP comes out on Monday, I just wanted to wish all of our job-marketeering readers the best of luck on the market.  For what it is worth, my own experience is that it's best not to let the market dominate one's (or at least my) life. I've found that the more that I focus on ordinary things like teaching, research, and spending time with friends and family, and the less I focus on the viccissitudes of the market -- job wikis, etc. -- the easier it all is to handle. Anyway, those a just a few thoughts for the road. I sincerely wish you all the best of luck on it, as I know all too well what a difficult road it is.

On idiosyncrasy; or, the king has a peculiar attitude

Timothy Williamson’s review of Joshua Alexander’s Experimental Philosophy has been making the rounds. See also Eric Schliesser's post on NewAPPS.

As I understand it, one of Williamson’s main concerns with Experimental Philosophy is that it has failed to target a unique philosophical method that (experimental philosophers claim) is in need of revision. As Williamson writes:

What the Experimental Philosophy revolution is supposed to change — systematize, restrict, or abolish — is a philosophical method: the use of philosophical intuitions as evidence. Alexander’s starting-point is that such a method is obviously widespread in, and distinctive of, contemporary philosophy (pp. 1, 11). The systematic deployment of elaborate hypothetical cases is indeed an eye-catching feature of much recent analytic work. But what Experimental Philosophers target is neither the systematicity nor the elaboration. Nor, officially, is it the hypothetical nature of the cases. For many of them can be replaced by real life cases.

In support of this claim about experimental philosophy, Williamson seems to be saying that experimental philosophers have failed to identify something that is uniquely “philosophical” about what they call “philosophical intuitions.” As Williamson writes:

Alexander’s own gloss on ‘philosophical intuitions’, ‘what we would say or how things seem to us’, does no better. In both everyday and scientific situations, when I say that P, I would say that P, and (if I am sincere) it seems to me that P. If I am not idiosyncratic, we would say that P, and it seems to us that P. If I believe that I am not idiosyncratic, I believe that what we would say, and how things seem to us, is that P. [emphasis added]

But isn’t that a big IF? I take it that some work in experimental philosophy has shown precisely that intuitions are idiosyncratic insofar as they vary across cultures and are subject to all sorts of effects, such as order and framing effects. In other words, now that the empirical evidence is out there, we (philosophers) don’t get to assume without argument that we (more precisely, our intuitions) are not idiosyncratic.

Stop the Madness!...or Let Madness Reign Supreme? A Reviewerly Dilemma

I found myself caught in a dilemma today that brings to mind recent posts about reviewerly duties. The paper defends a new theory of something by arguing that the theory avoids a certain "problem" that many others in the field have raised. Here's a reviewerly dilemma: I think the so-called "problem" that the entire paper assumes is a bunch of hooey. I think there there's nothing even remotely close to a good argument for its being a genuine problem (just a lot of table-banging). In my estimation, the only reason some people think it is a problem is that they are grip in a very, very bad theory -- one that I think there are decisive reasons to reject, and which shocks me to no end that (some) people take seriously to begin with (again, almost entirely on the basis of table-banging assertions).

Here, then, is my dilemma:

1. If I don't advocate rejecting the paper, I run the risk of contributing to the further dissemination and acceptance of something I take to be a genuine kind of philosophical madness that has taken hold of a substantial part of the literature. (which seems bad to me)
2. If I do advocate rejecting the paper on these grounds, I have faulted the author for something that I think is a grave mistake but which many other people in the discipline don't. (this seems bad to me too)

Now, in the abstract, I generally loathe to hold authors responsible for (what I take to be) others' mistakes. However, in this case, the entire argument that the paper rests on seems to me to be utter madness. It's hard for me to say to myself, in good conscience, "Let this pass", when I simply can't believe how others in the discipline have let it pass for so long.

What say you, my fellow Cocooners? What's a reviewer to do in this sort of situation?

 

One’s modus ponens is another’s modus tollens

Like the “proving too much” charge, philosophers tend to level the “begging the question” charge too hastily. I just had a paper—in which I argue that p is false (where p is a commonly held view in field F)—rejected on the grounds that my argument against p begs the question.

Strictly speaking, an argument begs the question only if it is a circular argument and the circle is vicious. That is:

            p => p

This is a viciously circular argument because the conclusion (= p) is assumed as a premise.

Now, if my argument were something like this:

~p => ~p

then it would have been viciously circular. But my argument actually goes like this:

(q -> ~p) & q => ~p

It just so happens, however, that q is a proposition that my opponent cannot accept. Does that make my argument viciously circular? I don’t think so. I suppose that is what Putnam had in mind when he said that “one philosopher’s modus ponens is another philosopher’s modus tollens.”

What do you think, my fellow pupae?

Letter from an Angry Author

If you'll allow, something a bit more lighthearted in the midst of all this job market doom. This has probably done the rounds before, but I just came across it. Since I'm currently working on a second revision of a paper that was sent out to a *different* referee after the first revision, I can sympathise with it (although I actually got pretty good comments). Anyway, follow the link, and enjoy: http://research.ivo-welch.info/humor-letter.txt

A Bizarre Situation, A Serious Question

So I ran into a student yesterday who hasn't been attending class, and she said to me (I paraphase): "I'm probably going to start coming to class again, but I'm not planning to turn in any written assignments. I'm really not into defining my life by a piece-of-paper, like a degree. I plan on spending my life naked on a beach somewhere in the Bahamas. Maybe I'll regret it some day, but...".  Needless to say, I was taken a LITTLE off-guard by this. Okay, I was completely stunned by it. Like most of us, I've had students say outrageous things to me before -- but this one takes the cake for sure. And here's the thing...I'm still not clear at all on how I should have responded. My school places a great deal of emphasis on faculty-student engagement, and so part of me feels like I should have said something. On the flip side, I'm just her philosophy professor. Is it really my place to try to try to deter her from making what, in my view, would be a terrible life-mistake? So, should I instead lodge a "student of concern" report? I'll probably talk to my chair or someone else about it...but I'm just curious: what do you all think is appropriate in cases like this (particularly cases where a student seems perfectly aware of the fact that she might come to regret her choices)?

Suggestions of things to do/not do while out on the job-market

*Updated Sat. 9/22* 

Given that the October JFP is less than two weeks away, I thought this might be a good time to present and discuss some...suggestions...for how to behave/not behave while out on the job market.  Notice that I didn't say "do's" and "don'ts."  Lists of do's and don'ts often come off as holier-than-thou. So I propose we venture and discuss suggestions.  Here are a few I offer:

• If you're a job-seeker, don't talk about how many interviews you have at the Eastern APA, or your new publications coming out in Awesomest Journal Around. In my experience there are far, far too many job-seekers out there who go out of their way to let everyone know how awesome they're doing. Please...try to realize that there are a lot of anxious people around you who may not have things as good as you. If you have lots of interviews or awesome pubs coming out, just feel happy about them on the inside.
• If you're fresh out of grad school or ABD, don't think a tenure-track job is the be-all, end-all "holy grail." Although I suspect many people don't believe me, I think a non-tenure-track job can be far better for a person out of grad school than a TT one. Non-tenure-track positions can give you time to find your feet -- and perhaps more importantly your identity -- as a philosopher and teacher without a tenure-clock hanging over your head. Trust me, just about anyone who has gotten a job of any sort will tell you it is an enormously difficult transition.  
• Go to the Eastern APA if you can afford it, even if you don't have interviews. I firmly believe that you do yourself no favors staying at home. You'll feel just as sad if you stay at home, and you will miss out on all kinds of opportunities. While at the APA you can (A) make and solidify connections with other people (including friendships for their own sake, not just a "leg up"!), (B) get ideas going to talks, (C) learn things about the job market from other people who are on it (and advising job seekers), (D) go to the book exhibit, buy a book or two and read, and finally (E) have your lack of interviews light a serious fire under your "you know what" (one year I was so frustrated I did work the entire time I was at the APA, and it was awesome!). In other words, even if you don't have any interviews -- actually, especially if you don't have interviews -- don't shrink away from the philosophical world. Get out into it: push yourself to get out there and do more. Trust me, I have experience on this one. It can be tough, but you can do it -- and staying home tends to result in a self-inflicted pity-party.

Okay, guess that's all for now. Gotta run off to teach! I'm curious to see what you all think of these, and what suggestions you all have to offer in turn.

Update: here's one I forgot:

• Don't apply to/interview for TT jobs you intend to "jump ship" from at the first opportunity, and definitely don't lie to the faces of search committee members about it.  I actually know of one person who did this. Apparently they interviewed fantastically for a teaching job, then showed up at the job clearly wanting to move to an R1 ASAP. This is clearly one of the most despicable things a person can do on the market. They are not only screwing over every other candidate on the market who would actually want the job. They are royally screwing over -- and lying to -- the department and university that hired them. They have not only wasted several months of SC members' lives (think about all that goes into a hire!) and thousands of dollars of the hiring university's money; they have also made it very likely that the department that was so in need of a new member in the first place will not get another TT line to replace the liar they hired.

 

Balance Series, Part 4: Children

At the moment, I'm 25, single, and childless. While some may regard these facts as a bit depressing (because I haven't found that special someone), it has some advantages. Most notably, I have more personal freedom and fewer non-professional obligations to meet. Because professional development during graduate school is so important to landing a job in philosophy (especially since the 2008 economic collapse), being able to focus more narrowly on philosophy is a benefit that I'm hesitant to minimize.

Having said this, the majority of graduate students I know are not in my situation. Most of the ones I know are older and married. Some of them have a child, and a few have more than one. I have seen plenty of examples of graduate students who have been able to manage their marriage during graduate study without any noticeable difficulty, so I infer that having a spouse does not meaningfully affect one's chances of having a prosperous graduate career. (In fact, having a spouse to help ease the stress of graduate study probably offsets whatever so-called "inconveniences" to your professional life arise.) But the same cannot be said for having children.

I have known several graduate students who had children midway through their graduate career. In every case, the same pattern transpired. Following their child's birth, they were almost completely absent from departmental events for a while. They rarely attended their course meetings, never attended special events (including those that featured distinguished visiting speakers), and were never spotted around the graduate student offices. When they eventually snapped out of this phase (usually after 1-2 months), their involvement in the philosophical community was still significantly reduced from where it had been when they were childless.

It's not hard to imagine why this is the case. Having a child involves undertaking responsibilities that have no equal: you are fully responsible for the development and welfare of another human life. The burdens of care impose stress on you financially, physically, and emotionally in ways that nothing else can. And unfortunately, in the tug-of-war between the needs of your child and fulfilling your obligations as a graduate student, your child carries more weight most of the time. Moreover, observing your child's first steps, hearing her first words, playing with her in the evenings—these activities tend to be so much more rewarding than, say, reading that article for tomorrow's graduate seminar, revising that paper draft to send off to a conference, or working on the ever-so-daunting dissertation. The temptation to let yourself underachieve grows (as does the temptation to accept it or rationalize it).

The strain created by having a child is also not likely to disappear when you finally finish the dissertation. Given the difficulty of finding tenure-track employment right after graduate school, it's likely that you, your spouse, and your child will be bouncing around to temporary positions for a little while. During that time, it will be even more important for you to publish and build up your CV so that you can acquire a tenure-track position, but the demands of your child (or children) will still be present. Moreover, as your child gets older, the impacts of your moving (which may be frequent) could impact her more significantly. (They won't remember much of the move at 3 years old or younger, but once they're 5 or 6 and start to make friends, the impact of moving could be quite significant to them.)

I do know a few professors who are able to juggle their professional responsibilities with their personal commitments to multiple children; some of them were even able to do this during graduate school. If I were like them, I would offer some advice on how to balance these commitments successfully. But since I lack that experience, I'll offer a more candid,  less compromising sentiment: wait until you have finished your graduate education to have children. Ideally, you'd wait until you have tenure (so that your career is firmly established), but because you can't achieve this until many years after graduate school, such a standard seems implausible.

Of course, one may wonder how I, given my autobiographical notes above, can make such a bold statement about how people ought to conduct their personal lives. After all, how can I understand the importance of one's decision to have a child when I have never been in a position to seriously consider the decision myself? I may not have a convincing answer to someone who presses this objection. I have only my personal observations and some anecdotes from graduate students and professors who have children. It's become clear to me from these anecdotes that graduate students who have children, even if they accurately appraise how valuable their child will be to them, usually underestimate just how great the sacrifice will be and how much it will (professionally) cost them.

I also confess that I am not particularly sympathetic to those who feel they must have a child before the age of 30. (Perhaps I'm biased because I was born when both my parents were in their mid-30s.) Mainly, I fail to see what great loss it would be to wait a few years (hopefully until after the dissertation is complete) when the professional benefits appear so signficant. Moreover, the child is likely to benefit because you will be in better position to secure a tenure-track job, leading to higher income and a stable location. For graduate students in their mid-30s, I admit that their window for having a child is narrowing, and this fact can weigh very heavily on them. Some, I suspect, do not envision that they could live a genuinely happy life without having a child. This dreadful dilemma, where a person faces such a basic and significant conflict between personal life and professional life, is one with no easy solution and is best avoided altogether. This highlights one significant reason why it is beneficial to begin graduate work in philosophy (and likely in any field) shortly after obtaining her undergraduate degree.

I doubt that this post will persuade all (or even most) philosophy graduate students from having children before they finish their dissertation, but I hope it at least makes them realize the professional costs of their decision to do so. The journey to a tenure-track job in philosophy traces a long uphill path. I advise any philosophy grad student to be cautious about making that incline any steeper than it already is.

ADDENDUM: This post now has two follow-ups. This one addresses the gender-insensitivity concerns, and this one tackles other objections raised in comments and other discussion.

What is professional ambition for a philosopher?

There's a good question about whether and to what extent philosophers ought to be professionally ambitious. After all, work is only one of many good things in life. But that's a question for another post by a different cocooner. Here I want to ask what it even means to pursue a philosophical career. If you want to strive for professional excellence as a philosopher, what should you do? And how can you tell whether you're doing it?

In some professions, success is tied to income. If you work in sales, for instance, the size of your commissions is roughly equal to the size of your professional success. This makes it easy for salespeople to know how well they're doing.

But matters are more complicated for us. Some low-status philosophy jobs actually pay better than higher-status jobs. Professional philosophers rarely put on displays of wealth, and that's not because philosophers are reluctant to display their successes. (Philosophers brag just as much as anyone else, in my experience. Bragging is what a CV is for.) Instead, I think, philosophers don't display wealth because they don't see wealth as a sign of success.

Money:salesperson::__?___:philosopher

I don't know the best way to fill in the blank, but I'll list some possibilities off the top of my head. Maybe professional success in philosophy is (or is indicated by): (1) the production of high-quality philosophical writing; or (2) the production of influential philosophical writing; or (3) landing a job at a well-regarded philosophy department; or (4) being a good philosophy teacher; or (5) acquiring a deep understanding of important philosophical problems; or (6) actually solving important philosophical problems...

Of course, we don't have to pick just one. Perhaps there will be a combination of different factors that make up our notion of professional success. Given this, we should be attentive to cases in which one dimension of professional success is at odds with another.

There is also an interesting scope issue. It's conceivable to be regarded as a success (or failure) within your department or university and simultaneously be regarded as a failure (or success) by the wider profession. Does the ambitious philosopher (qua ambitious philosopher) try to gain worldwide fame, or does she try to be the favorite philosopher on campus?

I think it might turn out that we just don't have any coherent idea of what it is to have a successful career as a philosopher. Maybe we should simply count certain events as successes (e.g., the publication of a paper in an excellent journal seems clearly to be a kind of success). I'm tempted by the idea that it just isn't possible to add up all the successes and failures in one's career in order to correctly reach an aggregative judgment about one's career as a whole. Maybe this is one of the differences between professional sales and professional philosophy. In sales (and presumably in a lot of other professions, too), each of your professional activities meaningfully contributes to the overall value of your career. But in philosophy, perhaps, your career as a whole can't be informatively evaluated, even though each of the things you do in the course of your career—read, reflect, write, publish, teach, etc.—is independently worthwhile.

What do you look for as a reviewer? And what should reviewers look for?

There have been a lot of posts recently, both here and elsewhere, on the perils of peer-review -- particularly on irresponsible, unaccountable reviewers, as well as on whether contemporary philosophy (and so, reviewers) have fetishized rigor to an unhealthy (and comical) extent.

In light of these issues, I'd like to ask ye, my fellow Cocooners, the following two questions:

1. What do you look for as a journal reviewer? (Please answer only if you've been a journal reviewer!)
2. What do you think journal reviewers should look for, and why?

I suppose I'll kick things off by giving my short-answer to both questions. 

• What I look for as a reviewer, and why: It depends on context. If I am reviewing a primarily critical paper or "negative argument" within a paper (one that takes another piece of philosophy to task), I look for rigor.  I want the author to really make a convincing case that the piece they're criticizing is in error.  On the other hand, if I am considering a piece of positive philosophy, I aim to balance rigor with interest, and sometimes prioritize the latter over the former.  Because I recognize that interesting new contributions to philosophy can be, and usually are, chock full of holes and failed arguments (see e.g. Kant, Rawls, Etc.), what I really want to know is: has the author motivated an interesting new way of looking at the problem(s) at issue?  Or, more bluntly, I ask myself: is this a paper people are likely to talk (and write) about?  (Notice: a paper can be one of this sort even if its argument has a lot of questionable components).
• What I think reviewers should look for, and why: I've made no secret of my belief that many reviewers focus far too much on rigor and not enough on interest.  I've read a lot of rigorous papers in top journals lately that I just don't think are very interesting at all (no, I won't name them!). My experience has been that Mumford is right.  Journal reviewers are far, far too conservative. When we prioritize rigor over "interestingness" -- when we insist that a person defends each and every premise of their "to the hilt" -- we end up publishing papers that are so conservative that they're just not that interesting.  There's a reason why Groundwork for a Metaphysics of Morals, A Theory of Justice, Quine's "Two Dogmas", etc., are so widely discussed...and it is not rigor.  As far as I am concerned, RM Hare's hilariously aggressive review of A Theory of Justice is more or less right in its details. Rawls' book is full of problems, left-and-right. But so much the worse for Hare. Rawls' book was interesting, and generated an incredible amount of conversation. Rigor is important. Interesting is more important. Or so say I.

I'm curious to hear what all of you think (and do yourselves)!

On Mumford on Peer-Review, and How the Physicists Do It Better

This article on peer-review by Stephen Mumford has been making the rounds, and the following excerpts in particular strike me as worth discussing:

A while ago I was asked by a journal of high standing to referee a paper on a topic of which I had little knowledge. I immediately pointed this out, but the editorial assistant soon afterwards replied that it would be fine as they valued my opinion nevertheless. I was uncomfortable. The journal in question had, during the course of my career, rejected every one of my submissions, now numbering almost a dozen. Their position seemed to be that while they had consistently deemed me unworthy of publication, I was nevertheless worthy of passing judgement on what was good enough for them to publish: outside my own topic too. If I really knew what they wanted, I would no doubt have produced it myself by now. I turned down the assignment.

--------

There is a big intellectual flaw in the peer-review system. It is inherently conservative. Suppose an editor succeeds in securing an ideal referee, eminent in the field and working on the same subject area. Such a reviewer could well have a vested interest in protecting a particular view or theory. Paradigm-changing work is unlikely to go down well with those who support an existing paradigm. Many papers in my own field work within an existing set of shared assumptions, offering only small additions or footnotes, which produce a dull read.

--------

Let us see with each published paper a date of submission, date of acceptance and names of the referees. Let authors know in advance the average decision time. Let us know if asked to revise and resubmit whether it will go back to the same referees or to different ones.

Personally, I think that Mumford's observations on the problems with peer-review are spot-on. However, I don't think his positive proposals would do much at all to improve the situation. How would posting dates, of submission, acceptance, names of referees, etc., correct for any of the problems Mumford cites in his article? Although I hesistate to get on my hobby-horse yet again, I can't help but think that there is already another system out there that does correct for most, if not all, of our current system's problems.  Here, again, is how the physicists do it.  They:

1. Post their working papers on a database called the Arxiv.
2. Read each other's papers, give feedback, and talk about those papers widely, and publicly, on physics messageboards.
3. The feedback they give each other on the Arxiv enables them to help each other improve their papers (which is, like, totally awesome) and, in some cases, disprove and weed out bad papers.
4. The papers that start getting talked about a lot get a "stamp of approval" by the profession before they head out for official peer review.
5. The official peer review process itself is something of a formality.  The papers that have generated a lot of discussion on prominent messageboards (and have not been disproved) are given the green-light by reviewers, and those that haven't are rejected or read more carefully.

Now, this alternative system isn't without potential problems. It is, strictly speaking, possible for bad work to get a lot of attention on messageboards -- though, for what it is worth, when this happens in physics it usually comes out on the messageboards why the work is bad, and the bad stuff doesn't make it into print. Still, it seems to me that, all things considered, the physicists' approach is far superior.  It:

• Takes peer-review mostly out of the hands of unaccountable reviewers.
• Places it instead in the publicly accountable hands of the profession-at-large (as people explain, publicly, on the net, why such-and-such paper is SUPER GOOD or SUPER NOT-GOOD), while also
• Providing forums and incentives for people to help one another improve their papers (which helps everyone).

All of this seems totally awesome to me.  Why don't we philosophers do it? 

A class conflict?

As you probably know by now, Philosophers’ Imprint is now charging a $20 submission fee.

Some have pointed out that this policy favors the haves (e.g., tenured and tenure-track philosophers) over the have-nots (e.g., graduate students, adjuncts, and non-TT philosophers). I agree. What do you think?

Reader Question on Replies

I just received the following query from one of our readers (a grad student):

I had a question for you and the fellow cocooners that I thought might be an interesting topic. I've got a paper that I've been working on for a couple of years and I can't figure out how to make it into a journal type article. I have been thinking recently about submitting it as a discussion piece. I've seen plenty of stuff on the web about publishing articles, but I haven't seen much about publishing discussion pieces. Is there a rule of thumb for the content? How recent does the work being discussed need to be? Any help would be appreciated. 

What say you, my fellow pupae? Any advice?

Here are a few thoughts of my own. The first piece I ever published was actually just the kind of piece the reader refers to: a longer paper that I had trouble placing, and which I then transformed into a much shorter piece. So I guess my first thought is that this kind of thing can work. A second thought is that Thom Brooks' guide to publishing for grad students is a good place to look, since he discusses replies there a bit. His advice, if I recall, is to make sure that the piece makes one very good point very clearly, and stays on point at every instant. In other words, the piece should probably begin with a very short summary of the point -- and no more than the point -- you mean to object to, and then provide the objection as quickly and powerfully as possible.  As for how recently the piece being discussed needs to be, I don't know if there's a good rule to follow here besides a "sliding-scale": namely, the newer the piece, the better.  An exception would perhaps be a slightly older piece that is very influential.  My final thought (echoed by Brooks) is that it's probably not a good idea to spend a great deal of time on any given reply.  Since very few journals accept replies to pieces in *other* journals (JESP is a rare exception), you pretty much only have one shot to get the piece in print. I have several replies myself that went nowhere, and I'm glad I didn't waste any more time on them than I did. In other words, I suggest that if you want to write a reply, just write it up quickly, maybe get a couple people to read it, edit it for gross errors, and send it off. If the point you're arguing for really is a good one, you'll probably get an R&R and be able to polish it later (this happened to me twice).  

On International Travel and Asking for Help

I just returned from a 6-day trip to England, where I attended the excellent MANCEPT workshops in political theory. Let me begin by saying that the organizers did a wonderful job with everything. A conference of that size has to be a logistical nightmare to set up, but everything went off (as far as I could tell) without a hitch. My experiences with international travel itself, on the other hand, is a very different story.

This is the second time I've travelled internationally in the past two months, and both trips were absolutely terrible. Why? Although I have no idea how representative my experiences are, let me just say that I do not do well with jet lag. Actually, "not do well" is a vast understatement, if ever there were one. Generally speaking, I am a pretty level-headed individual -- but both times I've traveled abroad I've been gripped by what I can only call a profound sense of anxiety, sadness, and a profound fogginess of mind, all of which, as I understand it, are symptoms of severe jet-lag, and which lasted a good 4 days, and led to this post. Now again, maybe I'm unrepresentative, but for those of you who haven't travelled abroad before, you have been warned. As far as I am concerned, my days of international travel are over. Both trips were that bad.

On the flip-side, my experience did have at least one positive effect. For a few days, I felt pretty embarassed by my post on my publishing travails. Goodness, I thought to myself, I publicly opened up way too much. I felt like my jet-lag threw my good sense out the window, and that I never would have made the post if I were in my right mind. And truth be told, I'm still a wee bit embarassed. But I learned a few things from the experience that I would like to share with you all. First, if you need help, ask for it. Many of us are not good at asking for help. I have never been good at it, and I have known many people who are bad at it too (particularly fellow grad students back when I was seeking my degree). Asking for help is uncomfortable -- but I can tell you this: it is even more uncomfortable in the long run not to receive the help you need because you never asked for it. This is sort of how I'm feeling at the moment. I think I probably could have published the darn paper in question a long, long time ago if I had just sought out more help than I have. But better late than never, I suppose. The comments and offers to read the paper I received from you all have really, really helped (thanks in particular to Kristina Meshelski for her paper comments and encouragement, as well as Brad Cokelet and all of you who shared your kind comments). Which brings me to the second point I would like to share: there really are good people out there who are willing to help and encourage you -- and share their knowledge and expertise -- if only you ask. It's all too easy, sometimes, to regard one another as competitors, or to worry that others will judge you and your work. It's important to keep in mind that there are a lot of people of good will out there. Don't be afraid to approach them, particularly here on the Cocoon. ;)  Also, thanks again to you all. You helped salvage at least one person's awful week.  

Papers lost in academic cyberspace

The other day, I received the email attached below from The Open Journal of Philosophy. 

What do you make of it? Is this a scam?

Here is why I tend to be suspicious of new open access journals. I published my first paper with Philosophical Frontiers. At the time, I was a graduate student eager to get his name in print and the journal was supposed to be open access. It turned out to be a mistake, since the journal has disappeard from cyberspace since then.

Here is the email from The Open Journal of Philosophy:

Dear Dr. Moti Mizrahi ,

I am writing to cordially invite you to submit or recommend papers to Open Journal of Philosophy (OJPP, ISSN: 2163-9442), a fast track peer-reviewed and open access academic journal published by Scientific Research Publishing (SCIRP), which is one of the largest open access journal publishers with more than 200 journals. To date SCIRP journals have been indexed by many important databases.

As an Open Access Journal, OJPP devotes itself to promoting scholarship in philosophy and to speeding up the publication cycle thereof. Researchers worldwide will have full access to all the articles published online and be able to download them with zero subscription fee. Moreover, the influence of your research will rapidly expand once you become an OA author, because an OA article enjoys more chances to be used and cited than does one that plods through the subscription barriers of traditional publishing model.

"Open" makes this Journal unique. "Open" goes global, historical, cultural; actual, theoretical, detailed; artistic, scientific, sociopolitical. "Open" goes outer space and nuclear minute, and heartfelt subtle.

The only desideratum is to go basic, and go sensitively coherent. Be clear, even in the wrong, not vague, even in the right. Never beat around the bush; burn the bush itself!

This is "philosophy"! It means that any theme in any methodology, written as above, is welcome.

We shall eagerly look forward to your vigorous submissions of exciting essay within our aims and scope which is shown at www.scirp.org/journal/ojpp. And papers are expected to be submitted at "Submission" section in the above website.

Best regards, Prof. Kuang-Ming Wu Editor in Chief OJPP Editorial Office Scientific Research Publishing

Contact Us E-mail:ojpp@scirp.org Skype: scrip_service Tel: 001(209)730-6998 Facebook: Scirp HealthLife Twitter: @SCIRP LinkedIn: Louis figo

An Earnest, Frustrated, Searching Query for All of You, My Good Cocooning Friends

There's a paper I've been working on for several years now -- one that formed the basis for my dissertation -- but which I just haven't had any luck publishing. To be perfectly frank, for a long while I thought there were very good reasons for reviewers to reject it. I recognized from reader and reviewer comments that there were things that I just had wrong, and other things that I hadn't worked out yet. And so the rejections, while hard to take, were incredibly helpful. They helped me recognize and solve a ton of problems. Now, however, I finally feel pretty confident that I've finally worked most (if not all) of the kinks out. Anyway, to make a long story short...after many major revisions I've gotten reasonably close to publishing the thing a couple of times (i.e. a couple of R&R's) -- close, but still, no cigar.

So what's my query, you ask? Well, before I get to that, let me continue the story a bit. Some might suggest (some have!) that given the trouble I've had publishing the paper, perhaps it would be best to give up on it. However, there are a few reasons I don't think that's appropriate. First, the paper has changed a lot over the years, and I recognize that some things I was doing a while back were mistaken. Second, when objections are raised these days (by readers and reviewers), I have good replies in hand (replies which tend to satisfy people in person and have progressively satisfied more journal reviewers). Third, I keep having well-known and not-so-well-known readers -- and conferences and elsewhere (including, importantly, people who have no vested interest in telling me what I want to hear) -- tell me they think it's a good and important paper, and that I should not give up on it. Finally, and perhaps most importantly (to me, anyway), I still believe in the darn thing. Trust me, I've given up lots of papers for dead. I'm not that obtuse. I recognize when a paper just isn't happening philosophically -- and I'm pretty sure that's just not the case with this paper. Is everything in it perfect? Of course not. There are a few dicey spots, to be sure. But that's the case in just about every paper, even many of the most influential ones we read and teach -- and we tend to tolerate a dicey step here or there if a project is particularly interesting or illuminating (see e.g. Rawls' entire argument for his principles of justice;).

Finally, then, I come to my earnest query: what in the world are reviewers looking for?  Really, I don't mean this facetiously, or to disparage reviewers in any way, shape, or form. I mean it in the most earnest way possible. I just don't understand what more I can do with this thing. It's on a hot topic. It steps into uncharted waters. It aims to navigate those waters in a new way -- in a way that many people who have written on the topic have said "really needs to be done" in their papers. And, I think, the arguments in it are good. Further, just to forestall the objection that I might be totally deluded about all of these things, I've had numerous readers -- well-known and less-well-known alike -- tell me all of these things. Now, I suppose it is epistemically possible that I am deluded, and all of the people who've told me good things are incorrect, or dishonest, etc. Epistemically possible yes -- but, I think, unlikely.  So, what's the deal? What am I doing wrong? Is this just the way it is sometime? To borrow a phrase from the movie Jerry McGuire (?), help me, help you, help me. Please, I ask, again, in the most earnest way. Truly, any helpful advice, similar experiences, etc., you wish to share would be immensely appreciated. (Heck, I'll even send you the paper if you want, if you're the sort of publishing maniac who's willing to lend your time and awesomeness to a pupae in need:).

Finally, thanks all of you for taking the time to slog through this admittedly strange, frank post. I know we tend to hide our insecurities and frustrations, and only discuss them privately, not in public forums like this. This is something that I've hoped this blog can help serve to change. Sometimes private discussions, as helpful as they can be, just don't quite suffice.  A few well-known people here or there saying, "Stick with it -- this is a good paper", or "Yeah, I had this one paper that I think is my best work, but it took seven years to come out", is encouraging. But sometimes, just sometimes, when you've been tirelessly at work on something for years, and the frustrations mount, you need just a little more than that. Sometimes you need help from your friends. Sometimes you just need to ask your friends for help and encouragement, and hope that some among them will answer. Thus, I humbly approach you, my cocooning friends, for your help and/or advice. Help me, help you, help me. ;)

The Demarcation Problem

In Episode 37 of the Elucidations podcast, Catarina Dutilh Novaes discusses methods in philosophy. She talks about four kinds of methodologies:

1. Traditional methods: conceptual (a priori) reflection and analysis
2. Formal methods: the application of mathematical and logical formalisms to philosophical questions
3. Historical methods: the use of the history of philosophy to understand philosophically relevant concepts
4. Empirical methods: informing philosophical discussions with empirical results from the sciences

During this discussion, an interesting question about demarcation comes up. What, if anything, separates philosophy from other disciplines? Which of the aforementioned methods, if any, is unique to philosophy? Should we worry about setting clear boundaries between philosophy and other disciplines?

Catarina Dutilh Novaes says that this demarcation worry is recent and misguided. She claims that philosophers should "mingle" with practitioners from other disciplines. Do you agree with her? If so, why?

Job Letters Addressing Teaching

More on the subject of job recommendation letters for the US market, now that that the season is upon us. In particular, I'd like to ask your help on recommendation letters addressing teaching. I'm under the impression that it doesn't matter very much whether the teaching letter comes from someone famous -- it could be anyone from your current institution. The problem with this for someone like myself, who is based in a non-US institution, is that few people at my institution have ever seen or written such a letter. I can probably find someone who is willing to write one, but how should I direct them, i.e. what is expected of a teaching reference? I guess that my fellow cocooners may not have seen such letters either, but perhaps someone knows about the typical format for teaching references, or even better, knows where to find a sample letter?

Related to teaching, there's a lot of talk about teaching evaluations that one should attach to a job application. These are not easy to come by outside the US. For instance, I've taught small seminar style classes for the last couple of years and although there is an online student evaluation system in effect, the (already few) students are under no obligation to submit evaluations. Lazy as they are, they generally don't. This means that I have hardly any teaching evaluations to attach to my application. Any suggestions on how to deal with that?

Job-Market Posts

Now that the job season is just about upon us, I figured it might be helpful to compile a list of job-market-related Cocoon posts. So, without further ado, here's the list (hope some of you find 'em helpful!):

Some interesting facts about last year's hires.

Job-market materials.

Job-market advice.

On post-docs.

Notes from the other side of the job market.

On job-market-related bitterness and resentment.

Cover letters. 

Chill out and be kind;)

New Contributor

I'd like to welcome the Cocoon's newest contributor, Richard Brown.  Richard is Associate Professor of Philosophy at LaGuardia Community College, the owner/ruler of the blog Philosophy Sucks!, a musician, a contributor over at the Brains blog -- and he even has a YouTube channel!  Richard's research is focused on the philosophy of mind, consciousness studies, and the foundations of cognitive science. He also has interests in the philosophy of language, metaethics, logic, the philosophy of logic, and the history of philosophy. Welcome!

Who should your job recommendation letters come from?

You're supposed to submit letters of recommendation for jobs you're applying to. It's probably obvious that if you're ABD or just deposited your dissertation, that your letters should come from members of your dissertation committee. But many philosophers are applying for jobs several years or more after completing their dissertations, having gone through visiting positions, adjunct teaching jobs, post-docs or even tenure-system jobs that didn't work out. Moreover, in that time, you have likely finished some articles, developed new research that you perhaps value more than your dissertation work, taught new courses and improved your teaching, and simply become a better professional than in your ABD days. But during this post-dissertation time, you may not have kept in touch with the members of your dissertation committee. Even if you have, they might not really know about how well you've improved or what directions you've developed in. So, a few years or more after completing your dissertation, are your committee members' letters still relevant? Obviously some are to the extent that they attest to the work you did then. However, shouldn't you also have letters from folks who have seen what you've been able to do, and where you're going, since completing your dissertation? Perhaps the chair of a department you taught in as an adjunct, or your faculty mentor for a post-doc? But then these people may nonetheless only be able to provide short-term, limited feedback on the sole dimension of your work that they got to know, such as just your teaching, or just the research trajectory you pursued in your postdoc. So, who should your letters come from? Should they always be your dissertation committee members, forever? Is there something you can do to help letter writers become updated as to your most recent accomplishments and directions? Should you solicit new letters from people who have gotten to know you since graduation? Is there some decision tool for figuring this out each year you're on the market?

The Cocoon at New APPS, and Mission Restatement

I'd like to thank Eric Schliesser over at New APPS for his kind words about the Cocoon (if you don't know of New APPS, you should; it's a great blog on art, politics, philosophy, and science!). Because we appear to have some new readers, I'd like to share our mission statement once again. Here it is:

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 marvan@ut.edu.  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.

Cognitive Dissonance

So I had quite a surprise the other day after taking this nifty little quiz.  Turns out I appear to side with Gary Johnson -- the Libertarian Party candidate for President -- on 87% of policy issues. This is a bit awkward for me. Although I like libertarian views on some things (stay out of our bedrooms, decriminalize drugs, don't drop bombs on on people's heads halfway across the world, etc.), on most matters I have always considered myself a Rawlsian. What gives? One possibility is that I don't practice what I preach -- that I am a Rawlsian in the philosophy room but a libertarian out of it. But I don't think that's what's going on. Another possibility is that I think Rawlsians tend to misunderstand how Rawls' theory applies to nonideal social and political conditions, and this has somehow affected how I judge real-world policies.  But I don't think this is what's going on either in this case. No, what I think is going on is that my "libertarian" policy views probably reflect Rawls' sometimes-neglected distinction between the welfare state and property-owning democracy. Rawls, after all, was not a fan of the welfare state. For although the welfare state has social programs for the (unjustly) disadvantaged, it is also marked by enormous concentrations of capital that serve to (A) unjustly influence politics, and (B) encourage the poor to become disaffected in light of the vast inequalities they face. In contrast, a property-owning democracy spreads capital widely throughout its citizenry, encouraging the development of small-business, entrepreneurship, and an independent citizenry that supports the self-respect of its members. This, I think, is the most likely explanation of my results.

What say you, my fellow Cocooners? If you've taken the quiz (and you should!), do your results surprise you?