A matter of perspective

There's a discussion going on over at the Smoker about how messed up our profession and the people in it (supposedly) are. As one commenter writes,

Although I was certainly hyperbolizing to an extent, my main point is that I find the culture of academia in general, and philosophy in particular, to be unbearable. This is true regardless of the ratio of assholes to non-assholes in academia. There could be, and probably are, far fewer assholes in academia than I think there are (for the reasons you mention, and others besides), but that's not really the issue. Even the non-assholes--the ones I've known, at least--are all to willing to play the academic game with gusto and enthusiasm. Even if they don't like it on some level, they pretend to go along with it. What else can they do? As a condition of possibility for working as professional philosophers, all of us--myself included--have to pay token obeisance to inane concepts like "rankings" (of journals, of programs, of historical philosophers, etc.). We all have to scrounge like rats for pieces of "academic capital," all the while deceiving ourselves that we're somehow different from the money-grubbing pukes on Wall Street. In my experience, the ones who take this game really seriously--and are good at playing it--end up being the superstars and academic wunderkinder. By and large they are insufferably arrogant assholes who believe themselves to shit gold bricks. (Colin McGinn is far less an outlier than people are making him out to be.) The non-assholes, who are perhaps a bit more circumspect about the whole thing, seldom achieve that level of prestige.

I generally try to stay away from conversations like this. However, I would like to address this issue because (A) in my experience, it's something quite a few people struggle with, (B) it's something I struggled with at one point in my past, and (C) I think I've arrived at a pretty optimal perspective on the issue that might be worth sharing.

First things first: there are arrogant jerks, "rankings", and senseless "hoops" to jump through, in just about every profession on earth. I can't say for sure whether there are fewer, or more, of these things in philosophy, or in academia more generally, but I can say this: at least in academia, the vast majority of the jerks don't have the authority to order you around, and fire you, like a boss does in a more traditional line of work. For the most part, in academia, you get to decide how much you interact with the jerks. There are some people, for instance, who I just stay away from. This is something you cannot do in a traditional office environment, and is one great thing a career in academia has to offer. 

The question, then, isn't whether there are mean, arrogant people who are obsessed with rankings in our discipline. The real question is how to deal with it. And here my advice, while it may sound trite, is, I think, true: you need to learn how to not let the crap bother you, and do what you can to interact with good people and make the profession a better place. Indeed, my perspective is that perspective makes all the difference in the world.

At one point in the now-pretty-distant past (when I was really struggling as a grad student), I felt pretty fed-up with everything: with the arrogant jerks, obsession over program and journal rankings, etc. And what I did for a while -- not very productively -- is just stew, retreat from the world, and do my own work pretty much alone. It took me a while to figure out that this is not a good way to go, either professionally or for one's soul. I was going to APA's and being miserable. I couldn't stand all of the ingratiation, grand-standing, competitiveness, etc. But it wasn't getting me anywhere good. So, I decided at some point -- I can't quite recall when -- to try to change my outlook. I decided to stop worrying about what other people are doing, and to simply try to enjoy philosophy for its own sake and the good people in our profession for their own sake. I started going to APA's and, instead of paying attention to all of the negatives around me, started focusing on the positives: I started going to talks and enjoying them, I started doing work in the coffee shop, I stopped talking about the job market and professional gossip, I stopped trying to ingratiate myself with jerks, I started mingling and hanging out with people who I judged to not be folks of that sort, etc. And, of course, I started the Cocoon.

A simple change in perspective. That was all. Whereas once I saw the profession, and many people in it, as hostile, self-absorbed, etc., I now began enjoying its good parts, didn't let myself get obsessed with the bad parts, and took it upon myself to try to do what I could, as far as it is in my power to do anything as an individual, to make the profession a little bit of a better place to be. And voila...all of a sudden, I love my job. Despite its problems, I love my profession. And, despite the jerks, I love knowing all of the good people in the profession who try to make it a better place are just as enamored with ideas as I am. All the rest I could care less about.

A matter of perspective. 

Comments

[David Bzdak]

Well said! I worked third shift in a warehouse for a few years between undergrad stints, and a lot of the people I worked with there were in that job for life. When I'm feeling too pessimistic about academia (which isn't often -- I'm fortunate to have a great job), I need only call up such alternative possibilities to remind myself how good I've got it (and I have lots of other crappy jobs in my past to choose from as well).

[Marcus Arvan]

Thanks Dave. I worked in a completely dysfunctional organization after my undergrad, and know plenty of people who work in terrible environments full of terrible people -- so when people say how bad academia and philosophy are, I can't help but wonder what their comparison class is!

[Grad Student]

I'm in roughly the same boat as David. I worked full-time in business before deciding to enter a grad program. And even though I had worked myself into a "career-type" position with very good pay, I was all too happy to leave it behind. My memories of the bullshit one encounters when working in business provides great reference material for re-centering myself when I'm feeling stressed/anxious about my professional prospects in philosophy.