The Philosophers' Cocoon

Soft Encouragement

I'd really like to encourage everyone to think about submitting something to me ([email protected]) to post at "Underappreciated Philosophy?." The blog has received a ton of visits since its launch the other day, and I think it promises to accomplish something important and good: namely, draw unfairly neglected work to greater attention. However...I have yet to receive any submissions. (Well, I received one submission, but it wasn't on philosophy!)

Surely there are works of philosophy that are underappreciated or inadequately credited to people. This is your chance to (anonymously!) get on your soap-box and make a case. So, if you know of a philosopher, a paper, an idea, or an argument that you think has gone underappreciated, please -- submit a post and let us all know about it!

 

First Post at "Underappreciated Philosophy?"

I hope everyone who checks it out finds the post at least somewhat interesting (I'd be curious, at any rate, to see what everyone thinks)! :)

Does AOS make sense?

István Aranyosi argues in the CHE that "'Area of Specialization' Makes No Sense in Philosophy."

The gist of his argument is that a philosopher needs precisely the same basic set of skills in order to do ethics, epistemology, or metaphysics. These skills are simply "logic and argumentation." For this reason, it is easier for a philosopher to switch from ethics to epistemology, say, than for a scientist to switch from molecular biology to paleontology. The latter amounts to "starting school all over again," whereas the former requires simply familiarizing oneself with the recent literature.

István Aranyosi's recommendations, then, are as follows:

1. We should use the phrase “area of research interest” instead of the old AOS, meaning that what the recruiter is looking for is someone who is willing to work in that area within philosophy, if hired.
2. Not having worked/published so far in the respective area should have no bearing whatsoever on whether the candidate is eligible or viable for the position.

What do you think?

Related articles

'Area of Specialization' Makes No Sense in Philosophy

Social-Media Enabled!

I'd like to thank Moti and Justin Caouette for directing me to the resources necessary for finally getting this site social-media enabled. If you look at the bottom of posts, you'll note that they can now be shared and/or liked on facebook, twitter, google+, etc. I'm not a luddite, I swear! I'm just behind the times on the Interweb. ;)

Underappreciated Philosophy?

I'd like to invite everyone to check out this new blog I've started: Underappreciated Philosophy?. It's something of an experiment. I have no idea if it will actually fly. But, or so it seems to me, it's worth a try. Existing power-structures in the discipline -- gender imbalances, journal rankings, etc. -- make it possible for good philosophy to go underappreciated or improperly credited to some people over others. This blog aims to be a forum to help rectify these situations.

Here is the blog's mission statement:

This blog was inspired by these three posts over at "What is it Like to be a Woman in Philosophy?", and this post at "The Philosophers' Cocoon." These posts collectively suggest two things:

1. Sometimes good philosophy is unjustifiably ignored or underappreciated, and
2. Sometimes credit for a good philosophical idea or argument is unjustifiably attributed to one person(s) rather than another (either in whole or in part).

This blog is premised on the idea that both phenomena are regrettable and deserve a forum for redress. This blog aims to be such a forum.

Its mission is simple: Anyone who believes that a philosophical work, idea, or argument has been unfairly ignored or insufficiently credited to a particular person is invited to submit an entry briefly explaining why in detail.  

I will post submissions as I receive them, without any editing -- subject, however, to several rules (see below).  Site visitors are then encouraged to discuss the merits of the post in the comments section. 

A few rules:

• Submissions should be sent to Marcus Arvan at [email protected]
• Submissions will be posted anonymously unless the author wishes their identity to be known.
• Submissions must be submitted to me non-anonymously from an email address that I can verify to be registered to its submitter.
• A submitter can only submit one post per calendar year on a given work, idea, argument or author (multiple submissions by a single submitter on different works/idea/arguments/authors are fine). This is to prevent individuals from repeatedly posting on the same philosopher or idea.
• For moral and legal reasons, allegations of plagiarism or research misconduct (or anything remotely similar) will not be permitted. This is not a place to report that people "stole your ideas."  Submissions may only make a case for (A) an idea piece of work being unjustifiably ignored or (B) insufficiently credited to a person by the profession at large.
• Discussion in the comments section must be respectful. I will use my moderating powers to ensure a respectful tone of conversation.

Finally, submissions may be from the authors of the work in question. There are no rules against self-promotion here. If you feel that your own work, idea, or argument has been unjustifiably ignored or insufficiently credited to you, you may submit a post on it (though you should be aware that some readers may infer that the submitter in fact you).

If this blog becomes a no-holds-barred place for self-promotion, then as far as I am concerned, so be it. The way I see it, in a competitive professional environment such as ours, anyone should be able to make a case that their work deserves greater consideration or recognition. Whether anyone chooses to listen or accept the case being made, of course, is another issue. :)

So, then...on with the show!

I do hope some of our readers email in submissions. This blog will only fly if people take advantage of the opportunity. Drawing attention to underappreciated philosophy is a worthy endeavor. Please do take part!

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. 

On the professional obligations of Big Shots

Consider the following:

Big Shot philosopher publishes an argument for p. Then, No Body publishes a decisive refutation of Big Shot’s argument for p. Big Shot’s paper gets widely read, of course, since it was written by Big Shot, whereas No Body’s paper falls stillborn from the press. As a result, the philosophical community is in the grips of Big Shot’s argument for p, not realizing that there is a decisive refutation of this argument out there.

Philosophy has made no progress!

To ensure that Philosophy does make progress, then, do Big Shot philosophers have a professional obligation to engage with and respond to critics?

DeRose's Suspicions About Knowledge of God's Existence

For those of you who might not have come across this, it's a great read. I suspect it might also be a good reading assignment in an undergraduate course covering arguments for God's existence.  I imagine it would provoke a great deal of student discussion.

Not Getting the Zygote Argument

I've explained before why I don't "get" compatibilism about free will. Alas, the more I read the free will literature, the more I'm puzzled. Apparently, Alfred Mele's "Zygote Argument" is all the rage these days (see e.g. here, here, here, and here). Mele's argument goes as follows:

1. A zygote created to perform some action A in a deterministic universe would have no free will with respect to A (they could not avoid doing A).
2. There is no significant difference between such a zygote and any person born into a deterministic universe.
3. Thus, no person in a deterministic universe has/would have free will.

Here is my question: how exactly is this supposed to be an improvement over traditional arguments for incompatibilism? The very point of traditional arguments for incompatibilism (e.g. Peter van Inwagen's Consequence Argument) is that it seems absurd to ascribe free will to a being whose actions are determined in advance.  PvI's argument, if I recall, referred to the Big Bang. What does talking about zygotes add to any of this?What about zygotes is supposed to make an argument for free will more persuasive than, say, the idea that all actions were determined at the Big Bang? What am I missing?

Bleg: Scientific Practice Category on PhilPapers

I took Tuomas Tahko's advice and volunteered to edit the Scientific Practice category on PhilPapers. As part of my editorial duties, I will be adding the following short summary to the category along with a short list of key works.

Short Summary:

In Philosophy of Science, 'scientific practice' refers to activities whose aim is the achievement of scientific goals. More specifically, the category of scientific practice covers everything scientists do when they engage in the production of scientific knowledge. These activities include discovering, experimenting, measuring, modeling, observing, predicting, simulating, and so on, as well as using instruments in the pursuit of scientific goals. In recent years, there has been a shift in Philosophy of Science from an emphasis on scientific theories to an emphasis on actual scientific practices (see, e.g., the mission statement of the Society for Philosophy of Science in Practice).

Key Works:

Kuhn, T. S. (1962). The Structure of Scientific Revolutions. University of Chicago Press.

Hacking, I. (1983). Representing and Intervening: Introductory Topics in the Philosophy of Natural Science. Cambridge University Press.

Longino, H. E. (1990). Science as Social Knowledge: Values and Objectivity in Scientific Inquiry. Princeton University Press.

Solomon, M. (2001). Social Empiricism. MIT Press.

Wylie, A. (2002). Thinking from Things. University of California Press.

Baird, D. (2004). Thing Knowledge: A Philosophy of Scientific Instruments. University of California Press.

Chang, H. (2004). Inventing Temperature: Measurement and Scientific Progress. Oxford University Press.

Douglas, H. (2009). Science, Policy, and the Value-Free Ideal. University of Pittsburgh Press.

So, if you are a philosopher of science reading this and you think that something important is missing from this short summary and/or list of key works, please comment below or email me. But please remember that the summary and the list need to be short. Thanks!

Get your copy of The Reasoner...

... right here; the most awesome reasoning publication, period.

My piece in this issue of The Reasoner has benefited a lot from discussion on the Cocoon with Alex and Dan Dennis. Thanks!

Recommended Papers?

Now that I've finally caught up on my journal reading, I thought it might be worth sharing some recent articles I've found interesting, and encourage readers to share papers they've found interesting. Here are just a few that I recommend:

• "Qualia Compression" by Lieven Decock and Igor Douven (PPR, 2013)
• "Experimental Attacks on Intuitions and Answers" by John Bengson (PPR, 2013).
• "PSR", by Michael Della Rocca (Philosophers' Imprint, 2010)
• "Non-Reductive Physicalism and the Mind Problem", by Susan Schneider (Nous, 2013)
• "Is Property Dualism Better Off Than Substance Dualism?", by William Lycan (Phil Studies, 2013).
• "A Powers Theory of Modality -- or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Reject Possible Worlds", by Jonathan Jacobs (Phil Studies, 2010).
• "The Normative Significance of Desires", by Dalia Drai (Journal of Value Inquiry, 2013)

Anyone have recommendations of their own?

I Second That...

Radhika Nagpal has written an article over at Scientific American about how she approached her tenure-track job at Harvard (thanks to NewAPPS for the link). Nagpal writes:

Seven things I did during my first seven years at Harvard. Or, how I loved being a tenure-track faculty member, by deliberately trying not to be one.

• I decided that this is a 7-year postdoc.
• I stopped taking advice.
• I created a "feelgood" email folder.
• I work in fixed hours and in fixed amounts.
• I  try to be the best "whole" person I can.
• I found real friends.
• I have fun "now."

I wholeheartedly agree with just about all of Nagpal's points. I more or less adopted all of the same strategies and perspectives in my non-TT job, with similar results: specifically, happiness and balance. In fact, I cannot over-emphasize how transformative of a gestalt shift this was for me. I literally went from being worn out and miserable to feeling inspired overnight. Let me say a little bit about how it happened.

I think Helen de Cruz over at NewAPPS does a really great job of picking out a deep shift in perspective that underlies Nagpal's experience. De Cruz writes:

I read the same heuristic in a short autobiographical account by fiction author Susan Howatch, who reflects on her calling as an author:

Let me stress at once that my job is not to be a second Shakespeare or Tolstoy but to be the best possible Susan Howatch — whatever that involves, and from the point of view of literary society it may involve nothing worthy of note. My task is merely to write the books, not to worry about who will read them and how they will be judged.

I came to roughly the same realization a few years ago. I was struggling -- miserably -- trying to be the kind of philosopher our discipline implies I'm "supposed" to be. Our discipline, I think, holds up for us all a kind of blueprint for what we are supposed to be like -- that is, what it is to do good philosophy. We are supposed to write narrowly targeted articles that rigorously defend one single, relatively small "important point."  See, for example, Thom Brooks' article, "Publishing Advice for Graduate Students", as well as most journal articles. Here, though, was the problem I faced. Although I found Brooks' article helpful in many regards, and have certainly benefitted as a philosopher from my graduate training (which emphasized similar lessons), I have always felt somewhat like a square peg trying to fit into a round hole. I have just never found "small, targeted arguments" inspiring, and I don't think I've ever had a gift for doing that sort of thing (I can do it -- but it's not where I think my interests or talents lie). I've always found "big, messy" philosophy -- the kind that people like Kant did -- a lot more fun and, above all, a lot more philosophically interesting. Now, of course, few, if any, of us can be a "Kant." I certainly don't mean to compare myself to him. My point is simply that, although some people may feel comfortable trying to conform to our discipline's dominant "blueprint" of good philosophy -- writing small, targeted articles -- I've always found doing this sort of thing myself absolutely deadening. 

Anyway, trying to follow "the blueprint", I found myself doing work that failed to inspire me "for the sake of my career." I didn't have a tenure-track job, after all, so I figured the way to go was to try to do what others do to get one: namely, write articles like THAT. The thing is: it wasn't going all that well. I was miserable, not publishing much, and what I did publish I found uninspiring. So, I asked myself: "what in the world am I doing?" It suddenly occurred to me that, if I'm going to fail at this -- which of course is always a possibility for a non-TT person -- I want to go down being the best, most authentic "me" that I can be. So I started just doing philosophy in a way that feels natural to me. Instead of writing small, targeted papers responsing to existing literature, I started writing papers on "big" ideas of my own. And, although I tried to put my graduate training to work, making my papers as clear and rigorous as possible, I stopped worrying about being "too ambitious." 

I had no idea whether any of this would work for me, professionally speaking. In fact, given that I don't have a TT job, I still don't know whether it will work! But, as I saw it -- and my experience here seems to match up very well with Nagpal's -- none of this really mattered/matters to me. I had been miserable. I had been doing philosophy that didn't inspire me. But now I was enjoying philosophy, finding it inspiring, feeling happy to wake up in the morning and get to work. The way I saw it -- and the way I still see it -- "professional success" isn't worth misery. What's the point of being successful if you despise the work you're doing? So -- like Nagpal -- I just said "to hell with it." I started doing work I believed in, stopped asking people for so much advice, set strict work hours for myself, set aside time to spend with my wife, set aside time to take walks and get exercise, etc.

While I still have no idea where any of this will lead me professionally, I know where it has led: to a much happier, well-balanced life, and work that I find inspiring. Of course, if other people find my work interesting, I'll be very happy. But, should I fail, at least I'll be able to look myself in the mirror and think to myself, "I did the kind of philosophy I believe in. I stayed true to myself, both as a person and as a professional." And while this sort of thing might seem small comfort to me should I wash out of the profession, I feel confident that it would be a much greater comfort than its opposite: thinking to myself that I washed out trying to be something I'm not.

Anyway, if you're struggling -- if you've lost your love for philosophy, as I once did -- trying Nagpal's advice on for size can't hurt. Maybe, just maybe, you'll find your love for philosophy again. I know I did.

On criticism, antisemitism, and being anti-Philosophy

Whenever I present my work on intuition mongering in Philosophy, I sometimes get reactions similar to the one reported by Nick Byrd on the Experimental Philosophy blog here:

 

The assumption underlying such reactions seems to be something like this: “If you’re criticizing accepted ways of doing Philosophy, then you must want to kill Philosophy.” But this is bad reasoning. Take it from me; my people make this mistake all the time. They (not all of them, of course) think that anyone who criticizes Israel’s current policies is an anti-Semite who wants to destroy Israel. But there are those who criticize Israel, not because they hate Israel, but because they think that the current policies are bad for Israel.

Similarly, there are those who criticize accepted ways of doing Philosophy, not because they are anti-Philosophy, but because they think that these methods are bad for Philosophy.

I always thought this point is so obvious that it goes without saying. Unfortunately, my experience suggests otherwise.

Paper-Swap Group

I'd like to thank everyone again who commented on my previous post. I am very grateful for all of the advice. I'd also like to thank Marc Zelcer for taking the initiative to start up a paper-swap group in the following comment:

To the cocoon community, 
I will gladly agree to look over the first three or four papers that come into my inbox, providing that: the paper is not too long (more than 20 or so pages?), the paper is in a field that I am somewhat competent to say something about (anything I've taught or wrote about?), you give me a reasonable amount of time, and agree to do the same should I ask.

If we have enough people who reply "me too" and link to their CV and their email address, we should be able to help deal with the problem.

Mark 
http://goo.gl/l9nPE

I will gladly be the first to say "me too", and would like to encourage anyone else who is interested in taking part to sign up in the comments section below. Please just include your name, areas of interest, your email address, and, if possible, a link to your CV.  Also: "signing up" should not be considered binding. Anyone should feel free to turn down inquiries. But, of course, please only sign up if you have a genuine intention to paper-swap with others.

Anyway, then, without further ado...Anyone who wants to swap papers with me in any of my areas (see my CV here), please feel free to email me at [email protected] asking me if I'd be willing to swap papers. Provided I don't get deluged with inquiries, I'll probably be more than happy to oblige. Fair warning: the papers I could use feedback on range from 22-46 pages. Because the 46-pager is so long, but also probably the one I need the most help on, I would be more than happy to read two shorter (22-30 page) papers from anyone who is willing to give it a read. Also, fwiw, the papers I could use feedback on are on human rights, justice, philosophy of law, and (UPDATED) transformative experience.

Hope to see others sign on!

Working in a Small Department: The Feedback Problem

I've written before about the pleasures and perils of working in a small department. I'm strugging with one of the perils right now: getting feedback on paper drafts. Having worked in a large department before, I can say from experience that it is pretty easy to get people to read and comment on your stuff in those situations. Working in a small department, however, is a different story entirely. There are only two other full-time faculty in my department. Neither of them work in my areas. The only feedback I ever really get is from people at conferences and journal referees.

Anyway, I find myself in a particularly difficult position this summer.  I've written four full-length papers, as well as drafts of six chapters for a seven chapter book.  I've send out one of the papers to a journal for review, because I feel very confident that it is strong. The other three I'm less certain of, at least in their present form. While I feel very good about the root ideas in all three of them, when I read through all three papers I can't help but think to myself, "I could really use another set of eyes here." However, I can't send them to conferences, as they are all quite long. So, it seems, my only option is to send them out for review. However, I'm hesitant to do that because, again, I'm just not confident they are ready. What other options do I have? I could "sit" on them a while, and return to them a few weeks from now with a fresh set of eyes. Unfortunately, the fall semester is due to start in about five weeks (my goodness this summer has gone fast!), and due to a pretty high teaching load, committee service, and other stuff (I coach a debate team and supervise a student club), I doubt that I'll have time to devote to good revising. Oh -- and yes, there's the job market, which I'll be on again. Which gives me another reason to think of simply sending the papers out for review (who knows - I could get "lucky" with one of them. It happens).  Ah, the dificulties of working in a small department. Any advice?

Finally, there's the issue book. Although the six chapters are only rough drafts, I feel pretty good about five of them (the sixth? Umm...not so sure). But I just don't know what to do at this point. I'll probably write a draft of the seventh chapter before the end of the summer. So, at least nominally, I'll have a book on my hands. But what then? I solicited readers for feedback, but wasn't very successful. One person read and commented extensively on the manuscript -- and I am really thankful for their help. Another two people offered to read it, but to this point have only said that they have read some of it and really like the project (Just to be clear: I don't begrudge either of these people for not having had more to say about it. Realizing that it's a lot of work to read and comment on a book, and pro bono work at that, I'm just happy they both offered to even take a look at it!).  Anyway, then, now what? I have no clue. I'll probably get some good revising done before the end of the summer, but then what?

Any advice? (Thanks in advance to anyone who has any to offer!)

Political Philosop-her

Hi everyone, I assume that many of you have seen this already, but in case you haven't, Meena Krishnamurthy (Manitoba) has started a new blog called Political Philosop-her. The blog is devoted to discussing substantive issues in political philosophy. Its primary aim is to showcase rigorous work being done by women who work in political philosophy. You can find out more about the blog here.

 

Pigliucci on Progress in Philosophy

Over at Rationally Speaking, Massimo Pigliucci gives us a taste of his forthcoming book on progress in philosophy. He argues that

philosophy is concerned with possibilities in logical (as opposed to empirical) space, and that therefore progress is measured by the elimination of logically flawed positions and the refinement of logically sound alternatives.

He gives Gettier's counterexamples against JTB as an example of progress in philosophy.

This is an interesting proposal that raises a few questions:

1. What does it mean to eliminate logically flawed possibilities in logical space? Also, if a possibility is logically flawed, does it even have a position in logical space?
2. Is "logical possibility" a rather low standard to meet?
3. Is Pigliucci's example a good one? What is the logical flaw in JTB (other than the fact that it clashes with some people's intuitions about knowledge, which is not a logical flaw)?

Related articles

Intuition pumps aren't arguments

The folk conception of knowledge

On consensual relationships

Due to recent events in the profession, sexual harrassment has received a great deal of discussion around the philosophy blogosphere as of late. I take it that this is a good thing, all-things-considered, particularly given the kinds of experiences women in our profession have reported. It is important to have open discussion about sexual harrassment and gender equity. Be that as it may, given that our blog is intended to be a safe-and-supportive forum for early career philosophers, I for one am glad that our community has not fallen prey to certain kinds of discussions of recent events. 

Nevertheless, there is an important professional issue that is relevant to early-career philosophers which I think can, and should, be discussed in an environment such as ours: namely, the issue of consensual relationships between faculty and graduate students in their department.  This issue has not, to my knowledge, been discussed publicly in relation to recent events, and I for one think it is an important one to discuss openly, in a measured, respectful, safe, and supportive way.

I want to discuss this issue for a few reasons. First, I came across the following post the other day over at "What is it like to be a woman in philosophy?":

I work in a small, relatively unproductive, unnoticed philosophy department. One of our tenured faculty members is in a committed relationship with one of his female students. He is her thesis and teaching supervisor. The relationship began shortly after she joined the department. My department tacitly condones this relationship by ignoring it. I find my department’s tacit condoning of this situation offensive and sexist. 1) It is unfair to her. As an Associate, he has all of the power. 2) It is unfair to the other students in the program. There is no doubt or question that she has and will receive special treatment. 3) It is unfair to other faculty. How can we be expected to grade her without bias? 4) It sends the wrong message to the few female students in the department. I have personally witnessed public displays of affection between the two. I think that it not only sends the wrong message to those of us within the department, but also to other departments.

Second, given that I have experienced this type of situation myself as an observer, I have experienced these same types of feelings myself (for obvious reasons, I am not going to give any details about the context in which I experienced these things). My third reason for raising the issue is that, as I understand it, many universities and academic departments do not prohibit consensual (romantic) relationships between faculty and graduate students, but rather, require certain forms of disclosure of the relationship and the imposition of various institutional rules to govern such situations. This is important, I think, because as I understand it this is quite unusual in the employment world. Many employers do explicitly prohibit romantic relationships between superiors and subordinates.  Finally, I think it is important to discuss the issue because, in reader recent discussions on a number of blogs, there seem to be significant numbers of people who think that (romantic) relationships between faculty and graduate students are perfectly okay.

For all of these reasons, after I share some of own thoughts momentarily, I would like to open up this issue to safe and respectful dialogue. Given the nature and mission of this blog, I will use my capacity as moderator to vigorously ensure that the discussion is discussed in a measured way, and that no one "steps over the line." Also, before I state some of my views on the issue, I want to state clearly and emphatically that nothing I say should be taken as a personal or moral slight against anyone who is or has been involved in a consensual faculty/graduate student relationship. I believe that good and well-intentioned people can disagree over the ethics of such relationships in the workplace, and want to make sure that the Philosophers' Cocoon is -- in line with its mission -- a place where everyone, including anyone who has been involved in or is supportive of such relationships, feels safe and supported. It is my hope and belief that, however we may differ over the issue in question, we can have a safe and supportive discussion of it.

Witout further ado, I would like to share my thoughts on the issue. My feeling, based on personal experience, is that consensual relationships between faculty and graduate students, even if they are properly disclosed, and however innocent the intentions of the parties involved may be, present others with a hostile work environment.

First, graduate students who work in a department with consensual relationships between faculty and graduate students tend to feel, not unreasonably, that they are at a professional disadvantage. For, although institutional rules may exist to prevent romantically-based professional favoritism, such rules are, in my experience, largely ineffectual. Romantically-linked partners can and sometimes do benefit tremendously as a result of romantic liasons. Given how few academic jobs there are, this seems to me a professional injustice, and one that exists as long as relationships between faculty and graduate students are permitted.

Second, in my experience -- and this is, obviously, related to recent events in the profession -- consensual relationships between faculty and graduate students can and often do go horribly wrong, and when they do, they can (and again, sometimes do) cause great personal and professional harm to a great many people.

Third, consensual relationships between faculty and graduate students seem to me -- once again, on the basis of my own experience -- to severely undermine professional trust in the workplace. One should be able to go to work reasonably confident in one's beliefs that one is being judged on one's merits, not on the basis of romantic interest or lack thereof. Although it is of course always possible to wonder whether one is being judged on one's merits rather than on the basis of romantic interest (or lack thereof), even in the absence of romantic relationships in the workplace, when romantic relationships between faculty and graduate students exist it is very difficult for many people to go to work and pursue their degree feeling reasonably confident that they are being judged on their merits.

These, at any rate, are some of my main moral and professional worries about permitting consensual relationships between faculty and grad students. As the above post over at "What is it like...?" indicates, there are probably other worries to discuss as well.  However, because I have no idea what it is like to be the subject of romantic interest by a superior, I cannot comment directly on the effects of power-differentials on those involved in such relationships. I do, however, think it is important to point out that, intuitively, it is very easy for a "consensual" relationship to quickly become the opposite -- if, for instance, one of the parties to the relationship loses interest but then feels trapped in the liason due to worries about possible professional retaliation for ending the relationship (instances which, if I recall correctly, have been expressed in the past over at "What is it like...?").

I recognize that there are some who may reply to all of these worries by saying, "Yes, but some relationships between graduate students and faculty have ended up in marriage", or "Yes, but it is draconian to prohibit consensual romantic liasons in the workplace." To which I reply: (1) the fact that something can end up in marriage doesn't make it the kind of thing we should permit in the workplace, given the moral and professional hazards involved, and (2) I do not see what is draconian about prohibiting certain kinds of relationships given the moral hazards involved. For, as we have seen recently, such relationships can end careers, not to mention lead to legal, professional, and personal misery for significant numbers of people, regardless of whether, in any relevant respect, their behavior was otherwise innocent. The way I see it, there are millions of people in this world a person can potentially date or engage in romantic liasons with at any given time. Making a couple dozen of people "off limits" for a few years is not too much to ask.

Or so I think. I am willing to listen with an open mind to dissenting opinions.

Aporia About Saving the World

Which do you reject?
1. The world needs to be saved.
2. Salvation cannot be forced on people.
3. Society requires force.
4. It is the task of society to bring about salvation.

To clarify, ‘salvation’ is broadly construed to mean “happiness” or “fulfillment”. ‘Society’ is also broadly construed but, in my head at least, I am usually referring to “government” or “social rules and norms”. As I see it, rejecting any one of these has serious consequences, but they cannot all be true together.

A New Open Access Journal: Ergo

From Ergo's website:

Ergo is a general, open access philosophy journal accepting submissions on all philosophical topics and from all philosophical traditions.

This includes, among other things: history of philosophy, work in both the analytic and continental traditions, as well as formal and empirically informed philosophy.

Papers are published as they are accepted; there is no regular publication schedule.

Related articles

More open-access philosophy: "Ergo"

Radical Ideas and Burden of Proof

I’ve had an interesting discussion on Twitter--to the extent that one can have a discussion on Twitter--about radical ideas and burden of proof.

 

@anitaleirfall Why does newness/radicality means one who puts forth such ideas must bear the burden of proof?

— Moti Mizrahi (@thinkjustdoit) July 10, 2013

 

I figured Cocooners would be interested in these issues as well.

 

@ranilillanjum Truth is important but 'idea I is radical' doesn't imply 'I is false'.

— Moti Mizrahi (@thinkjustdoit) July 10, 2013

 

The questions under discussion are:

1. If one puts forth a radical idea, is one obligated to do extra work to support that idea just because it is radical?
2. Is “this idea is radical” a sufficient reason to reject a paper that puts forth the radical idea?

What do you think my fellow pupae?

On Faith in Humanity

In a forthcoming paper in PPR, Ryan Preston-Roedder argues that faith in humanity, understood as a kind of profound faith in people's decency, is a moral virtue. Although I found the paper interesting, I can't help but offer this up as a refutation (thanks to Feminist Philosophers for the link to this awfulness). And of course this. And this. And this. I could go on.

I am only half-serious, of course. Citing cases doesn't engage with Preston-Roedder's argument. Still, I'm half-tempted to "go Moorean", point to cases, and say, "There, I win. Human beings clearly don't deserve faith in their decency. Good people earn belief in their decency, and bad people earn the opposite." But what do I know?

Research Statement?

Hi everyone, I've been meaning to rewrite my research statement and was wondering if anyone who has secured a TT job would be willing to share theirs with me for reference. I always feel a bit unsure about how these things should read, so a few reference points would be very helpful. Anyway, if anyone is willing to lend me a hand, please just feel free to email me your statement at [email protected] -- thanks in advance to anyone who does!

A Fun & Productive Exercise

I've experimented with something recently that I thought might be worth sharing. Some of you might have noticed, if you look around at various CFPs -- both for conferences and special journal issues/book volumes -- that some CFPs ask only for a paper abstract. It is usually implicit in these CFPs that you are not expected to actually have a paper ready-to-hand. Usually, they say something like, "full paper drafts for accepted abstracts will be due on date X if your abstract is accepted."

Over the past year or so, I've tried to take advantage of these opportunities.  When I come across one of these CFPs and think I may have an idea worth pursuing on the topic, even if I don't have a paper fully worked out yet, I'll quickly write up an abstract and submit it.  I did one just this afternoon, in fact. Interestingly, I've found that doing this has several potential benefits. First, and most obviously, if your abstract is accepted, you have a chance to present or even publish a paper!

But this isn't the only -- or, in my experience, even the best -- potential benefit. Another benefit is that it gives you some primer and incentive to think about things and develop paper topics on issues that you might have otherwise never engaged with. For instance, before I came across this CFP today, it hadn't occurred to me at all to write a paper on this topic -- or that I would have anything to say about it. However, after the CFP prodded me to think about it a bit, I came to the sudden realization that, my goodness, research I have already published on has surprisingly interesting implications in this area. In short, I discovered that I may have something interesting and potentially publishable to say on the topic, and I probably would never have known it if I hadn't come across the CFP and gave writing up an abstract a shot.

I don't know if this will work for everyone, but if you do have trouble coming up with good paper topics or just want to push yourself to come up with more topics than you presently do, I suggest giving it a try! It's actually a lot of fun, and even in cases where I haven't been able to come up with anything good, the exercise itself (which needn't take all that long to do, in any given case) can be instructive (after all, learning that an idea that's been rattling around in the back of your head isn't good is a victory of sorts too!).

A Good Paper

I read what I believe to be a very good and potentially important paper today by Jeppe von Platz in Politics, Philosophy and Economics entitle "Are Economic Liberties Basic Rights?" The paper addresses an issue raised by John Tomasi in his recent book, Free Market Fairness. Basically, Tomasi argues that we should recognize hard-core capitalist property rights as "basic rights" -- that is, as no less basic (in a just society) than rights to free speech, a democratic vote, etc. Further, and perhaps most interestingly, Tomasi attempts to do this on Rawlsian grounds. In other words, Tomasi argues that if Rawls were morally and theoretically consistent, he should have been a kind of classical liberal.

Von Platz's argument in the paper is that although Tomasi's argument (1) misinterprets Rawls and (2) fails on its own merits, Rawls and his followers (Samuel Freeman in particular) fail to show that economic liberties are not basic rights -- in which case the debate between Rawlsians and classical liberals/libertarians on this issue is, properly understood, an even draw. 

There are several things I think are potentially very important about the paper.

First, I think it really demolishes Tomasi's argument. It shows clearly and very carefully (at least to my eyes) how Tomasi misinterprets Rawls, and how T's argument fails on its own merits.  Second, I think the paper shows pretty persuasively that Rawls and his followers haven't faced up to the issue very well, either.  Finally, and most importantly of all (again, by my eyes), the paper really pins down at the end precisely what is at issue, and what must be settled to resolve the debate in one direction or the other. As von Platz writes, his paper shows that:

[W]hether the economic liberties are basic rights will depend on whether the activities of economic agency are mediately or immediately necessary for the adequate development or exercise of the capacity for a conception of the good. How to answer that question is a topic for another essay. (p. 18)

I very much hope that von Platz follows through on the promise here of "another essay." In the meantime, I encourage you all to check out the paper and to discuss it below (particularly if any of you think I'm too sanguine about it).

From Brain to Print

I was thinking today that it might be good to invite people to share the typical process they go through in developing and publishing papers. I was thinking this might be good to share because of my own experience, and because of what I've read on various blogs. My experience -- and I expect it is not that uncommon -- was that no one ever really told me "how to publish." Indeed, the only real pieces of advice I think I ever got besides,

1. Write good papers (duh!)
2. Write and send out a lot of papers, and 
3. Make sure your paper deals with a single, well-defined problem

came from Thom Brooks' helpful but very broad piece, "Publishing Advice for Graduate Students." As helpful as all of this advice may be (well, except the first one: hard to help with that!), it's not easy to learn how to publish, and publish effectively. So perhaps some sharing could help.

I'll begin by sharing something which I'm utterly no good at, but which I have good reasons to suspect has helped people I know immensely: develop a good support network of people successful in publishing, and get a lot of feedback from them on your work. Again, this may seem obvious (get help from successful people? duh!), but I've come across a lot of people who don't do it due to insecurity. Indeed, I've been rather terrible at it throughout my career. Like too many insecure grad students, I tried to avoid my disseration advisor and other faculty members more than I sought out help from them. Why? It was simple insecurity, no more no less. My suggestion, then, is -- and again, I wish I'd followed it myself! -- is: get past your insecurity, and don't feel guilty or judged for "harrassing" people for help. They may well feel harrassed, but if my experience in the profession is any indication, "harrassing" people for help and feedback only (or at least mostly) helps. 

I guess two other things I think I've learned are:

1. Don't "put all your eggs in one basket" (i.e. focus on a paper or two for really long periods of time because you're "sure" that if you really polish them, they'll get published).
2. Don't think you, or even people who read your papers, are all that good at judging which of your papers are "publishable."  Write and send out a lot of papers precisely because it's hard to judge which of your ideas will be publishable.

Allow me to use a couple of real-life examples to make a case for both points:

• Case 1 (me):  I have a paper that I once regarded as a "sure thing."  Numerous people, including some very successful "name" people in the profession, have told me over the years that the paper should be published, and published somewhere good.  The paper is still unpublished, and has been rejected by more than a dozen journals (often with one reviewer giving a positive review and another reviewer giving a bad review).  I have been assured by people who have read the paper that it is "really bad luck", but that doesn't make it any easier. 
• Case 2 (my supervisor):  a couple of years ago my dissertation supervisor -- a famous name in the profession -- recounted to me a similar story of his own. He had a paper that he felt strongly was one of the best papers he had ever written. It had been rejected by journal after journal for 8 years. It was finally accepted and published in a "B" journal. He still thought it was one of his best papers ever.

The moral of the story(-ies), I think, is this: the publishing process is a rather ridiculous crapshoot. Sometimes you get a very long streak of "bad luck."  The best way to deal with such a ridiculous situation -- a situation where it's hard, if not impossible, for even big-name people to determine which of one's articles/ideas are "publishable" -- is to write and send out a lot of stuff.  You may risk publishing some lesser work, but still, given the vicissitudes of the publishing game, it seems to me a rational way to go. 

Anyway, to get back to my initial question: what is the typical process I go through "from brain to publication"?  I used to go through a very onerous process: spending months on end writing and re-writing papers, seeking out feedback from numerous people, revising some more, etc. Strangely, though, ever since I've actually started publishing, here, basically, is how my process goes:

1. Write lots of papers quickly (usually, no more than several weeks to draft and revise).
2. Send short ones out to conferences more or less immediately/lengthen them if they get a decent reception.
3. Send long papers out to journals more or less immediately (after sitting on them for a few weeks and going back through them to edit with a fresh eye).

I have no idea if this is anything like the process most people go through, but it's the only one that has seemed to work for me.  

Anyway, I'm curious to see what everyone else's process is (particularly people who are more successfully published than I!)...So, please do take the time to share. I'm sure there are many people who might benefit from hearing how different people do things. :)

Some Remarks on 2012-13 Placement Data

For those of you who may not know, Carolyn Dicey-Jennings has posted her spreadsheets on this year's job-placements (thanks to NewApps for the link and announcement). Here are some highlights:

• 49.7% of TT hires were directly out of grad school.
• TT hires had a mean of 2.22 publications and 0.49 top-15-journal publications.
• Post-docs had a mean of 1.48 publications and 0.3 top-15-journal publictions.
• The medians for both types of positions were 1 publication and zero top-15-journal publications.
• Women received 34.3% of TT jobs and 26.9% of post-docs.

Some initial thoughts of my own.

• First thought: 1/2 of all TT jobs going to grad students sure seems to me like a lot, given the backlog of many pretty well-published people who have been on the market since the 2008 recession.
• Second thought: top-15 journal publications don't seem all that important.
• Third thought: given the estimate in the comments section here that female candidates make up about 30% of job applicants, hiring rates seem broadly proportional to gender differences in the discipline.

Any thoughts from readers? (Kudos, by the way, to Dicey-Jennings for doing all this!).