The Philosophers' Cocoon

Where to go from here?

So I wrote (and revised) a draft of about 90% of a book manuscript this summer (6 of seven chapters), as well as a full (4 page) book proposal. I also got four people to read the manuscript, and the feedback I received was very positive on the whole. However, I've been sitting on it because I don't quite know what to do, given my situation. 

I've been told before (see the comments section here) that in order to get one's proposal accepted by a top press, one should:

1. Do a lot of informal leg-work (converse with editors) to feel out potential interest.
2. Publish a lot in top journals, or
3. Work in a top research university, or at least
4. Have someone in a position of influence "go to bat" for you.

I've also been told that books are expected to be 80-110K words. However, mine right now is at 60K, in large part because I wanted the book to be relatively short (though, with at least one more chapter, and revisions, I could certainly see the manuscript passing the 80K mark -- so this is probably just a temporary issue).

Anyway, given the things I've been told above, it seems to me that I should *not* send out my book proposal to publishers yet, or, if I should, that I should at most "test the waters" by sending a proposal to just a couple of places. Given that I have some stuff under review at some tip-top journals, and seem to have gotten pretty close to getting one accepted in one recently, I'm hoping -- optimistically, of course -- that if I land an article or two in a top place, I'll be in a much better position to get top presses to seriously consider my proposal. However, is this really that wise? I could, of course, end up waiting forever.

Anyway, I'm just not quite sure what I should do at this point. While the manuscript is still rough, I feel really good about it on the whole -- about its arguments, and about the entire project it engages in -- and again, I've received favorable early returns. If anyone has any helpful tips or thoughts, I'd be very appreciative!

Self-citation, self-promotion?

Via Feminist Philosophers and The Economist, I just learned of a recent study on gender and citations in political science. In political science, the study finds, women's papers tend to be cited less often than men's papers are, even "after controlling for a large number of variables including year of publication, venue of publication, substantive focus, theoretical perspective, methodology, tenure status, and institutional affiliation." The average paper in the study garnered 35 citations, but papers authored by men averaged five more citations than those authored by women. The study's authors suggest that this "is likely because (1) women tend to cite themselves less than men, and (2) men (who make up a disproportionate share of IR [international relations] scholars) tend to cite men more than women."

One of the study's authors—and the only woman of the three—reports some anecdotal evidence to The Economist that "women see self-citation as a form of self-promotion, and thus look down on it. Men see it the same way, but draw different conclusions."

I've cited myself in a few papers, and I have felt a little bit weird about it. Self-promotion (even in a purely descriptive, non-pejorative sense) does make me somewhat uncomfortable, though I think it is sometimes valuable to me and to others. But in the end, I chose to cite my previous work because it was relevant. The papers in which I cite my earlier work tend to be extensions on that earlier work. I don't want to repeat everything I said earlier—a form of self-plagiarism, in a sense—so I simply point the reader to my other papers.

Do you (or would you) cite yourself? Is it a form of self-promotion? If so, (when) is it an objectionable form of self-promotion?

Cover-letter tips?

So, it's about that time. Jobs are slowly starting to appear over at the JFP/Philjobs. Which means it's time to start writing/tailoring cover-letters. While I've posted about them before, asking for tips (and getting some good ones!), I figure it couldn't hurt to ask again, this time a bit more precisely. Here are some specific questions:

• What's the ideal length for a cover-letter (A) for a teaching-oriented department, and (B) a research-oriented one?  (What, in particular, is too short or too long?)
• How much time should one spend explaining why one's research or teaching interests fit the position advertised?  Presumably, one should say some things, but how much?
• Do cover letters matter at all for research places? (I've heard they don't. But does this mean one shouldn't write a good one, given the off chance that it might catch someone's eye?).
• I've heard many places that it is important to address how you "fit" the position advertised.  However, is it a bad idea to come right out and say, "I believe I'm an ideal candidate for the position your department advertised because..."?  If it is, what's the best way to go about it?
• How important is it to speak to the department or university's mission? (Some universities seem to take this stuff really seriously. Is it a just something to judge on a case-by-case basis, or should one always speak to such things?)

Thanks, in advance, to anyone who chimes in! (And please, others should feel welcome to ask questions to the community as well).

Some Thoughts on Kukla's Post on Social Norm Violations

Rebecca Kukla has a very interesting (and, I think, important) post over at Leiter's blog on the dangers of sanctioning social norm violations in philosophy. As she points out at the beginning of the post, philosophers sometimes (often?) seem to associate being a "real philosopher" with certain types of social-norm-violating behaviors. Among these norm-violating behaviors are seemingly innocuous behaviors -- such as certain styles of dress and overall grooming (e.g. looking like a hobo), and other quirky behaviors -- but also far less innocuous behaviors, such as social pressure to "to use profane language, push sexual boundaries, avoid the appearance of concern with their looks, etc., in order to earn their place in the philosophical community."

What I find so interesting about Kukla's discussion is the worry that while (A) questioning social norms is an important part of philosophy, (B) the entire practice of sanctioning social-norm violations in philosophy, including the seemingly innocuous kinds, is fraught with moral hazard.  She writes,

The problem with all of this (or one of the many problems) is, again, that it comes at the cost of the most vulnerable members of the profession - those likely to be the targets of the boundary-violations and judgmental expectations rather than their instigators. Likewise it leaves us with no recourse when we feel violated. If we complain, we are just not understanding how to be a cool philosopher, or we are not intellectual enough to get the joke. It also generally puts women, people of color, and other disciplinary minorities in a different kind of impossible position: we can’t get away with the hobo look without repercussions, but we also get dismissed if we look like we care about social conventions (please extend the synecdoche as needed).

Of course, as philosophers, our commitment to challenging and questioning norms is real, and important. Far be it from me to claim that we’d be better off if we all had to be more conventional or couldn’t play around with taboos. Doing so is essential to both the philosophical method and the high quality of life we enjoy as philosophers. It’s just a dangerous game, is all, and people get hurt, and the hurt is not evenly distributed, so serious collaborative reflection on the dynamics at play is in order. We also need to get better at distinguishing between random, thoughtless bits of ideology and convention that deserve critical challenge, and norms that are in place to protect people from damage.

Indeed, I am persuaded it is a dangerous game. Further, I am pursuaded that it is important to get better at distinguishing harmless quirks and legitimate questioning and even violation of social norms from violations of norms that are in place to protect people from damage. What I am not so sure of, though, is how to do this. So, for instance, not too long ago I wrote a post expressing my worry that prevailing trends toward hyperprofessionalization in philosophy -- and away from "quirkiness" -- have arguably led philosophy to become a less interesting, less subversive place. I've always loved people who are a bit strange because, well, it has always seemed to me that it goes along with a certain disposition to think originally, and differently. And I've always loved people who think differently, in large part because that's always what I've thought good philosophy is made of: seeing old things in new ways. Hyperprofessionalization has always seemed to me to produce people who think more alike -- which is not always bad, but can be, if it is taken too far.  

Anyway, Kukla's post seems to me to raise a very difficult, and important, question. If quirkiness and the kinds of norm violations which often follow quirkiness are sometimes important for generating good philosophy (as I think it plausible), but sanctioning norm violations is a dangerous game for the reasons Kukla raises (which, again, I find persuasive), how can we arrive at the right balance? I just don't know. The most obvious thing to say, perhaps, is: we should allow the harmless norm-violations but not the harmful ones -- but Kukla's very point is that this is very difficult to do. Even some (many?) seemingly innocuous norm-violations -- such as norm-violations regarding styles of dress -- are, upon further reflection, not so innocuous (insofar as the santioning of those violations systematically favors certain harmful power imbalances). So, where do we draw the line? I just don't know. Do you? 

I'm curious to see what you all think...

Rankings: what are they good for?

As you all know, there are a few rankings for philosophy journals: Leiter’s top 20, the Brooks Blog rankings, SJR, ESF/EIRH, Google Scholar, and so on.

Now take, for example, Synthese. On Leiter’s top 20 list, it is ranked 16. On Google Scholar, it is ranked number 1! What does that tell us about the quality of Synthese as a journal? Absolutely nothing, as far as I can tell. Am I wrong?

 

 

Are there good reasons to prefer one ranking over another? What are these rankings good for?

Submitting to Conferences

I find myself in a bit of a bind and was seeking some advice from my fellow cocooners on how to resolve it. I recently submitted to two conferences and the conferences will be held on different dates. Because of this I seem to be  in the clear regarding my obligation to attend both of them if I was fortunate enough to be accepted by both (barring unfortunate circumstances or unforeseen financial hardships). However, I received a CFP today that looks VERY interesting but the date of the conference is the same as one of the conferences I already submitted to. Herein lies the problem. Should I  (i) submit anyway and see how the chips fall, or (ii) do not submit because it MAY cause me to reject an invitation to speak? I am conflicted because I have been told to only apply to conferences to which I plan on attending. But, since I cannot plan to attend both if I was accepted to both (I can only attend one) then it seems that I should refrain from submitting to the second conference. I know from experience through running a grad conference  that it can be a pain to accept a paper only for the presenter to back out. I don't want to be that guy but at the same time I want to make sure that I have a venue to present as well. 


Thoughts?

Word-count Blues

I received an encouraging rejection the other day from a really great journal. Basically, the comments were: the paper is well argued and on a good topic, but a topic that is, nonetheless, a bit too narrow for the journal. Fair enough -- can't complain about that I suppose. But here's the problem. There are only a few journals out there for which the paper is a natural fit, the paper is about 13,000 words long, and the journals for which it is a good fit tend to have word limits of around 8,000 words (though one journal -- the one it is perhaps the very best fit for -- has a 10,000 word limit).

The most natural thing to do I suppose (the only thing to do?), is to try to cut the paper down. The problem, though, is that even though the paper is 13,000 words, it's a pretty darn "lean" 13,000 words. I just don't see how I can (A) do the things the paper needs to do, while (B) cutting out 3-5,000 words. I just don't see it. 3-5,000 words is a lot of words to cut out, and the way I see it, the only places to do it are at the level of a couple of cases I decribe in detail (which are really important to the paper), or in the part of the paper in which I raise and respond to objections (which is also really important, as there are a number of obvious and important-to-deal-with worries about my position). 

So I'm rather stuck. What to do? And why in the world do so many journals have such strict word-limits? Although a few journals say "we don't ordinarily publish articles longer than X words", most of them (and just about all of them in the area my paper is in) say, "we absolutely don't consider papers longer than X."  Hrumph.

On Selling the Discipline

Sorry for being MIA the past several days. Freshman orientation and week-before-class meetings have thoroughly side-tracked me. Fortunately, they also got me thinking about something: namely, about the importance of selling our discipline. Let me explain.

Several converging experiences this week got me thinking about the importance of selling our discipline to students, parents, the public, and administrators:

1. The academic job market is almost upon us. In philosophy at least, it is almost sure to be awful, with far fewer jobs than qualified people (note: this is not the case in all academic disciplines. It is not in my wife's discipline -- I/O Psychology -- where there are more and more jobs every year).
2. An annual college meeting at my university where we went over major enrollments and the intended majors of incoming students (note: our department is the smallest at my university, with among the fewest majors, and only one incoming student intending to major in philosophy).
3. A discussion which followed about how new tenure-stream lines depend on major enrollment (hint: no majors, philosophy jobs!).
4. A presentation that followed which gave data on students' reasons for choosing majors (hint: it's money and jobs).
5. My freshmen orientation students, most of whom intend to major in communication, business, and nursing, presumably out of the belief (and their parents' belief) that those majors promise the most jobs and the best money.

Long story short: (A) there are fewer and fewer (tenure-stream) academic jobs in philosophy, because (B) there are fewer and fewer students who major in philosophy, because (C) students (and their families) want jobs and money and think a philosophy major doesn't promise them these things.

The thing, though, is this: the assumption that seems most causally responsible for all of this -- the assumption by students and their parents that a philosophy major is a "bad deal" -- is patently false.  Philosophy majors:

• Enjoy some of the highest salaries of all majors, higher in fact than most majors (e.g. business, nursing, etc) traditionally associated with jobs and industry,
• Have the best med-school-acceptance rate of all college majors, and
• Have some of the highest LSAT, GRE, and GMAT scores.

In short: we are useful, and we give students and parents what they want -- they just don't know it.  If parents and students did know how useful a philosophy degree is, we just might be able to steer more students our way, have more majors, more donors, and more academic jobs. Which raises the obvious question: why don't more parents and students know how useful a philosophy degree is? The obvious answer, it seems to me, is staring us in the face: we do a terrible job, as a discipline, of selling our usefulness. Yes, of course, some of us (who I have to thank for directing me to the data above) are working very hard at selling our discipline. My experience, though, is that, by and large, people in our discipline aren't doing it. We need to do better. We need to do more than just write papers and teach our classes.  The APA needs to do more than organize APA meetings and the other stuff it doesn. We need -- as a discipline -- to engage in a concerted effort to sell our discipline to students and their parents. For we do have something good to sell, and given recent budget and faculty cuts, it seems our future increasingly depends on it.

Or so say I. What say you?

Is skepticism the third rail of philosophy?*

Perhaps I am wrong about this but I have the impression that the following argumentative strategy is being used by philosophers more frequently:

1. S argues that P.
2. P has a skeptical consequence.
3. Skepticism is untenable.
4. Therefore, it is not the case that P.

Do others have the same impression? If so, why skeptical consequences are always bad? In other words, are there good reasons to believe that skepticism is untenable (other than wishful thinking, that is)? Of course, there are many varieties of skepticism (e.g., external world, induction etc.). Generally speaking, however, do skeptical consequences count as evidence against the philosophical claims that imply them?

*The title is a spin-off from this:

 

The Daily Show with Jon Stewart
Get More: Daily Show Full Episodes,The Daily Show on Facebook

New Contributor

I'm happy to welcome our newest contributor, Martin Vacek, to the Cocoon. Martin is a PhD student at the Institute of Philosophy at the Slovak Academy of Sciences. He works primarily on metaphysics, particularly modality and impossible worlds, and he is scheduled to present an excellent paper entitled, "Extended Modal Realism and the Incredulous Stare", at the first annual Philosophers' Cocoon Philosophy Conference. Welcome!

More philosophy light-bulb jokes

The fall semester starts in two weeks (at my institution, at least). It’s time to replenish the stock of philosophy light-bulb jokes. To get things started, here are two:

 

(1) How many Rawlsians does it take to change a light-bulb?

Two. One to secure the light-bulb from the original position and one to place it behind a veil of ignorance.

(2) How many zombies does it take to change a light-bulb?

None. Zombies have no idea what it is like to change light-bulbs.

 

Feel free to add your own jokes in the comments below.

I wish everyone a successful semester.

Philosophers' Cocoon Philosophy Conference

I'm happy to report that the first annual Philosophers' Cocoon Philosophy Conference (PCPC) website is now live, and I'd like to encourage everyone to check it out. We have a great mix of faculty and graduate students -- and a variety of interesting papers -- and I'm looking forward to meeting everyone I don't already know. I'm also going to make sure that it's a great experience for everyone. Although I said in the conference CFP that there will be no food provided (so as to eliminate registration costs), my wife -- who does Industrial-Organizational Psychology -- has told in me in no uncertain terms that this just won't do. So, there will be plenty of coffee and homemade food for everyone to enjoy.

Also, I'd like to announce that I will be posting a CFP for the second annual PCPC -- which will held sometime next summer, and which I hope will be a much larger affair -- sometime in the near future. 

"Just what *are* you, exactly?"

So I had a somewhat awkward experience the other day regarding my position title/status at my university. In fact, it was just another awkward experience in a long line of them. Here, in a nutshell, is what happened: I was invited a few weeks ago to give a presentation at a university near a conference I will be at later this fall. The person who invited me followed up yesterday with an email asking what exactly my position is, so that it could be listed properly on promotion materials.  Am I a (tenure-track) Assistant Professor, he asked, or a VAP? Or a lecturer? He noted that while I'm listed on my website as "Assistant Professor", this title is usually reserved for tenure-track faculty, whereas I'm in a non-tenure-track line, which usually either fall under the title of "Visiting Assistant Professor" or "Lecturer" (depending on pay and other responsibilities).  So, which is it?  The short answer is...it's complicated.

As you can see here, my official title at the University of Tampa is "Assistant Professor." Yep, that's right, "Assistant Professor", not "Visiting Assistant Professor." Moreover, unlike typical VAP positions (and I've had one of those as well, see below), I'm (A) listed in the University Catalog and promotional materials right besides tenured and tenure-track faculty, and (B) treated on a daily basis just like a full, permanent faculty member (I have voting privileges in my department, serve on numerous committees, etc).  This is all rather nice. It makes me feel like an equal, rather than a second-class citizen. And yet...I'm in a non-tenure-track line. Which has led to all sorts of awkward, even embarrassing encounters. For example, I'm regularly asked by my students and fellow faculty, "When do you come up for tenure?" Which, obviously, is no fun to answer (yes, I answer honestly, and have to go into a schpiel about my status). Then, of course, there are confusions like the one I discussed up above. Really annoying. And indeed, there was another annoying part of all of this, which is that I was told by the person I was conversing with that the confusion might even lead me to be passed over for jobs. For, you see, on my personal website , I had listed myself according to my official title ("Assistant Professor") -- something which I was told might lead committees to think that I already have a tenure-track job. Thankfully, I've now changed my self-description to "non-tenure-track Assistant Professor" to make my status clear.

So, anyway, what am I?  Well, the answer is: my official title is "Assistant Professor", but by wider disciplinary norms I'm a VAP. And so, yes, I often have to explain all of this to family, friends, colleagues, and students. Again, annoying. And this isn't the first time I've had this problem. When I was at the University of British Columbia for a year, my title was "Assistant Professor Without Review." You can only imagine how many questions I got from family, friends, etc., about that one!

Anyway, I thought it might be worth posting on this for a couple of reasons.

First, I think it's important to realize that there can be significant differences between the ways universities do things -- differences that even diverge from common professional norms. It's important to realize this, I think, for a number of reasons: not the least of which is, when you are offered or accept a job, be sure to get some idea of what your standing in the department and university will be. Really, I can't emphasize this enough. There are some places where "being a VAP" means you will be excluded from faculty meetings and treated like a second-class citizen. Other places are very different. And this can make a significant difference in your daily experiences and self-image.

Second, I thought it might be worth sharing "the general differences" between the different types of positions. VAPs often -- but not always -- have similar responsibilities and salaries as tenure-track faculty. How similar these things are, however, depends very much on the university in question. Sometmes VAPs have a higher teaching load than normal faculty, sometimes they have a lower teaching load (I had a lower teaching load in my VAP at UBC), and sometimes they have a higher teaching load. Sometimes VAPs are expected to serve on committees and do lots of other stuff, sometimes they're not.

Anyway, I hope some of you find this interesting, or at least informative. I'd be happy to answer any questions you all might have.

On copyright policies and nonexistent journals

I mentioned before that I had published a paper in an open-access journal that no longer exists on cyberspace.

My question for you, my fellow pupae, is this: Am I still bound by this (now non-existent) journal’s copyright policy?

I ask because I would like to post the published version of the paper in question on PhilPapers and Academia.edu in order to make the paper available to those who wish to read and/or cite it. (Believe it or not, there are those who do. :)

Thanks in advance for your thoughts on this…

On Leiter's discussion of grad students and social media

I'd like to comment briefly on Brian Lester's discussion of whether graduate students should use social media. I've been thinking about it the past several days, and a facebook post by Rachel McKinnon and this 2011 NewAPPS post by Mark Lance really crystalized my thoughts about it.

In his post, Leiter addresses a graduate student who asks whether it is strategically good idea for grad students to be on social media. Brian's answer is that grad students should avoid social media, as first impressions are "sticky." Although, in full disclosure, I do not have a tenure-track job myself, I have a few thoughts on the issue I would like to share: a couple of thoughts first about the strategic question, and then another thought about a broader personal question. 

First, Lance makes an interesting counterpoint to Brian's point about first impressions being "sticky."  As Lance points out, when it comes to the job market, you're not looking for a "good batting average" (lots of interviews); you're looking for a home run (to impress at least one search committee so thoroughly that they will want to hire you).  Provided you don't behave totally inappropriately, getting yourself out there and being yourself would seem to be a better way to hit the proverbial home run than playing it safe and staying away from social media. Assuming that first impressions do indeed "stick", as Leiter claims, I think (and so does Mark) that (A) you can't try to be everything to everyone, and (B) if you are authentically yourself, chances are you will make a good impression on someone just being yourself. As Rachel writes,

This post from a couple years ago was linked in the Leiter thread on social media/public image. I think it bears reading, for a couple reasons. One of them is that I think Mark's entirely right that while taking a stand on some (relativelycontroversial) topic may alienate some potential employers, it may make one a stronger candidate to others. And since the odds of getting a job are bad enough as it is, alienating a few but endearing oneself to others is probably a big net gain. 

I myself had experience with this. I wrote some high profile pieces in the Chronicle of Higher Education, and I was shopping around a paper on stereotype threat/attributional ambiguity and trans issues (which is *not* my primary research focus) which was making some waves in various (often feminist) circles. Huge risk...but I think big rewards. 

While rumour has it that this acted against me at the voting stage (though not explicitly raised during discussions) for one job, I know that this work had a positive impact for other positions (one of which I eventually pulled out of to take the job I'll start next year).

Similarly, as K. Pogin writes,

Amen. I've been warned multiple times in various contexts that I could be committing career suicide. If that ever turns out to be right, I'll be better off elsewhere anyhow.

Second, I'm just not sure that first impressions are nearly as "sticky" as Leiter makes them out to be. For example, I think when I was a grad student, I came across for a long time as a very closed-off and insecure -- but I think I've grown a lot since then, and I think (or at least hope!) that I make a very different impression on people today. And I know other, far more successful people than I who had middling reputations in grad school at best. None of this stopped them, or prevented them from getting jobs. Provided you don't say overtly inappropriate (e.g. racist, sexist things), you can always reinvent yourself, grow, and make a new impression on people. 

Finally, I would like to suggest that although the job market is tough, it can be bad for the soul to operate from a place of fear, staying off of social media out of a strategic concern for one's reputation. I think many people in our discipline have an absolutely stultifying preoccupation with looking good to everyone that results in a culture of fear and self-censorship. For a while in grad school, I lost my love for philosophy. Why? It wasn't any problem with my grad program (which was great).  It was the overall climate of the discipline that got to me: I grew sick and tired of "walking on eggshells" all the time -- of always worrying about "saying something stupid" that might make me look bad. I don't know if "always watching what you say", or staying off of social media, will help you get a job. Maybe it will, maybe it won't. But what I am pretty sure of is that it is incredibly oppressive. And I know I couldn't go on living that way. So, I say -- with Mark and Rachel, I think -- just be yourself. Maybe some people won't like you, but some probably will. Have faith in that.

John Danaher Reviews Moti Mizrahi's "The Problem of Natural Inequality"

Moti recently announced his forthcoming paper, titled "The Problem of Natural Inequality: A New Problem of Evil". I thought I would point readers to a worthwhile discussion of his paper that John Danaher is working through at his blog. Here is part one, and part two. 

New Personal Website

*Comments open now!

I just launched a new personal website -- the first one I've made that I think looks halfway decent (though I'm sure I could be wrong about that - I'm no web designer, that's for sure!). Anyway, given that I'm heading out onto the job market once again this year, I'd be very thankful for any feedback on it, both on how it looks as well as its content (particularly my research statement and teaching portfolio).

Many thanks in advance to anyone who takes the time to take a look and offers constructive feedback!

A Few Recommendation-Letter Questions

An anonymous commenter has asked several questions about rec letters:

1. If you've been out of grad school for a few years (and your research is no longer focused on the questions you dissertation concerned), will hiring committees still expect you to have a letter from your dissertation supervisor? And what about the other members of your dissertation committee? 
2. Relatedly, if your dissertation supervisor has not been reading your most recent work, would it be inadvisable to still include a letter from him/her? 
3. How common is it to ask someone you have not met in person for a letter? Is doing so commonly considered rude? (I'm thinking of someone who you've exchanged papers or comments with via email; an expert in your field who has said nice things about your work). 
4. And is a hiring committee likely to be put off by a letter that includes a sentence like "while I have not actually met so-and-so . . ."?

I can't speak to all of these, but in response to (1), I expect SC's will expect you to have a letter from your dissertation advisor as well as another committee member or two (I expect they would find it very strange -- a yellow flag, if not a red one -- for you not to have any letters from your diss committee). In response to (3), my experience is that it is common and isn't considered rude at all, provided you have indeed exchanged papers, emails, etc.

Any thoughts from the rest of the community?

New Contributor

I'd like to welcome our newest contributor, Martin Shuster, to the Cocoon. Martin earned his Ph.D. from Johns Hopkins in 2010 and has worked at Hamilton College and Hopkins. Martin work in ethics, social/political, and aesthetics, especially in Kantian and post-Kantian philosophy (whether analytic or continental), and has published articles in Hypatia and in the International Journal of Philosophical Studies. Welcome!

Writing Sample/Job Talk Question

An anonymous commenter asks: "How common is it for someone to use her writing sample as her job talk? Any advantages or disadvantages to doing this?"

Thoughts?

A Series of Teaching Portfolio Questions

An anonymous commenter has asked the following questions about teaching porfolios:

1. Should everything look the same? I'm specifically thinking of my syllabi: over the past couple of years I've used different formatting, fonts, and different ways of setting up the course schedules. Would it make my teaching portfolio look messy if I were to include syllabi that all looked sort of different?
2. How many syllabi do people include? I've taught a lot of different courses and wouldn't want to include a syllabus for every course.
3. I haven't yet taught a course in my AOS. Should I draft a syllabus for that and include it in the teaching portfolio?

Thoughts?

Job Market Questions?

Now that the annual job market is almost upon us, I'd like to ask readers if they have any questions they would like the community to answer/discuss (about dossiers, applying for jobs, whatever!). Here, then, is what I would like to do. I would like to encourage readers to post questions in the comments section below. I will then select and post each question separately, so that each question has its own discussion forum. Sound good?

Universities as Trade Schools: What is to be done?

I was watching a TV commercial for some university or other a day or two ago -- a commercial that did nothing more but trumpet the awesome industry jobs some of its graduates have obtained -- and the following thought occurred to me: universities seem to be increasingly treated as little more than trade schools.

This, in itself, is hardly an original thought, I know. Given the levels of persistent high unemployment and budget cuts that have only worsened since the beginning of the "Great Recession", it is natural enough for ordinary people, and universities, to focus on jobs. And it is natural enough for those of us who think that universities should be about much more than this -- particularly those of us who think that education in the humanities is important not only (A) for its own sake and (B) for the sake of creating better citizens, but actually, but also for (C) producing creative people who make entire industries (last I checked, J.K. Rowling created more jobs than any investment banker by writing a few books) -- to bemoan this trend.

But although none of this is particularly original, none of this obviates the importance of discussing it and searching for solutions. This letter strikes me as a good start (many thanks to John Protevi for drawing it to my attention). So does Martha Nussbaum's recent book. But what, if anything, can/should we -- the rest of us -- do? 

Philosophers and Social Media

At the risk of coming off as a member of the "moral police", I would like to comment on this blog post that has been making the rounds on social media about...well, how insufferably many people behave on social media.

Although I don't want to harp on it too much -- most, if not all of us, are guilty of behaving in similarly insufferable ways from time to time (I know I have) -- I think it is worth discussing here, given that:

1. Interaction on social media is increasingly becoming a professional part of our profession (i.e. a forum for networking, etc.), rather than merely a personal/private side of it, and
2. The annual academic job market is about to begin.

I'd be curious to see what you all think about how philosophers should behave on social media. Here, briefly, are some of my thoughts:

• I think it is a bit unkind to share news of your upcoming interview(s), job offer(s), etc. A kind person should realize that there are other people in the profession who desperately want jobs/interviews/etc., and aren't getting them. What does sharing news of your interview/job offer on social media do besides (A) make you feel good about yourself, while predictably (B) making others feel bad about themselves? I suppose you might say: it informs your friends and family about your good news. But of course there are other, more personal ways to do this. Sharing your good news on social media is, quite literally, announcing your good news to the world at large, including people it might make feel bad. Your good news is good news for you, your real friends, and your family.  You should feel good about yourself. There is no need to announce it in ways that predictably lead to others feeling bad about themselves. (And don't say: that's their problem. Emotions being what they are, they are not entirely under a person's control. It is hard -- if not impossible --not to feel bad, or jealous, or even angry, when someone with one publication gets a job and brags about it publicly when you have ten publications and didn't get any interviews).
• There's nothing wrong with posting a link to your newly published (or forthcoming) article in The Best Philosophy Journal in the World.  There is something a bit daft about writing, in addition, something like, "I am so happy that I have published in The Best Philosophy Journal in the World. This is huge for me!". 

In short, as a general rule, although I think some amount of self-promotion (e.g. linking to your papers, advocating that people read them) is perfectly legitimate (see my comments here), I think it's good and kind to avoid engaging in public self-congratulation. If you are professionally successful, that's wonderful: revel in it privately all you want. Just don't brag about it publicly. Try to remember there are probably people out there who work just as hard as you without enjoying your results and good fortune. Or so say I. 

What do you all think?

Another New Post at "Underappreciated Philosophy?"

I am happy to announce that I have posted a new, anonymous submission to Underappreciated Philosophy?. Because the submission is on a very provocative book that I have not only read but found very persuasive -- David Benatar's Better Never to Have Been, which defends the pretty astonishing thesis that it is always morally wrong to have children -- I have added some thoughts of my own to the post, explaining why I found the book compelling. Hope you all find the post interesting!

New Post at "Underappreciated Philosophy?"

I'm happy to report that our own Patrick Taylor Smith has an interesting new post over at Underappreciated Philosophy? on Miriam Ronzoni's 2009 article, "The Global Order: A Case of Background Injustice? A Practice-Dependent Account." Check it out (and thanks for such a great submission, Patrick)!

Fav commentaries on fav philosophers?

Say I dig one of your favourite philosophers and have read a significant amount of his/her work. I'm now interested in seeing what's really good in the secondary lit. What are some of the books/articles/chapters in edited volumes toward which you might point me?

The Problem of Natural Inequality: A New Problem of Evil

 

I have a paper forthcoming in Philosophia, which has benefited greatly from discussion here on the Cocoon. So I would like to thank those who have participated in the discussion: Daniel Greco, David Morrow, Elisa Freschi, Marcus Arvan, and Walter Riker. Thanks a lot!