...I anticipated that it would provide a view of what the publishing elixir consists in according to journal editors and successful authors. Alas, I left that session no more enlightened than before I entered. What was particularly disorienting to me was the degree to which those in the know did not agree on basic points. Ostensibly, the session was called to address some of the problems of publication within the profession, suggesting that those in the know agree that there is a problem. But as the session progressed, and each journal editor spoke, and each of the other panelists spoke, I began to see that the parties do not agree on what the problems are, or even whether there are problems. If those who should know how things are visa-a-vis getting published don’t agree, then Houston, we really do have a problem.
Whatever the reasons, it was clear that it is hard to publish in philosophy journals....Since to my mind philosophers are in part the result of the training that they have received, if enough people don’t manage to get their work published, or to get much of their work published, then perhaps our training institutions are not preparing us to participate in our own profession.
No one responded to this portion of my question, but I think that it is an important question to ask. It is not a badge of honor that lots of smart, competent philosophers struggle to get their work published. It should be worrying for all of us.
Some of you reading this may take some of my points in a way that I don’t intend. I want to make sure that you hear what I am saying. Of course, I believe that our profession should have standards for what counts as publishable work. I certainly don’t believe that all papers sent out for consideration are publishable. But one can endorse these two principles and still think that there is a problem in need of addressing....
....Philosophers often talk about “good” papers. But everyone and their grandmother knows that ways of determining which papers are “good” papers are largely voodoo. Take yourselves as examples. How many papers have you read that you decided were good, but someone whom you respect takes a different attitude and judges that they are bad? I can name some names of established philosophers who for one reason or another, are not, for some people, correctly philosophical. I’ve heard that Pat Churchland’s work is not philosophy. She’s doing science, it’s said, not philosophy. There are some who say Dan Dennett’s work is just shallow, and I’ve heard that Sharon Street’s work on evolutionary ethics is creative but that it’s not good because she is wrong. I’ve had conversations with people who could not disagree with Ruth Millikan’s work more. She is WRONG about intentionality and WRONG again about biological function. I could go on. When I am in the company of people who so strongly express their disapproval, I shrivel up inside.
Look, we do not have some singular method or set of methods for determining which work is good. What we have, apart from some very basic standards, are our individual preferences and the trends in the profession: trends that are established by works that get published and from those prominently placed and highly visible in the profession. To be sure, such people have expertise, but even they have personal philosophical preferences as well: preferences that can get in the way.--Subrena E. Smith Women in Philosophy: The Words to Say It.
A few years ago I was a finalist for a nice job in a fine department without many historians of philosophy. While, there were a number of papers in contemporary philosophy that I could have delivered, I wanted to see if they could be excited about my work in history, too. I had reached the stage of my career where a job search really is a two-way affair; I want to land the job but only iff my work is felt welcome. I decided, however, that I wanted to avoid the 'why is this philosophy' question, so I presented the main reconstruction of my paper in terms of a clear (and valid) argument with numbered premises. (That's not what I tend to do in my talks; I ordinarily try to convey the excitement of discovery of new understanding of the past and thereby the present.) As it happened, in Q&A it became clear that the paper was a bust--my audience got the argument, but thought it not worth much time.*
A bit later, I read Stoljaer's Philosophical Progress: In Defence of a Reasonable Optimism. There is much to say about the book's central contention(s), but one thing I got out of it is that in certain niches of contemporary philosophy, the key rhetorical/presentational move is to represent a topic in terms of an argument with plausible premises and an unpalatable conclusion, which, in turn, can be re-conceived as a (plausible) trilemma. The point then is to find ways to give up one of the plausible seeming premises (or find ways to make the conclusion seem less unpalatable). I haven't done a survey of recent philosophy papers [I am, after all, not Eric Schwitzgebel], so I have no idea if this is the way 'we' really all do philosophy now. I suspect not (see below). But I recognized that I had mis-calibrated my job-talk.
I was musing about these matters in light of Subrena Smith's essay. Professor Smith's comments about the failure of PhD training to enable recent graduates to participate in the professional conversation (aka publication) can be taken in (at least) two ways: (i) there is a problem in the profession such that recently minted PhDs can't participate in ways conducive to their philosophical flourishing -- I use this locution to capture the fear, anxiety, and anger expressed by Smith throughout her essay; (ii) there is a problem in the way PhDs are trained such that they are not properly launched on a flourishing career. Much of the the blog post (worth reading) is devoted to (i); in particular -- and I don't mean to be reductive --, Smith notices that her philosophical personality (or voice) is being stunted by referees who insist she must conform to some invisible disciplinary standard. Her piece raises the troubling question of how many distinct and fascinating philosophical voices we have lost by overzealous referees (who are probably just as overworked as you and I, and perhaps grumpy on entirely reasonable grounds).
Here I want to muse a bit on (ii). Ages ago, just before the explosion of journal articles by graduate students, I came out of a PhD department in which 'professionalization' was pour les autres. I have described (recall) how I got trained into writing journal articles during my post-doc a few years out (Larry May, bless your soul!). And I was glad to see the Cocooners level the playing field a bit by collecting and passing on best practices to junior scholars. If one understands the point of obtaining a PhD as (a) training/developing the skills for succeeding in the profession, my PhD program failed me at first. If one understands the point of obtaining a PhD as (b) landing a position, I can only be grateful to my program. There are, of course, other alternatives: (c) to develop the skills to find my own philosophical voice; (d) to develop the skills to survive in the profession; (e) to contribute to, say, philosophical progress/advance research agenda, etc; (f) to provide the skills to be a good class-room teacher (at different levels). The point is that (a-f) are not always mutually compatible and what's needed for them to work cannot always be anticipated. Of course, plenty of PhD programs now have workshops, including ones that teach aspiring professionals how to publish and teach.
Part of the issue, and Smith is very good on this, is that while there may seem to be clear minimal standards in professional philosophy (produce valid arguments, avoid contradiction, etc.) in the abstract, that's not, in fact, how 'we' tend to evaluate in practice. Philosophical writing is a hydra with many different standards, which seem to evolve in popularity over time without any public notice. (In contrast to Stoljaer's template, I think generating fruitful distinctions and conceptions is far more important than dissolving trilemmas.) Because professional philosophy has artificially low amount of journal space (and so (recall) incredibly high rejection rates) this has predictable consequence(s); it generates barriers to entry and participation for those who are least aware that an implicit standard has shifted. And because professional philosophy has incredibly steep status/prestige/economic/personal hierarchies, it is entirely predictable that this will dis-proportionally impact those with fewer intellectual resources (time, incrowd-networks, a supervisor who disdains professional bleh, etc.)
In fact, one suspects that philosophy's standards must remain opaque so that the status hierarchy is never questioned on intrinsic grounds. For, if there were common and clear standards then one could second-guess the decisions at the top.+
Recent Comments