Digressions&Impressions

On Eric's Advice to his son (David)

Today my son David leaves for Oxford, where he'll spend Hilary and Trinity terms as an exchange student in psychology. He is in his third year as a Cognitive Science major at Vassar College, soaring toward grad school in cognitive science or psychology. He is already beginning to think like a graduate student. Here's some advice I offer him and others around the transition from undergraduate to graduate study:

(1.) Do fewer things better. I lead with this advice because it was a lesson I had to learn and relearn and that I still struggle with. In your classes, three A pluses are better than five As. It's better to have two professors who say you are the most impressive student they've seen in several years than to have four professors who say you are one of the three best students this year. It's better to have one project that approaches publishable quality than three projects that earn an ordinary A. Whether it's admission to top PhD programs, winning a grant, or winning a job, academia is generally about standing out for unusual excellence in one or two endeavors. Similarly for publishing research articles: No one is interested to hear what the world's 100th-best expert on X has to say about X. Find a topic narrow enough, and command it so thoroughly, that you can be among the world's five top experts on X. The earlier in your career you are, the narrower the X has to be for such expertise to be achievable. But even as an advanced undergrad or early grad student, it's not impossible to find interesting but very narrow X's. Find that X, then kill it.--Eric Schwitzebel "How to Be an Awesome First-Year Graduate Student (or a Very Advanced Undergrad)" [HT Dailynous]

First, let me start by wishing David a wonderful time at Oxford! 

Schwitzgebel's letter was widely circulated approvingly by my academic friends on social media. And most of his advice (2-6) struck me as quite sensible, even wise--so go read the whole thing first. But I am ambivalent about (1.) [That's the the one I quoted above.] The reason I am ambivalent is that I recognize the hard truths underlying Eric's advice: there are plenty of smart folk. Specialization is the key to be noticed. To professionalize early ("have one project that approaches publishable quality") gives you a leg up in the academic rat race. It is now no rarity anymore to find MA students trying (and succeeding) to publish journal articles. As Nathan Ballantyne puts it in a charming review (of a recent book by Bill Lycan) "younger [professional] philosophers all know that reading outside of your field does not get you a career. It just doesn't pay the bills." (Read the whole review.)

But here is another hard truth: time is a scarce good. Time for research is, perhaps, the scarcest good. Pretty the much the only time of our life when we are free to read and explore is during our undergraduate and graduate (or as the English say: post-graduate) periods. Perhaps, during a generous post-doc, too. Yes, as we know from Eric's blog, he keeps up a regular habit of reading and ranging widely so it's possible. But among administrative, teaching, grant-making, and family duties there is very little time for curiosity. (Oh, and let's not get started on networking.) Our whole professional lives are oriented toward managing our times in effective ways so we can produce 'high quality' publications. I suspect, but haven't asked Eric, that he is like me and uses the development of new courses as means to keep educating himself on new topics. Perhaps -- but now I am projecting -- his excellent blog is also a means to find good excuses to keep his interests broad.

The bottom line is that we have near limitless freedom to explore intellectual avenues during our education: seminars, speakers, reading groups, etc. This is the period of our lives where we can create very solid foundations for our future intellectual habits; when we can learn different academic vocabulary and methods, and also quietly mull connections some of which invisible to our brilliant teachers. We learn to talk with folk from wide variety of academic disciplines and orientations. Most importantly, we learn to ask fruitful questions--perhaps the most important and underappreciated academic skill. This is especially important when we encounter intellectual obstacles not amenable to easy resolution.

As an aside, some of this academic learning and curiosity driven intellectual development can happen in relaxation time. I say this not to reject Eric's suggestion (6): "Draw bright lines between work time and relaxation time." This is sound, even existentially important advice. But when I was a graduate student I had (recall) a dog. I met folks from all walks of life in dog-park. But this also included quite a number of other academics. This has generated not just life-long friendships -- dogs > cats! --, but also exposed me to brilliant minds doing fascinating stuff. This has generated life-long conversations, including ones that have shaped my research trajectory.

Okay, to return my ambivalence. And I am not quite sure how to put it. In part because I am sure Eric's advice to David may well be right for David. But I worry there is such a thing, even a rather solid entity, as premature specialization. Lots of very bright and exciting minds on the cutting edge become dull academics with little to say of interest and so end up saying the same thing over and over again. (Please fill in your own favorite examples!) To experience this first hand is one of the few advantages of age. I even suspect that early intellectual hyper-specialization has something to do with the phenomenon of the diminishing rate of return from basic science that economists have been puzzling about. For, the focus on killing the narrow X can also end up killing off curiosity.

 

 

On Philosophy Being Political

The elimination of conscious fraud is seldom mentioned in formal discussions of the reasons for repetition in science. The quasi-mythological view that scientists are uniformly of higher moral standards than ordinary mortals is maintained, and subconscious bias is usually depended upon to explain the importance of independent repetition. To repeat, scientists are not much better than other men, and there certainly are at least a few among them who would fake experiments if there was something to be gained therefrom. The induced researcher has something to gain if he can get away with such a fraud. His income depends largely on the reputation he can develop, and this, in turn, depends on his “discoveries.” It is obviously easier to produce an important and exciting article if one simply invents the facts reported than if one is confined to reality. This being so, the prevention of fraud depends on a detection apparatus. Part of the detection apparatus involves repetition (Tullock The organization of inquiry [1966] 2005: 124).

Tullock considers economics, as we have seen, to be a discipline in which the possibility of concealment is greater than in what he calls science. Now, we consider what differential auditing possibilities do to Polanyi’s argument that scientific opinion is uniform. Long before Polanyi the uniformity of opinion had been viewed as a necessary condition for scientific status....

[In his 1962 “Republic of Science”] Polanyi asked what scientists believe and proposed that everyone believes the same thing. How could this be? With the division of labor, scientists in one specialization have no competence in another so why the unanimity? Polanyi appealed to an overlapping neighborhood of competence by which all problems in science is connected....All Polanyi needs is transparency.
Characterizing Polanyi’s argument as a special case of Longfield’s argument shows that we can use one principle to analyze the intra-community connections. This will be enormously helpful because the machinery which has been set in motion for one community can be applied to the other. Thus, [Adam] Smith himself discussed how monopolies form and create inequality within the labor market. A group keeping others out can enrich themselves. If we can move the argument across communities, what does monopolization look like among experts? We are using “experts” because following Tullock, we do not know whether they are “scientists” until we know something about the institutional structure in which they function.
Tullock, when he rehearses Polanyi’s argument, silently provides the missing step and thus fails to impress his delightful cleverness on the reader. To make the overlapping competence argument work, there must be data audits, results must be checked. He says this over and over again. This distinguishes economics and science. As Tullock writes, economics allows concealment. Therefore economics allows factions and it doesn’t have the Polanyi efficiency properties. Sandra J. Peart & David M. Levy (2012) "Tullock on motivated inquiry: expert-induced uncertainty disguised as risk," Public Choice, 171-3

The quoted paragraphs is from a paper, even research program, methodological analytic egalitarianism, that (as regular readers know) has long influenced me. I was inspired to go back to it by Liam Kofi Bright's recent, interesting argument that "all philosophy is political is a trivial consequence of the more interesting fact that all inquiry is...united." [HT Dailynous] Drawing on Neurath, Bright argues this unity is a regulative or normative ideal, "it is an achievement to be won, not a fact to be granted." Neurath's argument is also a bit self-interested because within the division of scientific labor, it gives philosophers, a new kind of philosopher, a special role, of (linguistic/conceptual) orchestration. (See here; I link to this piece because Neurath is especially clear about the anti-totalitarian political significance of the program.) Uncharacterstically, Bright does not quite mention this, but the general gist is clear from his presentation:

The unity of science consists in the fact that we may potentially bring the results, methods, and fruits of inquiry in one field to bear on all others, providing we take the time to formulate our claims in a way that can be mutually understood, and are sufficiently clear in stating logical or evidential relations. The unity of science is thus a kind of consequence of the attitude of seeking to be clear and assist one another.*

If it is remembered that 'We' here is 'we [new] philosophers' Bright's position is echt Neurathian. If the 'we' here is all of of us engaged in science, Bright has subtly added a set of virtues some epistemic some social to the practice of all science. Notice, and Bright is very good on this, that even if one rejects some such normative unity program, the attitude is useful because "we cannot ever rule out the potential relevance of any one field of inquiry to another." Bright gives some cute historical examples. I would just add that anybody who is engaged in debates in contemporary climate science will be struck how many different,and different kinds of sciences are brought to bear on each other all the time. So far so good.

Now, here's my observation, if we think of different sciences also as reflecting different interests, then we should not automatically assume that when two sciences are brought in communication/trade with each other they will automatically agree. As Max Weber pointed out, pluralism is a consequence of the division of labor and differentiated interests. It is, thus, to be expected that when two sciences or sub-fields within a discipline/science are made to communicate some disagreement is to be expected. (Obviously, it does not follow there will always be disagreement or even most of the time.) The claim in this paragraph is strengthened, perhaps a trivial consequence, of the idea that not all sciences rely solely on epistemic commitments (see Heather Douglas' now classic book). 

Of course, if we think of the ways in which sciences are brought to bear on each other, it is quite possible to come to agreement either by creating a third new science (which may well has its task of figuring out the discrepancies between the two sciences) or by transformation of one of the sciences (in dialogue with each other). [If you think not all disciplines are science, then follow Peart/Levy and substitute expert-disciplines where necessary!] This sounds abstract, but actually happens quite a bit in the history of science. 

I put the Tullock in, in part, to show that Tullock anticipates the debates over the replication crisis (in some bits of the academy) by several decades. And that is I want to strengthen Bright's argument (in his spirit, see here) by suggesting that even if one is doubtful of the desirability or feasibility of general unity of science that he (and I, with slightly different sensibility) embraces, there are additional reasons to embrace the idea of leaving room to keeping open, '"the potential relevance of any one field of inquiry to another." It reduces the incentives and possibilities for fraud and rents for members of autonomous disciplines. As we have seen, that is not just a hypothetical possibility.

But, and here I close, the idea of intellectual even disciplinary autonomy is very much part of the DNA of philosophy, perhaps uniquely so (with exception of 'pure' math) [recall this old post on Williamson]. To be an intellectual self-legislator, to have autonomous/foundational or self-sufficient reason, is an ideal that is a permanent temptation for philosophers (in ways not so for other disciplines within the division of intellectual labor)--go read Descartes, or even Kant. I think it is some such ideal that makes some philosophers also uneasy about the very idea of (what I call) a philosophical politics within philosophy or in its relationships with other disciplines. The Neurathian offers orchestration (and its modern successors) as a consolation prize to them (if orchestration seems like the wrong way to go, then see the program of synthetic philosophy!)

Of course, the would be autonomous philosopher can refuse to allow his philosophy to be scrutinized by outsiders. (Just as not all offers to trade are accepted.) The risk of such hermeticisms, of thinking philosophy pure and untainted by politics, is, in fact, to make philosophy a hiding place for charlatans and cultists.  It is amusing to see my own ilk, analytic philosophers embracing that risk.

 

 

Chiang on metahumans (and the great chain of being)

The question is, are these worthwhile undertakings for scientists? Some call them a waste of time, likening them to a Native American research effort into bronze smelting when steel tools of European manufacture are readily available. This comparison might be more apt if humans were in competition with metahumans, but in today's economy of abundance there is no evidence of such competition. In fact, it is important to recognize that — unlike most previous low-technology cultures confronted with a high-technology one — humans are in no danger of assimilation or extinction.

There is still no way to augment a human brain into a metahuman one; the Sugimoto gene therapy must be performed before the embryo begins neurogenesis in order for a brain to be compatible with DNT. This lack of an assimilation mechanism means that human parents of a metahuman child face a difficult choice: to allow their child DNT interaction with metahuman culture, and watch him or her grow incomprehensible to them; or else restrict access to DNT during the child's formative years, which to a metahuman is deprivation like that suffered by Kaspar Hauser. It is not surprising that the percentage of human parents choosing the Sugimoto gene therapy for their children has dropped almost to zero in recent years.

As a result, human culture is likely to survive well into the future, and the scientific tradition is a vital part of that culture. Hermeneutics is a legitimate method of scientific inquiry and increases the body of human knowledge just as original research did. Moreover, human researchers may discern applications overlooked by metahumans, whose advantages tend to make them unaware of our concerns.

For example, imagine if research offered hope of a different intelligence-enhancing therapy, one that would allow individuals to gradually ‘upgrade’ their minds to a level equivalent to that of a metahuman. Such a therapy would offer a bridge across what has become the greatest cultural divide in our species' history, yet it might not even occur to metahumans to explore it; that possibility alone justifies the continuation of human research.

We need not be intimidated by the accomplishments of metahuman science. We should always remember that the technologies that made metahumans possible were originally invented by humans, and they were no smarter than we. Ted Chiang (2000) "Catching crumbs from the table," in Nature.*

The existence of metahumans (or enhanced, human cyborgs) reminds us that developments in technologies generate violations of Descartes' causal principle: what is more perfect can arise from what is less perfect. Technologies change how we conceive of what is humanly possible.+ In addition, technology helps generate violations of the great chain of being; there are  in-commensurable gaps between humans and metahumans.

Whether any technology can remove scarcity may well be doubted unless the metahumans can practice moral checks on themselves and nudge the humans into breeding at a replacement rate. Of course, if the metahumans did so, it's possible the humans would not know about it ([recall] in the way the machines/artificial intelligence nudge humans in Iain Banks' The Culture series).

The narration assumes that scarcity is the main motive for genocide. It also implies that being capable of developing science and technology, including presumably meta weapons of meta mass destruction, would generate an ethics of their proper use. Since metahumans were initially invented by humans no smarter than us, this is to be doubted. Perhaps the thought is that the ability to dominate nature (abundance, etc.) removes the desire to dominate (destroy/exploit, etc.) lesser beings. But let's leave that aside.

When I was reflecting on the story, I was initially unsure parents would indeed choose to be able to communicate with their children, and so continue their traditions even form of life, rather than choosing for their kids to be among the cognitive elite (the metahumans). Often today, it seems, designer babies represent not just the desire for healthy kids, but parents' status and economic aspirations for their children. Such parents appear to act for their childrens' good. 

But, upon second thought, Chiang's moral psychology seems persuasive. Because despite the emphasis on 'choice' in selling human enhancement technologies, our contemporary parents of designer babies are not really showing much respect for the (let's call it) autonomy of their children. Rather what they de facto do is lengthen the odds that the structure of their (parental/social) values/traditions are passed on and reproduced. 

Part of the joke of the story -- which first appeared in Nature -- is that academic journals have stopped being the vehicle for publishing original research. They are now mostly in the business of hermeneutics trying and trailing to understand metahuman science. For us the joke may be less funny because with the opacity of machine learning this possibility may well be shading into reality. Even so, it would indeed be funny if the success of an all-knowing data science would regenerate the felt need for a kind of science of interpretation that could help decode the revelations of a hidden intelligence. When computer science departments start hiring big-data-hermeneuticists, the heirs of Gadamer or Davidson can laugh at our analytic philosophers.++ Of course, with machine algorithms, there may simply be no there, there. And so this hermeneutics may well have to rely on an intentional stance.

Not unlike AL-Farabi's God (at least this is Al-Ghazali's charge), the metahumans may be t uninterested in the physical going-ons of mere mortals. One's position reflects one's choices of research topic. Chiang suggests that faced with the existence of scientifically superior metahumans, scientific humans would embrace if not standpoint epistemology, then the argument from epistemic diversity, from self-interest. If these human scientists are right, then the great chain of being would be restored.

 

On Originality in Philosophy

What seemingly unites commentaries to texts, annotated editions and translations or reviews is that they focus on the presentation of the ideas of others. Thus, my hunch is that we seem to think more highly of people presenting their own ideas than those presenting the ideas of others. In a recent blog post, Peter Adamson notes the following:

“Nowadays we respect the original, innovative thinker more than the careful interpreter. That is rather an anomaly, though. […]

[I]t was understood that commenting is itself a creative activity, which might involve giving improved arguments for a school’s positions, or subtle, previously overlooked readings of the text being commented upon.”

Looking at ancient, medieval and even early modern traditions, the obsession with what counts as originality is an anomaly indeed. I say “obsession” because this trend is quite harmful. Not only does it impoverish our philosophical knowledge and skills, it also destroys a necessary division of labour. Why on earth should every one of us toss out “original claims” by the minute? Why not think hard about what other people wrote for a change? Why not train your philosophical chops by doing a translation? Of course the idea that originality consists in expressing one’s own ideas is fallacious anyway, since thinking is dialogical. If we stop trying to understand and uncover other texts, outside of our paper culture, our thinking will become more and more self-referential and turn into a freely spinning wheel… I’m exaggerating of course, but perhaps only a bit. We don’t even need the medieval commentary traditions to remind ourselves. Just remember that it was, amongst other things, Chomsky’s review of Skinner that changed the field of linguistics. Today, writing reviews, working on editions and translations doesn’t get you a grant, let alone a job. While we desperately need new editions, translations and materials for research and teaching, these works are esteemed more like a pastime or retirement hobby.

Of course, many if not most of us know that this monoculture is problematic. I just don’t know how we got there that quickly. When I began to study, the work on editions and translations still seemed to flourish, at least in Germany. But it quickly died out, history of philosophy was abandoned or ‘integrated’ in positions in theoretical or practical philosophy, and many people who then worked very hard on the texts that are available in shiny editions are now without a job.

If we go on like this, we’ll soon find that no one will be able to read or work on past texts. We should then teach our students that real philosophy didn’t begin to evolve before 1970 anyway. Until it gets that bad I would plead for reintroducing a sensible division of labour, both in research and teaching. If you plan your assignments next time, don’t just offer your students to write an essay. Why not have them choose between an annotated translation, a careful commentary on a difficult passage or a review? Oh, of course, they may write an essay, too. But it’s just one of many philosophical genres, many more than I listed here.--Martin Lenz "Philosophical genres. A response to Peter Adamson"

Of course, quite a few people think little philosophy before 1970, and not much since it and, say, 1990, is worth reading. And, in fact, as long as you are in the grip of contemporary standards of rigor, much of the older work, and even quite a bit of the recent stuff, will seem comically badly argued. The few works to the contrary prove that ceteribus paribus in philosophy rigor is a function of the number of generations that have been permitted to develop a view/paradigm, distinction, position, etc.

Be that as it may, neither Lenz, in his response to Adamson (which is promoting a volume he edited on Averroes/Ibn Rushd--and which, amusingly, wishes to draw attention to his ample talents beyond being a skilled commentator),* nor Adamson, really historicize the shift away from valuing the skilled presentation and (re-)interpretation of other people's works to valuing originality and (somewhat less) individuality. So here goes (in a few hundred words):

It's common to credit Montaigne for introducing individuality/personality into philosophy (at least in the European branch). If you think Socrates and Cicero are hyper-individualized personalities, feel free to rewrite the previous sentence. (If you think Zhuangzi is the first real personality; fine!) But since Montaigne was not a professor nor a monk, it was relatively easy for him to get away to obsess about himself. Most of the major early modern thinkers we still read and teach [Bacon, Descartes, Hobbes, Margaret Cavendish, Locke, Hume, Mandeville, Toland, De Grouchty, etc. ] -- and some of whom present a quite distinct authorial persona and claim non-trivial originality --  stayed outside of the academy. The exception to the rule is Leibniz, who was deeply original and often tried to present it as originating elsewhere. Of course, there were many generations of novatores such that they became, in part, a type or old hat (grin).

Some scholars will claim that the focus of originality and connecting it to genius is a romantic invention. But we see hints of it already when Adam Smith praises "the original and inventive genius of the English has not only discovered itself in natural philosophy, but in morals, metaphysics, and part of the abstract sciences." (This is from an early 1757 piece, Letter to the Edinburgh Review, usually attributed to him.) It's clear that Smith allows different kind of genius, including un-inventive ones; but the focus is already decidedly on the original inventive kind.

I mention Smith, because the division of labor and competitive market mechanisms generate open-ended novelty (an older school may say, generates open ended sources of wonder), including technological novelty. I don't deny that one could say the same thing of the institution of science, which has become an astounding novelty generator (second only to technology). That is to say, professional philosophy's changing mode of presentation and sources of value within have copied the characteristics of the surrounding society. (That's true even if some philosophers have something to do with the popularity of the division of labor and competitive markets.) 

The point I am hinting at is that professional philosophy is, in so far as the universities in which it is embedded are reliant on outside sources of funding. non-autonomous and inevitably takes on characteristics of its surrounding society. To challenge the one-sided focus on novelty is, in part, a demand of a form autonomy that is out of reach (except if you have a great endowment and terrific tenure, etc.) As regular readers know, I fully endorse grasping the impossible, and so hence in these digressions I often adopt the commentary format, Q.E.D.

 

 

What do Hoax papers really show? (Ten theses)

(1) The refereeing institutions of philosophy are vulnerable to fraud. This is something I have  been blogging about since September 23, 2010; in one my first dedicated post for NewAPPS I wrote:

The world of Renaissance and Early Modern philosophy and scholarship has been shaken by the "Martin Stone case".... Before his fall from grace, Martin Stone was a widely admired and highly respected professor at Leuven University....I want to call attention to the rather lukewarm, if not indifferent, reaction of the editors and journals/presses that have published his work....What does not seem to have happened is a general discussion about referee-ing. It is well known that one can play the referee-process in various ways that increases chances for favorable review....The Martin Stone case suggests that the referee process is broken in rather serious fashion. Stone published in leading specialist journals and also with leading presses. It means that lots of people missed a considerable amount of plagiarism. What is even more striking is that this happened in a small-ish sub-field where folk pride themselves on learning, their languages, and scholarship.... Anyway, peer-review is not working, and we need to have an open and honest conversation about this.

Since then, by reading retractionwatch religiously for a few years, I learned that other disciplines also can't prevent serious academic fraud (google "diederik stapel") and that the reporting of it used to be seriously understated (hopefully that has changed).

Catching fraud is not the only function of referee process (and not the only known problem with the process), and since, I blogged about a number of proposals to improve philosophical refereeing (none has had any uptake). When the Tuvel/Hypatia affair broke, I wrote critically, "we are all supposed to take on trust that the review process of Tuvel's article was dandy--to best of my knowledge there is no public evidence." Echoing work by Katzav/Vaessens, and responding to the Tuvel/Hypatia affair, I also offered a proposal on how to structure the referee process for papers that may "touch a powerful nerve in scholarly disputes and be taken up in the public culture, public policy, and (alas) the culture wars." 

Of course, (2) what we don't know is how many attempted frauds get caught by existing referee practices. The latest hoax, which presents itself as a study, is not properly designed to contribute to learning that (except for telling us that some journals and fields do detect some fraud; HT Dailynous; see the discussion there.) It weirdly assumes there is no "problem with peer review itself ." Plagiarism software is increasingly normal at academic journals, but the unwillingness to change dramatically existing practices by philosophy's community of editors suggests that while publication is a big deal for individual academics (since it helps determine their career trajectory), (3) the risks associated with having bad work published are thought not worth the bother/cost to do anything about. And that's, alas, because most published papers have negligible impact on much other work and the field. 

I had come to the conclusion that papers have no impact because I had argued in one of my papers, perhaps too en passant, that it was way too easy to produce results in all kinds of social sciences. Writing journal articles about that struck me as not the right way to call people's attention to the  problem. To be sure, I do not claim to have foreseen the extent of the replication crisis in other fields, But alerted by two methodologically very astute economists, Deirdre McCloskey and David Levy, I started blogging about the problems with statistical significance in November (also or 20101 (see here)). That is, at some point the costs associated with bad publication practices may induce changes. But that point is reached when folk feel they can't rely on the best work being done not through hoaxing the system.

An impatient reader may well feel that I am missing the point today. The latest frauds were perpetrated for purportedly high minded reasons including combating urgent problems. For example, the first reason given is that some "scholars increasingly bully students, administrators, and other departments into adhering to their worldview."* Let's stipulate this problem exists. But publications don't bully. In fact, if publication ended altogether, the bullying would almost certainly still exist. So, here the means (fraud) are almost comically out of sync with the purported aims.

The second reason given is that this scholarship has a worldview that is "is not scientific." We are never told where we can do experiments on a scientific worldview, or what its identity conditions may be. 'Worldview' is itself not an especially scientific concept. It has roots in my people (Montesquieu, Hume, and Herder), but it was made popular by folk who had read Hegel and wished to turn it into (ahh) a science (thankfully Wikipedia agrees with me) and then at a later point it became central to philosophy of science (Kuhn, Goodman) via another Hegelian, Koyré. This allowed science to be turned into an object of inquiry. By which time it was ripe to be used by those who wish to raise critical questions about the role of science today. Hint: if you wish to defend the sciences against constructivists, don't appeal to constructivist-friendly notions.+ In fact, this hoax provides evidence for those that treat the sciences as an all-too-human, fallible process in which non-epistemic preferences can play a non-trivial role along the way. So, (4) taken at face value the hoax is self-undermining.** 

This is related to a further problem, the perpetrators of this hoax claim that "open, good-faith conversation around topics of identity such as gender, race, and sexuality (and the scholarship that works with them) is nearly impossible, our aim has been to reboot these conversations."  Let's stipulate this is all true. If that's the problem wouldn't the proper response be to create places and institutions that (ahh) facilitate "open, good-faith conversation around topics of identity such as gender, race, and sexuality (and the scholarship that works with them)." (5) Open and good-faith conversations among folk that disagree are not easy at all. It is, in fact, constitutive of civilization. So, it would be a genuine achievement to contribute to that goal. But it is peculiar to think that such a good-faith conversation would start well by way of disparagement and (ahh) academic fraud. Open and good-faith discussions need to be nurtured, and require delicacy, they require tact, and a willingness to recognize other viewpoints.

If you don't like the scholarship that works with gender, race, and sexuality, why not engage with the very best of it and improve the field? If you think the very best of it is not worth engaging with, start writing informed methodological critiques. If you prefer to ignore all previous existing scholarship, start your own journal and write your own seminal contributions. Of course, one may think the very topic should be ignored. By calling the intended target of the hoax, 'grievance studies,' one may come away thinking the subject is worthless. But prima facie there is nothing wrong with their 'common goal of problematizing aspects of culture in minute detail in order to attempt diagnoses of power imbalances and oppression rooted in identity.' (6) The authors give not a single reason, let alone an argument, for thinking there is anything wrong with such a goal.

Now preventing a noble goal from "corrupting scholarship," is not easy.  (Just examine medical research and its incentive structure.)What would be interesting to learn is given the nobility of the goals, what kind of institutional/incentive structure would facilitate scholarship toward the worthy goal. But the method adopted --  they call it 'reflexive ethnography' -- is ill-suited to that goal. It's not really ethnography because these days the research ethics of real ethnography of the reflexive kind would prevent hoaxing. (7) At most the adopted method can call attention to the existence of flaws in the referee process, but that's old news (no need to cite me, lots of others who have made the same point.) The idea that "peer-reviewed journals are the absolute gold standard of knowledge production" is a strange claim. They are a means to communicate that knowledge and to facilitate community discussion about it. These day this standard primarily exists, I fear, to facilitate job decisions.

At one point the authors of the hoax explain that "to make absurd theses acceptable was central to the project." The problem is (8) being permissive to making absurd theses acceptable is also a means of how scholarship can advance. So, this is not a bug, but, as Liam Kofi Bright suggests, a feature of scholarship. Undermining this principle generates (even more) status quo bias. The authors of the hoax claim that they are defending 'liberalism, progress, modernity, open inquiry, and social justice.' I suspect, but can't prove that (9) Undermining receptivity toward entertaining absurd theses is a good way to undermine 'progress, modernity, open inquiry, and social justice.' 

 The real underlying method of these hoaxes is explicitly acknowledged. It's 'sophism,' which was adopted in order to fit in with what were taken to be other sophists. with the field and then sought to bend the existing scholarship to support it. There is ingenuity and humor in these hoaxes--all the ingredients of effective satire. But the problem is, the hoaxes are not satire (see here how it should be done). By contrast, (10) if you adopt the methods of the sophists to combat the sophists, you contribute to a culture of sophistry and you become a sophist. To avoid that fate, Socrates was willing to die.   

 

(1) The refereeing institutions of philosophy are vulnerable to fraud. This is something I have  been blogging about since September 23, 2010; in one my first dedicated post for NewAPPS I wrote:

The world of Renaissance and Early Modern philosophy and scholarship has been shaken by the "Martin Stone case".... Before his fall from grace, Martin Stone was a widely admired and highly respected professor at Leuven University....I want to call attention to the rather lukewarm, if not indifferent, reaction of the editors and journals/presses that have published his work....What does not seem to have happened is a general discussion about referee-ing. It is well known that one can play the referee-process in various ways that increases chances for favorable review....The Martin Stone case suggests that the referee process is broken in rather serious fashion. Stone published in leading specialist journals and also with leading presses. It means that lots of people missed a considerable amount of plagiarism. What is even more striking is that this happened in a small-ish sub-field where folk pride themselves on learning, their languages, and scholarship.... Anyway, peer-review is not working, and we need to have an open and honest conversation about this.

Since then, by reading retractionwatch religiously for a few years, I learned that other disciplines also can't prevent serious academic fraud (google "diederik stapel") and that the reporting of it used to be seriously understated (hopefully that has changed).

Catching fraud is not the only function of referee process (and not the only known problem with the process), and since, I blogged about a number of proposals to improve philosophical refereeing (none has had any uptake). When the Tuvel/Hypatia affair broke, I wrote critically, "we are all supposed to take on trust that the review process of Tuvel's article was dandy--to best of my knowledge there is no public evidence." Echoing work by Katzav/Vaessens, and responding to the Tuvel/Hypatia affair, I also offered a proposal on how to structure the referee process for papers that may "touch a powerful nerve in scholarly disputes and be taken up in the public culture, public policy, and (alas) the culture wars." 

Of course, (2) what we don't know is how many attempted frauds get caught by existing referee practices. The latest hoax, which presents itself as a study, is not properly designed to contribute to learning that (except for telling us that some journals and fields do detect some fraud; HT Dailynous; see the discussion there.) It weirdly assumes there is no "problem with peer review itself ." Plagiarism software is increasingly normal at academic journals, but the unwillingness to change dramatically existing practices by philosophy's community of editors suggests that while publication is a big deal for individual academics (since it helps determine their career trajectory), (3) the risks associated with having bad work published are thought not worth the bother/cost to do anything about. And that's, alas, because most published papers have negligible impact on much other work and the field. 

I had come to the conclusion that papers have no impact because I had argued in one of my papers, perhaps too en passant, that it was way too easy to produce results in all kinds of social sciences. Writing journal articles about that struck me as not the right way to call people's attention to the  problem. To be sure, I do not claim to have foreseen the extent of the replication crisis in other fields, But alerted by two methodologically very astute economists, Deirdre McCloskey and David Levy, I started blogging about the problems with statistical significance in November (also or 20101 (see here)). That is, at some point the costs associated with bad publication practices may induce changes. But that point is reached when folk feel they can't rely on the best work being done not through hoaxing the system.

An impatient reader may well feel that I am missing the point today. The latest frauds were perpetrated for purportedly high minded reasons including combating urgent problems. For example, the first reason given is that some "scholars increasingly bully students, administrators, and other departments into adhering to their worldview."* Let's stipulate this problem exists. But publications don't bully. In fact, if publication ended altogether, the bullying would almost certainly still exist. So, here the means (fraud) are almost comically out of sync with the purported aims.

The second reason given is that this scholarship has a worldview that is "is not scientific." We are never told where we can do experiments on a scientific worldview, or what its identity conditions may be. 'Worldview' is itself not an especially scientific concept. It has roots in my people (Montesquieu, Hume, and Herder), but it was made popular by folk who had read Hegel and wished to turn it into (ahh) a science (thankfully Wikipedia agrees with me) and then at a later point it became central to philosophy of science (Kuhn, Goodman) via another Hegelian, Koyré. This allowed science to be turned into an object of inquiry. By which time it was ripe to be used by those who wish to raise critical questions about the role of science today. Hint: if you wish to defend the sciences against constructivists, don't appeal to constructivist-friendly notions.+ In fact, this hoax provides evidence for those that treat the sciences as an all-too-human, fallible process in which non-epistemic preferences can play a non-trivial role along the way. So, (4) taken at face value the hoax is self-undermining.** 

This is related to a further problem, the perpetrators of this hoax claim that "open, good-faith conversation around topics of identity such as gender, race, and sexuality (and the scholarship that works with them) is nearly impossible, our aim has been to reboot these conversations."  Let's stipulate this is all true. If that's the problem wouldn't the proper response be to create places and institutions that (ahh) facilitate "open, good-faith conversation around topics of identity such as gender, race, and sexuality (and the scholarship that works with them)." (5) Open and good-faith conversations among folk that disagree are not easy at all. It is, in fact, constitutive of civilization. So, it would be a genuine achievement to contribute to that goal. But it is peculiar to think that such a good-faith conversation would start well by way of disparagement and (ahh) academic fraud. Open and good-faith discussions need to be nurtured, and require delicacy, they require tact, and a willingness to recognize other viewpoints.

If you don't like the scholarship that works with gender, race, and sexuality, why not engage with the very best of it and improve the field? If you think the very best of it is not worth engaging with, start writing informed methodological critiques. If you prefer to ignore all previous existing scholarship, start your own journal and write your own seminal contributions. Of course, one may think the very topic should be ignored. By calling the intended target of the hoax, 'grievance studies,' one may come away thinking the subject is worthless. But prima facie there is nothing wrong with their 'common goal of problematizing aspects of culture in minute detail in order to attempt diagnoses of power imbalances and oppression rooted in identity.' (6) The authors give not a single reason, let alone an argument, for thinking there is anything wrong with such a goal.

Now preventing a noble goal from "corrupting scholarship," is not easy.  (Just examine medical research and its incentive structure.)What would be interesting to learn is given the nobility of the goals, what kind of institutional/incentive structure would facilitate scholarship toward the worthy goal. But the method adopted --  they call it 'reflexive ethnography' -- is ill-suited to that goal. It's not really ethnography because these days the research ethics of real ethnography of the reflexive kind would prevent hoaxing. (7) At most the adopted method can call attention to the existence of flaws in the referee process, but that's old news (no need to cite me, lots of others who have made the same point.) The idea that "peer-reviewed journals are the absolute gold standard of knowledge production" is a strange claim. They are a means to communicate that knowledge and to facilitate community discussion about it. These day this standard primarily exists, I fear, to facilitate job decisions.

At one point the authors of the hoax explain that "to make absurd theses acceptable was central to the project." The problem is (8) being permissive to making absurd theses acceptable is also a means of how scholarship can advance. So, this is not a bug, but, as Liam Kofi Bright suggests, a feature of scholarship. Undermining this principle generates (even more) status quo bias. The authors of the hoax claim that they are defending 'liberalism, progress, modernity, open inquiry, and social justice.' I suspect, but can't prove that (9) Undermining receptivity toward entertaining absurd theses is a good way to undermine 'progress, modernity, open inquiry, and social justice.' 

 The real underlying method of these hoaxes is explicitly acknowledged. It's 'sophism,' which was adopted in order to fit in with what were taken to be other sophists. with the field and then sought to bend the existing scholarship to support it. There is ingenuity and humor in these hoaxes--all the ingredients of effective satire. But the problem is, the hoaxes are not satire (see here how it should be done). By contrast, (10) if you adopt the methods of the sophists to combat the sophists, you contribute to a culture of sophistry and you become a sophist. To avoid that fate, Socrates was willing to die.   

 

On Productivity in Philosophy; a mitigated defense

A few minutes into the conversation she asks the inevitable question.  “So, what are you working on?”  You say, “nothing.”  Or to make it perfectly clear, you say, “I am working on nothing.”  You are met with a suppressed shock (without the awe) that barely obscures your companion’s dark thoughts: you are living “dead wood,” worse, someone who has the gall to admit it. ...

No doubt this motivational desert was in part created by personal and familial challenges, as well as the extraordinarily disturbing current political climate.  But I’ve become convinced that my deepening disappointment with professional philosophy is what broke the camel’s back.  The solution might have been to sever all ties with professional philosophy—people do—but I’ve been part of this discipline for too long and know too many people.  It remains part of my identity.  It’s worth mentioning that I didn’t stop all writing.  There were blog posts (some relating to the philosophy profession), as well as miscellaneous unpublished writings.  But no traditional scholarship in philosophy...

Academic disciplines in our time have been subjected to a productivity principle: more is better, and a lot more is even better than better, giving rise to a kind of productivity syndrome, in which “more is better” becomes one’s modus operandi.  Alternatives to this MO come to seem unnatural, and quantitative measures take center stage.  For example, while we may rail about the importance of quality, the reality is that for tenure and promotion decisions, as well as a host of other professional perks, quantity rules the day.  Honestly, how often have you heard of someone not receiving tenure because his or her colleagues said that the quality of the work was unacceptable?  Of course this happens, but I am asking you to consider how often.  Having served on many internal and external reviews, my take-away is that quantity, and prestigious venues, are typically what win the day.  Yet, there is no guarantee that a book or article published by a prestigious press is of high quality.  We all know that weak or mediocre books slip through, for various reasons.  Quantity is so much easier....

Academic culture has become monomaniacally infatuated with productivity as a marker of accomplishment, of a successful academic life, of a successful life, and quantitative measures have become increasingly important in determining what counts as success, as we see, of course, in other sub-cultures of endeavor.  It’s increasingly difficult for people in America to consider non-productivity markers as acceptable indicators of a successful life, and academics are not immune to this productivity syndrome.  Quite the contrary.   Although they can be found resisting (mildly) the measurements of productivity foisted on them by university administrators, they also enthusiastically measure themselves.  It’s hard not to impress oneself by the number of one’s publications. ...

Philosophy was supposed to be different from other disciplines, or so I thought some 45 years ago when I was hooked.  Philosophy has been deeply committed to the honing of critical skills for millennia, as well as to enhancing our capacity for thoughtful and sustained reflection on matters public and private.  Philosophers were supposed to be the fearlessly critical ones.  The ones who wouldn’t be sucked in.  The ones who stood back and said, look, don’t uncritically buy into the values of your society.  Question.  Reflect.  Think.  Are these values truly those of a good life?  Socrates was the archetype.  Sadly, too many philosophers have decided to set old Socrates aside, embracing the productivity principle with varying degrees of fervor.  And to make matters worse, a lot of these people have highly visible positions, which makes them, even more unfortunately, the face of the profession.

I was naive to have believed that philosophy would be different—that philosophers would be more vigorously critical (even about their own professional activities) than those in other disciplines—but I never fully gave up on the hope over the years.  Today I am close to despair on this front–hence the motivational crisis.  I don’t want to be part of the productivity system.  I don’t want to be identified with academics or philosophers who suffer from the syndrome....

I left Penn State for Juilliard....You don’t get a more competitive crowd than Juilliard students and faculty, and yet there are significant differences from traditional academia.  There is an intense investment in quality, but few ways to translate this quality into numbers.  It’s not how many Haydn quartets you have played.  Rather, it’s how well you are playing this one.  I am not saying that there isn’t careerism.  But that careerism isn’t tied to quantifiable productivity in the same way it is in academia.  

...

Where were the philosophers who should have been saying that philosophy doesn’t play the productivity game?!?  The unexamined life is not worth living.  And living as a vehicle for production—as an instrument of production instead of as an instrument of action, of life—must be resisted, must be fought.  And fought in the name of philosophy.

...

None of this speaks to the deeply personal and tradition-bound reasons we have for wanting to write philosophy.  But we must find a way to separate the activity of expressing ourselves from the commodification and commercialization of that expression, which is at the heart of the productivity syndrome.

Here is another suggestion: stop writing philosophy for publication for an extended period of time.  Announce this decision to colleagues.  Be willing to say that this is for your good and for the good of philosophy.  Acknowledge that you need time to reflect on what the productivity preoccupation is doing to philosophy and to you as a philosopher.--Mitchell Aboulafia "The Productivity Syndrome (or why I stopped writing philosophy)"

Aboulafia's piece resonated with quite a few friends and was circulated widely on social media. While the piece touches on many issues along the way that I ignore in what follows, in it he offers at least six competing visions of philosophy. Let me list these first:

1. The Socratic one, which involves "thoughtful and sustained reflection on matters public and private" and is willing to be critical of ruling values..  
2. Philosophy as self-expression (in the context of a tradition). 
3. The sophistic one, that focuses on productivity and is incentivized by measures of these.
4. The artistic model focused on quality of performance.
5. The dilettante who writes blog posts and other occasion pieces.*
6. The teaching of philosophy.

It is a bit unfortunate  that Aboulafia runs the question of professional philosophy and the question of philosophy together. Perhaps because I spent a good part of my professional-scholarly life writing about men and women who were never employed in universities or by the Church [Descartes, Hume [who tried to get a position], Hobbes, De Grouchy, Margaret Cavendish, Toland, Mandeville, Spinoza [who declines an offer], Du Chatalet, Leibniz, J.S. Mill, Wollstonecraft, Diderot, Voltaire, Rousseau, etc.], I think it's important to keep track of the difference.

So, first, today it is unlikely that Socrates, who disliked writing for publication, would get tenure on his public philosophy. (The turn to emphasis on productivity is actually fairly recent, I am just old enough to remember tenured folk with very short publication records in many department.)  But there are additional reasons to doubt he would be tenurable; Socrates would be a bad colleague: he would show up late for meetings, be uncollegial, and would take an unhealthy interest in the sexual lives of some of our students. In addition, his relentless willingness to scrutinize and deviate from the norms of society would make him a liability to any university. Socrates's execution is a warning that his is a high risk approach to philosophy for society and the person pursuing it.** I call this the Socratic Problem for philosophy. Nobody has solved it.

To move on: the artistic model is an attractive one because quality is grounded in technique and elite, daily scrutiny by teachers and peers. As Coetzee is fond of noting (see "What is a Classic" and my response here), these can sustain interest in relatively neglected artists, works, and approaches. We can understand literary criticism, Coetzee argues, as a contribution to a culture focused on quality.  But the political economy and infrastructure that sustains such elite art, including Julliard, is ultimately rooted in performance to a wider public or rich donors. And so, in part, in uninformed opinion (which, when applied to philosophy, opens the door to the Socratic Problem). While the artistic model can be applied, in part, to philosophy [and is to be discerned in the ways that philosophers are increasingly becoming ornaments to and the in-house futurologists or ethicists of billionaire-software-entrepreneurs], philosophy faculty and graduates are not public performers in the relevant analogous sense.  That is, and to be a bit deflationary, the artistic model is rooted in institutions focused on professional education (and they rise and fall with the market for these professionals). I don't deny the artistic model is worth having. I admire Robert Pirsig and, more recently, Mathew Crawford, who have both pursued it in their writings (both by pointing to it and living it). Adrian Piper is finally getting the recognition for her version of it. 

Third, philosophy as self-expression within tradition has important merits. It taps into a human need, and connects and extends the past (tradition) into the future. But there are two not quite related problems: (i) few selves are really all that interesting--and, when interesting (note Socrates above), they tend to be a poor fit for department life; (ii) it's hard to see this being a promising strategy for survival in publicly funded institutions, where both financial scarcity and the need for public justification are non-trivial. 

Fourth, the dilettante is by definition unprofessional. I hope it is clear I am no enemy of the dilettante (I hope i am not delusional in saying that I have a track record in which I exhibit and show a certain fondness for blogs and occasion pieces). But by definition the dilettante is not at home in a profession. It's not to deny that all the fruits of a dilettante can be turned into sophistry (I could share my blog numbers and citations, after all), but that would be self-defeating given the aims of Aboulafia. 

So, that leaves teaching and sophistry which is (ahh), despite many national and institutional differences (which can make a huge local difference), the status quo for the profession. Aboulafia and I agree that teaching of philosophy is noble and justifiable, and that the sophistic model is corrosive of philosophy in various way (although it need not be corrosive to society [recall])--most of my blogging history is an attempt to document this corrosion so won't repeat today. Even so, it is a bit unfortunate that (i) Aboulafia ignores that many of us (sophists in our research) keep teaching Socrates, Plato and the other critics of Sophism (then and since) to our students (few other professions can say that!); and (ii) Aboulafia ignores some other noble and self-vindicating alternatives that can be housed in universities:

7. Together with Roger de Langhe, I have offered an ameliorative (and very broad tent) strategy (here) for those of us fated to be professionals in a sophistic system: philosophy as exploratory research. (Go read it, and tell me what you think!)

8. Philosophy as service (recall Dotson).

9. Synthetic philosophy (recall this post)

How to do 7-9 without being corrupted by the pervasive sophism is for another day.

Here I want to close with a critical thought on Aboulafia's conflation of careerism and productivity. For in his disillusionment, he loses sight of the fact that there is nothing wrong as such with people publishing lots of philosophy in scholarly journals (unless one buys into Socrates's privileging of the spoken world over the written one).+ Yes, there are some technical problems (shortage of referees, journal capture, echo-chambers, etc.), and some publications generate inductive risk to society. But intrinsically publishing philosophy is a pleasing activity that keeps all kinds of conversations going -- that just is (recall) the mark of civilization -- and is a public record of our individual and collective efforts. In addition, it is a discovery procedure of what one thinks over time (so, oddly, it contributes indirectly to (2) philosophy as self-expression in a tradition [recall!]) and, if not pay-walled, it is a public good, that is a means to discovery by others (recall).

In fact, I sense in Aboulafia a suspicion of quantity as such. That is, there is not just a veneer of careerism that hangs over quantity, but, in his hands, also superficiality, a lack of profundity and depth. Aboulafia's rhetoric is one that used to be espoused by gentlemen-amateurs in hierarchical societies annoyed at the upstarts (professional, rootless, meritocratic, etc.) who upend existing hierarchy (and the old-boy networks they sustain). But this rhetoric rests on a mistake. (Aboulafia recognizes it is a mistake -- "the system makes it too easy to substitute quantity for quality" --, but can't resist himself.) Most of the best philosophers (we know of today in our traditions) were manifestly addicted to writing their thoughts (in notebooks, letters, etc.). This is no surprise: philosophy is, in part, a written craft, which requires enormous amount of exercise even for those that have scaled -- sorry for the elitism, but I am addressing an elitist argument -- the peaks of our history. This need to practice and exercise the skill is also true for the professional journeymen/women, who publish in journals. Of course, not all of these exercises are worth publishing (that's why we have editors and referees, etc.).

Some of us are so good at writing professional philosophy that taking an occasional break from such writing can do no harm and may even advance philosophy in the broader sense.  But professional writing, publication, requires exercise, and the best form of such exercise for many is ultimately regular, attempted publication.++ 

 

Leading Philosophers Clueless about 'Public' Philosophy, Yet Wish to Control It

Does anybody remember the now unknown names of the Dijon academy that awarded the prize to Rousseau's first Discourse (and, later, his now less famous Letter on French Music)? History is unfair to the discerning judges, who launched the greatest career in public philosophy of the eighteenth century (which has quite a few contenders). Perhaps, if one believes in inductive risk, it is better this way because the train of Rousseau's ideas did not only have noble consequences and so one could judge the prize committee harshly. The point is that whatever the petty or elevated motives of the Academy were to institute their prize, or merely following European fashion, it translated its prestige into recognition of the essential task for philosophy: to give us systematic ideas and programs to live by or, at least, to challenge those we are currently accepting too easily. That means a willingness to take a chance on dangerous ideas.

Public philosophy (recall this post on my analysis)** is, ever since Socrates turned away from the heavens and to his contemporaries, the very justification of philosophy. Revelation agrees, Ye shall know them by their fruits. To forestall misunderstanding: this is not a rejection of professional philosophy and the intrinsic wonder-occasioned, often scholastic pursuit of puzzles and problems that characterizes so many of our professional activities. The by-products and sometimes even the intended results of attempted puzzle solving is to provide one of the main sources of fuel that drives innovation in public philosophy. (I do not share in the neurotic fear among my peers that we are not progressing; who cares as long as we're innovating and suppling the conceptual architecture of the public philosophy needed by humanity?)*

As an aside, such a consequentialist justification for the practice of philosophy is written into the DNA of analytic philosophy, especially those of us that embrace formal methods (recall here on Carnap vs Quine; here on Williamson; on Ernest Nagel). That's easy to see because analytic philosophy is substance-free: it's a sponge-like enterprise, characterized by if not topic neutral than generalist (that is empty-ish) methods and argumentative rigor.

Okay, so much for prelude.

The occasion for today's J'accuse is the simultaneous refusal by the Marc Sanders Foundation to award a cash prize ($4500) and publication in Philosopher's Imprint as its annual Public Philosophy Award because "no essay satisfied their standards," and the (personal) insistence of this year's committee member David Velleman, in remarks in a Dailynous thread that last year's prize, "Why Throwing 92 Heads in a Row is not Surprising," fully merited the award.+ Now, I really don't want to take a piss on a junior colleague, who writes well, has wide learning, and a keen interest in big issues. Let's encourage that (writing well, wide learning, etc)! I am happy that Philosopher's Imprint published his essay. But you ought to know something has gone wrong if you give a prize for this sentence, "Put less formally, the idea that seems to be at work in both of these formal treatments of surprise is that the surprisingness of a conjunction e1 & e2 must be a function of the surprisingness of e1, the surprisingness of e2 and the connection between them." The whole art if not beauty of public philosophy is that you can convey the most exacting and (sure) formal ideas without such clunky prose or ever having to introduce (this is a symptom/example) such notation!** The main problem of the winning piece (to repeat as public philosophy) is not that it tries to convey technical material somewhat less technically, the main problem is that it is hard to say what it ultimately wishes to convey. (It is something about 'surprise and belief;' about 'rational belief;' or about the difference  between the mathematics of surprise and the mathematics of probability?)  The piece has other, more stylistic problems: including the repeated use of italics to convey emphasis. (I am a sinner, too!) I could go on. You may think I hate the piece, I don't. Except for not sticking to one main issue, it conveys very nicely the kind of things we try to teach all the time: clean prose, relevance, underlying argumentative rigor, etc.++ But the virtues we teach are not the virtues of public philosophy. This is why I register my protest!

So, before I continue I should mention that this year's committee involved, Susan Wolf (UNC Chapel Hill), Ken Taylor (Stanford University and Philosophy Talk), Barry Maguire (Stanford University), David Velleman (NYU and Editor of Philosophers’ Imprint), and Brigid Hains (Editorial Director, Aeon Magazine). What they (the philosophers on the committee) have in common is that they have (a) high  institutional prestige; (b) are (at their best) excellent philosophical prose-stylists; and (c) have experience in (organizing) what I'll call philosophical outreach (philosophy cafe, philosophy talk, etc.) The more senior of these are influential in professional philosophy with distinguished positions and students all over the profession. However, none of them have  produced a single memorable instance of long form public philosophy which they define as "(minimum 3,000 words, maximum 10,000) with significant philosophical content or method written by someone with significant philosophical training primarily for an audience of non-academics." (Okay, that's a defeasible claim.) That's because writing stylish philosophical prose that we write for other philosophers is distinct from producing excellent public philosophy. (Dan Dennett and Martha Nussbaum may be the contemporay exceptions to the rule.)

Nor have the members of this committee shown themselves champions of long form philosophy before. (Of course, their conversion to the cause is to be welcomed. And they may think that this blog post attacking them is just evidence that all good deeds go punished.) Even so, their main qualifications seem to be prestige, the ability to recognize philosophical content produced by somebody with philosophical training, and editorial access to the Philosopher's Imprint. You may think I am being so unfair here. But remember the committee's talents were wasted because they launched no long form essay into the world this year and promote the wrong exemplar.

Who [the Fxxx] are you, Schliesser?

Well, I don't think I am disclosing anything confidential, but I had, in fact, been approached to submit to this year's contest by the committee. So at least somebody thinks I may have skill in the matter. (I declined cause I really need not produce more stuff.) More important, when I left NewAPPS in November 2013, I wrote in self-serving, but sincere, fashion: "I take great pride in the fact that we have revived the art of the philosophical essay; when I feel melancholic, I turn to the 'NewAPPS back-lists' of Bell, Des Chene, Matthen, Brogaard, and Cogburn." (Before you think I am only self-serving, notice I did not include Schliesser.) So, at least I have a track-record of saying  I care greatly about the fate of long-form philosophy (including opportunity costs, being the subject of anonymous mockery, etc.) I am not claiming my blogging buddies produced the best or only long form essays of the period. But it is indisputable that prior to NewAPPS, no group of philosophers was so devoted to producing long form philosophy since (haha) the Berlin Enlightenment. (Okay that was over the top.)

Yes, you could argue, more soberly, that Simon Critchley's The Stone and his more famous contributors reached a wider audience and were more influential leveraged by the authority of the New York Times. I won't argue you with you, except to note that because NewAPPS could ignore marketing (no advertising dollars) and the relevance of the news cycle, our essays were untainted by extrinsic factors. Either way, between Critchley's line up and the NewAPPS crowd I mentioned you could have an award committee that grasps the nature and substance of public philosophy by way of the long form essay. (Since those halcyon days, Helen de Cruz, Lisa Guenther, Eric Schwitzgebel, Omri Boehm, Amia Srinivasan, have been quite notable producers of public long form essays [apologies to the many i leave out].)

So here's my best case scenario suggestion, ask world class practitioners of the philosophical long form essay to be judges for the Sanders Public Philosophy Award.** Worst case scenario, this crowd may have slightly less prestige, on average, than the present committee (and undoubtedly quite a few will find it annoying that I have name-dropped them into this controversy). And just maybe this committee will allow itself the privilege to give the money and attention to somebody who has no professional philosophical training at all. Cause generous souls recognize that the way to protect philosophy's public future is not to run a disciplinary cartel.

Given that the present Sanders foundation is -- unlike the original and rather quirky (philosophy-wise) Marc Sanders -- risk averse and primarily giving money to inside-the-philosophical-beltway people/projects,** the suggestion to dramatically change the composition of the jury is silly. To be sure, the foundation can do whatever it wants with its money and has every right to ignore my unsolicited suggestions. But because it is shaping the future of philosophy along multiple dimensions (for my argument see here), we should judge it by its foreseeable effects. As is, this Prize should not be allowed to define how we think of the long form essay and/or public philosophy. 

You may grant my larger complaints and still think that the committee may well have  been right to award no prize this year. Shouldn't we trust our peers? As my regular readers now know, from the start of  my blogging career, I have been a critic of all behind-closed-doors-editorial decisions of our profession, so I am not a fan of such professional deference. But, as it happens, I have now read some of the contributions to this year's prize; I can't say they were the best of the crop. But they were prize-worthy.

Because I do not want to criticize only, let me offer a modest, second-best suggestion: it would be far more fruitful if the Public Philosophy Prize became an annual, retrospective award for published long form essays. (Apologies to the person who first suggested this to me!) That way, given that the discipline's gate-keepers are not trying to anoint the next Rousseau, they need not play too many other roles here (setting standards, judging what should be  published in a leading philosophical outlet, handing out cash prizes). Rather the committee could thereby express it sincere thanks, perhaps even on behalf of the rest of us, to the noble editors and curators who made hearing public philosophy's voice(s) possible. It could even republish the best piece in Philosopher's Imprint and so give it a professional seal of approval that (let's be practical) will count to tenure.

 

On Philosophy as (moral) Improver (of Others); or on the Art of Wisdom [with some stuff on the Hypatia affaire]

[O]ne must not talk to a man unless he is willing to listen. That is why it is often doubted whether Diogenes and the other Cynics, who employed an undiscriminating freedom of speech and offered advice to any who came in their way, ought to have pursued such a plan.....This very thing [giving unsolicited advice]...is, I believe, exactly what a great-souled man ought not to do; his influence is weakened; it has too little effect upon those whom it might have set right if it had not grown so stale. The archer ought not to hit the mark only sometimes; be ought to miss it only sometimes. That which takes effect by chance is not an art; wisdom is an art [Sapientia ars est]; it should have a definite aim, choosing only those who will make progress, but withdrawing from those whom it has come to regard as hopeless, -yet not abandoning them too soon, and just when the case is becoming hopeless trying drastic remedies....

As to our friend Marcellinus, I have not yet lost hope.  He can still be saved, but the helping hand must be offered soon.  There is indeed danger that be may pull his helper down; for there is in him a native character of great vigour, though it is already inclining to wickedness.  Nevertheless I shall brave this danger and be bold enough to show him his faults. --Seneca, Letter 29.

A philosopher needs to be willing to restrain her tongue. Not everyman will benefit from her wisdom; and not every moment is apt. So, a ruling philosophical virtue is the exercise of self-command. Now, in context it is clear that Seneca presents philosophy as a kind of cure or therapy/exercise for a particular individual (whose soul is, thereby, saved). The analogy with medicine (and religion) is deliberate. But the improvement (flourishing/mental health, etc.) is also intended to be moral (in the modern sense). In fact, the cure can be dangerous to student and philosophical-healer:  Seneca makes clear that one of the medicines involves showing another his depravity [pravum]. Seneca recognizes that not everybody welcomes being shown a mirror in which one's moral flaws are made visible. (He also has sobering things to say about the expected reactions to such mirroring.)*

While few professional philosophers understand their own mission in these ways, more than a few understand that they may be called to speak truth to power, challenge the status quo, or show the theoretical path toward an improved, more just (happier, more egalitarian, etc.) world. We are often invited to engage with the public and I work in a system of higher education where public dissemination (and valorization) of one's research is expected. During the past years, many of us have been reminded that there are many social agents and forces, which try to silence and intimidate professors [fill in your favorite examples here].

It is not controversial that to be silenced is bad. And self-censorship out fear of external intimidation is bad, too. (I leave aside here if one is blameworthy if one self-censors out of fear.) What interests me here is that Seneca also advocates a worthy self-censorship. I think we can discern in his text two reasons for worthy self-censorship: (i) if one judges that one's words will not have desirable effects on one's audience; (ii) if one judges that the impotency of one's words, even if truth-apt, reduce one's credibility in the future. Both (i-ii) are instances of prudence (mixed in, as it happens, with some paternalism in (i).)

I was reminded of the Feministphilosophers response to the Hypatia affaire. After noting that it is difficult to take a stand as a group blog and noting possible source of conflict of interest among some of its members.  They write that:

3. Some of us do not feel that online discussion of this issue is doing any good for anyone.  A variety of carefully thought-out positions have already been articulated, and we do not feel that we would have anything useful to add.  Much of the online discussion has only served to cause more pain to people on all sides who are trying their best to do what is right.  We do not want to add to this.  In short, even though we are a blog, we don’t think that online discussion is always useful.  In this case, we think further online discussion is counterproductive, and we’re not going to contribute to it.

I have to admit that at first I was a bit surprised by the post: anything more than 'no comment' invites further discussion (and a blog can simply skip the topic). As a former NewAPPSer I sympathized with the trickiness of formulating a "blog view" in light of individual diversity. But I also thought that the Hypatia case raised many interesting and pertinent questions about philosophical methodology and sociology not just for feminist philosophers, but for us all. It makes a huge intellectual difference if one understands the affair as a question about the nature of responsible speech (recall), or about refereeing practices in socially engaged philosophy (recall), or about who has the authority to speak on behalf or in place of others (recall). But I recognize that others think the affair is fundamentally about proper journal processes, including (as the winners of the internal power struggle at Hypatia state) "adherence to guidelines issued by COPE guidelines"; or about how well meaning scholarship can cause unintentional harm; or about how to publish in a field of scholarship where one may come to think that (quoting Richard Moran) "much of it is just plain awful" and so one has "every right to ignore work, even whole areas of work."**(Add your own take here.) More important, perhaps, the Hypatia affair raises interesting questions for feminism about its relationship to (the intersections of) trans-gender and trans-racial (etc.) issues.

So, at the time, I was greatly disappointed by this stance because I felt important issues would go unexplored. I think the members of the blog would have added to the  discussion, perhaps even elevated it. But in subsequent debates we would have learned more. That is, I would have viewed -- and here I show my un-selfconscious liberalism -- the ensuing conversations and debates as a discovery mechanism.

But, of course, Feministphilosophers is not saying that there is nothing of interest to be discovered here; rather they do not wish to host the conversation about it (online). They appeal directly to a no-harm principle (avoid adding pain). But they also invoke a version of Seneca's (i) when they claim online discussion of this issue is not doing any good for anyone. So Seneca's position is not merely hypothetical today. And, in reflecting on Feministphilosophers' decision, I think it is clear that from their own perspective they were engaged in worthy-self-censorship. (And by showing restraint the conversation about Hypatia did die down.)

One may claim that a blog goes against the spirit of Seneca's position. For in the very same letter he inveighs against catering to the crowd. "It takes trickery to win popular approval; and you must needs make yourself like unto themselves." In fact, he goes further by claiming (somewhat interestingly in light of his own experiences as a successful playwright), and by quoting Epicurus (but he is clear this is true for all schools), that a sage does not really understand what moves the crowd [quae probat populus ego nescio].+ For a blog is read or at least always runs the risk of being read by many not by a particular individual.

But so are Seneca's Letters. They are formally addressed to Lucilius, but we have already seen (recall letter 21) that he explicitly writes for others (including posterity too). And so, obliquely, Seneca raises here the question when he exercises worthy self-censorship in his presentation of his authorial persona, who dispenses self-regulation and medicines of the mind to others. And not for the first time when I read Seneca's Letters, I feel I have entered a dizzying hall of mirrors.

 

Should Policy Relevant Researchers Stay Out of Politics?

To lock yourself up in an ivory tower is impossible and undesirable. To yield subjectively, not merely to a party machine, but even to a group ideology, is to destroy yourself as a writer. We feel this dilemma to be a painful one, because we see the need of engaging in politics while also seeing what a dirty, degrading business it is.--Orwell (1948) "Writers and Leviathan."

Liam Kofi Bright ignited discussion on Facebook of a (fairly) recent paper by (BHLer) Bas van der Vossen. This paper argues for a normative conception of the division of labor, between "consumers," that is, "activists," and producers, that is, political philosophers (19), of political philosophy such that pure specialization between them should be maintained:

for precisely those academics that work on politically relevant topics, most prominently among them political philosophers. For them, the university should become more like an Ivory Tower, not less.... the problem with these [political] activities is that they encourage us to think about ourselves in partisan terms. And this is incompatible with our academic professional responsibilities.--Bas van der Vossen (2015) "In Defense of the Ivory Tower: Why Philosophers Should Stay Out of Politics" (1-2)

Before I get to his main argument, I want to note, first, that throughout his paper Van der Vossen equivocates among (i) 'working on politically relevant topics' and (ii) "those who are serious about thinking through political issues" and (iii) being "paid to think about politics." (On (iii) he notes that political philosophers do not have a monopoly and he also lists "sociology, political science,  economics, gender studies, psychology." (2)) By this I do not mean that (i-iii) are not synonymous in the strict sense (they are not). Rather, there are quite a few sciences (genetics, climate-science, epidemiology, civil engineering, IT, etc.) that are politically extremely relevant, but that are not, in the first instance, about thinking about political issues (although, interestingly enough, it does happen).  Because Van der Vossen ignores those latter sciences he can escape having to think about difficult, hybrid contexts where the distinction between consumer/producer is not so easy to draw. In what follows, where necessary, I distinguish between policy relevant research and research about politics and political issues.

Second, Van der Vossen's paper presupposes non-trivial commitments about the good life: "Many people stay out of political activism and they do just fine. Activism is not a necessary ingredient of a good life." (18) One need not be an elitist, a Republican-thinker, or a follower of Hannah Arendt to see that appealing to what "many people" do and that they are doing fine is an odd standard. The paper is also oddly complacent about the status quo (b) "many people in even the healthiest democracies around the world are not politically active and, in the grand scheme of things, these democracies seem to do just fine." (19) Even if this were true (when the paper was published in 2015 [i would reject this]) a cosmopolitan, political philosopher may take an interest in the health of transnational political subjects and promote these via transnational activism.

Third, and this is more important, Van der Vossen takes for granted that the bridge between consumers and producers of political philosophy can be bridged without the producers being politically active. His is a magical theory of dissemination; if you produce it, it will be  consumed. This may be true for (lots of) highways, but it is rarely true otherwise. While there are many different ways in which the gap can be bridged between policy relevant research and politics, a key way is by way of what Merel Lefevere and I call aggregators. Aggregators are distinguished researchers, whose professional function is, in part, to act as an interface between research and policy. There are many different kinds of aggregators (journal editors, science policy-advisors, science-journalists, etc.) and not all of them maintain active research profile or need to do so. But because cutting edge research is often extremely complex/subtle it is important that some of the  best researchers are also aggregators. In practice, these researchers-aggregators often have high prestige within the field (think of Singer, Pogge [sic], Nussbaum, Baroness O'Neill of Bengarve, Norman Daniels, etc.). (This is not the place to explore all the tricky issues pertaining to this class of researcher-aggregator, especially if they deviate from professional consensus and advocate their own views, but recall this post.) In some grant-driven environments, researchers are, in fact, expected by the grant agency to play some role as an aggregator or actively disseminate their research.

That he misses the very issue becomes clear when we turn to his argument (which he has helpfully summarized):

(1) People who take up a certain role or profession thereby acquire a prima facie moral duty to  make a reasonable effort to avoid those things that predictably make them worse at their tasks

(2) The task of political philosophers is to seek the truth about political issues

(3) Therefore, political philosophers have a prima facie moral duty to make a reasonable effort to avoid those things that predictably make them worse at seeking the truth about political  issues

(4) Being politically active predictably makes us worse at seeking the truth about political issues

(5) Therefore, political philosophers have a prima facie moral duty to avoid being politically active (17-18)

Aggregators clearly violate the  conclusion of the argument, But one could accept all the premises of the argument, even its conclusions, and still see a need for aggregators in practice. That is, (5) is at best a defeasible duty. It becomes defeasible for two interesting, interdependent reasons: (a) research is esoteric, and so requires expertise to navigate; (b) political activists lack time to explore and master an esoteric realm.

In addition, it is, of course, also an empirical question if aggregators really become worse at their research. (This is not to deny that Van der Vossen draws on rich empirical research on the effects of partisanship and also about motivated reasoning and rationalization--including work by Dan Sperber that I happen to be reading this week, too.) I bet the most admired 20th century professional economists -- by other economists -- were Samuelson, Arrow, Friedman, and Keynes.* While the first two cultivated a decidedly technocratic image, it's hard to say they stayed out of politics--they certainly functioned as aggregators in the sense I use the word. Would they have been better at their craft if they stayed clear of policy relevance? That's hard to imagine. Their biases animate their research. Would they have been even better researchers if they stayed clear of policy and the role of aggregator? That's a tricky counterfactual. I am not confident it can be answered.

So, far I have pretended to accept  all his premises. Regular readers, who may discern a skeptical strain in these Digressions, may suspect that I would hesitate at (2). But, for the sake of argument, I accept it. As it happens, I think there are also aesthetic goals of research that are not properly captured by 'truth.' (Not unlike Marcus Arvan I think there are also excellent reasons to think that there are other very respectable, epistemic and moral goals of research that may have  to be balanced.)

But I close with a final objection that is directed at the way Van der Vossen cashes out premises (3-4). For, he thinks that biased research is incompatible with the pursued of truth. That is, he conflates unbiased (and partisan) research with truth-apt research.**  As the previous paragraphs make clear individual researchers are part of a larger epistemic process in which motivated reasoning may well have some use. In fact, this theme is a feature, not a bug, of the law, which is an adversarial process in which the conflict between motivated reasoning, advocacy, helps uncover the truth. Obviously, academic research is not fully analogous with that (and being lawyer-ly is, in an important sense, inimical to a proper, collaborative research ethos). But if we think of research as a community-activity, then we can immediate see that's compatible with individual bias--as long as these individual biases contribute to a social, epistemic process that is truth-conducive. (Regular readers will recognize in the previous sentence my interest in combating biases -- purportedly truth-apt status quo and hierarchy biases -- with other biases in research.) That is, the process requires mechanisms and filters that help to transform the biases in truth-conducive activity. There is a nice formal (see here for useful discussion) and empirical literature on the role of diversity in  research, when it is or is not apt. [So, I am certainly not saying that all individual biases are good!] So, for (4) needs to be rewritten as follows:

(4+)Being politically active predictably makes us worse at seeking the truth about political issues unless the research institutions in which we operate are designed to prevent our biases from undermining the epistemic process.

 

I started this post with a quote from Orwell. Throughout his writings, Orwell discusses the problems of partisanship and its relationship to (artistic) integrity (recall, for example, this post; and here). And he discerned that we should not conflate partisanship and group-think with all political activism. That is to say, he recognizes that party-politics and group-enforced ideology do corrupt (he was primarily interested in writing, but his arguments carry over easily to research). But the answer to this need not be political quietism or withdrawal into the ivory tower. The problem is party-politics and ideologies.

For, there are lots of ways one can be politically active in which one's research (artistic vision) need not be undermined at all. Sometimes this is due to functional role (e.g., recall the stuff above aggregators above). But sometimes is due to the fact that corrupting elements can be avoided. This is most clear in advocacy work on single issues (death penalty, abortion, same-sex marriage, euthanasia, basic income, human rights, racism, etc.). The researcher can be uncompromising in her single-issue advocacy and maintain her integrity. (Grant me the distinction between single-issue and systemic ideology.) Often this generates a kind of lack of moderation, even fanaticism in the name of truth. While there are problems with that, these are political problems not research problems.

 

 

A Suggestion to Hypatia from a True Friend

It is our position that the harms that have ensued from the publication of this article could and should have been prevented by a more effective review process. We are deeply troubled by this and are taking this opportunity to seriously reconsider our review policies and practices. While nothing can change the fact that the article was published, we are dedicated to doing what we can to make things right. Clearly, the article should not have been published, and we believe that the fault for this lies in the review process. In addition to the harms listed above imposed upon trans people and people of color, publishing the article risked exposing its author to heated critique that was both predictable and justifiable. A better review process would have both anticipated the criticisms that quickly followed the publication, and required that revisions be made to improve the argument in light of those criticisms.... We are a scholarly journal committed to an anonymous peer review process. We want readers to feel free to offer their honest feedback on manuscripts submitted to Hypatia. Anonymous peer review is important for the scholarly reputation of Hypatia; mistakes in particular instances should not compromise the commitment to anonymous peer review in scholarship.--"To our friends and colleagues in feminist philosophy," Hypatia’s Board of Associate Editors [HT Ásta Kristjana Sveinsdóttir]

The details of the review process at Hypatia are described in the remainder of Associate Editors' statement. These do not live up to the discipline's very best practices (established recently) at Ergo, but -- if impartiality is our aim -- they are much better than how many purportedly 'top' (clubby) philosophy journals were being edited in recent memory (and some still are edited).

Even so, one need not be a student of psycho-analysis to note the anxious manner in which scholarly and anonymous peer review are being coupled in the statement. This confuses the process with the product. (In fact, there is a more general tendency among editors to farm out their judgment, procedurally, to overworked and under-appreciated referees, including the ridiculous practice of giving even transparently incompetent or biased referees de facto veto-power over the publication of a  paper.) Anonymous peer review may be a means to being scholarly and other important ends, it is not itself an end (even if various journal ranking agencies, whose metrics subtly structure the incentives of so much of professional academic life, treat it as such). But in what follows, I accept, for the sake of argument, that anonymous peer review is a condition on being thought scholarly these days.

As the Hypatia debacle is unfolding, Neil Levy notes (on Facebook) that risk averse editors of many journals (an overworked and unappreciated lot) will be less likely to accept papers on trans issues and other issues that potentially attract controversy: if even Hypatia got it wrong, what chance do I have? Such editors will worry that they don't have the expertise to choose reviewers, let alone assess the papers themselves, and rather than risk time consuming and reputation shattering controversy will simply desk reject.+ Levy's observation is important because it reminds us that self-censorship in light of would be social or political controversy is always a live option in philosophy (I routinely discuss this as the Socratic Problem in philosophy).

Now, one response to Levy's worry is specialization and ever more fine-grained scholarly niche construction. Potentially controversial papers would only land at extremely specialized journals with the expertise to handle them. Now, while I think philosophy would have higher utility if a whole bunch of work on infanticide had been marginalized, such a strategy (hyper-specialization) would be undesirable; such specialization would reinforce marginalization of morally and politically important topics. It would also be self-defeating because it would push talent away into other disciplines and practices.

But there is another way to think about specialization here. Rather than specialization being driven by topic, it could be driven by expected fallout* (<-- sorry that sounded too much like an atom bomb) potential, public controversy. That is, some journals can foresee that the papers they publish have a higher than mere chance probability to touch a powerful nerve in scholarly disputes and be taken up in the public culture, public policy, and (alas) the culture wars. Hypatia is, in fact, some such a journal. It is pretty clear that its current review process is ill-suited to Hypatia's participation in would-be-public philosophy. (On what public philosophy might be, recall here.) No amount of tinkering will prevent future debacles. It does not follow it should become more risk averse nor does it follow it needs to give up anonymous review.**

For one can make the anonymous review process public and combine it with crowd-review. What I have in mind is not uncommon in journals devoted (not surprisingly) to climate science. (What follows is inspired by the practice of Earth Science Dynamics; take a look at the flow chart of its review process here. [HT Charlotte Werndl; Joel Katzav))*** Here's how it works. A paper is handled as it always is handled and sent out to referees. These then submit their honest feedback. After minor review by the editor (to check that the report is not abusive, does not remove  confidentiality, etc.) the paper and the anonymous report are put up on the journal's website, where the author can respond to reviewer's objections, even re-submit the paper (with new reports, etc.), and where crowd-reviewers can participate on the paper (non-anonymously [in order to prevent the worst excesses familiar from the internet]). The exact details do not matter here. There are lots of ways to mix the process and many are pretty standard in various sciences. Luckily for Hypatia, it can draw on the expertise of a thriving and innovative community of feminist philosophers of science (some of whom sit on its various boards), many of whom have, in fact, scrutinized peer review practices ([see also this classic empirical paper by Wenneras &Wold] and recent work by Lee et al.)

As an aside, philosophy is a remarkably conservative and clubby professional discipline. (How clubby and boy-centric has long been known [recall here and here], but it has been now amply demonstrated in the Healy data and Weatherson's recent analysis.) This is especially problematic as it attempts to tackle issues that impinge on the lived experience(s) of just a few of its (ahh) gatekeepers.

What matters is that some such mixed referee process can (i) maintain anonymity of the main peer referees (and, thus, keep being thought scholarly), while simultaneously (ii) draw on a wider community of would be experts even interested/informed lay-people and (iii) alert the editors, authors, and referees to potential controversies that (this is important) one would wish to prevent. (The point is not to avoid controversy, but rather to be thoughtful and wise about them.) It also has the nice feature of (iv) creating interest in some of a  journal's publications. And, it puts the responsibility of publication back where it belongs: the editor and her team. Of course, such a would-be-technocratic solution does not end political controversy. But it would internalize political considerations in a transparent and fruitful way in the review process and it would address the systematic nature of the problems (for useful comments of their systematicity see thus post @Feministphilosophers). Of course, such mixed review practices were not practical (time, cost, etc.) in the pre-internet days. But that's no excuse now.