The Philosophers' Cocoon

UPDATED (see below)

Robert J. Sternberg's article at the Chronicle of Higher Education, "Career Advice from an Oldish Not-Quite Geezer", has been going around social media the past day or so. It's a great read, and offers some very heartfelt (and experienced!) career advice for academics. Here, in bullet-point form, is his advice:

1. Put your family first.
2. Make your health a close second.
3. Save as much money as you can.
4. If you’re in the wrong place, get out.
5. Stay away from jerks.
6. If you’re not having fun, something’s wrong.
7. Be true to yourself.
8. Don’t tie up too much of your self-esteem in someone else’s evaluation of your work.
9. Take stock periodically.
10. Have a hobby. See the world. Or both.
11. Help others.
12. Take some risks.

Several of these items really resonated with me, as they have seemed critical to my own well-being, my family's well-being, and my career (even in its relatively early stages). Accordingly, I thought it might be worthwhile both reflecting upon and discussing Sternberg's advice, and then discussing whatever advice of our own that we might have with each other! I suppose I'll begin. 😉

Here, first, are the items from Sternberg's list than resonated with me, and why:

• Put your family first: I've made no secret on this blog of the fact that my early career in philosophy was filled with many struggles–struggles finishing grad school, struggles enjoying academic philosophy, and struggles finding a permanent job. All in all, there were some very dark times, some of which put incredible stresses on my family and family members. And yet, for all that, it was in large part my family (my spouse, in particular) who were there, through thick and thin. I wasn't always fair to them, but I always tried to be (and continue to try to be), and I can say–confidently–that being good to one's family (at least for me) is without a doubt far more important than academic philosophy will ever be. Yes, there is so much that is unfair about academic philosophy–but don't let it darken your soul in such a way that you push away those who love and care about you. Even when it is hard, and even when you are frustrated or feel at the end of your rope, do your best to treat those who love you the way they deserve to be treated–as flesh and blood people who love you deeply, not an afterthought to your career.
• Make your health a close second: I've never had any serious health scares, but given that certain genetic predispositions to disease run in my family, it's always been something that's on my mind. One's health is easy to ignore while one is young, especially while one is distracted by grad school, job-market struggles, etc. But one should never forget how tenuous life is, and one owes it to one's loved ones to look after one's health!
• Save as much money as you can: I went into a serious amount of debt while in grad school, and have been paying if off ever since. 'nuff said, I think!
• Stay away from jerks: Early in my career, I got incredibly frustrated with how hostile much of academic philosophy seemed to me. Like all areas of human life, philosophy has its share of jerks–and, of course, there is the internet. I quickly found, however, that (A) it's not worth it to become a jerk, (B) there's little one can do about jerks, and (C) there is a very significant numbers of people of good will in academic philosophy, people who will tend to respond to good will with good will in return. Very few, if any, of us are never jerks–and, although like all people I have failed at avoiding jerkhood from time to time, my own experience has been that it is far better, both for one's soul and one's career, to try one's best to avoid being a jerk.
• If you're not having fun, something is wrong: Yes, there are many things wrong with academia (too few jobs, etc.)–but here is what I found several years ago, at the absolute lowest point of my career post-graduation: if one is miserable in academia, one should either leave or commit oneself to finding joy again in what one has control over–one's teaching, one's research, etc. It was, truly, only once I tried to start having fun again, in the classroom and in my research, that I actually did start having fun again, started publishing work I was proud of, and started showing improvements as a teacher. 
• Be true to yourself: Early in my career, I tried being the kind of philosopher I thought I was "supposed" to be in order to publish in top-journals, publishing very focused articles targeting very specific arguments in articles people had recently published in the field. I found it soul-crushing, and lost my joy for philosophy. I didn't get into philosophy in order to write "A reply to X's reply to Y in the Literature." I got into philosophy because I loved big, bold ideas–of the kind we read in Kant, Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, etc. While I would absolutely not compare myself to these greats, at one point several years ago I decided to stop trying to be the philosopher I thought I was supposed to be, and started simply writing articles on whatever ideas I found most interesting. I remember thinking to myself, "If I'm going to fail out of this line of work (which was a distinct possibility given the tenuousness of my career status at the time), I want to go out doing work I'm proud of and that represents who I am as a person, and the kind of philosophy I value." Almost immediately, I found my joy for philosophy again, and started publishing work I was proud of. No, I didn't publish any of that work in "top journals", and I don't care. 
• Don’t tie up too much of your self-esteem in someone else’s evaluation of your work: This relates back to the previous point. Early in my career (quite understandably, of course!), the thing I cared about most was what others thought of my work. I worried about what my dissertation committee thought, what journal reviewers thought, and so on. Disturbingly, it almost never occurred to me what I thought of my work. Was I doing the kind of work I was proud of? Was I passionate about what I was writing about? It was only once I actually asked these questions and came to the answer, "No", that it occurred to me that I was going about things all wrong. Yes, reviewers and editors are gatekeepers to publishing–but it was only once I started to trust my own judgment (once you have a PhD, you are qualified to judge philosophical work!) that I started to both (A) enjoy my work, and (B) publish more.
• Help others: Helping others is not only good for your soul, and (obviously) good for others. I tell you this: if you haven't tried it, you just might find yourself surprised about just how far a little good will can go.
• Take some risks: Early in my philosophical career, I lived in fear. If I remember anything about my early career as a philosophy, I remember all of the warnings I was given (viz. "Don't do this", "Don't do that, either"). Some warnings (e.g. don't be a jerk at conferences) were perfectly reasonable. However, all too many of them–including warnings I was given by "experienced" people in the field–were essentially warnings of the following from: "Don't do X, or people might judge you." I found the generalized fear this generated in me to be no way to live. It made academic philosophy seem like a scary place, and philosophers people to fear. I despised it so much, in fact, that one day I just decided I'd had it with living in fear. I started the Cocoon, spoke my mind openly (even, yes, saying ill-considered things on more than one occasion), wrote papers that (in my view, at any rate) took some risks…and found that it wasn't so bad at all.

 Finally, here are some other things I think I've learned:

• Focus on what you can control–yourself, your research, your teaching, etc.: Wittgenstein reportedly said to his friends, "Just improve yourself, that is all you can do to improve the world." (Monk, pp. 17-18)  While I wouldn't go that far, and definitely wouldn't consider Wittgenstein a moral sage on most matters, I did find–in terms of my own well-being, my family's well-being, and my career prospects–a real grain of truth in Wittgenstein's words. There are many things wrong with the world, including academia. We should all do what we can to improve these things. Still, when it comes to your own well-being, your family's well-being, and career prospects, or so I found, the best thing to do is focus on improving oneself–working as hard as one can to be the best researcher, teacher, colleague, friend, spouse, etc., that one can. It was only once I stopped worrying so much about, say, the horrible state of the job market, and more on what I could do to improve myself as a candidate–trying to enjoy working to become a better philosopher, teacher, colleague, and husband for their own sake–that things actually started look up, in more ways that one.
• Don't underestimate the value of good relationships, as well as mentors: As I'm not the most naturally social of people (to put it mildly!), early in my career I did philosophy in something of a vacuum–believing that if only I could produce good or great work myself, then I just might be able to forge a career in philosophy. The long and short of it: I was lonely, and had trouble producing good work. Then, little by little, I started to open up to people, talk to them at conferences, reach out to them over email, exchange feedback on each other's word, developing friendships with others–and I found it to be wonderful. It was wonderful, both for its own sake (it's great to have friends and colleagues!), but also as a philosopher! Exchanging ideas, debating arguments, etc.: that's what we live for as philosophers, right? It's shocking how much more fun it is when you actually get to know people and do these things with each other for fun. And, don't be afraid to approach people as mentors. Don't just approach random people out of the blue, "cold calling", as it were. But don't be afraid to approach with and interact fellow philosophers, approaching (and indeed, asking!) for mentorship if in need. In my experience, you will be surprised just how many people are willing to lend a helping hand–in ways, both large and small–if only you ask.
• Put yourself out there: This sort of relates back to Sternberg's point about taking risks. When I asked the Cocoon's readers why there are so few early-career bloggers, the most common response I received is that people were afraid of how it might affect their career, job-market prospects, etc. This, again, seems to me to be a part of the (unfortunate and underdiscussed) "culture of fear" that pervades academic philosophy. And yet, my own own experience has been that–however many warnings you might get–living in this kind of fear is profoundly counterproductive. I didn't start the Cocoon as an attempt to further my career. Frankly, when I started the blog, I didn't have much hope of anything. I was just sick of the fact that, as a graduate student and early-career scholar, there was no place for struggling people like me to help each other. Further, I suspect that were I to ask a more established/experienced person whether it would be a good idea to start blogging openly about my personal and professional struggles–and speaking my mind about issues in the profession–while in such a tenuous professional position (i.e. in a terminal, non-tenure-track job), I suspect something like 99% of them would have told me: "Don't do it! Search committees and other members of the profession might judge you for the things you write." And yet, while I'm sure there have been more than a few people out there who have judged me for things I have written (in some cases, probably, judged me with good reason!), my overwhelming experience has been that these kinds of generalized warnings ("Be careful! Don't…") don't match reality. My performance on the job-market didn't suffer after I started blogging. It dramatically improved. Again, this wasn't my aim–but it was the reality. I can't pretend that "putting yourself out there" will help you in your career–but, what I can say is this: as long as you do it with good faith, it's a whole lot better than living one's career isolated and in fear of "putting yourself out there."

Anyway, these are just some of my thoughts. What about you all? Do you have any career advice you think readers might find helpful?

UPDATE:

• Ask for help when in need: I almost forgot one of the most important lessons I've learned. Early in my career, I attempted to solve all of my problems myself. If I was having trouble with my dissertation, I endeavored to work harder–and got nowhere. If I was having trouble publishing, I revised more–and got nowhere. Then I tried something new: I gathered up the fortitude to ask someone for help. The first people I asked for help were a couple of faculty in my grad program, one of whom I hardly had a relationship with at all. Both people gave me invaluable advice that helped me (finally!) finish my degree. Similarly, after having little luck publishing, I finally ended up asking a few early-career colleagues who were publishing what their secrets were–and their advice was invaluable. These are just a couple of examples. Time and time again in my career, when I've been in need, asking for help proved to be the most helpful way forward! In some cases, I was surprised that those I asked were as helpful as they were–but here again, as I mentioned above, I found far more help and good will than I naively expected.