In the comments section of my Top 5 Job-Market Tips post, Postdoc wrote:
I think another tip worth mentioning is network and find an advisor or mentor who is going to work on your behalf to help you get a job, to help you publish, talk you up, introduce you to the big names in the field, and so on. Many of those I know who managed to get somewhere were great networkers, or had a lot of help from more senior faculty…if you think you can get a job based simply on your own merit, especially if you don't have the pedigree, I think you'll be disappointed. So, I guess this tip could be summarized like so: As unintuitive as it might seem to some of you (I know it never occurred to me), don't spend all your time during your PhD reading and writing. Rather, be sociable, and find out how to get people to like you, remember you, think you're smart, and so on. (I've found that a good way to get people to think you're smart is to 1. use big words and 2. be fast on your feet, e.g. maybe memorize a series of witty but not condescending rejoinders). These things are as important to finding a job as your philosophical outputs…
Funny thing, even before Postdoc wrote this comment, I had planned to write a post in this series on how people matter. In brief, though I deeply disagree with Postdoc's point about sounding smart, my overall experience has been much the same as Postdoc's. The people I know who have the most successful in the profession have indeed been, by and large, those who developed good relationships, not just with mentors but with people in the profession more broadly, including other grad students. More than that, though, I've found good relationships in the profession to be intrinsically valuable, in ways I underestimated early in my career. Allow me to explain.
On at least a few occasions on this blog, I've seen commenters say that the profession wasn't what they expected. They expected academic philosophy to be a "life of the mind", an escape from the schmoozing, competitiveness, and so on, of most other professions. And indeed, I explained in my recent post on casting aside bitterness and resentment, this was broadly my experience. I entered philosophy idealistically. I just loved doing philosophy. I wasn't prepared for the profession's focus on program rankings, journal rankings, or for the "sidling up" to famous faculty members I saw other students do. A lot of these things seemed to me unfortunate, so for a while I just tried to ignore them. I didn't care about relationships very much. I just wanted to do good work and (following Postdoc's comment) demonstrate that I was smart.
However, over the years my perspective fundamentally changed. I am still very much averse to schmoozing/brown-nosing, which seems to me cynical and inauthentic. Instead, for reasons I will explain in a moment, I came to find that relationships are genuinely important, not just instrumentally (qua getting a job, mentoring, etc.), but more importantly intrinsically (viz. developing genuine friendships, etc.). Indeed, I found that once I better understood "the point" of developing good relationships, I could (and should) do so in a way that didn't feel inauthentic.
My conversion to understanding the value of professional relationships came through hardship. As I explained in my bitterness and resentment post, for a while in grad school I let my frustration lead me to push people away. At one point, I was so close to failing out of grad school–unable to put a good dissertation topic together–that I was truly at the end of my rope. As I didn't know what to do, I decided to take a risk: I walked into the offices of my advisor and other faculty members–people I hadn't done much to develop good relationships with–and was just honest with them. I let them know I was struggling, and that I knew I hadn't put the best foot forward. I asked for help. Due to the fact that I hadn't developed the best relationships, I had no idea what to expect. For all I knew, perhaps they would tell me there was nothing they could do. But that isn't what happened. Instead, each of the people I approached responded with good will. They helped me, gave me advice, and encouraged me. I hadn't deserved it…but it saved my graduate career.
That was when I began to understand that developing good relationships in the profession needn't be about "schmoozing" (though for some people, admittedly, it may be).
First, developing good relationships can be vital to becoming a better philosopher, teacher, and member of the profession. Since these are presumably the kinds of things one enters into grad school to learn, if you approach relationships this way, there need be nothing cynical or inauthentic about pursuing them.
Second, as Postdoc notes, good relationships may help your career: by providing you with better mentoring and "connections" that may help you on the job-market. There is, admittedly, a tension here. Are you pursuing good relationships simply to help your career (which may seem and be cynical and inauthentic), or are you pursuing relationships because you generally care about the people you know? I will say more about this in a moment. But before I do, I want to tell a short story that I have only told a few people. As I noted above, I didn't do much to cultivate great relationships until the tail end of my grad career. Nevertheless, although I do not know for sure, some of them may have inadvertently helped my career. How? Well, I've had jobs at two universities in my career. Strange thing is, I had a "professional connection" at both of them. One school had previously hired someone from my grad program. The other school, the one I am now, turns out I met my department chair years before at a conference–and he had remembered me. To be clear, I have no idea whether, if at all, these connections played a role either time I was hired. All I know is that, in the entire world of philosophy, I happened to get jobs in two departments I had some connection to. Go figure.
I want to now return to the tension noted above. Given that relationships can plausibly (as Postdoc noted) be advantageous to one's career–and given that one probably knows this in the back of one's head–doesn't this in some way corrupt those relationships, making them little more than a way to "advance one's career." I want to be honest: this is how I used to think. However, while we can rarely be very sure of our true motives (as Kant noted, and empirical science supports), I have increasingly come to hold a very different view: that one can recognize the benefits of professional relationship while at the same time genuinely caring about the people one has relationships with for their own sake: as friends. In brief, this is something I think learned over the years from both my spouse and my father. Both of them genuinely love other people: they find other people genuinely interesting and want to get to know them. Although this is something I long struggled to understand, I think I finally "got it" when I approached my grad school faculty in the case I described above. Yes, their help helped me. But, far more than that, what struck me was their kindness: their genuine interest in helping me. Again, as far I could tell, they had little reason to help me (I hadn't done much to deserve it). But they helped me nonetheless. I have never forgotten that. They took an interest in me as a person. It made me feel like I actually mattered to them as a human being. And that, again, is sort of when I "got it." While relationships may "help your career", the best reason to pursue them is they make for a better life in the profession for all of us: a professional life where one doesn't (contra Postdoc's advice) see others as competitors to constantly show you're "smarter than", but instead one where one is genuinely interested in sharing and debating ideas, learning from each other, and so on.
In essence, in a most surprising way, I found cultivating good relationships to be a path to philosophy being what had always wanted it to be: less of a cynical, professional competition of constant one-upmanship, but instead a community of scholars interested in each other and their work. To be sure, there are those just out to compete, brown-nose, etc. However, you don't have to be one of them–and you can find other people who aren't either! All of these were hard-won lessons…but, I think, they are some of the more important lessons I've learned.
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