By Greg Stoutenburg (York College of Pennsylvania)
In light of a recent post about basing one’s choice on whether to start a PhD in philosophy on the disvalue of not getting a tenure-track job, and a somewhat related post about choosing a non-tenure-track position over a tenure-track one, I thought I’d share something I have been thinking about for a while, which is my personal experience of four years on the philosophy job market. There is an abundance of job advice available to would-be philosophy graduate students and those late in their PhD progress, but very little of it comes with context that might help with figuring out what one ought to do. A lot of people with interest in philosophy have backgrounds like mine and hope to work their way on to the tenure-track. I now believe that such an approach is fundamentally misguided, as I will share in this story of what I did to prepare for the market that I have now given up on.
Since this is a personal story, I invite anyone who is interested to check out my website. It includes my CV and lots of job market materials: gregstoutenburg.com. You might use that information for comparison.
I am a first-generation college student who was raised in an evangelical Christian home. I intended to go to community college to be a computer repair technician, but shortly before the start of the semester I was accepted to the only four-year college I applied to: Moody Bible Institute. (It is what it sounds like; my admission was a sign.) Late in my time there I took a few theology courses that had a heavy philosophy component, and I was hooked. I had by then decided that I did not want to be a youth pastor after all. Instead, I would become a philosophy professor. I needed to: I had only just discovered how interesting learning could be and I had serious issues with my worldview that needed to be worked out, like how free choice could be compatible with God’s exhaustive foreknowledge.
Without a network or advisor, but needing to make up for my lack of a background in philosophy, I took to Google to find out what students who had completed a B.A. in philosophy actually learned. I took a few non-degree philosophy courses at Loyola University of Chicago, and then moved to Pittsburgh and took a few more at Duquesne University. By the end, I had taken courses in what I thought were all of the main areas of philosophy, so I proceeded from there to try to gain admission to an M.A. program in philosophy.
I started at Boston University in 2008 as a terminal M.A. student in a PhD-granting program. I enjoyed it; living in Boston was a highlight of my life. I could not believe that I was really on my way to a PhD in philosophy! Having little grasp of what was really considered fundamental in philosophy, I took a bunch of different courses, mostly in philosophy of language and metaphysics. I tried to get to know the most prominent philosopher in the department, who I discovered had little interest in me, so I floundered as I approached the end of my second year and worried that I would have to leave philosophy. Fortunately, I also took my first class in epistemology from a professor who did care, and he helped me see that the grab bag of philosophical interests I had pursued up to then were all centered on epistemological issues.
(If you are considering graduate study in philosophy and it is not obvious to you that the progression just described is haphazard and was unlikely to succeed, then you should get an advisor and talk to some philosophy graduate students. Do not try to go it alone. Also, do not take a terminal M.A. at a PhD-granting department. You will not get financial support and it will be very expensive.)
I showed my de facto advisor the list of PhD programs I would like to apply to. He suggested that I apply to University of Iowa and University of Washington in addition to the ones I had in mind. Looking back, he must have recognized where my interests lie when I did not. I applied to Iowa and was accepted with a five-year research fellowship that included four summers of funding and three years free from teaching responsibilities. When I let my advisor know about the acceptance and award, in addition to offering sincere congratulations, he advised me that I would have to work extra hard ahead of the job market, since with my background I would not be competing from a favorable position.
Before arriving in Iowa City, I thought I had determined what it would take to be successful on the philosophy job market: do well in classes, give presentations at conferences, and publish papers. So, I set out to do those three things.
I moved easily through the PhD. I was, for the first time, doing something that I deeply enjoyed. I loved all of it: the coursework, teaching, even writing my dissertation. Along the way I received a teaching assistant award and later a graduate research award (one is awarded annually, and the competition is all graduate students in Arts and Humanities at the university). I started a summer philosophy camp with a fellow graduate student. I also published several papers, in journals that people have heard of, and a few of them have gotten some scholarly attention. In those five years, I put in enormous effort to do what I thought a person must do to ‘stand out’ and make up for my unprestigious background.
I was anxious as I approached the job market, as one should be, but I figured that with my record I should end up on the tenure track somewhere within a few years, and faculty set that perspective. It did not happen. I knew about the dismal odds and the horror stories, but I was unprepared to not even get interviews. It was not that I had the unrealistic expectation that I would be hired by a top research university. I did not apply for such jobs. I wanted a 3-3 at a small college somewhere that cares a little about research. I received no interest, almost anywhere. I have had a total of four tenure-track interviews in four years. I am now at the end of my second year in a non-tenure-track position, where I will stay indefinitely. I quit the job market because there is no reason to expect the trend to change.
My reason for writing this is to say that, from what I can tell, there is no such thing as sweat equity in philosophy. Those of us not in the Leiter top ten or so know that we are measured by different standards, and I knew as much back then. What I did not realize is that within those bounds there is almost no such thing as a meritocratic ordering. I have ideas about what does matter, but that is not the point of this story. My point here is that you cannot work your way up. Effort, even effort that is recognized in ways that we are told to value, is not what gets one there.
I would still make most of the same choices, knowing what I know now. (Well, I would probably have written a dissertation in something trendy, and I would have left my undergraduate college for a state university, which I very nearly did at one point.) I made great friends, enjoyed excellent conversations, took fun trips to interesting places, and perhaps most importantly as someone with my background: I pursued a dream when I never really had one before and learned that with effort I could accomplish something, even though the result was not what I expected. As someone who was not personally close with anyone who had long-term goals or anything that would be labeled a “career”, the process toward (kind of) having one has been instructive and rewarding. So, I have few regrets about the process. But many who are considering taking a PhD in philosophy are quite focused on an eventual tenure-track position, and I want them to know, in a little detail, what the reality may be.
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