I submit the following questions/requests/general comments for the consideration of all journal editors out there.

Firstly, consider why you are asking people to send two (or even three) printed copies of an article that you might not even accept. You’re running an international journal, and you’re asking people to mail bundles of maybe 30 pages. Sending these packages internationally is not cheap!

Secondly, academic organisations are supposed to be enlightened, and to care about waste/efficiency, the environmental impact of transport, and staying at the cutting edge of civilisation. Sending huge wads of paper to you via aeroplane really isn’t helping that image. You have a website, so I’m assuming that you have email.

Thirdly, it’s probably more encouraging for people who might contribute something really great if you don’t require them to learn a whole new software package from scratch just so that they can send you an article. We like your journal, but is it really that important? LaTeX is not just another version of Microsoft Word or Open Office. It may as well be written in the click language of the Bushmen of the Kalahari for a person who hasn’t used it before. Plus, it’s an enormous download. Why not just accept Rich Text Format with some simple rules about presentation?

Fourthly, I know this is a bit of a personal bugbear that you might not care about, but can’t you all get together and just agree on a method of citing sources? How about one that’s not only briefer to write, but easy to read as well? This is especially true if you think your journal is so awesome that you turn down most submissions. Otherwise you’re asking people to write a unique version of their paper just for the sake of your journal. Again, I like your journal, but are you that important? Really? Maybe you are, but give us a break! The only book that should ever be called (1984) was written by George Orwell.

Lastly, and yeah I’m just being bitter now, remember: It’s not your article, it’s somebody else’s. Maybe if you wrote on the subject that the article is about, you’d decide to add a lengthy excursus on a related subject that you think is the most interesting subject in the world. When you get the chance to write that article, go for it. Satisfy that fascination of yours. Just understand that that’s not the subject that I want to write about in this article OK? Making my pursuit of your interest a prerequisite of you accepting this paper is probably a wasted effort. Live out your own passion – don’t do it through me.

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…. OK, not really famous in general, but at least known by the right people. I’ve been up to a few things lately, which is why the blog has been fairly quiet. One of the things I’ve been doing is working on a promo CD. Basically, it’s a CD that I will be sending out to organisations that I’d like to know that I’m here, and with whom I’d like to work, whether as a potential future employee or maybe a guest speaker. I’m being my own publicity agent in other words. The CD is basically a miniature website that autoplays when the disc is inserted into the CD ROM. It includes selected podcast episodes and public talks, articles, my CV, and some endorsements (and if you’re in a position to do so and you’d be willing to write a brief endorsement of either me or the podcast, please let me know ASAP). On the front page of the “site on a disc” is an introductory blurb, links to the other sections of the disc, and also this: a short promo clip.

Yes, it’s intentionally very simple and only provides a tiny snippet of information. It doesn’t go into any depth at all, and one reason for that is that the disc isn’t primarily designed to be sent in with applications for university lecturing jobs – those jobs have fairly rigid guidlines concerning what to send in, and promo CDs is not one of those things. The promo video clip is simple and broad because it’s meant to be just a very general overview of which subject areas I specialise in for organisations that aren’t university departments. The more in depth information is included on the other material on the disc. This is just a kind of personal greeting on the front page. Anyway, here it is

EDIT: I have become aware that this clip might not play in Internet Explorer. The code used to embed the clip is fine. The solution is to stop using Internet Explorer and use another browser. I have looked for a way to work around this, but after some hours I have stopped looking.

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You might read the title of this blog entry and think that I’m kidding. Well, I’m being intentionally provocative I’ll grant, but I’m not kidding.

Every now and then someone asks me if I would recommend that they go ahead and get a PhD in philosophy or theology. As rule of thumb, I wouldn’t. Why not? Didn’t I enjoy my experience? Yes, very much. I got a scholarship to pay for all my fees and a living allowance, so I got to do stuff I love for three years and get paid for it. It was great! And if that’s all you’re after – three years of doing what you love, then I take back my warning. Go ahead, do it, because you will very probably get what you want.

But what if you’re not doing it just for the satisfaction and pleasure. Are you going to do it for the knowledge? Read books. Start a blog and write articles. You don’t need to get a PhD to know about your subject. Actually you would only go after a PhD if you already knew your subject well enough to say something lengthy about it.

And then we come to the more likely culprit. You want to get a PhD because you think you’ll be able to enter professional academia once you’ve got a PhD, and perhaps a few publications. Now, some people ask me this because – no boasting intended – they admire what they think I’ve achieved. I’ve got a PhD, so I would know if it’s a good idea for them, because I’ve been there and done that. Well here’s the thing: Did you also notice that even though I completely finished the PhD in mid 2007 and it’s now mid 2010, I haven’t had a single academic job – not even a job interview?

Imagine that I’m in a rowboat, in the middle of a lake. So are a hundred other people. The lake is big enough to hold just one hundred rowboats. We all have fishing rods, and our heavily baited hooks are in the water. There’s a single fish in the water, and everyone on the lake knows it. You’re standing at the shore and you call out, “so…. should I bring my boat and rod out there too?” Another illustration: There’s an elevator full of people. No, not just full, it’s absolutely stuffed with people, and the crowd overflows out into the lobby, where still more people – dozens of them, are pressing in as hard as they can, trying to get into the elevator. Should you try to get in? Imagine that the scene before you does not change. The people in the elevator are quite happy to stay there, and the crowd pressed hard up against them just keeps on pressing it, showing no sign of letting up. You haven’t even entered the mob yet. Should you stand around for hours waiting to get in?

Consider the New Zealand scene in philosophy: Your options for universities are Auckland, Waikato, Victoria, Canterbury and Otago. There are a few smaller places (e.g. polytechnics) that may have an elective paper or so in philosophy, but these are the main options. Do they all hire new faculty each year? No of course not. There might – might – be two full time recruitments each year in the nation. How many graduates do you suppose there are? I don’t care to guess. Take into account, too, the fact that departments will not only consider New Zealand candidates. The situation is the same on a larger scale in the US, the UK, and Australia. As a PhD grad in philosophy, you will almost certainly not get a job on a philosophy faculty. Period. Should you get a PhD in philosophy? If you’re doing it for the love of it, sure why not. It’s expensive, but whatever. If you’re thinking of doing it to enter the academic profession with that degree, then you had better be special. Or you had better know somebody – in which case someone better than you is going to get screwed over. So you’d better be special. But can I recommend, in general, that you fling yourself into a pool of candidates – a pool that I am in – that already faces impossible odds? No. I can’t. The best advice I can give to most people (read: to normal people, who might happen to have a keen interest in philosophy and teaching) is simple: Don’t do it.

Glenn Peoples

(3 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)

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The following is a message that I have sent out to a number of email lists of philosophy graduates and faculty:

I’m looking at establishing a New Zealand based online peer reviewed journal of philosophy called The Philosopher’s Stone. As far as I am aware this would be the first such journal based in this country. Pre-empting doing this successfully, I’ve created a website for the journal here.

From the “About” page:

The Philosophers’ Stone is the name of the legendary substance dreamt of by alchemists, supposed to be able to transform lead into gold, and believed by some to serve as an elixir for eternal life.

The Philosopher’s Stone is an online journal of philosophy founded on the conviction that the job of philosophers is to serve humanity by transforming the lead of confusion and uncertainty into the gold of clarity, understanding and upright living. What else could be the product of genuine and good philosophy – which is, after all, the love of wisdom? The intention of this journal is therefore to attract work aimed at promoting not only academic discussion of philosophical issues (something that is certainly hoped for), but also to promote the public understanding of those issues and of philosophy in general in an engaging and enjoyable way.

The target audience of TPS is wide: From philosophy students who want good resources to get a handle on their subject matter, to professors who want a good source of material to both draw on and recommend – and to read for their own enjoyment and edification – to members of the public with an interest in philosophy. The journal covers fresh expositions of thorny philosophical issues, good natured interaction between scholars at opposite ends of disagreements, exciting tales of recent developments in philosophy and more.

TPS is based in New Zealand and scholars from Australasia are especially encouraged to contribute, however contributions from further afield are certainly and always welcome.

At this stage I would envision that the journal would be a quarterly publication.

I am now asking for qualified people in New Zealand and Australia who might be interested in constituting an editorial board for the journal to register their interest. The actual commitment required would be fairly minimal. Primarily, it would involve being willing to either peer review submitted material, or to assist in identifying and approaching a suitable peer reviewer for submitted papers. The editor would liaise between contributors and editorial board members. I’d like to hit the ground running with at least fifteen members (but ten would be enough to signal sufficient interest in the world of antipodean philosophy to get the ball rolling).

[end of message]

Let’s see how this develops!

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Greetings readers (and listeners). I have a request.

It’s no secret that I’m trying to land a teaching job at a university, or a role that makes use of my training and abilities. To that end, I’m putting together a CD that I’ll be sending out to organisations and colleges. I’m requesting something that I’d like to put on that CD – as well as on this site and to use in general for promoting the podcast and blog.

When Someone gets a letter, email or job application from me saying that I run one of New Zealand’s most popular blogs, or that I run the most popular podcast in the humanities in the country, and perhaps in Australasia, I’m never really sure that anyone’s impressed. What I’m looking for is endorsements from people who follow the podcast or who have listened to a substantial number of episodes. I include the blog in what I’d like people to endorse, but the podcast is more important, because a teaching role has more to do with the ability to convey ideas verbally.

I hate to get all elitist, but the reality is that I’m applying for roles in higher education, so people who view my material are more likely to care about the opinion of qualified people who work in the field. So here’s what I’m looking for: I’m looking for brief statements of endorsement of the blog and especially the podcast, from people who have postgraduate qualifications in philosophy and/or theology, and who are employed at a college of higher education (or any organisation that you think might be relevant in regrad to your teaching role) to teach and/or research in an area with a heavy philosophical component (any area of philosophy is fine: philosophy of religion, ethics, metaphysics, epistemology, political philosophy or political science, philosophy of science, critical thinking, take your pick). If you’ve ever recommended an article or episode here to students (or even just the blog/podcast in general), that would be an excellent thing to include as well.

If you’re willing and able to do this, then you have my sincerest thanks and appreciation. Be sure to list your qualifications, your position, and the college or organisation that you work for. Drop me a line HERE if you can help.

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I’ve just completed an application for a lecturing role at a University in the UK (no need to mention which one). The section on employing people from overseas was not encouraging. Specifically, here’s what it said about applicants from outside the EEA:

If you are applying from outside the European Economic Area, the University will be required to prove that no other EEA national was capable of undertaking the work and obtain a work permit / certificate of sponsorship for you.

Now of course, this doesn’t prevent us from applying. But look at what it does say. It says that it’s not enough to be the best applicant – even the best by a country mile. The university cannot hire me unless it can prove that no applicant from within the EEA was even capable of doing the job. At all. If there was anyone capable of doing the job – even to a mediocre standard, then the literal wording of this policy means that I could be the greatest scholar in the entire world, but that person would get the job ahead of me.

How can a policy like this actually be good for a University?

PS If you haven’t seen my post on it yet, feel free to help me get to Oxford. (This reminder will appear every now and then until after August.)

(1 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)

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I got some good news today. A few months ago I told you that there was a conference coming up this year that I’d like to take part in. Well, I’ve been chosen to present a paper at Merton College at the University of Oxford, as part of the 18th Conference of the European Society of the Philosophy of Religion.

The only reason I know this is that I bugged them about it. The official notifictions are about to be sent out, so I’m told.

The theme of the conference is Religion in the Public Square, one of my special interests, and the keynote speaker will be Nicholas Wolterstorff. My paper will present an argument that I’ve addressed in other formats, namely the question of whether or not religious convictions and by extension the policies that they might be used to support could meet any standard of “public justification.”

It’s a great opportunity for me. It is a way of getting exactly the right kind of exposure in the international academic arena, and for professional academic roles it’s a great addition to my C.V. It would, in theory, push me one step closer to that elusive big time. There’s one problem. The keynote speaker, as well as the other speakers on the schedule, along with virtually everyone presenting a paper, will be from university departments that provide funding for travel to conferences. I on the other hand am not, and will need to meet the expenses myself. I’ve been crunching the numbers and it’s pretty painful. Flights, conference registration and accommodation will cost around $4,400 New Zealand dollars (using today’s exchange rate, that’s about $3,136.02 US).

I’m putting the word out there: If you are able to and you would like to assist me in meeting these costs, I would warmly welcome and appreciate it. The “donate” button on the right, or the “buy me a beer” button at the bottom of each post is an easy way to do this via Paypal. If you’re in New Zealand and you think you might be able to assist, feel free to get in touch with me (Paypal is convenient for overseas payments, but there is a small fee involved). If you’re a blogger, I’d appreciate you putting the word out there and asking people if they’d be interested in supporting me with this.

(4 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)

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I live in the wrong part of the country. Dunedin is lovely, don’t get me wrong. However there are opportunities of a whole range of sorts that I am missing because of where I live. I won’t go into all the details of that, just trust me. We’ve decided that we should move to Auckland. Plus it’s much warmer, and we have family in that part of the country who we haven’t seen much of.

I’m a family man and we’re not particularly well off, so I can’t responsibily move unless there’s there’s a job to move to. I’m applying for jobs already, and while I’m explaining each time I apply that we do intend to move to Auckland, there’s going to be a natural reluctance to hire people from out of town when there are local applicants. I thought I’d give a shout out here in case there are readers in that part of the country who might know of something, or who might even be in a place of influence who might be able to offer something. There’s a whole range of areas that I could work in. I currently work for the Inland Revenue Department in Student loans, doing technical work on accounts and also liasing with other agencies (like Studylink, the Ministry of Education, the Immigration Department and tax agents). I also get in touch with customers by phone and also address their queries by email. It involves applying legislation, and I’ve also played a role over the last year and a bit in clarifying the legislative requirements of the roles that my team has been involved in, and also coaching fellow staff members. Prior to this role I worked as a customer service rep in the call centre for Inland Revenue. Prior to that I managed a bookstore.

You already know (probably) about my academic background, but in general my approach is that unless a role requires years of experience in a highly specialised field, I can do it: anything involving communication, coaching, training, tutoring, or anything that involves explaining technical information. I also work well with numbers, and I even have a couple of papers in accounting. I could do web based work and even some graphic design work (it’s not like I have professional expreience there, but I made this site and the graphics here – bearing in bind that the blog is a wordpress blog, although the graphics are mine). I also have a background in music, recording and audio engineering (have you seen my site www.podcastermusic.org ?).

So if you’re in a position to suggest anything in the Auckland area – anything at all really – please do drop me a line and let me know.

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This announcement arrived in my inbox today:

================================

Call For Papers: Religion in the Public Sphere

18th Conference of the European Society of the Philosophy of Religion

Merton College, Oxford, August 26th-29th 2010

Keynote Address: Professor Nicholas Wolterstorff

Speakers: Stephen Clark, Elisabeth Grab-Schmidt, Oddbjorn Leirvik, Michael Moxter, Anne Sofie Roald, Roger Trigg, Henk Vroom, Theo de Witk

The conference will bring together questions in the philosophy of religion with basic issues of political philosophy. Contemporary liberalism often wishes to treat religion as a private matter, and considers religious reasons cannot be ‘public’ reasons. Science is acceptable in the public sphere in a way that religion is not. The Conference will consider how far law, and politics, should give greater recognition to the role of religion in public life. The main conference subtopics are:

• Religion and Law
• Religious Freedom
• Multiculturalism and Pluralism in the Secular Society
• Blasphemy and Offence

================================

I should be at that conference. In 2008 I graduated with my PhD in philosophy, writing on the subject of religion in the public square. I have a couple of as yet unpublished papers in this subject area that would be ideal for presentations at this conference. As far as I can see, it will not be possible for me to make the trip. Such luxuries are for those who are working in academia (which, as you’ll know, I also wish I was doing). However I am going to submit a paper anyway. If I submit a paper, and it actually gets accepted (no small hurdle for an event like this!), then there exists an almost nonexistent possibility that I will attend. I don’t know how, but it’s still possible (many crazy things are possible). If I do not submit a paper, then there exists no such possibility. So it’s a no brainer.

(1 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)

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To borrow and misapply the words of the Apostle Paul, “I am in a strait betwixt the two!” I’ve been reading through Gary Olson’s recent piece in the Chronicle of Higher Education, titled “It is who you know and who knows you.” What he had to say in that piece resonates with me. Here’s an excerpt:

… I was reminded of an odd paradox of academic life: Faculty members are expected to become world renowned in their disciplines and well respected within their institutions, yet are also expected to avoid appearing to be self-promoting or, worse, boastful. In fact, many professors overcorrect by adopting a false humility—feigning, for example, not to want a particular award, honor, or position when the exact opposite is the case.

Apparently, this stance is so much a part of our collective DNA that it begins even before we become faculty members. Learning to network early in your career is one way to increase the likelihood that you will be successful in academe. I routinely advise new scholars that networking—forming professional relationships with other scholars in a field—is an important way to help build their credentials. I have spent three decades serving as a mentor for doctoral students and junior faculty members, and yet I am continually surprised to hear them dismiss networking as a clear form of self-promotion.

At workshops when I mention networking, someone inevitably blurts out, “Aha! Just as I thought: It’s who you know that counts!” The implication is that, somehow, that system is corrupt and people are rewarded or advanced based principally on favoritism and personal relationships, not on intrinsic merit.

My standard reply is, “Of course it’s who you know. How could it be otherwise? If no one knows you exist, how can you expect you and your work to be ‘known’? Networking is the way you become known, and recognized, in your discipline.”

Clearly, some people have confused the important work of promoting your ideas and research with a kind of fatuous promotion of self. Promoting yourself (“Look how great I am”) is different from promoting your scholarship (“Here’s what my research has discovered” or “Here’s what I’ve been working on lately”). Central to the research endeavor is the desire to disseminate the results of your scholarship widely, and while interesting or groundbreaking research will certainly reflect well on the researcher, the focus should be on the former.

Head on over to the Chronicle’s website and read the entire article, it’s well worth the few minutes it takes. He concludes by saying: “Sure a few academicians go too far in the self-promotion department. But being too shy may well hold back your progress in becoming a player in the discipline. In short, it is who you know (and who knows you) that counts—but that’s a good thing.”

OK, so not everything he says there applies to me because alas, I am not a faculty member. But the kind of tension that the author refers to is one that I do grapple with. I can’t help but feel that – especially as someone who wants to display Christian character as best I can – I don’t want to emphasise my own merits or sing my own praises. It just feels wrong and alien to me. And yet, the very nature of what I want to do – namely to get ahead and actually break into professional academia – requires that I do just that. I know of nobody else in New Zealand who tackles the (specific) issues that I do in the whole area of religious convictions in political philosophy. Does that mean I should tell people that I am New Zealand’s foremost expert on those specific issues? That sounds absurd to me! On the relationship between theology and meta-ethics I can think of one other person who I would trust nearly as much as my own (yes Matt, that’s you ). Should I tell people that? How pretentious that sounds to me! These are examples of what I mean. They are the kind of thing I generally like to let the audience decide, but of course there are times when the person I want to communicate my credentials do hasn’t had the luxury of being an audience member for longer than the five or ten minutes he or she will spend initially reviewing my job application. I need to tell them and tell them succintly. Should I tell them “just Google my name, you’ll see what I mean”?

It’s a fine line, and one that I have difficulty with.

Glenn Peoples

(2 votes, average: 4.00 out of 5)

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