Marco Rubio recently suggested that we need fewer philosophers and more welders because welders make more money. See below:
In case it’s not obvious why this is a foolish suggestion, I’ll explain.
THE MAIN PROBLEM
Here are a couple claims that are probably true:
There is a need for more welders.
Some welders make more money than some philosophers.
Notice, however, that neither of the following follow from those probably true claims:
A. We need fewer philosophers.
B. On average, welders make more than philosophers.
So, insofar as Marco Rubio thinks that A and/or B follows from 1 and 2, Rubio is just wrong. And many people have pointed out that B is just false.† So insofar as Rubio thinks B is true, he is just wrong.
SOLUTIONS?
What can we learn from this?
We need better fact-checking in politics (ideally, politicians would check the facts before they start talking at a public venue).
We need more philosophy (viz., a proper understanding and appreciation of good reasoning) — even in the highest ranks of US politics. Maybe we need argument-checking: “Fact-checking is not enough. We need argument-checking“.
TWO MORE PROBLEMS
And for those who still want to point out that we need more welders: fine! Having more welders and having more philosophers is not mutually exclusive! We can have both!††
Finally, there is the implicit suggestion that we should choose careers based on how much money the career offers. Sigh… Look, I get that we need a certain amount of money to flourish. But — contra Rubio’s short argument — surely there are other (more important?) variables involved in a career choice.
† “Marco Rubio said wrongly that welders make more money than philosophers” (Politifact). “Marco Rubio says welders make more money than philosophers do. He’s wrong” (Slate). “Philosophy majors actually earn a lot more than welders” (Vox).
†† Thanks to John Ballenger, James Endicott, Andrew Chapman, Cameron Buckner, and Andrew Cullison for making these points (and other points that I haven’t even mentioned). Finally, thanks to my Facebook friends for humoring my Facebook rants about this.
Being in the hands of a master magician can leave you feeling a bit uneasy. When the magician finishes a trick, you face a jarring disjunction: either your view of the world is deeply mistaken or you’ve failed to understand what happened during the trick. But you’ve no idea what you failed to understand about the trick, so it seems as though the world is not what you think it is.
In this post, I want to argue that something similar can happen when one studies philosophy or science. To explain what I mean, let me offer some context. Continue reading Philosophy, Science, and Magic
Welcome to the 171st edition of the Philosophers’ Carnival. Thanks to all those who submitted, to everyone who is reading, and to Tristan Haze for his support. Here we go!
Projects
Conceptual Geneology For Analytic Philosophy. Catarina Dutilh Novaes offers a series of four posts in which she defends a “historicist conception of philosophical concepts.” There are helpful links to the literature and to the other posts in the series in this final post.
Degrees of Justification. Luis Rosa begins exploring the claim that degrees of justification will not be satisfactorily captured by probabilities.
Human Errors and My Errata. Anne Jaap Jacobson has written four posts over at The Brains Blog. The overall project: “My intention in planning these four posts was to close on a kind of contribution very developed in feminist thought. The contribution has concerned how we account for human cognitive successes when we are actually rather error-prone creatures. The very general approach is to give up a kind of Cartesian picture of the mind. What is instead emphasized is the extent to which our knowledge depends on our social interactions.” Continue reading Philosophers’ Carnival #171
Michael Bishop outlines a network theory of well-being in which well-being is constituted by positive causal networks and their fragments (2012, 2015). ‘Positive’ refers to — among other things — experiences that have positive hedonic tones, the affirmation or fulfilment of one’s values, and success in achieving goals. So according to Bishop’s view, we flourish when certain positive causal networks are robust and self-reinforcing. For example, something good happens to us and that improves our motivation and mood, which then helps us achieve more, which improves our motivation and mood even more, and so on.
Bishop’s network account musters philosophical rigor by providing a systematic and coherent account of wellbeing that satisfies many common sense judgments about well-being. But lots of philosophical accounts can do that. So Bishop’s account does even more. It unifies and makes sense of a huge swath of the science. This provides some reason to think that Bishop’s account is superior to its competition.
So what’s this got to do with exercise and neuroscience?
1. Neuroscience
I am largely persuaded by Bishop’s arguments for the network account of well-being, so I will skip my criticism of the project. Rather, I will add to it. Specifically, I will show how well is makes sense of the neuroscience. While I will not be able to review all of neuroscience, I can accomplish a more modest goal. I can review one part of neuroscience: the effect of exercise on the brain.
2. Exercise
There is a wealth of evidence suggesting that regular physical activity and exercise forms an important part of one’s positive causal network of well-being by, among other things, increasing positive affect (Harte, Eifert, and Smith 1995), increasing confidence (Klem, Wing, McGuire, Seagle, and Hill 1997), reducing stress, relieving depression (Blumenthal et al 1999; Motl et al 2005) and preventing more than a dozen chronic diseases (Booth, Gordon, Carlson and Hamilton 2000; see also Biddle, Fox and Boutcher 2000 for a review of relationships between exercise and well-being). The mechanisms for all of these results are not entirely clear. But neuroscience is providing, in broad strokes at least, some clues about the mechanisms that can explain, in part, why exercise produces a series of positive effects in a well-being network (e.g., Meeusen 1995, Farooqui 2014).
The Positive Effects in the Brain
Let’s start with how exercise produces direct positive effects in the brain. Firstly, exercise and regular physical activity directly improve the brain’s synaptic structure by improving potentiating synaptic strength (Cotman, Berchtold, Christie 2007). Secondly, exercise and regular physical activity strengthen systems that underlie neural plasticity—e.g., neurogenesis, the growth of new neural tissue (ibid., Praag et al 2014). These changes in the brain cause “growth factor cascades” which improve overall “brain health and function” (ibid.; Kramer and Erickson 2007).
Now consider how exercise has indirect positive effects in the brain by producing ancillary positive circumstances. Generally speaking, “exercise reduces peripheral risk factors for cognitive decline” by preventing—among other things—neurodegeneration, neurotrophic resistance, hypertension, and insulin resistance (ibid.; see also Mattson 2014). By preventing these threats to neural and cognitive health, exercise is, indirectly, promoting brain health and function.
Positive Causal Networks
It requires no stretch of the imagination to see how these positive effects will reinforce positive causal networks and thereby increase well-being. Even so, I will do you a favor by trying to demonstrate a connection between exercise, the brain, and the larger network of well-being.
We have already seen how exercise results in, among other things, increased plasticity. And increased plasticity results in improved learning (Geinisman 2000; Rampon and Tsien 2000). Also, the increased plasticity that results in improved learning can produce other positive outcomes: increased motivation, increased opportunities for personal relationships in learning environments, etc. (Zelazo and Carlson 2012, 358). Further, increased motivation and social capital can — coming full circle — result in further motivation (Wing and Jeffery 1999).
That right there is what we call a self-reinforcing positive causal network or positive feedback loop. And that, according to Bishop, is how we increase well-being (see figure 1).
Figure 1. Positive Causal Well-being Network. Exercise promotes outcomes in the brain that promote other positive outcomes outside the brain. Similarly, exercise reduces negatives outcomes that would reduce certain positive outcomes. This is adapted from causal network models found in Cotman, Berchtold, and Christie 2007.This causal model shows how the neuroscience we just discussed implies a causal network. The nodes and causal connections in this model show how well-being is a matter of positive causal networks.
3. What about Ill-being?
Obviously, I’ve only mentioned the neuroscience of well-being. But if we want to promote well-being, then we also have to decrease ill-being, right? Right. And once again, the network theory of well-being will fit nicely with the research on ill-being. For example, the research on emotion regulation (see Livingston et al 2015) implies some causal networks that can inhibit ill-being. The same can be said of the research about using deep brain stimulation in treatment-resistance depression (Bewernick et al 2010; Lozano et al 2008; Mayberg et al 2005; Neuner et al 2010).
4. A Concern: Fitness
You might object by positing that Bishop’s theory of well-being will not fit neuroscience as well as it fits positive psychology. This objection can be dismissed in a few ways. Here are two ways.
First, we can safely accept that Bishop’s network theory of well-being will not fit neuroscience as well as it fits positive psychology. After all, Bishop’s network theory was designed to fit positive psychology, not neuroscience. It’s hardly a fault for a theory to not do what is was not intended to do.
Second, neuroscience is a larger domain than positive psychology. So of course it is harder for a theory to fit it. Allow me to explain. As the domain of discourse increases in scope, it becomes increasingly difficult for us to find a theory that fits all of it. So, because neuroscience is a larger domain than positive psychology, the challenge of providing a theory that fits neuroscience is always more difficult than providing a theory that fits positive psychology. So the fitness objection doesn’t necessarily reflect badly on Bishop’s theory. It might only reflect a difference between positive psychology and neuroscience.
Conclusion
Let me summarize. I mentioned a few cases in which Bishop’s theory of well-being can unifies and makes sense of neuroscience. Then I proposed a few more cases in which Bishop’s theory might do the same. And then I addressed a skeptical worry about the project I propose. So Bishop’s theory of well-being can accomplish even more than Bishop intended.
This is a revised version of an old post about a problem with appealing to intuitions. Many of the original premises were overcomplicated and controversial — and, looking back, I am not even sure that the argument is valid…wow, that’s embarrassing. In this post, I try to make the argument less complicated and less controversial. The new argument yields a new conclusion, I think.
P1. The truth-value of a non-contingent premise is not contingent on anything. [Tautology]
P2. Our intuitions and our ability to imagine (i.e., “conceivability“) are contingent on cognitive capacities [assumption].
P3. Our cognitive capacities are contingent on our physical properties [assumption].
You’re trying to figure out whether or not you want to go to grad school. You’ve tried to estimate the value of a PhD in philosophy (Part 1). You’ve considered academic jobs (Part 2). And you’ve considered the nuts and bolts of grad school (Part 3) and the pros and cons of grad school (Part 4). Now it’s time to figure out what to do if — after starting grad school — you find yourself no longer wanting the academic life. It’s time to talk grad school contingency plans.
Prior to this post, I argued that the value of a Ph.D. is not in its job prospects …or lack thereof (Part 1). I showed that desirable academic jobs are neither ideal or common and that most academic jobs are very undesirable: they pay very little, they expire as frequently as every semester, and they offer no health insurance (Part 2). Then you found out about how most US philosophy Ph.D. programs work (Part 3). If you are considering getting a Ph.D. in philosophy, then you’ll want to have a realistic view of the process. This post attempts to provide such a view. It covers two things:
Even on a mediocre day, I can honestly say that I am living the dream! Really, there’s a lot to be grateful for in terms of being a grad student in philosophy.
Most philosophy programs in the US seem to share the same general model. So no matter where in the US you get a PhD in philosophy, you can expect a few things. Before we get started, here’s the outline of the series, in case you want to jump to another post.
The value of a PhD is hardly about job prospects. So if your reason for getting a PhD in philosophy is the prospect of getting a particular job, then you might want to rethink things. Maybe you dream of comfy academic jobs. If so, it’s time for another reality check.
There is a reason that academics worry about the state of academic jobs. The good ones are increasingly rare …and they aren’t always dreamy. And the bad ones? Well, they’re pretty bad.
US universities have become sweatshops:
83% of college instructors are now part-time adjuncts
89% work at multiple colleges
25% qualify for Medicaid or food stamps
Median pay per course = $2,700, with no health coverage or other real benefitshttps://t.co/4BdcgAQWv6
First of all, professors work up to 60 hours a week. At least, that’s what the data since about 1940 suggest (Charters 1942, Ziker et al 2013).
Here is a preliminary description of what professors do with their 60-ish hours:
Teach a handful of classes each semester.
Grade and comment on papers/tests (in the best case scenario, you will have a student to help with some of your grading, but probably not early in your career).
Advise a bunch of students.
Write letters of recommendation for potentially lots of students (not all of whom are actually recommend-able).
Attend department meetings.
Assume potentially time-consuming roles for your department (e.g., chair a committee about [whatever], give talks to people outside the university, organize conferences, put on workshops, etc.).
Try to convince grant committees that non-experimental research about old philosophical puzzles is as valuable as experimental research.
Write stuff.
Revise what you write.
Submit your writing to conferences, journals, grant committees, etc.
Receive rejection notices about your writing.
Revise your writing again.
Resubmit your writing.
Receive more rejection notices.
Review other philosophers’ writing.
Occasionally, present your writing at conferences (often in non-ideal locations, at times when you might otherwise be visiting family —e.g., Christmas, New Year’s, Easter, etc.).
Do some work on vacations and “sabbatical”.
Worry about whether you will be rehired and/or promoted at your next review.
This might not fully capture the breadth — or banality — of some of the duties of academic jobs. But that’s not the point. The point of this list is to dispel the caricature of academic philosophers as people who get paid comfortable salaries to do all and only the following:
sit in comfy armchairs
read
write
think only about interesting things
In reality, these activities make up only a small fraction of academic jobs.
Pro Tip: If you want a better idea of what professors do, then ask them. Email them, go to their office hours, or just raise your hand in class one day and—actually, that last one isn’t a good idea.
2. Compensation
To be clear, none of the duties mentioned above are likely to earn you any extra money. I mention this just in case a reader is under the impression that professors make side-money from their writing, presentations, etc.
Let’s get a few things straight: academics do not make money for writing or reviewing articles for journals. And the vast majority of professors make a pittance from their books. Further, when they speak at a conference, they are often reimbursed only for their costs — or maybe only some of their costs. So, conferences are not a money-making enterprise. And while we’re on the topic of money…
Some data might give you the sense that academic jobs pay loads of money [The Chronicle of Higher Ed]. However, you should consider the fact that
positions in the humanities pay significantly less than positions in science, technology, engineering, and mathematics (STEM) and
the vast majority of the teaching positions offered by universities these days are adjunct positions.
Importantly, reports about professor’s income often don’t include the data about what adjunct professors’ income. So next time you read about how much professors make, take a close look at the data to see whether (or how) they analyze adjunct professors’ compensation.
3. Adjunct Teaching
Adjunct jobs pay very little. Seriously. You could make more money and receive better health insurance than an adjunct professor by working at a grocery store [Business Insider], at the Gap [Vitae], or as a pet sitter [The Guardian].
Why is this bad news? Let’s start with compensation.
Adjunct job postings I’ve seen offer $2000 – 4000 per course. And courses can easily take up to 20 hours per week depending on the size of the course, your experience, and the commute. And many adjunct jobs don’t include benefits like health insurance. Oh, and academic job contracts usually expire in one or two semesters.
So if you can find work as an adjunct professor, you might make only $4000 – $8000 per semester. And your free time will be spent (re)applying for your next job. And you won’t necessarily have health insurance.
Conclusion
Let’s review.
Desirable academic jobs are by no means ideal.
Desirable academic jobs are rare. And they’re only becoming more rare.
Undesirable academic jobs (i.e., adjunct jobs) are the norm.
Adjunct jobs can be precarious (since pay is low, health insurance is not always included, and opportunities for promotion are very scarce).
Adjunct jobs provide little or no time for research (since that time is spent applying for next semesters’ jobs).
Adjunct professors might not have enough time or money to raise kids, or to live (what many people think of as) a comfortable lifestyle.
Don’t get me wrong: academic jobs can be a great gig for a select few. But your chances of landing the ideal gig in philosophy are low (and steadily decreasing). This brings us back to the main point of Part 1: the value of a PhD in philosophy just isn’t about job prospects.
Does this leave a bad taste in your mouth? For many, it will. But you’re better off thinking about this stuff sooner than later. It’d be a shame to find out about all of this after you’ve spent 5+ years forgoing better opportunities while you get a PhD.
But maybe you’re not phased by all the doom and gloom about academic jobs. You don’t care about getting the dream job. You just want to continue studying philosophy. That’s fine. But remember: there is more than one way to study philosophy. Graduate school is just one way. You might want to consider the alternatives. To do that, you’ll need to learn about grad school itself. That’s what Part 3 is about.
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