Pressure to publish is another reason why strong discursive communities dwindle. Especially for young faculty, there is often a genuine choice: Do I spend my intellectual energy trying to understand and formulate good questions about this talk in a field that has nothing to do with my research? Or do I try to save that energy and focus on developing my own ideas? Sure, there are some “cross-training” benefits, but at the end of the day, what my job and my community really rewards isn’t the incisive Socratic generalist who publishes little but the narrow focused specialist who has many prestigious publications. Some can do both, and if you can, that’s great. But many can’t.
“The ethos of the lab is to build up each other’s ideas rather than tear them down. We raise tough objections, yes, but we also help each other devise replies”. I am jealous ahaha. I hope you write more on this, Victor.
I was one of Duncan's first students at Dalhousie in the early 80s. Not all my Duncan stories are positive. It was early days after all. But the one I always tell is that it was Duncan who persuaded me to talk in class. He wrote me a note once saying that I was getting very high grades but not participating and that I was free riding on class discussion. I was benefiting from the class participation of others but not putting my own ideas out there. Others might do better if I spoke in class. :) It worked. I started talking in class and asking questions at seminars. I have very fond memories of his classes.
My first faculty job was at Dal 2000-2003. You are right about that colloquium culture being one that pushed everyone to better understanding, better questions, better collegial critique. And Duncan’s questions were always excellent. He was usually called on first, because his summary of the speaker’s argument was so helpful to everyone else. I am still inspired to aspire to his level of concise reconstruction of an argument.
Thanks for sharing your student life's story, Victor! I really enjoyed your Phil. of Cognitive Science class in 2021, the one in which you shared the book drafts and invited Henrich online! Besides the topic, what impressed me the most was indeed your approach to pedagogy in class. As an aspiring academic, a non-native English speaker, and a dissertator, I am facing a creeping impostor syndrome (I know it's very common apparently in grad school and even in academia in general). But your class definitely was one of the most welcoming I have ever been in. I learned and attempted some of your approaches in my own TF-ing. Hearing about the great Duncan, how I wished I could experience his class. It reminded me of the importance and influence of great teachers in my own life too. In undergrad, actually one professor of physics who taught his course for non-physics majors as a mix between history and philosophy of physics actually ignited my interests in science, philosophy, and epistemology. Thanks to him and a few others, I continued on to philosophy for my master's. Even though I am now doing anthropology for my PhD, philosophy has always been useful and never really left me. I am sure there are many students who are also inspired by your teaching and pedagogy, keep at it, professor!
Your description of the Dalhousie colloquium reminds me of a similar culture in mathematics -- most math departments also have colloquium of this style. While this culture has persisted, it's also faded somewhat in mathematics. Many people will speak of the legendary Moscow seminars where there is no announced end time, and the seminar will end when all participants are satisfied. Of course this is impossible in a modern department. While I do not wish to return to the old times, I can't help but feeling the modern organization of universities, where every researcher is monitored for their output, is detrimental to the development of a good community.
There is no place like Dal in the early aughts. We were so lucky!!!
Pressure to publish is another reason why strong discursive communities dwindle. Especially for young faculty, there is often a genuine choice: Do I spend my intellectual energy trying to understand and formulate good questions about this talk in a field that has nothing to do with my research? Or do I try to save that energy and focus on developing my own ideas? Sure, there are some “cross-training” benefits, but at the end of the day, what my job and my community really rewards isn’t the incisive Socratic generalist who publishes little but the narrow focused specialist who has many prestigious publications. Some can do both, and if you can, that’s great. But many can’t.
“The ethos of the lab is to build up each other’s ideas rather than tear them down. We raise tough objections, yes, but we also help each other devise replies”. I am jealous ahaha. I hope you write more on this, Victor.
I was one of Duncan's first students at Dalhousie in the early 80s. Not all my Duncan stories are positive. It was early days after all. But the one I always tell is that it was Duncan who persuaded me to talk in class. He wrote me a note once saying that I was getting very high grades but not participating and that I was free riding on class discussion. I was benefiting from the class participation of others but not putting my own ideas out there. Others might do better if I spoke in class. :) It worked. I started talking in class and asking questions at seminars. I have very fond memories of his classes.
Friendly critical rationalism. Nice to hear this.
My first faculty job was at Dal 2000-2003. You are right about that colloquium culture being one that pushed everyone to better understanding, better questions, better collegial critique. And Duncan’s questions were always excellent. He was usually called on first, because his summary of the speaker’s argument was so helpful to everyone else. I am still inspired to aspire to his level of concise reconstruction of an argument.
I took philosophy of cognitive science from you at Dal! That's a nice way of capturing the culture there. It made all of us better.
Thanks for sharing your student life's story, Victor! I really enjoyed your Phil. of Cognitive Science class in 2021, the one in which you shared the book drafts and invited Henrich online! Besides the topic, what impressed me the most was indeed your approach to pedagogy in class. As an aspiring academic, a non-native English speaker, and a dissertator, I am facing a creeping impostor syndrome (I know it's very common apparently in grad school and even in academia in general). But your class definitely was one of the most welcoming I have ever been in. I learned and attempted some of your approaches in my own TF-ing. Hearing about the great Duncan, how I wished I could experience his class. It reminded me of the importance and influence of great teachers in my own life too. In undergrad, actually one professor of physics who taught his course for non-physics majors as a mix between history and philosophy of physics actually ignited my interests in science, philosophy, and epistemology. Thanks to him and a few others, I continued on to philosophy for my master's. Even though I am now doing anthropology for my PhD, philosophy has always been useful and never really left me. I am sure there are many students who are also inspired by your teaching and pedagogy, keep at it, professor!
Wonderful to hear from you, Handrio! And so glad philosophy has had this impact on you.
Your description of the Dalhousie colloquium reminds me of a similar culture in mathematics -- most math departments also have colloquium of this style. While this culture has persisted, it's also faded somewhat in mathematics. Many people will speak of the legendary Moscow seminars where there is no announced end time, and the seminar will end when all participants are satisfied. Of course this is impossible in a modern department. While I do not wish to return to the old times, I can't help but feeling the modern organization of universities, where every researcher is monitored for their output, is detrimental to the development of a good community.