After a combined total of 10 years in grad school and in several temporary positions (still) as I search for a more permanent position, I’d have to advise, “don’t do it.”

This is a tricky question.

I write as a mid-career philosopher who has done pretty well. I’m teaching at an R1 school, have active research projects on the go, and have excellent students, both grad and undergrad.

But I recognize that a lot of the reason I am here is due to luck. Had the right position not opened up at the right time, I would not have this job, and probably not any job nearly as good. Many of my peers from graduate school who were as talented or more talented than me have failed to find a position that suits them. So I recognize that there are nearby possible worlds in which I would probably not be enjoying philosophy as much.

I guess I would still do it over again, however, even granting that things might not go as hoped. Isn’t this the case with all our choices? Don’t we always realize that things might not break our way, and that a lot of life is outside of our control? I think I knew this as a beginning graduate student, and I was keeping my fingers crossed.

I would do it again, even though I’m in a red state, and not exactly at the research school of my dreams. Then again, I’m tenured senior faculty, I get summers to write, and I get along with everyone in my department. I’d tell my younger self to take a damned philosophy course BEFORE grad school, instead of waiting until very late in the game to discover her vocation. That held me up, I think, so that’s what I regret.

When I chose to go to grad school, I thought about whether I would want 5 years of doing what I love before having to find a standard job if I knew for certain I would not get a position in philosophy. I answered ‘yes’ then, and still think I was right. Things have gone well for me. I’m at a very good – but not top of the rankings school. I struggled my whole career with a system that discourages publishing in approaches that don’t mimic the dominant paradigm, but eventually, I got plenty published and found myself with wonderfully supportive colleagues. There are things about academia – and philosophy in particular that piss me off. Some are mentioned above. But for all that, I get paid a decent living to try to understand how things, in the broadest possible sense, hang together in the broadest possible sense – and to teach others how to pursue that understanding. (I also got to be part of an incredible interdisciplinary program that works with all the activists on campus.) For me, no city, no long hours, no mediocre pay relative to my social position and education could make that a bad deal. As has been said above, if you aren’t willing to put up with regular rejection, unfairness, less pay than you could get elsewhere, administrative bullshit, and little choice on where you live – this is a bad choice. But for me, the trade of those for what I do day to day is a no-brainer.

It might depend on whether we’re asking about today’s job market or the same job market that commentors entered years ago. I wouldn’t be surprised is answers changed as a function of this difference.

Also, a theme in answers tends to be, “It depends on your goals or values.” The goals being close to family, or wanting to avoid moving every few years, or making as much money as entrepreneurs seems to correlate with answering no. Also, those in appealing positions seem more comfortable saying “yes.” Coincidence?

Whether or not we are assuming Dale’s veil of ignorance might also change answers.

I’m still doing my PhD, and I might well give another answer in ten years’ time if I haven’t by then found a job in a university I like in a town I like with colleagues I like. And the reason I give the answer I do may well be given for reasons (I probably don’t work enough so don’t get overworked; I don’t worry about publishing a lot and so perhaps don’t publish enough; I follow my own philosophical interests, and so may not be marketable) that mean I am scuppering my chances at getting a good job later on. But so far, the answer is emphatically ‘yes’. Had I not done philosophy, and come into contact with wise people with whom I have grown at what seems to me breakneck speed, I would be worse than a pig satisfied: I would be an irritating, arrogant pseudo-intellectual with no real understanding of any of the things I would claim matter – of myself, of religion, of art, nothing. (Not that I am so wise now, but at least I know that I know nothing.) It is through philosophy I have become as wise as I have become. But I suspect there are many things out of which I could get what I get out of philosophy. If I saw a version of myself in a possible world in which my vocation was religion or art or history, I would not necessarily regret his choices. (It might be worth remarking that none of these are notably more secure or remunerated than philosophy. Poverty may be my lot.)

It is very cool to be part of a community of deep and careful thinkers. I probably could have found another career that would have been more reliable in certain respects, but it probably would not have come with this community. My mind is much sharper in such a community, which was obvious after the first few months of graduate school. I was willing to sacrifice a lot for that at the time, and I am still of that frame of mind.

There is an ambiguity in the question, as some of the comments have illustrated. What I meant to be asking was, given how things have turned out for you as a (would-be or aspiring or actual or former) professional philosopher so far, would you do it again?

Would I do it again?

It is a hard question. As Mid-Career noted, above, luck is a big factor. I have been very lucky with my career; despite making several mistakes, I have wound up tenured at an R1 in a supportive philosophy department with a graduate program and pleasant colleagues, located in a decent small city with a warm climate. It could have gone very differently at a number of stages. To borrow Jeb’s metaphor, I do feel like I have won the lottery. (Of course, we know that lottery winners are usually not any happier than anyone else after the euphoria has worn off.)

I do spend a lot of time working (not always efficiently, I think). As Sleeper observed, above, the job never quite feels like it ends, and I rarely feel like I am doing enough and as good work as I ought to. And, as Dissatisfied Faculty says, the pay is bad compared to what similarly skilled and educated persons earn in other professions.

That said, there are several things that make me think that I would indeed do it over again. I’ll limit myself to just three points. First, I find philosophy fun and creative. It can be difficult, annoying, frustrating, boring, and so on, but overwhelmingly it is also fun. There are other professions that allow for fun, I’m sure, but there is such a diversity of things I could set my mind to, in such a variety of ways, and have it still count as “work” that I suspect that the fun in philosophy is inexhaustible in a way that is rare across professions. (And I suspect that the professions which share this characteristic are similarly “risky.”)

Second, I really like philosophers, and I consider myself very fortunate to get to spend a lot of time talking with them. I like the way they think. They are generally smart, careful, focused, analytical, with a real concern for figuring out what is true. Some of them are quite funny. To hang out with good philosophers is to take a break from all of the bullshit and stupidity that dominates so much of our culture’s communication. I mean, don’t get me wrong, we all know there is plenty of bullshit in the philosophy profession, but there is also lots of space clear of bullshit.

Third, there are the general upsides of being an academic: the autonomy of one’s research, the relative flexibility of one’s schedule, and, not least, being part of the enterprise of making interesting people.

Jeb, Weinberg, and Hales are effectively my lawfirm representing me on all this. My parents never went to high school, so oddly that was a form of luck that loosened up my self-assessment for future success not shared by many of my colleagues. I have had exactly one interview in my 33-year career at my 4/4, beating out an internal cadidate, so I’m also lucky I was not so incapable as to stymie the opportunities sent my way. (I think I’ve been heavily influenced in assessing all this by Neil Levy’s book Hard Luck–highly recommended.) I love research and have a smattering of good pubs, but more importantly I love the classroom and will have a retirement that would never have been available to my parents, and many contemporaries to boot. I’m also lucky to be part of a generation where the net allows me to be inspired by philosophers beyond the excellent ones I happen to have in my department. Yeah, I would recommend my younger self to try the same thing again–but I would emphasize the element of luck in all this, and in some ways he should have appreciated, but naively didn’t.

I have been thinking about this for a few days. I’d like to share my thoughts.

I am glad mostly to be a philosophy professor because my schedule allows me to be very involved in my child’s life and schooling. Many parents, especially fathers, realistically don’t have that opportunity. If I could do it over again and wound up with some normal 9-5 job or whatever, I wouldn’t have that time to invest in my child.

Philosophy, unlike many other academic fields, allows one to dabble in lots of other fields, which I have appreciated. This has allowed me to pursue other important issues in other fields and areas of inquiry and life, since they have a philosophical dimension.

I am sure that I make some positive difference with many students, in terms of their critical reasoning abilities. I do wish, however, that more students cared more and were more interested.

I know my writings have made some positive difference also. I have focused on important social issues, not esoteric topics, though.

Getting a job was a struggle, and those struggles really “hurt my soul” for a long time. If I lost my philosophy job, I wouldn’t seek another: I’d find something else to do.

Would I do it again? It all really depends on the alternatives, and a lot of the alternatives seem to take up a lot of time so I wouldn’t have that time to spend with my family. And many other jobs, while often highly paid, really amount to doing nothing of ultimate significance. I have a rather wealthy friend who has been successful in the car parts industry who says that his job basically amounts to “selling shit, nothing important.” So if I had done something else, I likely would have more money, but I am not sure I’d be better off overall.