isostheneia

Regardless of the considerations about how applications should be reviewed by admissions committees, I think there's one practical consideration we can note: in preparing a writing sample, show it to everyone. Show it to professors, grad students, fellow undergrads, and listen to their comments. People with little knowledge of your particular issue can be especially helpful in detecting turns of phrase or entire discussions that are unclear, since they don't know the relevant terminology, and an adcom member might not either. This is, perhaps, especially important for undergrad students who done have the same institutional support as MA students or undergrads at high-ranked schools - it's all the more important to get feedback. In terms of the fairness of judging applications by their writing samples, I'm inclined to say that the writing sample provides by far the most evidence of the sort of qualities departments should look for in an applicant, despite the difference in institutional support. At the same time, it's entirely possible for admissions committees to take into account the variety of levels of institutional support when judging writing samples. This just means that not all writing samples should be judged in exactly the same way, not that they should have varying levels of importance based on varying levels of institutional support. (I don't take this to be contrary to what any of you are saying.) While an adcom shouldn't fault the Harvard student for having shown her sample to many different people, a highly sophisticated paper may look all the more impressive because it was produced by someone from Oklahoma State - Woodward.

I'd like to thank the Academy, but I'll hold off until they give me an acceptance (which is obviously a big if).

A few nights ago (waiting for Chicago to release decisions), I rewatched Apocalypse Now. Somehow, I never realized that it's fundamentally an allegory about graduate admissions in philosophy. So I thought I'd write up some notes on the more interesting points of comparison to learn what this film can tell us about the experience. Background: On its surface level, Francis Ford Coppola's film is set in the Vietnam War, and shows Captain Ben Willard's (Martin Sheen) journey up the Nung River, on orders to "terminate the command" of Colonel Walter Kurtz (Marlon Brando), a decorated American military leader who has gone rogue. The farther up the river Captain Willard goes, the more we see the devastating effects of the war, not least in terms of the psychological effects on Willard and other soldiers. The war isn't intelligible as a conflict between good and bad; neither the North Vietnamese nor Colonel Kurtz can be simply understood as the enemy. Basic lines of the allegory: Captain Willard's journey is representative of an applicant's journey through graduate admissions, from his initial orders as the decision to apply, through his journey up the river on a boat of psychologically distressed fellow applicants, to his final assassination of Colonel Kurtz, as the "successful" completion of his mission (one in which the very idea of success is questioned). The military leaders who give Captain Willard his assignment exhibit striking similarities with the status quo of established philosophy professors: they ask him to take the mission, noting that he's highly capable and they need someone like him, but provide him dreadfully little resources, making him fend for himself. And they're fully aware that he likely won't make it through the mission alive, much less psychologically sound. The question of what element of the application process Colonel Kurtz represents is both one of the most interesting and difficult questions in analyzing the movie. In one sense, he represents an admissions committee: by defeating him, Captain Willard would succeed in his mission, just as surviving the gauntlet of an adcom's scrutiny would result in a successful offer of admission. But it's not quite that simple. Colonel Kurtz isn't just a player in the war, but someone who also occupies a space outside the war. After witnessing the perils of the war (the application process) first hand, he tries to remove himself from the process by taking his unit far up the river into Cambodia. He discovers double agents (i.e. defenders of the status quo of the philosophy profession) in his ranks, and executes them. The American brass concludes that his "methods are unsound," and thus that he must be eliminated. Colonel Kurtz is thus something like a professor who, after being groomed for a tenured job at an R1 university, recognizes the failings of the system and adopts radically different methods for advancing the professor. Kurtz leads a contradictory existence, not wanting to contribute to the injustices of the status quo but being unable to change the process without himself occupying a type of hegemonic position. Psychological perils of the process: "Saigon. Shit. I'm still only in Saigon." The film opens with Captain Willard lying in a hotel room, waiting for orders. He spends an alcohol-fueled night thinking about his previous tours (this is clearly not his first round of applications), noting that when he's here (applying) he only thinks about home ("real life"), but while he's home, he only thinks about the war. Life is never happy for an applicant, especially during the initial waiting game. Soon into his mission, he encounters Lieutenant Colonel Kilgore, for whom the war is merely a game, and who thinks nothing of the innocent people he gleefully kills. (His line "I love the smell of napalm in the morning" is perhaps as clear a metaphor as we receive in the movie, though I'm still struggling to make sense of what his now-infamous expression "Charlie don't surf!" means for the application process.) Captain Willard is horrified by Kilgore's approach to the war, but begins to see that it's all too common among the American soldiers. He notes, "If that's how Kilgore fought the war, I began to wonder what they really had against Kurtz. It wasn't just insanity and murder, there was enough of that to go around for everyone." The American bases which Captain Willard and company visit as they travel farther up the river show the devastating effects of the application process, with each being more and more depraved, and losing any sense of order. At the last American base, a messenger tells Willard, "You're in the asshole of the world, Captain!" The messenger is glad to finally give Willard his new information, since the messenger is now free to leave, if only he can find a way out. In a scene that was cut from the theatrical release, Captain Willard and his crew encounter a French plantation in the jungle, a solitary hold-out from the days of the French occupation of Indo-China. Willard asks them why they don't leave, and they claim that they would never leave, that this is now their home. A young woman observes Willard, noting his weariness of the war (despite Willard's stoic resolve throughout the film). She tells him that he's a doubled man, a walking contradiction. "There's one of you that fights, and one of you that loves." As applicants, we're engaged in a contradictory enterprise, fighting fellow students for a spot in the discipline, but loving each other and the field of philosophy nonetheless. The plantation is clearly a metaphor for the isolation of continental departments in the US, the lone holdouts. One wonders whether it further demonstrates the status quo of analytic philosophy that this scene was cut from the movie. To get a sense of Coppola's pluralist vision of the field, we must watch the Redux version in which it's included. When he finally arrives at Colonel Kurtz's fort, Willard doesn't know what to make of him. The man appears at once evil, unhesitatingly executing those with whom he disagrees, and wise beyond measure, clearly distraught by the the war and even the operation he runs. Willard sympathizes with Kurtz's distress, but ultimately must kill him because of the atrocities the Colonel commits. As the two converse about the war, Willard tells Kurtz, "They told me you had gone totally insane, and that your methods were unsound." Kurtz replies, "Are my methods unsound?" With clarity, Willard informs him, "I don't see any methods at all, sir." The eventual assassination scene cuts back and forth between Willard slaying Kurtz with a machete, and the native Cambodians' ritual slaughter of a cow. This symbolizes how Willard does not kill Kurtz out of hate, but out of respect. Similarly, only by destroying the hegemony in the application process, even those who recognize its deep inadequacies. The film ends with Kurtz whispering lines from Conrad's Heart of Darkness (and from the epigraph of Eliot's "The Wasteland"), repeatedly saying "The horror... the horror..." The picture we ultimately receive is one of a necessary fight, but in a terrible war. Takeaway: The only emotionally uplifting scenes in the film, which are few and far between, are those of camaraderie between Captain Willard and his fellow soldiers on the boat. The only solace to be received from the process is by bonding with those on a similar mission. But Coppola's lasting vision is not one in which a correct approach to the application process can resolve its internal problems. One can only mitigate damages, never eliminate them. Coming to a state of self-consciousness about the terrible contradictions of the process is admirable, but not enough. After the end of the film, we are left in a state of shock, appreciated that the mission has been completed, but mourning the deaths of those who did not survive and lamenting the state of the process more generally. The film does not imply that the problems with the application process are contingent upon problems with current leadership (though these problems are certainly exacerbated by such leadership); rather, the application process is an inherently horrible, but perhaps necessary, state. I'll end with one of Captain Willard's voice-over observations on the war: "Some day this war's gonna end. That'd be just fine with the boys on the boat. They weren't looking for anything more than a way home. Trouble is, I'd been back there, and I knew that it just didn't exist anymore."

There's a sort of domino effect here... I nearly had a heart attack when I read that you got emails from UChicago. Still, surely not as bad as receiving an actual email from them.

Come to think of it, I really should have applied to more warm-weather schools... Looks like University of Tijuana needs a philosophy department. If they just hire an adjunct or two and fund me, I'm so there.

Given my impatience for results and general level of anxiety, this forum is far too quiet for my taste. I can only reread the same admissions advice blogs so many times before I go insane. (It's going to be a long month or two.) What's everyone up to?

I was recently reading a thread from last year on Leiter Reports about writing samples from MA students versus those from undergraduate applicants (here). Bill Blattner (Georgetown) had a comment that stood out to me as potentially useful: "I have been doing graduate admissions at Georgetown for a long time. I agree that the overall trend of an increase of applicants from MA programs is there. In fact, my colleague, Rebecca Kukla, wrote a guest post on this topic around a year ago for this very blog. The applicants for PhD programs out there should know that I, at least, and I suspect most others who serve on PhD admissions committees, make no assumptions about family wealth or why a student chose to pursue an MA first. There are lots of very good reasons to pursue an MA first: perhaps you didn't do an undergraduate philosophy major; or the major program you did finish did not prepare you fully for the mainstream contemporary philosophy scene (perhaps the idea to pursue a PhD came to you late in your major, which you had devoted before then mostly to cherry-picking the interesting-looking classes, rather than ones that would prepare you for grad school); or as one poster above remarked, you weren't sure you wanted to go all the way with a PhD in philosophy, and so you checked out an MA program first; perhaps you had a spotty record as an undergraduate, because you were a late-bloomer or had to work full time while in college or spent way too much time partying; the list goes on. Now, the problem that the original correspondent raises, that it is becoming harder to sort through the applications and identify the 10 or 20 best based on the writing sample, is a real problem. The problem is, however, too much of a good thing. What I've inferred from the increased professionalization of the discipline at this level is simply that students are getting more rigorous training and are better prepared for grad school than they were 15 years ago. (When I applied for grad schools back in the early '80's, I just sent in an unedited paper from one of my courses. Done. That would not work today.) It is simply impossible to know whether an applicant had help with an essay. This is true no matter where the applicant applies from, whether from a BA program or an MA program. One just has to assume the work is all the students'. Always assume honesty first. After all, this isn't Wall St.: there is very little financial incentive to "cheat" your way into a PhD program in philosophy. As the poster above from GSU (a program that sends us a bunch of applicants each year) notes, if the faculty at MA programs succumbed to the pressure speculated in the original post, it wouldn't take long for that program to fall into disrepute. Their students would flame out quickly. My experience has been that there are a healthy number of excellent MA programs (I won't list them for fear of forgetting one), and in fact every other year a new MA program comes onto the radar. One last comment about "discounting" work from MA programs. I take it that the original correspondent was using the term the way it's used financially: calculating in the additional training that an MA student has done. A logician or decision-theorist can tell me whether this is just the same thing, but I think of it the other way around: when I get a very sophisticated paper from a student coming directly out of college, it attracts my notice precisely because the student did not have the extra training. There aren't a huge number of such papers each year, however, which is why more and more students are seeking MA training." So I suppose we undergraduate applicants should hope that we've produced "very sophisticated" writing samples. Of course, it's not easy to tell whether one has done so. But on the topic of this thread, doing an MA is certainly one way to make sure you're sending a writing sample of the highest quality possible, which is an essential part of a successful application.

I agree that he wouldn't be bothered by these charges. I just think that, if one is on board with the general project, deviations from the details require attention to why the details aren't quite right, and such attention is really only possible through careful interpretation. It seems that he takes the overall project to be much more separable from the details than I do. Of course, when you're at NYU, I suppose you're granted a bit of leeway with these things.

Chalmers's latest book is supposed to do something like offering a defense/update for contemporary philosophy of Carnap's basic project in the Aufbau. I haven't read it, but I'm not optimistic about his interpretive skills. (As in, his points may be well argued, but I have little faith that they bear much resemblance to what Carnap is actually getting at.) For more bad history by Chalmers, see his "Hegelian Argument" in "Panpsychism and Panprotopsychism."

I figured it's about time to make a separate acceptance thread. Also, looks like somebody just put up a Duke wait list result. I didn't apply to Duke, but others who did may have new info now!

I received a lovely email from the Harvard... Extension School. Why must they toy with me like this.

Congratulations! It must feel great knowing that you'll be going somewhere next year, especially after getting shut out last year. This early in the application season, I think we're all living vicariously through your success.

I'll offer some input as well, though I think a lot of the answers so far have been quite accurate. Philosophy departments seem to have an above-average number of hostile students, at least relative to the other departments I've taken classes in. (This has sometimes been cited as a reason that philosophy deters female students, though I won't speculate regarding that.) But even in classes that have some of these students, I've found that most students view this type of activity as a negative influence on classroom environment, and are appreciative of questions that make these students return to the basics/justify their claims in more detail. The best solution, in my experience, is to direct questions toward them with humility, rather than meeting their aggression. So, for instance, you might ask them "I'm a bit confused. You seem to think that X is the obvious interpretation of this position/text, but it seems to me that Y is at least a possibility. Could you explain in a bit more detail what the benefits are of thinking X instead of Y?" Or, as others have suggested, pointing the discussion back toward the text, such as, "Your explanation sounds plausible, but I'm unsure where to locate that view in the text. Could you point me to where you're finding that view?" It seems that hostile discussions are often fostered by a few students competing against each other. By making the discussion a more humble venue, it both sets an example for others to proceed and brings out the rudeness (and, often, the idiotic assumptions) of these students. I wouldn't worry about coming off as less smart than such students; they have almost always skipped over important foundational issues that many people appreciate returning to.

It looks like "Religion, Ethics, and Philosophy" is a program within the religion department, so I don't think that tells anything about the philosophy department itself. Nonetheless, congratulations to those admitted.

IIRC, he said that, in the year he wrote the post, more than half of the incoming class had MAs (at Riverside). that was above average, but they're usually around 50%. I think he also said that he thought this was a higher proportion of MAs to no MAs than at other schools, but that he didn't have any data for this. I'm in agreement with your last sentence. Getting an MA seems like a good way of countering coming from an undergrad with less than stellar pedigree.

Surely this isn't strictly true. Otherwise, top departments would only accept applicants with MAs. I agree with the general sentiment though, that MA students are, by and large, more prepared and have better overall applications, and that getting an MA first improves many students' chances of getting into top programs. It seems that acceptances are around 50/50 for MA/no MA these days. I'd be interested to see what the applicant pool is like at these departments. I'd guess that there are fewer applicants with MAs than without MAs (though that's entirely speculative), and so applicants with MAs have a better chance of acceptance, all else being equal. There was a thread on Leiter Reports a couple years back in which a professor expressed a worry that MA students' writing samples are more "coached" than undergrad because of the importance of placement for MA programs, so that the writing sample is less indicative of philosophical ability for MA students than for undergrads. Most of the professors who replied, however, vehemently disagreed with this, FWIW.

Looks like we have the first decisions of the season! A couple Masters acceptances (Durham and UCL), a Masters rejection (Cambridge), and a PhD rejection (Bristol). It would seem that the fact that they're all British is due to procedural differences between the US and UK. Perhaps we'll see some acceptances on this side of the pond this week and next.

This seems overall right. I think most programs, or at least most top 50 programs, pay to fly out admitted students. (I certainly hope so, anyway - it'll be hard for me, and plenty of other people, to visit schools if they can't help with the cost of visiting.) There are a few who also have money to fly out applicants high on the waitlist, and there are perhaps a few (though I've only heard of one or two cases) which have interviews. Generally, applicants don't seem encouraged to visit prior to being accepted. Most schools don't have the resources to house, give extended tours, or setup meetings with faculty for applicants in general, so I believe that visiting is primarily for admitted students. For admitted students, though, I've heard that they're quite welcoming - you can often meet with professors of interest, meet and mingle with grad students, attend a few classes, etc. Hopefully all of us will get to experience this at a few places, as I've heard that it's enjoyable to be welcomed and sought after at departments to which you've been admitted.

Yep, looks like they wanted an unofficial copy to go on while my official one is taking its time getting there. Thanks for the advice!

Anyone else get an email from Georgetown saying that they haven't yet received a transcript? Or potential interpretation of what this means? It would seem pretty unremarkable except that it was from the director of grad admissions, not a generic GSAS email like some others they've sent.

My apologies! I'm thoroughly embarrassed. Clearly knowledge isn't a transparent mental state. And that looks like a great guide, thanks for sharing.

If only I realized this before taking Norwegian/Danish instead of German...

The typeface is called "Computer Modern," it's the default for LaTeX (which is a great program for making your papers look very professional, especially if you use a lot of logical notation).

I suppose it's probably less odd than it sounds, but I wouldn't have imagined many philosophy of religion specialists to list Nietzsche as a major influence. Cool nonetheless, and I love Hadot as well.

I used Enderton as well and liked it a lot. I think he has a point that it's a bit tough sledding at times, but it still doesn't seem too bad if you read it patiently and carefully.