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This is the second of five posts this week on women in philosophy.

What is wrong with philosophy?

This is the question I was posed by journalists last year while I served as president of the American Philosophical Association, Eastern Division. Why is philosophy so far behind every other humanities department in the diversity of its faculty? Why are its percentages of women and people of color (an intersecting set) so out of tune with the country, even with higher education? What is wrong with philosophy?

The demographic challenges in philosophy should not be blamed on those it excludes.

And now our field has another newsworthy event: the claims of sexual harassment against the influential philosopher Colin McGinn and his subsequent resignation, a story that made the front page of The New York Times. Here is a leading philosopher of language unable to discern how sexual banter becomes sexual pressure when it is repetitively parlayed from a powerful professor to his young female assistant. It might lead one to wonder, what is wrong with the field of philosophy of language?

McGinn defended himself by deflecting blame. The student, he argued, simply did not understand enough philosophy of language to get the harmlessness of his jokes. He did not intend harm, nor did his statements logically entail harm; therefore, her sense of harm is on her.



Alas, McGinn’s self-defense echoes a common narrative in the discipline concerning its demographic challenges. As The Times article reports, and the philosophy blogosphere will confirm, the paucity in philosophy of women and people of color is often blamed on us. Some suggest it is philosophy’s “rough and tumble” style of debate that has turned us women and nonwhite males away. Logical implication: we may just not be cut out for such a demanding field.



Once in graduate school, I ventured to raise a series of skeptical questions to one of the most world-renowned philosophers, Roderick Chisholm, in his seminar on the theory of knowledge. I leaned toward American pragmatism and Wittgenstein; he was a famous foundationalist. He wiped the floor with me, turning my questions to mush and getting a good laugh from the class. This did not surprise me, but what did was that, the next day, Chisholm approached me in the student lounge and asked me gently if I was O.K. I answered, “Yes, of course,” which was the truth.

I had observed Chisholm’s pedagogical style for two years, and I knew his capacity to turn a student’s dissenting opinion into a jello mold of quivering meaninglessness, to the class’s mirth. I admired his abilities. But I still wanted to see how he would respond to my specific questions. Despite his jokes, one could garner from his response to my questions a substantive philosophical rejoinder. It was a perfectly legitimate philosophical exchange, livened up a bit to keep his students awake.

Related More From The Stone Read previous contributions to this series.

Chisholm was typical of the best philosophers of his day and ours in his combination of philosophical acumen and rhetorical skill. Yet he was atypical at that time in his sensitivity to the practical contexts of the argumentative arena. He had enough respect for me to treat me like all other disputants, but also to want me to stay in the game. As one of two women in the class, he was aware I might be experiencing an alienation-induced anxiety about my public performance.

The issue is not debate, simpliciter, but how it is done. Too many philosophers accept the idea that truth is best achieved by a marketplace of ideas conducted in the fashion of ultimate fighting. But aggressive styles that seek easy victories by harping on arcane counterexamples do not maximize truth. Nor does making use of the social advantages one might have by virtue of one’s gender, ethnicity or seniority. Nor does stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the real world contexts, rife with implicit bias and power distortions, in which even philosophical debates always occur.

Sometimes, interestingly, the aim of truth is enhanced less by adversarial argument than by a receptivity that holds back on disagreement long enough to try out the new ideas on offer, push them further, see where they might go. Sometimes pedagogy works best not by challenging but by getting on board a student’s own agenda. Sometimes understanding is best reached when we expend our skeptical faculties, as Montaigne did, on our own beliefs, our own opinions. If debate is meant to be a means to truth — an idea we philosophers like to believe — the best forms turn out to be a variegated rather than uniform set.

The demographic challenges of philosophy cannot be blamed on the deficiencies of the minority. Unlike Professor Chisholm, McGinn did not check in with his student but continued to lace his e-mails with sexual innuendo, if not propositions. Women who have had this experience in the discipline (me and nearly everyone I know) can be discomfited by the thought that their professor’s intellectual praise is strategically motivated, designed with an intent other than the truth. It can throw their confidence, and certainly disable debate. Which may, of course, be quite intentional.



Linda Martín Alcoff is a professor of philosophy at Hunter College and the City University of New York Graduate Center, and former president of the American Philosophical Association, Eastern Division. She is the author of “Visible Identities: Race, Gender and the Self” and other books. More of her work can be found at her Web site.