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[post_functional]

Does anybody find it to be a depressing and/or anxiety producing aspect of scholarship that we are obligated (obliged?  I can never keep it straight and I don't feel like looking it up) constantly to critique the ideas of others?  I've made a professional transition into a journal field from a performance-based field recently, and when I'm writing and criticizing the ideas of others that I believe are wrong--- and that I absolutely must criticize in order for my own ideas to have a chance to be heard--- I feel very upset about the possibility that I am really hurting somebody else; that revealing the weaknesses in their own thinking will have real-life ramifications for their own professional status and well-being.

Does this mean I'm too soft-hearted to pursue scholarship?

I know some of you are going to say you can't believe that I of all forumites am saying this.  I feel far more at liberty to be a loose canon here on the fora because I know that if the fora postings of Whozeewhatsis387 get criticized by me or anyone, if Whozeewhatsis387 has been careful about hu's identity, there won't be any long-term ramifications for ol' WW387.

In real life, I think it's much more serious, and it really bothers me.

[t_r_b]

Does anybody find it to be a depressing and/or anxiety producing aspect of scholarship that we are obligated (obliged?  I can never keep it straight and I don't feel like looking it up) constantly to critique the ideas of others?  I've made a professional transition into a journal field from a performance-based field recently, and when I'm writing and criticizing the ideas of others that I believe are wrong--- and that I absolutely must criticize in order for my own ideas to have a chance to be heard--- I feel very upset about the possibility that I am really hurting somebody else; that revealing the weaknesses in their own thinking will have real-life ramifications for their own professional status and well-being.

Does this mean I'm too soft-hearted to pursue scholarship?

I know some of you are going to say you can't believe that I of all forumites am saying this.  I feel far more at liberty to be a loose canon here on the fora because I know that if the fora postings of Whozeewhatsis387 get criticized by me or anyone, if Whozeewhatsis387 has been careful about hu's identity, there won't be any long-term ramifications for ol' WW387.

In real life, I think it's much more serious, and it really bothers me.

First off, I am very much amused by the image of a "loose canon." Thank you for that.

In response to your question, I think you have identified a serious problem, but one that I associate less with scholarship per se than with graduate education, as it is conducted in many many places. Graduate students seem to revel in tearing other people's ideas apart. That is partly because it is relatively easy to do, so insecure acolytes can rip into others with a measure of confidence (after all, there is no such thing as a perfect idea - you can criticize anything under the sun, if you put your mind to it). But I think this trend gets reinforced by the structure of many graduate courses (at least many of the ones I took). In the most effective graduate seminars I had, the professors very actively structured and facilitated the discussions to keep us focused on how the authors under discussion went about designing their projects, what trade-offs they had made in focusing on one thing rather than another, etc. That approach allowed us to discuss weaknesses and areas for improvement in the context of a growing understanding of the process of successful scholarship, in which none of us produce perfect work. But most graduate seminars, from what I've seen, operate on a much looser model: you show up and try to say something intelligent about what you've read. It's a lot easier to sound intelligent when you're tearing something down, all the more so if someone else has just offered a more balanced appraisal. So the sum total is a whole lot of negativity, which contributes no small amount to the perfectionism that plagues us once we get around to trying to produce something worthwhile ourselves.

Now, I have no doubt that this varies widely by field and subfield, but from what I have seen, this culture of constant criticism is much less pronounced after grad school than it is in grad school. Once you have actually been through the process of creating your own dissertation, publishing articles, etc., you gain a greater appreciation for how challenging it can be, which can make you more sympathetic toward others facing similar challenges. Equally important, producing your own work gives you the confidence that you have something constructive to contribute, and that alleviates the urge to rip into someone else. Again, some fields are more hostile and competitive than others, and in all fields you can find individuals who are just plain mean, but I think a great deal of the harsh criticism you are witnessing has more to do with the stage of your career than with academia generally.

[bluezebracat]

There is an important difference between constructive critique and being mean.  Or: criticizing an existing paradigm, noting its weaknesses and strengths and offering solutions that would improve it vs. tearing it down to show how great you are.

I do notice that there are some people in my field who go out of their way to critique anyone to the point that they seem to be ignoring pre-existing scholarship.  That's also a problem too.

[lolar2]

TRB-- p_f is not actually in graduate school. He is in a job which is closely related to the field in which he got his doctorate, but his doctorate is performance-based and his job is research-based. I believe the question has more to do with the fact that he never has been in a position to write constructive criticism in any kind of public academic setting, at all, which is the case for most people who have performance-based music doctorates.

[dellaroux]

One element that is helpful in this is the idea of simple courtesy: Don't frame anything in a blaming, uncaring way that attacks the basic honesty or decency of the person whose work you are concerned about.

Another way of saying that might be to focus on the problems within the work, don't broaden the commentary to any personal degree.

Also, working with a group of rather perceptive, bright and a-bit-too-sharp-tongued-for-their-own-good dance students, we came up with a simple set of rules by which to critique each others' offerings in group choreographic work.

"Say what you like first, say what you don't like second, and always say why, kindly."

Works in critical journalism, too.

[neutralname]

It's depressing and anxious-making to be criticized -- not all the time, but often.  But to criticize others?  Not normally.

Most of the journal submissions I get to review should not be published.  I just reviewed a book manuscript by a person I know a bit, but I recommended complete rejection.  I give reasons in my feedback.  Often when giving feedback to others I will be encouraging and I've been told that I give very useful comments.  But occasionally it is appropriate to be discouraging.  I take to that role quite naturally. 

[treehugger1]

There is an important difference between constructive critique and being mean.  Or: criticizing an existing paradigm, noting its weaknesses and strengths and offering solutions that would improve it vs. tearing it down to show how great you are.

Chime to "constructive critique" and "criticizing an existing paradigm."

I'm not sure this would work in your discipline, but maybe you could limit yourself to critiquing the big names, or the more established scholars. On the one hand, these scholars would themselves be much less likely to be hurt professionally by the critique while on the other, critiques of their work -- if this latter is truly is limiting, reductive, "wrong," what have you -- would be more of a contribution to the field than a critique of scholars who are still attempting to establish themselves.

If you disagree with someone whose work is less well-known, could you just "overlook" it?

Of course, if you are talking about reviewing papers for journals, you'd have to fall back to the "constructive critique" mode.

That said ...

Yes, I can see how the adversarial approach could be depressing, although personally what I found even harder to deal with is the relentless, forced narcissism of the job search. 

[post_functional]

I can't believe I said "loose canon."  That's... really, really funny to me.  

(I'm in music.  A canon is a technical device in music, for the uninitiated.)

I am definitely trying to "criticize an existing paradigm, noting its strengths and weaknesses to offer solutions that would improve it."  That is absolutely, positively my aim in writing the current article I'm writing.

The problem is that I'm an Unknown Peon, and I'm criticizing a Mighty Famous Bigshot who said, back in the 1980s, that Poly-Pliable Puffletones don't exist.  I think Poly-Pliable Puffletones do exist, and I think that exciting new vistas for the analysis of PPPs are entirely possible.  But I have to take down the arguments of Mighty Famous Bigshot so that my own ideas about PPPs can see the light of day.  Mighty Famous Bigshot has been relatively nice to me and I really like this person.

Oh, and, just for an extra helping of sticky in my situation, Mighty Famous Bigshot is on my wife's dissertation committee.

[msparticularity]

PF, I know your situation looks extra-sticky at the moment, but this is actual the reality in the Big Bad World of Academic Research. Truly, the more research we do and the more active we are in our field(s), the more often we will find ourselves disagreeing with our colleagues, friends and mentors. Part of what has helped me to get really comfortable with this dynamic is getting to know my colleagues: presenting with them, going to hear their papers, hanging out and talking to them, and so on. Just in talking, differences and complementary ideas tend to come to the fore, and I can see how my ideas supplement theirs, or partially agree and then disagree on a point or two. Then, when I write, I find that I am in an imagined conversation with them, and I can pose my critique of their ideas, or suggestion for how they should be extended, in that same conversational, respectful, and genuinely interested way.

BTW, I had a funny experience yesterday. I did a book review some time ago for a journal. The book was by a pretty eminent and very senior guy, and had some pretty terrific stuff in it; I had used it in my dissertation and first publication, in fact, which is why I was asked to do the review. The editorial guidelines for reviews suggested I summarize it, discuss how it related/contributed to the work of the field, and then to mention whether there were aspects that I felt were under-discussed or confusing. The book I was reviewing, IMO, had breezed past a pretty vital concept with a comment that was kind of misleading. What I wrote in the review was something like, "I was disappointed that X did not devote more attention to a discussion of Y phenomenon, and was also wondered whether an uninformed reader might misinterpret the comment "blah blah blah" as an indication that Z phenomenon was actually at work."

I got an email yesterday from the author of the book I reviewed, with an article attached. Basically, he said that he didn't go into Y phenomenon in more detail in the book because one really can't understand it without significant background in [the topic of the book]. Ummmm...still not sure how to respond to this email. (I mean, wasn't the book supposed to inform us on this topic?)

[polly_mer]

I don't find critiquing other people's work to be depressing or otherwise negative in and of itself--although, sometimes I am horribly depressed that someone put so much effort into garbage, but that's a different case than what you seem to be discussing.

As others have written, there's a huge difference between saying:

Contrary to what Mighty Famous Bigshot said, back in the 1980s, about Poly-Pliable Puffletones not existing, here is compelling evidence that they do.  [examples to prove the point]

and saying:

Mighty Famous Bigshot is a moron who claimed in the face of overwhelming evidence that Poly-Pliable Puffletones don't exist.  Let's all shun MFB now and in the future until MFB grovels sufficiently to warrant being allowed in civilized society again.

The former example is scholarship and should be standard in fields (yes, even with Unknown Peons with personal connections to MFB shooting down MFB's ideas ).  The latter is being a jerk and should be discouraged (although, yes, it also happens in many fields).

I can think of one not-quite-MFB in my field who occupies an interesting niche.  After watching him speak at a conference, my student turned to me and asked "Polly, is that guy a crackpot?  Nothing he said matches up with any of the textbooks or anything anyone else says, but it all hangs together and fits the data." 

I had to respond, "No one knows whether he is a crackpot.  We can't dismiss him out of hand because his theories often provide just as good a prediction as the other theories supported by more people.  So he continues to publish and people continue to look for weak spots.  He is definitely a member of this research community and he has held all the important offices like president of the division in this society and in the other related societies because he knows his stuff and only states what he can support by evidence.  Just because he says stuff that no one else says doesn't make him a crackpot."

The point, PF, is that if you can support what you write or say, then you should write or say it even if it contradicts other, more established people.  That's how fields advance (well, that and having people with the contrary views outliving the originators of other views so that they then become the next generation of MBF people).

[post_functional]

I do appreciate how things should be, but there is always also a certain realpolitik to consider in academia.

[polly_mer]

I do appreciate how things should be, but there is always also a certain realpolitik to consider in academia.

True.  However, I can think of people who are universally known as harsh critiquers in my field, who are nonetheless much sought after for lunches, dinners, and hanging out during conferences and other visits.  They were outspoken when they were Unknown Peons and they pretty much became Mighty Big Famous people by being outspoken in ways that they could support.

As my middle school orchestra director said, "No guts, no glory.  Now take that solo and make it your own."

[post_functional]

Oh, I'm pretty much committed to the guts-and-glory path.  I have to be.  I have three years to get established in a field where I will be competing against people who have been at it for ten years or more.  The only logical solution is to make a big splash with big ideas.  I accept it for what it is; but in terms of my emotional state as someone with chronic low-grade depression, let's just say it doesn't always help.

Neither does the confrontation with the fact that I've accepted the pragmatism of becoming a Y because there are vastly more jobs in Y than X; but as I become more and more established as a Y, it makes me feel like a failed X.  X is what I wanted to be when I grew up; not Y.  It's also very disconcerting to find that I'm probably a better Y than X.  

[mountainguy]

To echo Polly, criticism is all a matter of framing. I prefer to think of most scholarship as a conversation rather than an a debate. In terms of writing, I think it's possible to criticize even more directly than what Polly suggests. For example:

Mighty Famous Bigshot (1986) argues that Poly-Pliable Puffletones don't exist for X, Y, and Z reasons. His assertions have been supported by Little Bigshot (1989a), Underlingshot (1989b), and Littleshot (1990). The emergence of Blue Rhinoceros Triangle in the 1990s leads me to revisit this conclusion for A, B, and C reasons.
 
In other words, you're not just disagreeing with Bigshot and his acolytes for the sake of disagreeing. The scholarly literature or data is guiding you toward that point, and you're engaging your readers in a dialog about that. Kenneth Burke's parlor metaphor may be helpful here:

Imagine that you enter a parlor. You come late. When you arrive, others have long preceded you, and they are engaged in a heated discussion, a discussion too heated for them to pause and tell you exactly what it is about. In fact, the discussion had already begun long before any of them got there, so that no one present is qualified to retrace for you all the steps that had gone before. You listen for a while, until you decide that you have caught the tenor of the argument; then you put in your oar. Someone answers; you answer him; another comes to your defense; another aligns himself against you, to either the embarrassment or gratification of your opponent, depending upon the quality of your ally's assistance. However, the discussion is interminable. The hour grows late, you must depart. And you do depart, with the discussion still vigorously in progress.

[polly_mer]

Neither does the confrontation with the fact that I've accepted the pragmatism of becoming a Y because there are vastly more jobs in Y than X; but as I become more and more established as a Y, it makes me feel like a failed X.  X is what I wanted to be when I grew up; not Y.  It's also very disconcerting to find that I'm probably a better Y than X.

I think you are framing this incorrectly.  You are not a failed X if you don't accept that label.  Instead, you are a person with an X history and training who is now exploring the wonderful world of Y.  In another few years, perhaps you will be a person with X training who spent some time in Y who is then exploring the wonderful world of Z.  Or maybe you will be a person with X training who spent some time in Y who returns to X or makes a fun leap over to epsilon.

Not doing the same thing forever doesn't make you a failure.  Deciding to explore other endeavors because what you thought might be a good idea turned out to be unfeasible in practice under one set of circumstances at one particular point in time also doesn't make you a failure.  You are only a failure if you give up trying so that you are just lying in the dirt waiting to die instead of trying something new from the vast offerings that are the world.  Not succeeding in a given endeavor is a reality that cannot be avoided, but not succeeding in achieving a certain goal in a certain way by a certain time is not the same as being a failure.