Michel de Montaigne: An Unexpected Lens on Professions in the 16th Century and in the 21st Century

While I am student of the professions, I have not studied their history systematically. Of course, I realize that there were educators and physicians in the classical Greek era; the Romans created many pivotal political and military roles, as well as highly skilled practitioners in engineering and architecture (and that’s not to mention what has been wryly dubbed “the oldest profession”). Still, in my “mental model” of the professions, I have conceived of them as a modern phenomenon—distinctly different from medieval guilds and trades—closely tied to the creation of formal educational institutions, legal requirements, ethical codes, and the possibility of losing one’s license.

Stimulated by Sara Bakewell’s remarkable book How to Live: Or a Life of Montaigne in One Question and Twenty Attempts at an Answer, I have been reading through an old translation of the essays of Michel de Montaigne. Montaigne lived in France in the 16th century (1533-1592)—a time so different from ours. Life was short and dangerous, most children did not survive the first days or years of life, war was constant, and cruelty towards enemies was accepted and even encouraged. Royalty had tremendous power but was also vulnerable to upheavals, typically sudden and violent; members of the upper social classes, particularly men, were accustomed to being protected and served around the clock by members of the lower classes. Over the centuries, Montaigne has been widely read and widely cherished (though for two centuries, he was on the Catholic Church index of forbidden books). He wrote about his own life with unprecedented directness, candor and wit. And he did so in scores of short pieces in which he poured out his thoughts in a stream-of-consciousness manner. For that reason, he is considered to have invented the literary form called the essay.

While I was reading the essays and (to be frank) daydreaming, I was quite surprised—and awakened!—to encounter the following passage:

“In reading histories, which is everybody’s subject, I use(d) to consider what kind of men are the authors; if they be persons that profess (NOTE THE WORD!) nothing but mere letters, I, in and from them, principally observe and learn style and language; if physicians, I then rather incline to credit what they report of the temperature of the air, of the health and complexions of princes, of wounds and diseases; if lawyers, we are from them to take notice of the controversies of right and wrong, the establishment of laws and civil government, and the like; if divines, the affairs of the Church, ecclesiastical censures, marriages and dispensations; if courtiers, manners and ceremonies; if soldiers, the things that properly belong to their trade, and principally, the accounts of the actions and enterprises wherein they were personally engaged; if ambassadors, we are to observe negotiations, intelligences, and practices, and the manner how they are to be carried on” (p. 13-14, Essays of Montaigne, Xist Classics).

The wording of the era may seem exotic, but the list of the professions, and what Montaigne expected to obtain from their respective practitioners, is quite familiar—lawyers dealing with controversies in the law, physicians focused on wounds, diseases, and general health. In a subsequent moment of day dreaming, my thoughts leapt to a ceremony—dating back almost to Montaigne’s time—that I witness each year. I refer to the Commencement (graduation) ceremonies held in late spring in Harvard Yard. The President, and other leaders of the University, confer degrees on individuals from a dozen different faculties, and in each case, note the privileges and obligations attendant to those who will practice those respective professions. And the list is quite like Montaigne’s—scholars (Arts and Sciences); physicians (Medical School); lawyers (Law School); religious leaders (Divinity School); ambassadors (School of Government).

Taking off from Montaigne’s musings, if we were to undertake a schematic analysis of the sweep of the professions over five centuries, what might some of the similarities and differences be? Here’s my stab:

Similarities:

-Professions address fundamental human needs—tending to sickness, resolving disputes, educating the young, protecting citizens from harm.

-Often, professions tackle complex issues that are not readily resolved.

-Professions take advantage of the latest knowledge and lore; sometimes this is kept under wraps (privileged knowledge).

-Certain individuals are recognized as practitioners, and perhaps masters of that lore; others are made fun of (e.g. in the plays of Molière or Shakespeare—“Let’s kill all the lawyers” [Henry VI, Part 2]).

-Apprentices seek to identity and learn from masters of the specified professions.

Differences:

-New professions arise, others fade away. Barbers are no longer seen as professionals; journalists are aspiring professionals; going forward, those who design the “rules of the internet” are likely to be considered professionals.

-There are now formal educational institutions and requirements. In the United States, following the publication and dissemination of the Flexner Report (1910), fly-by-night medical training institutions were phased out, and a far more rigorous set of criteria applied to institutions that could award medical degrees (such highly regulated institutions are less the rule in some other countries, and that’s why students who are not admitted to medical school in the U.S. often acquire degrees in other nations). Relatedly, medical curricula are now scrutinized (for example, by the Association of American Medical Colleges.

-Numerous ethical codes that are published; to take one profession, physicians are expected to adhere to them and, at least in principle, one can lose one’s medical license (even if in practice, physicians are rarely expelled from the profession unless they are convicted of crimes).

Taking a perspective that stretches back to Montaigne’s time, while also looking ahead, what trends might we expect?

In the traditional professions (e.g. law, medicine, engineering, university teaching), there will be continuing efforts to establish and monitor training and to maintain and even increase the status of these professions. I don’t think that these efforts will be successful. So many occupations strive to have the status of professions; various educational interventions, many disreputable, are once again springing up. Expertise is not held in high regard (unless your own health or well-being is at stake). Unless the traditional professions can demonstrate unequivocally that their graduates can perform in a way that others do not, it’ll be difficult to maintain the hallowed status of, say, a degree from a flagship law school.

Also, there will continue to be a proliferation of paraprofessionals, who carry out more specific tasks, and these often well-trained experts are likely to blur further the line between the traditional professional and her close colleagues. Finally, as more tasks traditionally associated with the professions are carried out by computational algorithms and devices, the unique contribution of “the professional” will be more difficult to discern.

As readers of this blog will know, I am not sanguine about these trends—I continue to hope that the special status of the professional will endure. If it is to endure, I think it will have less to do with technical knowledge and years of schooling of the professional. Rather the survival of “the professional” will come to be associated with the way she comports herself—in terms of relations to colleagues and clients, ability to communicate effectively, monitoring of relevant trends (positive and troubling) in the broader society, and, most important, being able to give clear, objective, and disinterested advice, knowledgeable syntheses of what is known and what is unclear, and wise recommendations within her sphere of competence.

Interestingly, these desirable human traits go way back in history—even in pre-history. We can see them in Plato’s descriptions of wise rulers and in the Biblical portrayal of judges. By implication, we can also see them in Restoration comedies—when professionals are ridiculed, it is because they do not live up to the expectation of excellence that we hope for. And they are also discernable, in a positive sense, in Montaigne’s writings.

In the best of both worlds, we will continue to have individuals who possess high levels of knowledge as well as acute judgment and shafts of wisdom, and who merit the comment, “She is a true professional.”

Care (“meléte”) and Virtue (“areté”): A “Melarete” Project for Children in Italy

By Luigina Mortari

Luigina Mortari is the Scientific Director of the Center of Educational and Didactic Research at the University of Verona in Italy. In the post below, she shares details of a curriculum she and her colleagues developed that emphasizes care and virtue.

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Educating to care and educating to virtue—these are the fundamental ideas behind of the Melarete project, a project developed by my colleagues and I in order to encourage virtues in young people, particularly the ethic of care. The word Melarete may sound strange, but if we examine its etymological foundation, we discover its meaning: the union of the Greek terms meléte (care) and areté (virtue).

The main underpinnings of the project are: 1) the ethics of care (Held, 2006; Mortari, 2015; Noddings, 1984, 1992), according to which acting “good” means caring for others; and 2) Aristotelian ethics, according to which it is important to practice virtues to learn them. Melarete is an educative and research-based curriculum designed for primary-school children, based on the epistemological approach of “naturalistic inquiry” (Lincoln & Guba, 1985), which asserts that phenomena must be investigated in the context in which they appear. Our context is the school, where children spend a great deal of time, build significant relationships, and are involved in learning experiences.

Our project is further defined as follows:

• “educative research” (Mortari, 2009), because it offers children educative experiences as the object of the research;

• “transformative research” (Mortari, 2007, 2009), because it aims to improve the quality of the context in which it is conducted;

• “research for children” (Mortari, 2009), and not merely “research with children,” because it aims to involve children in positive and meaningful experiences in order to facilitate their flourishing.

The goal of Melarete is to encourage children to reflect on their personal experiences to explore the essential meaning of important ethical concepts, such as good, care, virtue, courage, generosity, respect, and justice. The heuristic goal is to investigate how children’s thinking develops in relation to ethical concepts and potentialities. Adopting a naturalistic epistemology requires searching for research instruments that are as similar as possible to the objects and activities used in the school. Our instruments are therefore similar to those that teachers use for everyday class work.

Currently, this curriculum is being implemented in schools in two cities in Italy. Six primary school fourth-grade classes are participating. Below, we share some examples of our activities, which include stories, games, and vignettes intended to spark conversation and reflection among the students about the general concepts of good, care, and virtue, and on the virtues of courage, generosity, respect, and justice.

• Reading a story to focus attention on acting with care in order to search for what is good; after the reading, the children are asked if they liked the story and why, and a discussion about the meanings of “good” and “care” occurs.

• Two introductory activities: a game called “The Basket of Virtues” which helps the children define the specific virtues of courage, generosity, respect, and justice; and a story called “The Story of Alcibiades,” designed to motivate the children to reflect on virtues and how they are learned.

• Concluding activities, which are designed to determine if and how the children’s thinking has developed due to the project.

Activity Spotlight: The “Diary of Virtues” and “Tree of Virtues”

One activity, “Diary of Virtues,” is presented after the introduction of these concepts and is carried out by children until the end of the educative path. The children are invited to keep a diary at least once a week in which they narrate a virtuous action they have done or that they have seen other people do. If the children have no virtuous actions to narrate, they can freely write as they please. The topics considered most suitable for the diary are those on which Melarete focuses (i.e. courage, generosity, respect, and justice).

Furthermore, whenever the children do a virtuous action, they attach a leaf to their “Tree of Virtues,” a diagram drawn at the beginning of their diary. The leaves have different colors based on the different virtues they represent (i.e. red for generosity, yellow for courage, blue for respect, and purple for justice).

Whenever the children narrate a virtuous action in their diary and attach the leaf of the relative virtue to the tree in their diary, they also attach another leaf, identical to the first one, to the “Tree of the Trees” that is in the classroom for public display.

I would like to conclude by presenting some examples written by children in their diaries, powerful illustrations of children learning about the meaning of doing “good” in the world:

• “Yesterday, I saw a courageous person who went into the street to save three doggies.” (courage)

• “When I was little, one day I was in the mountains and went for a walk. We had to go in a wood, but I didn’t want to. Nevertheless, I then took courage and went in the wood.” (courage)

• “When I was little, I was afraid of the dark, and then I faced it.” (courage)

• “I painted the yellow leaf because I told the truth to my mom.” (courage)

• “The virtue about which I want to tell you is generosity. Today I carried out an act of generosity when I gave a balloon to a child, and I felt good.” (generosity)

• “Yesterday my brother asked me if I could lend my pencil to him, and I lent him it.” (generosity)

• “My brother did an act of generosity: he gave a biscuit to his cousin because he was hungry.” (generosity)

• “I saw a gentlemen giving a pizza to a poor person.” (generosity)

• “When my brother threw paper on the ground, I picked up it and threw it into the garbage pail.” (respect)

• “I started to say please and thanks and to ask for permission before doing something.” (respect)

• “I saw a child in a park who was having a snack with two other friends. This child was eating all of it, but his friend stopped him, and they divided the snack.” (justice)

• “Yesterday, my brother and I divided our TV time.” (justice)

References

Held, V. (2006). The Ethics of Care. Personal, Political, and Global. Oxford-New York: Oxford University Press.
Lincoln, Y.S. & Guba, E.G. (1985). Naturalistic inquiry. Newbury Park (CA): Sage.
Mortari, L. (2007). Cultura della ricerca e pedagogia. Prospettive epistemologiche. Roma: Carocci.
Mortari, L. (ed.) (2009). La ricerca per i bambini. Milano: Mondadori.
Mortari, L. (2015). Filosofia della cura. Milano: Raffaello Cortina.
Noddings, N. (1984). Caring. A Feminine Approach to Ethics and Moral Education. Berkeley: University of California Press.
Noddings, N. (1992). The Challenge to Care in School. An Alternative Approach to Education. New York: Teachers College Press.

Artificial Intelligence and the Professions

I recently came across a welcome bit of good news (which many of us crave these days!). Through a vehicle intriguingly titled the “Ethics and Governance of Artificial Intelligence Fund,” several philanthropies are providing generous support for an important and challenging undertaking: an investigation of the ethical and moral considerations of advances in AI. The beneficiaries are two highly appropriate and complementary university centers: the Media Lab at the Massachusetts of Institute of Technology and the Berkman Klein Center for Internet and Society at Harvard University.

This philanthropic support could not be more timely. After a number of false (or overly-hyped) starts in the last half-century, the field of artificial intelligence is coming of age. As the size of computational devices gets ever smaller, the question-answering and problem-solving capacities of our technologies increase steadily. We can still argue about whether “artificial intelligence” is truly intelligent—that is, intelligent in the way that we humans think we are intelligent; and it is clear that much of artificial intelligence still depends on “brute force” processing of tons of information rather than the kinds of elegant heuristics that we human beings allegedly employ.

Until recently, I had thought that one arena of human life was unlikely to be affected by artificial intelligence—the practice of the learned professions. Of course, I knew that almost all workers make use of technological aids, and, as a (self-proclaimed) professional, I have for decades used computer programs that help me to array and analyze data, write and edit easily, and—indeed (perhaps especially)—organize my life. But I thought of these as mere adjuncts to my “real” work of thinking, advising, planning, executing, and professing.

Thanks to recent attention in the press—and Richard and Daniel Susskind’s book of The Future of the Professions—I now realize that I was naïve. The subtitle of the Susskinds’ book is telling: How technology will transform the work of human experts. Large parts of professions are now carried out far more rapidly—and in many cases, more accurately—by AI programs and devices than by even the most skilled and speediest human beings. It’s become an open question whether, and to what extent, we will need flesh and blood accountants to handle and authenticate our books; live physicians to commission and interpret our MRIs; animated teachers who stand and deliver in front of us rather than well-designed lessons online.

But for the most part, discussions of these trends have ignored or minimized what is at the core, the proverbial “elephant in the room”: the responsibility of professionals to make complex judgments, and notably ethical ones, under conditions of uncertainty. The auditor has to decide which items to include or exclude, how to categorize them, what recommendations to give to the client, when to report questionable practices, to whom, and in what format. The medical practitioner has to decide which tests to commission, which findings to emphasize, and how to explain the possible courses of a disease process to patients and families who differ widely in background, knowledge, and curiosity. The teacher has to decide which topics are most important, what to emphasize (or minimize) in the current context (including time constraints, snow days, and epochal world events), which kinds of feedback are useful to specific students in specific contexts, and which kinds are better kept under wraps for now.

“To be sure,” you might respond. But these kinds of knowledge and “moves” can and are being built into AI. We can and should consider varying contexts; we can have different responses for different clients, even for the same clients on different days or under different circumstances; we can tweak programs based on successes and failures according to specified standards; and, anyway, we cannot be confident that human practitioners—even ones with the best of motives—necessarily handle such challenges very well.

Since I am (hopefully) less naïve than at earlier times, I won’t attempt to bat down or ignore these rejoinders. But I raise the following considerations:

1. Over the decades, professionals have developed understandings of what is proper professional behavior and what is not. To be sure, sometimes these consensus judgments are honored as much in the breach as in the observance; but at least they are standards, typically explicit ones. (One journalism ethical code—that of The New York Times—runs for over fifty pages.) Any artificial intelligence program that takes on professional (as opposed to purely technical) competence needs to be explicit about the ethical assumptions built into it. Such discussions have commenced—for example, with reference to the norms governing driverless automobiles that get into traffic jams or accidents.

2. It is illusory to think that there will be one best approach to any professional challenge—be it how to audit accounts, interpret radiological information, or fashion a lesson. Indeed, different approaches will have different ethical orientations—implicit or explicit. Far better that the assumptions be made explicit and that they have to contend with one another publicly on the ethical playing field… as happens now in discussions among philosophers, cognitive scientists, and neuroscientists.

3. Among competing artificial intelligence approaches to professional quandaries, how do we decide which to employ? We could create AI “meta-programs” that make these decisions—but for now, I’d rather let human professionals make these discernments. As the Romans famously queried “Quis custodiet ipsos custodies?” (“Who guards the guardians?”)

4. What happens if, for some reason, AI breaks down (for example, if the “hackers of ethics” have their day)? (More than a few gifted hackers pass through the portals of the two Cambridge institutions that have been generously funded.) In such post-diluvium “after the flood” cases, we will desperately need well-educated human beings who themselves have come to embody professional expertise and judgment.

5. A personal point: As I write these lines, I am dealing with a medical situation that will take months to resolve. I am fortunate—indeed, more than fortunate—to have a skilled medical team that is helping me to deal with these challenges. No doubt each member makes use of all of the “computational intelligence” at his or her disposal. But I also have conversations—in person, on the telephone, or on line—with these physicians frequently (in one case, on a daily basis). These personal interactions with live, empathic human beings have enormous positive impact on my well-being. When I have recovered, I expect to write about the sense of professional calling which still exists, at least in the prototypical profession of medicine.

6. Maybe my grandchildren or great-grandchildren will be equally satisfied having “conversations” with AI programs, although I can’t conceive of a situation where I would be. And this is in large part because my physicians are human beings. In some ways, as a fellow human being, I know where they are “coming from”—and in some ways, they also know where I am “coming from”; where I am going; and how the many pieces fit (or don’t) fit together. As fellow human beings, we share both an evolutionary background and a common fate.

And so, as the researchers and practitioners commence their important work on the ethics of AI, I hope that they will keep in mind those capacities and potentials that represent the “better angels” of human nature—those civilized and professional virtues and values that took centuries to develop but can so easily be scuttled and forgotten.

An Action Call: “I Am A Citizen” Project

By Arina Bokas

Arina Bokas is an author, independent educational consultant, and faculty member in the department of English at Mott Community College, Michigan. She is also the editor of Kids’ Standard Magazine.

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Is civic education on the decline in America? Like many educators, the most recent presidential election made me rethink my own role in preparing students to become engaged citizens and informed participants in the American political process. In response to recent events, I developed a research project for my college students called “I Am A Citizen,” first completed by my freshmen composition class last semester.

Located in Flint, Michigan, Mott Community College, where I teach, has a diverse student body. Many inner city students, predominantly African-American, receive financial aid that allows them to attend. The college also draws many students from Flint’s suburbs that, up until a few decades ago, were home to many skilled, well-paid automotive workers. These predominantly white students come from working class families, often making just above the income line that would qualify them for financial assistance. Many students from both groups work in order to afford college. I could safely say that my composition class was evenly divided in their political preferences, with about a quarter of students being removed from politics altogether.

The Ground Rule: Ideas, Not People

From the very start, I made it clear that regardless of their political considerations, students were to treat each other with respect. Most importantly, we were to discuss ideas, and never individuals. This rule applied to the presidential candidates, their supporters, and students themselves. This was one important shift in thought that students had to embrace.

Set-Up and Expectations

Students were split in groups of five, each group working within one theme or general area of interest. When creating groups, I purposefully combined students from various social-economic and racial backgrounds to ensure a diversity of views. Individually, each student was to select a specific question that he or she would investigate within the chosen area.

To make sure that students were well positioned to conduct a productive investigation, I asked them to submit a research proposal containing their question, criteria, and hypothesis prior to collecting any data.

Students worked within their groups to develop tools for gathering information, most often surveys, and were each responsible for collecting a specific demographic sample. After the results from all members were compiled, groups analyzed the data to see whether responses differed based on respondents’ age, gender, social-economic class, or political affiliation, information that was analyzed in individually written papers.

The final outcome of this project was a research portfolio that included a research proposal, individual survey results, bibliography, first draft with peer edits, final draft, and a reflection exercise.

The Project: Building Skills and Dispositions

As my students gathered early in the morning on November 9, 2016, our nation had just awakened the results of the election. Amidst the confusion, joy, fear, and anger sweeping our country, my 18-year-old first-time voters talked quietly and respectfully as they were discussing and selecting areas for their projects.

The image of the President of the United States, the system of the U.S. electoral process, and the particular election of 2016 were three dominant themes. To help students formulate individual questions, I led the class through a “Chalk Talk” thinking routine in which groups moved from one station to another to recording their thoughts about each group’s proposed topic and build on one another’s reflections. By the end of the class period, many students had a clear idea of what exactly they were eager to research.

Examples of research questions included:

• Are values of truth and ethics in the President of the United States important to our society

• Has our perception of personal values in the President of the United Stated changed over time?

• Does the electoral process currently in place in the United States allow the best candidates to advance?

• Does the two-party system serve America well?

The verbalization of questions and hypotheses prior to conducting research afforded students an opportunity to evaluate their own perspectives and the evolution of their views as their research progressed. Students considered throughout the project whether their research supported their preliminary view or made them reconsider it, learning to postpone judgment and objectively evaluate evidence.

Because the students were also required to examine original documents, rather than rely on the interpretation of others, and to develop their very own data collection tools, this project fostered student agency and perspective taking.

Outcomes and Observations

From the time I introduced the project to the students until the day they presented their results, we had six weeks of bi-weekly class meetings, a relatively short amount of time to tackle broad ideas. Through the presentations, project reflections, and more informal conversations, I was able to conclude that the value of this project was found in three areas vital to responsible citizenship.

1. Understanding of the political arena.

Before completing this project, many students believed that they had sufficient knowledge of political processes. Very soon, however, it became clear that there was a substantial deficit in their knowledge and comprehension. One student wrote in her reflection, “I learned that even with all of the technology we have, we don’t know much about the elections or the candidates. Maybe this is because of misinformation that comes with certain media outlets, or maybe this is because we sometimes just don’t care to take time to really understand something.“ (Jazmin H.)

For many students, the surveys and analyses of secondary sources led to unexpected conclusions. For example, most respondents over the age of 35 across various demographics didn’t consider truth and ethics to be important in the political arena. They based their trust in the President not on telling public truths but rather on their perception of whether or not the President was true to his/her word. On the other hand, public truth was an important factor for younger voters.

Students also concluded that the two-party system was limiting the presidential pool inside and outside the parties. Most respondents knew nearly nothing about third party candidates or even the third parties themselves.

2. Understanding of the role of a citizen.

One student noted the effect of this project on his sense of responsibility as a citizen: “This project gave me a new perspective on the U.S. government. Before this, I always brushed off our American politics as a sort of nuisance. Reading the Constitution and trying to understand it for the first time, learning about actions of the past Presidents and their effects on my life today, made me take a critical look at myself as a citizen.” (Patrick S.)

The surveys data demonstrated a substantial shift between generations in how people perceive their civic responsibility. Older voters had a higher percentage of civic participation and desire to stay informed than did their younger counterparts. Older people were also more likely to believe that their voices matter.

One student reflected, “I didn’t vote in this election or the last one, even though I was eligible. I honestly didn’t realize how much the presidential elections affect us, American citizens, and the rest of the world. This project has changed my perspective. I will be more involved in the future, following up on the issues and partaking in the voting process.” (Katherine H.)

3. Desire to question, seek various perspectives, verify, and postpone conclusions.

Compiling and interpreting data from various demographic samples and working in mixed groups allowed students to interact with perspectives of those with whom they disagreed. Throughout the process, students strove to remain objective as they read, edited, and listened to presentations of evidence and conclusions of others.

A number of students observed that since the founding of the country, ethical standards for the President had changed. Many of the founding fathers weren’t concerned about human rights issues as we understand them today, and different priorities were at the fore. Students commented that they realized that almost any issue involved a number of interrelated and complex factors. Differences of opinion were often a result of which factors individuals considered more relevant and important to their lives.

“I feel I am more open minded,” reported one student. “In the future, I would like to stay neutral until I fully understand and know both sides of the argument. Just because I know my life doesn’t mean I know the needs of my neighbor.” (April L.)

Concluding Thought

I believe that nearly every non-technical subject presents an opportunity for a project that enhances student civic knowledge or understanding of civic engagement. No matter how brief the exposure might be, it matters. Little by little, we all can make a change that will have a lasting effect on the future of our nation.

The Letter of Recommendation: Professional Judgment Under Siege

As a veteran professional, considered to have expertise in education and social science, I am often asked for advice. The requests run the gamut from where to study, to what to study, to how to succeed in one or another competitive arena. I do my best to be helpful—which often includes the admission that I don’t know enough to offer help.

Among the areas for which my professional judgment is most often sought is the letter of recommendation. I am asked to write a variety of letters. These range from recommending a young person for admission to a secondary school or college to recommending a senior colleague for a prize or a month long residency at a picturesque conference site. In the former case, I’m buoyed by the knowledge that there are many good places where the candidate can study. In the latter case, there is often already a lot of public knowledge about the candidate and so my support is probably symbolic rather than substantive.

The most challenging letters: those requested by young scholars who are applying for full-time tenure track teaching jobs. (Sometimes I have been the chief doctoral adviser for the scholar; at other times, I am one of her teachers or on her dissertation committee.) These jobs are highly competitive, with dozens or even hundreds of qualified candidates for each coveted position. Not infrequently, I (as well as other colleagues) will be asked to write letters for more than one candidate for the same job!

I am always suspicious of claims that “things used to be easier” or “more straightforward” in the past—and in reading C. P. Snow’s novels about academe in England, I learned that intrigue has always hovered over coveted appointments. But things certainly used to be different.

In the first half of the 20th century, nearly all appointments at selective institution (in the United States, United Kingdom, and other countries) came about through personal recommendations—in writing, in person, or by phone. The operating principle was the “old boys’ network”—and literally boys, since almost no “girls” were part of the network. When there was an opening at an institution, or when a senior scholar had a promising student, relevant “old boys” would get in touch with one another and have a presumably frank discussion of strengths and weaknesses. (Having read some correspondence from that era, I have been impressed by how candid the letters were—critiques were at least as prominent as raves.) In that sense, one can say that these recommendations were truthful.

But it’s equally important to point out that scholars had their favorites—and having a candidate who carried on your work or agreed with your view of the field or was personally helpful to you were undoubtedly fingers on the scale of a positive recommendation.

The “old boys’ network” needed to be exploded, and in the last several decades, it clearly has been. To begin with, while sexism has hardly disappeared, the range and variety of candidates is much greater, with women and minorities at least in the pool even when there has not been special encouragement for their candidacy. All jobs must be publicly advertised. Further, in many places there are “sunshine” rules, such that either letters are made public or—more typically—the letter writer is warned that confidentiality cannot be guaranteed.

Efforts have been undertaken to make such letters more objective. One ploy is to ask the letter writer to compare the candidate to other candidates in her cohort—either others who are explicitly named or ones whom the writer himself is asked to nominate. Another ploy, common for admission to a highly competitive program, is to ask the letter writer to rate the candidate in terms of her percentile rank with respect to properties like originality, expression in writing, oral expression, etc. An example: “In oral expression, as compared to other candidates, is this candidate in the upper 1%, the upper 5% the upper 10%, etc.?”

A complicating factor—especially salient in the United States—is what I’d term “letter inflation.” We are all familiar with grade inflation—the tendency over the decades to give students ever higher grades (in many institutions of higher learning, the Gentleman C has been promoted the Gentleman A minus). With respect to letters, I’ve observed the same trend in the United States—letters often compete with one another for superlatives. Indeed, of the many letter writers whom I know personally or “on paper,” only one of them is relatively candid about the flaws in a candidate.

So, in the light of all of these obstacles, what is left, if anything, of professional judgment? Faced with other letters that are likely to be laden with superlatives, as well as the prospect of public exposure of critical remarks (not to mention the possibility of a lawsuit filed by an unsuccessful job candidate!), are there any principles to which a letter writer should adhere in order to convey his or her professional judgment in a reliable way?

Here is what I would recommend:

1. When asked by a job candidate for a letter of recommendation, be prepared to say “no” and to give reasons that are candid, though not, of course, gratuitously nasty. I often explain that I don’t know the candidate well enough to be helpful or that I have already agreed to write for someone else or that I don’t think that the candidate is appropriate for the job. Better to be tough at the beginning than to find yourself in a quagmire.

2. Refuse to do rank orderings or checklists. Here’s the standard boilerplate that I use: “As a matter of personal policy, I do not complete ratings questionnaires as a portion of recommendations.” Why this refusal? One almost never sees checklists that are not completely skewed to the positive—so much so that checking off “Top 10%,” rather than “Top 1%,” can be the kiss of death.

3. Be purely descriptive whenever possible. For example, when it comes to a discussion of the candidate’s research, put it in your own words and be explicit about its contribution as well as its limitations.

4. State in a positive way the candidate’s strong features—letter readers will be interested in how you see her strengths.

5. If possible, touch on the candidate’s less strong features—or indicate areas where you don’t feel competent to comment (for example, if you know the candidate’s research but not her teaching, it is fine to state that).

If, for whatever reason, you cannot be explicit about a candidate’s weaknesses, be silent. Leave it to the readers of the letter to make inferences about what is not discussed. To avoid unintentionally harming the candidate, I always have a last line that reads, “Please let me know if I can provide any further information.” If there is indeed a follow-up, you are free to say, “I am not comfortable commenting on that issue.” Don’t lie!

As you can probably tell, this state of affairs does not please me. I’d much rather be completely candid and have others be equally candid with me. (In that sense, despite its obvious flaws, I have sympathy for the normative behavior in earlier times.) But that is not the world in which we live, and it is unfair to treat a job candidate in a way that unfairly jeopardizes her chance for a livelihood. But I come to the reluctant conclusion that, at least in the United States, letters of recommendation are not a site where one can expect candid professional judgment.

Since these issues will not go away, and they affect likely all who would read this piece, I’d be eager to hear others’ ideas about the professional judgment involved in letters of recommendation and how to exercise one’s professional judgment in a responsible way. Feel free to write your own recommendations below!