This semester I offered two courses at BNU, one a university-wide elective, “A General History of Science,” and the other a 1-credit specialized course in the Department of Philosophy, “Introduction to Academic Research.” Both courses ended up with exactly 15 students enrolled.
Why I offered the courses
The reason I decided to offer these two courses was, first, on Professor Tian’s suggestion; in a sense, it was also to accumulate a bit of output for the future, whether for staying on at the university or finding a teaching position elsewhere, and in a sense it was also a kind of internship experience. In any case, I myself feel that these two courses were indeed worth offering; although they cost me quite a lot of time, I still think they were worthwhile. At the very least, I now have some confidence about offering courses in the future.
These days I’ve been compiling the students’ grades, so the courses are nearly truly over. I might as well write a summary.
Let me start with “Introduction to Academic Research.” BNU’s system for offering courses does not seem very good. When I was at Peking University, it felt as though teachers had a great deal of freedom in offering courses: one year a course on Schopenhauer, the next year a course on Nietzsche, and so on. Teachers had a great deal of autonomy. But here it seems one must choose from fixed courses already present in the curriculum, and most of those courses already have teachers assigned to them, so it would be inconvenient for me to take their classes. A long-unoffered course on “the history of scientific thought” was also claimed by the newly arrived Teacher Xiao Wang. I didn’t have the heart to compete with him, so I settled for the next best thing: I opened “A General History of Science” as a university-wide elective, and then found this 1-credit small course tucked away in the nooks and crannies of the Philosophy School’s curriculum to take on.
No teacher had claimed this little course, and that is easy to understand, because it is a thankless, arduous course. Its topic is teaching people how to do academic work, but that title is very empty; if one were to lecture in a talk-like fashion and offer some airy abstractions, there would not be much interest in it. The best way to “introduce” it, of course, would be to communicate fully with students and guide them hand in hand, but teaching a course like that is naturally quite troublesome, and only a young teacher like me, just starting out, would be willing to teach it this way.
In an ideal situation, a course like this would not be necessary. If a system of undergraduate tutors could be truly implemented, and each student could receive individualized guidance from a homeroom teacher, counselor, or advisor in addition to specific major courses, then the task of “Introduction to Academic Research” should be woven into those places. For example, if we had the Wu School discussion seminar, then there would be no need to offer such a course. But now such systems are often far from complete. Some conscientious teachers can do it very well, but other teachers may simply not bother much. It is not only undergraduates; even many graduate students also lack the necessary academic training, and many of them, even when they are approaching graduation in their third year of graduate school, still do not know how to write a paper. This is the case both at Peking University and at BNU, and the situation at BNU is especially poor.
In the absence of a fully effective tutorial system, this course I offered was very meaningful. My position was this: academic research introduction is nothing more than an introduction to writing papers; it is a course specifically about how to write a paper. Because there is a lack of one-on-one guidance from advisors, in ordinary courses the papers students hand in often do not receive sufficient comments and are simply given a grade and that is that. So most students actually never get the chance to confront the question of how to write a paper in a dedicated way; many misunderstandings and faults in writing also never get the chance to be corrected. My course provided precisely this kind of concentrated opportunity for reflection on paper writing.
Course format
So my way of teaching this course was very simple: evaluate and discuss papers. The first class naturally began with self-introduction and explanation of the course requirements, which were that each student must provide at least one paper to be discussed during the course, and then submit one more paper after the course ended (either a revised version of the previous paper or a different one) as the basis for grading. The papers students provided could be assignments from any other course.
The first two classes were personally led by me, evaluating and discussing papers. Using the papers submitted by students as examples (or finding some model essays), I explained some basic issues one needs to pay attention to when writing papers. After that, the course gradually shifted to students reporting on their own papers, followed by my comments and free discussion. Reporting one’s own paper is also a basic academic ability; the coherence of the paper and the clarity of its views are also revealed in the report. If the report is poorly delivered, then aside from expressive ability, it often also means that the paper itself was poorly written.
The ideal final result would be that I would gradually fade out of the classroom, leaving the students entirely in charge of the main presentation and the commentary. Identifying problems and offering academic criticism are, of course, very basic academic activities as well. But I did not do this step well in my course this semester. I’m not making excuses, but a large part of the reason should be that the main students taking this course were all from the same class (third-year undergraduates), and most of them were girls. Perhaps they felt awkward with one another, making it difficult to launch sharp or pointed criticism. If the student body were more diverse, with a few more active male students, the effect should have been much better. Still, overall, I feel the atmosphere of this course was quite good. Even though some students were not yet proactive enough, at least they all had some experience of it. For a course of 15 students, with attendance also permitted to be optional, the attendance rate for this course was clearly higher than that for “A General History of Science” (perhaps this also had something to do with the higher proportion of female students?).
Problem awareness
Although every class was centered on evaluating and discussing students’ papers, there were always some common problems that had to be emphasized again and again.
First, in terms of the paper’s form, the abstract is something most students definitely cannot write well at first. They often turn the abstract into an “introduction.” In fact, an abstract, as the name suggests, is a condensation of essentials: it extracts the most essential and crucial parts from the main text. What key evidence does this article provide? What basic arguments does it establish? What profound insights does it offer? All of this should be listed in the abstract. Under no circumstances should it be written as a suspense-building introduction, such as: “This article will analyze so-and-so’s thought and point out its important significance and shortcomings…” One should write out specifically how the analysis will be carried out, and what significance and shortcomings there are. The purpose of the abstract is to help other readers quickly retrieve and judge, in an age of information explosion, whether this article is worth reading, so one cannot assume that the reader will necessarily continue on to the full text.
Of course, even when students know that an abstract should not be written as an introduction, they often still cannot write a good abstract. This is because their papers themselves are relatively loose, their arguments not focused enough, their evidence not clear enough, and their reasoning lacking in organization and layers. In such a case, of course, they cannot write a good abstract. A good paper must absolutely not be written as a kind of reading report, or even a reading “briefing.” Many students seem to write papers as if they are reporting to the teacher: proving that they have read something and then understood it. But academic papers are obviously not meant to be a matter of “reading comprehension.” Even by the standards of middle-school “argumentative writing,” there should at least be a clear thesis, evidence, and argumentation. Merely repeating what Confucius said and what Kant said is not enough; first of all, there must be a sense of the problem, such as: Why did Kant care about this issue? Why should I care about these remarks of Kant’s? Is Kant’s view correct? Which interpretation of Kant’s view is more accurate? …
“Problem awareness” seems to be a rather mysterious skill. Some people are more perceptive and can often cut to the heart of the matter, opening up insight. But in fact it is not especially mysterious. On the one hand, problem awareness comes from academic interest: when there is love and desire, one naturally becomes “tuned in.” Some people rely on love at first sight, some on long-term adjustment, but in any case once we genuinely resonate from within with certain scholars or certain problems, problem awareness naturally becomes sharp. If, deep down, I am indifferent to a certain issue or utterly unimpressed by a certain philosopher, and am merely writing about them out of duty, then naturally it is harder to stimulate problem awareness. This is not that mysterious: it is simply a matter of feeling.
But my course obviously cannot help students cultivate “feeling,” so what I emphasized more was the “clumsy method” of developing problem awareness, namely, reading more “secondary literature.” When studying a certain philosopher or a certain problem, we need, in addition to reading the primary texts, to actively consult the research literature of other scholars on similar objects.
When reading academic literature, we need to maintain a critical eye, looking for conflicts and incongruities, rather than introducing everything in a “you’re good, I’m good, everybody’s good” manner. For example, regarding a certain view of Kant’s, Zhang San has one interpretation, Li Si has another, and they are not completely consistent with each other. Then where exactly do the differences between these interpretations lie? Why do such differences arise? Which interpretation is Kant’s own view actually closer to? These are all “problems” worth entering through. If you discover that every piece of secondary literature on a question says the same thing over and over, then there are only three possibilities: either you have read far too little, or the question is not worth discussing, or the question urgently needs a new paradigm. In general, undergraduates and beginning graduate students are in the first situation, but broader research literature may be difficult for beginners to find, so when writing, students should choose a suitable breakthrough point according to their own ability and horizon.
Conflicts and incongruities are not limited to different pieces of secondary literature; they can also be inconsistencies between the beginning and end of the same text, or the subversive tension between ordinary language and philosophers’ concepts. In short, any point of tension offers “room for a topic.” In fact, many students do not fail because they cannot find problems, but because when they discover these tensions, they lack confidence and instead choose to ignore them or mention them only in passing, focusing only on repeating those statements that are uncontroversial.
Imaginary adversaries
I suggest that when writing a paper, one should have an “imaginary adversary.” Of course, this does not mean an enemy one cannot stand looking at, but rather an opponent one is trying to challenge and compete with. The imaginary adversary can be a great philosopher, or it can be the public, standing for common sense, or even oneself. But in general, the main imaginary adversary in an academic paper should be one’s peers. A paper is not a diary; it is written for others to read. There are already so many scholars out there writing so many papers—why, then, is your paper worth reading? Naturally, your paper must have certain aspects in which it surpasses other scholars’ work. Therefore, the basic goal of writing a paper is to surpass one’s peers and to make this article stand out.
For undergraduates or beginning researchers, it is difficult to grasp the basic state of the entire academic field, so we cannot guarantee that our papers will surpass all researchers. But this does not mean we should give up this competitive awareness. That is why I mention that the most immediate imaginary adversary of an academic paper is one’s own advisor, and the imaginary adversary of a course paper is the teacher of that course. University courses differ from middle school: they require the autonomous exploration of new knowledge, rather than the passive reception of ready-made knowledge. So a good teacher hopes to see from students not a report proving that they have mastered existing knowledge, but instead a further step taken on the foundation or signposts the teacher has provided. Therefore, a good paper is not parroting, but pushing forward: it extends, refutes, supplements, or refines what the teacher has offered.
Even if a paper focuses on reflecting on public common sense, the paper’s readers are still first and foremost academic peers. Scholars have many channels through which to write specifically for the public: blogs, Weibo posts, essays, interviews, popular books, and so on can all be aimed at the public. Some genres are aimed at officials or certain specific groups, such as research reports commissioned by the government. But in general, the “paper” we write is for peer scholars to read, so we should take the readership’s background into account when writing. For example, some common knowledge already known throughout academic circles does not need to be elaborated at length unless it is especially relevant to the topic or there is something in it that needs to be examined in the text. Things that differ from mainstream academic understanding, on the other hand, should be emphasized. In addition, because the reader is not the public or officials, some inflammatory, slogan-like phrases should be avoided as much as possible. One should be especially wary of using imperative sentences and adjectives; in the main body of the article, one should use plain and rigorous language as much as possible.
Citing sources
“Citing sources” is, of course, the most basic requirement of an academic paper. I did not spend too much time discussing citation format. In fact, the citation formats currently popular in China are not uniform; each journal has its own conventions. What I emphasized was the awareness of citation: once that consciousness is in place, it is easy enough to imitate a format.
Why cite? Citation is, of course, necessary respect for those being cited, but more importantly, citation is beneficial to oneself and to the reader. Citation is a necessary part of developing an argument. We mentioned earlier the problem awareness and competitive awareness of paper writing, or what one might call “peer awareness.” A good paper is always written in a specific historical context within a certain academic circle, and it stands on the shoulders of earlier scholars. We are not doing research in some floating pavilion that existed before all others and after none. Citing the achievements of others is a way of determining one’s own footing. Once we stand securely on the basis provided by our predecessors, then whether we go on to extend and advance, or to reflect and criticize, the significance and contribution of this paper become very clear.
My grandfather taught me chess and said, “A move must have roots.” No move is made out of a sudden whim; no piece is a lone army unrelated to the whole board. Every move corresponds to the entire situation, interlocking with everything else, supporting and being supported by everything else. Writing papers is the same: every sentence should have “roots.” No sentence just floats in from nowhere; every paragraph stays closely tied to the topic and is grounded in evidence. Every sentence should withstand scrutiny and questioning: why is this sentence being said here? Some assertions are drawn from prior argumentation, some judgments are derived from actual investigation, and other pieces of evidence are supported by some authoritative source.
The questioning of grounds has no end. We cannot possibly cram all grounds into a single paper, so that is where citation shows its significance. “Authoritative sources” are one important way of support; if you need to question the basis further, then you need to locate those references.
This kind of citation to “authority” is by no means dogmatism in any sense. On the contrary, the point of citing authority is precisely to make it easy for the reader to trace further at any time, to follow the clues and dig to the roots. If you simply transfer an authoritative view wholesale and present it as something objective and certain, then you cut off the trail for further verification.
Therefore, do not be afraid of citation. A large number of quotations will not obscure the originality of a paper; on the contrary, citations can highlight its originality. The clearer the background on which you are standing, the clearer the part in which you have made a breakthrough. If the article itself has no breakthrough at all, then it will not become striking simply by hiding its sources. Some students say that they have read a great deal and been inspired, and then independently arrived at their own thoughts and conclusions, so when writing they no longer need to go back and compare those materials. But this so-called independence may very well be only an illusion; and even if you really do have the ability to independently arrive at similar conclusions, you still should not do it that way. The basic strategy of writing is already wrong. Having the ability to reinvent the wheel can only show that you have ability; for the academic circle, though, it contributes almost nothing. A tiny improvement to the formula for the lubricant used in a wheel bearing is far more important than reinventing the wheel. So the wise writing strategy should be: even if certain ideas were truly arrived at independently by me, I should still do my best to find similar views provided by academic predecessors, and try as much as possible to cite them or make subtle improvements upon them. Only in this way can I locate more clearly the position and value of my paper.
Other Miscellaneous Issues
For most students’ final papers I gave fairly long comments as well (averaging about 800 Chinese characters per person, I suppose), with the exception of a few 2011 cohort students for whom I did not give feedback, because they were graduating seniors and the academic office was pressing very early for grades, so I quickly submitted theirs first. The other 2011 students each had their own special circumstances. Among them, two students attended class very rarely and had hardly absorbed the things this course emphasized, seeking only to pass; so I gave them lower grades and did not offer detailed comments. The other two students, one working on logic and philosophy of mind, and the other from the College of Liberal Arts, also had good papers. I could not offer any substantive suggestions, so I simply did not comment. The rest of the third-year students should all have received specific feedback. Let me extract here some common issues from those comments:
- There are a bit too many keywords, and they do not correspond to the abstract. The abstract should extract the most crucial part of the article; most of the keywords ought to be contained within the title or the abstract. Otherwise, it either means that the keywords are not key enough, or that the abstract has not been written well enough.
- As philosophy beginners, rather than mindlessly aiming criticism at the great philosopher himself, it is better to remain humble before the great philosopher and try instead to direct your criticism toward contemporary fellow scholars. Any undergraduate at random can speak fluently about the one-sidedness or limitations of a great philosopher, but they are not great philosophers. Those who speak very comprehensively and smoothly are often just minor riffraff; which boss of philosophy history was not sharp and extreme? Learn from the sharp great philosophers, and do not follow those smooth, glib eclectics in parroting them. So when reading original philosophical texts, first do not think about exposing their one-sidedness or limitations; instead, try as much as possible to grasp their perspective and line of thought. The key point is not what specific problems there are in their views, but why exactly did they think this way? Why did they go to extremes here? And why did they pull back there? To try to understand a philosopher’s “mistakes” and to feel a philosopher’s concerns is the shortcut into the temple of philosophy; otherwise you will forever be able only to stand outside that temple, pointing and gossiping.
- A perspective without standpoint is impossible, but we can constantly transcend ourselves. In fact, the greatest significance of reading ancient classics lies precisely here: by experiencing a unique mode of thinking entirely different from one’s own, we come to understand the possibilities of thought, and from the other person’s line of thought look back upon ourselves, thereby constantly transcending our own narrowness. So the difference between us and some old scholars of the 1980s is not that they had biases and we do not, but that they basically spent their whole lives confined within a narrow range, whereas our horizons are continuously expanding and our positions becoming more diversified. So if you make an effort to read secondary literature by newer scholars or by foreign scholars, you will be able to feel the gap. In the process of conversing with multiple different standpoints, and in the process of distinguishing and comparing among multiple standpoints, you will naturally be able to refine your own distinctive position. If you keep reading only one formula over and over, you will never be able to break out of that framework.
- Most of your citations of secondary literature are indirect citations, that is, there are no quotation marks in the text. Direct quotation is generally quite clear: a passage enclosed in quotation marks is something taken from the corresponding text. But indirect citation is often not very clear; that is, exactly where to where in your text, and which views, are derived from the relevant reference, often remain ambiguous. Generally speaking, I recommend the following treatment in such cases: one way is to use direct quotation as much as possible; if you want to use indirect citation, then it is a good idea to make clear in the main text who is being cited. For example, you could say——ABCDE, as Xu Fuguan said, FGHIJK（注释1）——then it is very clear that from “as Xu Fuguan said” up to the note, it is all indirect citation of Xu Fuguan. If you simply write ABCDEFGHIJK（注释1）, then it is not clear. Putting the person cited into the main text has another additional advantage, namely that it makes your similarities and differences with other fellow researchers more clearly marked. I have always emphasized that the best papers should be in dialogue with fellow researchers, so citing secondary literature is not merely a way to help you summarize; it also appears as a reference point that is always there for dialogue and confrontation. They should be made to have more presence in your article.
- If you are citing the original wording through a secondary source, you should explain which text the secondary source cited, and then indicate that it is a secondary citation. For example, “Kant: Religion within the Bounds of Bare Reason, XX Publishing House, XX year, p. N. Cited via Yuan Guiren: ‘Understanding of the Philosophy of Human Beings’ ……” In short, you should distinguish whether this sentence is Kant’s own words as secondarily cited, or whether it is not Kant’s original wording but rather the meaning paraphrased by Yuan Guiren. Of course, if conditions permit, you should personally find Kant’s original work and read it; then there will be no need for secondary citation. Although I have repeatedly emphasized in class the importance of secondary literature, that does not mean primary literature is unimportant. Rather, it is because the importance of primary literature simply does not need me to emphasize it again. A paper specifically about Kant should of course read Kant’s original works; relying only on secondary literature is not enough. The best way of writing is to cross-reference primary and secondary literature. You can use secondary literature to stimulate and support your interpretation of the primary text, and you can also use the primary text to verify and refute what secondary literature says.
Translated from the Chinese original with AI assistance. The original text is authoritative.
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