GOOD PHILOSOPHICAL WRITING

BASICS OF GOOD PHILOSOPHICAL WRITING: A DEEPER DIVE

Having surveyed the elements of good writing from 30,000 feet, let’s swoop in on some of the most important specifics. This means starting not with writing but with reading

Practice Reading Effectively and Deeply

Good writers are invariably good readers. They read thoughtfully and analytically rather than hoping to absorb the material by a sort of passive osmosis. Analytical reading is essential not just to reading philosophical works but any material you intend to use as research or background for your own writing.

When you enroll in a biology class, an economics class, a political science class, you recognize and accept that you are going to have to learn many new concepts and analytical approaches as well as the specialized vocabulary that goes with them. The same is true of philosophy. It has a range of specialized vocabularies, which might seem off-putting at first, but, as with the vocabularies in other disciplines, these have evolved to suit the field more effectively and efficiently than the language available in general usage. Learning and using the appropriate intellectual and technical terms will make the study of philosophy both easier and more rewarding.

Analytical reading demands that you acquire the necessary vocabulary. As you read, look up any terms you know you don’t know or you even suspect you don’t know. Looking things up requires an active approach rather than the passive attitude of the couch-potato reader. Looking things up is necessary to analytical reading, but you must do even more. Read with a pencil in hand. If you are working with a printed book—and you own it! —mark it up. Underline key passages, but don’t assume that underlining and making checkmarks in the margin constitutes analytical reading. Use your pencil to engage in a dialogue with the author. Jot down any ideas that the reading inspires. Challenge the author. Like a good philosopher, question everything. If, by the way, you are reading an e-book or reading online, use any highlighting and comment features your computer, tablet, Kindle, or other e-reader may offer, or keep your notes separately, either handwritten or in a digital notebook that you leave open next to the e-text you are reading.

Analytical reading typically begins by identifying the author’s slant, angle, or point-ofview. Put more aggressively, you are looking for the writer’s bias or biases. These don’t necessarily invalidate the author’s thesis, analysis, or opinions, but your understanding of point-of-view should influence your interpretation of these things. Read interactively. As I have suggested, take notes. Question. Dispute. Jot down any thoughts that occur to you as you read. You will find it especially helpful to clarify the author’s discussion by putting important points in your own words. Doing this will also aid understanding and memory. Respond in real time to what you read.

Be patient

Much of the media we take in these days assumes a very brief attention span. On television, in film, and online, pacing is important. Ideas come fast, and subjects change even faster. Reading—especially reading in the field of philosophy or for a philosophical paper —demands patience and a slower pace.

Plan your time and give yourself plenty of it. The all-nighter approach to assignments that have been put off day after day is rarely successful when the material demands close attention. If you wait until the day before the due date, you will be driven by panic, which will cause you to overlook or even misinterpret important material. Find some peace, quiet, and time.

You don’t have to start digging right away. Survey the material first. Some instructors call this “pre-reading.” It is probably more useful to think of it as surveying or skimming. Examine chapter titles and subheads. If there is an abstract or “executive summary” at the beginning of the work you are reading, read it. If there are charts, graphs, and other illustrations, study them. Get a picture of the intellectual landscape into which you are about to venture. For one thing, if you are doing preliminary research for paper, this surveying approach will allow you to narrow your reading. Skimming a prospective source may be sufficient to let you know whether it is valuable for your purposes. This will allow you to manage your time more effectively. On the other hand, skimming makes it possible to survey more works than fewer, so that there is less of a chance of missing a valuable resource. The one thing you should not skim, even in a preliminary survey, are the opening paragraphs or page. This is where good authors tell you what they are about, what they hope to accomplish in their work. By understanding the writer’s objectives, you will be able to follow the text more fluently.

Take notes

Your note taking should begin in the survey phase. Jot down first impressions. Make a quick assessment of the work’s potential usefulness to you for the subject you are contemplating writing about. Effective note-taking tactics include:
Making the author’s thinking your own. Restate the author’s big ideas to make them easier for you to evaluate.

Thinking of the notes as a dialogue with the writer—and with yourself, through time. When you review a source prior to incorporating it into your own writing, you will find it helpful to have a record of your first impressions.

Rephrasing and restating key points does not mean merely copying them. By engaging with the author’s language through your own language, you make the author’s thoughts your own. They become more malleable and more meaningful, which is a big help when you sit down to write.

Steal from the best

Even the most inventive and original writers readily admit to being intellectual thieves. The do not plagiarize, but they do seize, borrow, and emulate what they most admire in other writers. As you read, look for what you can steal—especially with respect to structure, use of analogy and metaphor, and mastery of research and facts. Don’t just reduce the author’s work to a dull summary or lifeless outline. Acquire the tools of effective expression and presentation. Just as watching a skilled carpenter wield a saw will help you to become a better woodworker, appreciating the architecture of an essay will enable you to become a more persuasive writer. Unlike the chemist who may jealously guard a cache of secret formulas, the writer’s tricks of the trade are on public display, waiting to be appropriated by anyone with the wit to appreciate them.

Be or Become Fully Literate

In the interest of good manners, fair warning: some material in this section will offend some readers, who may feel that they are being talked down to. Others may well feel they are being talked down to but will be secretly grateful for it. The point is that most of us can use a refresher in the rules of basic English. A lot of us chronically or habitually make a handful of grammatical and usage errors. Why not choose to fix these now? If this section persuades you that you could use more help, we suggest Strunk and White, The Elements of Style. It has been the classic brief (weighs in at a mere 105 pages) handbook of essential English usage since its first publication in 1920—and it has been repeatedly revised and updated to keep up with the times.

Use correct grammar and syntax

“Grammar” refers to the entire structure and system of a language. “Syntax” is the subset of grammar that concerns sentence structure. For practical purposes, however, grammar and syntax can be discussed together and constitute the most basic rules of English. The discussion that follows puts the emphasis on common errors and how to avoid them.

Sentence Structure: The basic units of a simple sentence are the subject (dominated by a noun or nouns) and the predicate (dominated by a verb or verbs and an object—a noun or nouns on which the subject acts). A sentence that lacks either a subject or a predicate is a sentence fragment. The only exceptions are imperative sentences, such as “Run!”

The subject is the person, organism, thing, place, entity, or idea that is being described in the sentence or that is preforming the action described in the sentence. The predicate expresses action and includes a verb (the action word) and generally says something more about the subject or is directly acted upon by the subject.

The basic structure is subject + predicate, and the predicate can be subdivided into verb direct object. In the sentence “I lost a red wallet,” I is the subject, and the rest of the sentence is the predicate, consisting of the verb lost and the direct object a red wallet. The direct object, in this case, consists of three parts of speech, an article (a), and adjective (red), and a noun (wallet).

Structurally, every complete sentence has a subject and verb, or predicate (except imperative sentences, in which the subject is implied but not present). The number of the subject and verb must agree. The sentence “Joe and I are good friends.” illustrates correct number agreement. “Joe and I” is a compound or plural subject, so the plural verb “are” is required. “We are good friends.” is a plural subject but not a compound one. “I am a philosopher.” has a singular subject, so takes a singular verb (“am”). But even though “Neither Joe nor I is a philosopher.” has a compound subject, it does not have a plural subject. “Neither/nor,” like “either/or,” makes the subject singular. The verb must agree with each singular noun. Contrast “Both Joe and I are philosophers.” The “and” creates a plural subject, with which the verb (and the entire predicate) must agree. What if you have a compound subject like this: “Neither I nor they” ? The common usage rule is that the noun closest to the verb determines the number of the verb: “Neither I nor they are philosophers.” But: “Neither they nor I am a philosopher.”

As subjects and verbs must agree in number, so must pronouns and antecedents (the word or phrase to which the pronoun refers). This presents two problems, one traditional and one rather new.

Everyone should bring their own lunch. By the rules of traditional grammar, this sentence is incorrect because everyone is a singular—not a plural—pronoun, so the pronoun in the predicate should be his, hers, or his or hers, or hers or his.

More recently, people have become increasingly aware of the gender bias toward males that is ingrained in the English language. The plural third-person pronouns they and we are and have always been gender-neutral, but the singular third-person pronouns (he, she, and it, along with their possessive forms, his, hers, and its) are gender-specific: male, female, neuter (not “neutral,” but sexless).

A note on gender-neutral language. How do we accommodate traditional English grammar without reinforcing male gender bias? As a philosophy student, perhaps you will question whether this is an important issue. We will not offer an opinion except to point out that the staff and students in most colleges and universities are sensitive to gender issues, and you can expect that the instructors who evaluate your work will likely be. Indeed, some instructors may articulate a policy on this issue. If so, you are best served by following it.

Let us assume that you want to avoid even the appearance of gender bias in your writing. One increasingly popular solution is to violate traditional grammar rules by simply substituting the gender-neutral plural pronouns (they, them, theirs) for the gender-specific singular pronouns. This is a simple solution that is gaining some traction, but many readers are likely to be put off by a sentence such as this: “A doctor should use their best judgment.” So, here are other alternatives for addressing gender bias in pronouns, adapted from recommendations in The Chicago Manual of Style, which is widely accepted by academic philosophers:

Just don’t use the pronoun. Change “the philosopher should revise the study when new information is made available to him” to “the philosopher should revise the study when new information is made available.”

Repeat the noun. Change “a philosopher should avoid gender bias because it will damage her reputation for objectivity” to “a philosopher should avoid gender bias because it will damage a philosopher’s reputation for objectivity.”

Substitute a plural antecedent. Change “a philosopher must conduct himself with professional decorum” to “philosophers must conduct themselves with professional decorum.”

Substitute an article for the personal pronoun. Change “a philosopher accused of plagiarism should not renounce her right to present exonerating evidence” to “a philosopher accused of plagiarism should not renounce the right to present exonerating evidence.”

Substitute the singular pronoun “one.” Change “a philosopher in Paris can expect to be more respected than he would be in Pine Bluff” to “a philosopher in Paris can expect to be more respected than one in Pine Bluff.”

Substitute the relative pronoun “who.” Change “philosophy professors expect that if a student writes well, she will be successful in philosophy class” to “philosophy professors expect that a student who writes well will be successful in philosophy class.”

Write an imperative sentence. Change “a philosopher must write clearly if he expects to be understood” to “write clearly to be understood.”

Rewrite the clause. Change “a philosopher who claims to have read Plato in the original Greek will be considered highly learned until he is exposed as a liar” to “a philosopher who claims to have read Plato in the original Greek will be considered highly learned until the fraud is revealed.”

Use the inclusive phrase “he or she.” Change “if a philosopher wants to get rich, he should become a plumber” to “if a philosopher wants to get rich, he or she should become a plumber.” (Unfortunately, this common alternative is wordy and awkward.)

The Role of Punctuation in Sentence Structure
Perhaps the most practical way to achieve correct and effective sentence structure is through understanding the proper use of punctuation.

Sentences begin with a capital letter and end with a period (declarative sentence), a question mark (an interrogatory sentence), or an exclamation point (an exclamatory sentence). The use of the first two pieces of punctuation is obvious—the period punctuates a statement, the question mark a question—but the exclamation point requires more finesse. Indeed, in most academic writing, the exclamation point has no place or, at most, must be used sparingly. Like typing texts or tweets in all caps, the exclamation point makes the sentence the equivalent of shouting. The exclamation point does have an important role in
punctuating interjections—those emotional outbursts that do not require a full sentence to express their content: Wow! Holy cow! Amazing! Astounding! These, too, are rarely used in serious academic writing.

Generally, the period, question mark, and exclamation point (except when used with an interjection) come at the end of a complete sentence and thus usually indicate the completion of a thought or an action.

Sentences often include commas. By the numbers, the comma is the most commonly used punctuation mark, and yet it is also the most commonly misused.

Many writers make the mistake of using a comma where a period should go: “Kant is one of the most important figures in modern philosophy, he brought together the rational and empiricist traditions.” This error in structure is called a comma splice and results when a comma is the only thing used to join two complete sentences. “Kant is one of the most important figures in modern philosophy” is one complete sentence and should be ended with a period. “He brought together the rational and empiricist traditions” is another complete sentence, which should begin with a capital H and end with a period.

The problem with a comma splice is not the presence of the comma but the misguided attempt to use it in place of a period.

Consider: “Kant is one of the most important figures in modern philosophy, and he brought together the rational and empiricist traditions.” This is not a comma splice because the conjunction and following the comma makes the rest of the sentence an independent clause. It has a subject and a verb, which means that it would be a sentence if it were not preceded by the conjunction.

Consider: “Kant is one of the most important figures in modern philosophy because he brought together the rational and empiricist traditions.” The use of because, which is often classified as a subordinating conjunction, forms the beginning of a dependent clause, a clause that cannot stand on its own as a sentence but relates to (in this case, elaborates upon) the first part of the sentence, which could stand alone as a complete sentence but is made more richly meaningful by the addition of the dependent clause.

Both sentences are grammatically correct, but most critical readers (such as philosophy professors) would find the second sentence significantly better than the first. The conjunction and does not subordinate anything. It merely joins two things. As such, it performs a simple act of addition: this thought and that thought. The subordinating conjunction because does more than simply add. It explains. The product of analytical thought, it shows the relationship between the two parts of the sentence, which, together, explain why Kant is so important. We could justly venture to say that the second sentence delivers greater value than the first. The first is merely expository. It lays out two facts. The second is analytic or even argumentative. It offers a reason for Kant’s importance.

Consider: “Kant is one of the most important figures in modern philosophy; he brought together the rational and empiricist traditions.” If the comma is the most common of punctuation marks, the semicolon is comparatively little used and not always correctly understood. As it is used here—correctly, by the way—it both joins and separates two independent clauses, which can stand on their own as sentences. The semicolon is used in place of a period when you want to imply a close relationship between two independent clauses. A better example might be this: “The Danish philosopher Kierkegaard was plagued lifelong by self-doubt and regret; yielding to second thoughts, he had broken off his engagement to Regine Olsen, with whom he was deeply in love.” Here, the writer feels that the two independent clauses stand on their own but are too closely related to be expressed as two entirely separate sentences. Would the writer have been better served by using the subordinating conjunction because? “The Danish philosopher Kierkegaard was plagued lifelong by self-doubt and regret because, yielding to second thoughts, he had broken off his engagement to Regine Olsen, with whom he was deeply in love.” Maybe. But maybe not. The use of because reveals analytical thought, but it also says something that the writer may not intend, namely that Kierkegaard’s self-doubt and regret were directly and exclusively caused by his decision to break off his engagement with Regine Olsen. While we know that the decision to break the engagement haunted Kierkegaard—his journals and letters tell us this —it is not possible to attribute his chronic self-doubt and regret exclusively to this decision, fateful as it seems to have been. In fact, it is likely that his habit of self-doubt motivated the breakup, not the other way around. This being the case, the use of the semicolon juxtaposes two facts, implying a connection but ultimately leaving it to readers to draw their own conclusions.

The semicolon serves another purpose in the structure of some sentences. To get to it, we must return briefly to the comma.

Commas are used to punctuate items in a series within a sentence: “The three earliest books of William James are The Principles of Psychology, Psychology (Briefer Course), and Is Life Worth Living?”

There are two schools of thought about whether to include a comma before the and. Some authorities think this so-called “Oxford comma” or “series comma” is superfluous, but most writers use it because it avoids certain misunderstandings, as the Grammarly blog points out:

Without the series comma—“I love my parents, Lady Gaga and Humpty Dumpty.”
With the series comma—“I love my parents, Lady Gaga, and Humpty Dumpty.”

Sometimes, series do get complicated. In these situations, the semicolon comes to the rescue: “I have lived in Chicago, New York, and Atlanta” is perfectly clear. But consider this: “I have lived in Chicago, Illinois, New York, New York, and Atlanta, Georgia.” When such internal commas create confusion, use semicolons to separate the units: “I have lived in Chicago, Illinois; New York, New York; and Atlanta, Georgia.”

Semicolons versus colons. The name semicolon might lead you to think of this punctuation as a sort of weak form of the colon. In fact, its function is more complex than that of the colon, and the two are decidedly not interchangeable. A colon is used to introduce distinctive material either within a sentence or following one. “According to ancienthistorylists.com, the following are the top four ancient Greek philosophers: Thales of Miletus, Aristotle, Plato, and Socrates.” The colon may be used as well to introduce a more formal list. “According to ancienthistorylists.com, the following are the top four ancient Greek philosophers:

• Thales of Miletus
• Aristotle
• Plato
• Socrates

A colon can also be used to introduce a quotation. “Emerson took up his pen and wrote: ‘To be great is to be misunderstood.’”

It can introduce a description or restatement. “After you finally begin a task, there is only one thing left to do: you must complete it.”

The Comma as the Skeleton Key to Complex Sentence Structure
Commas are essential to building compound and complex sentences. A compound sentence is composed of two or more independent clauses. To be used correctly, the comma must come before a coordinating conjunction (such as and, or, neither, nor).

“The professor said he would hold extra office hours and work with any students who need help and then he hurriedly left the classroom.” This is an example of an utterance aspiring to be a compound sentence but getting only as far as being a run-on sentence. All we need is a single comma in the right place: “The professor said he would hold extra office hours and work with any students who need help, and then he hurriedly left the classroom.” Notice that the two independent clauses (one before, the other after the comma) could stand on their own as separate sentences.

“Philosophers neither make laws nor enforce them nor do they wield political power.” This is another run-on sentence in need of a comma: “Philosophers neither make laws nor enforce them, nor do they wield political power.” Some people might look at this sentence and conclude that the function of the comma is like a rest in a musical score. It indicates a pause. There is an element of truth in this conclusion. If you read the sentence aloud, you will indeed tend to pause at the comma, as you should. However, the more important function of the comma here is grammatical. It separates the independent clauses, thereby preserving their independence.

Commas are essential to differentiating between restrictive and nonrestrictive clauses in a complex sentence.

Consider: “The professor congratulated the student, who had passed the test.”
Compare: “The professor congratulated the student who had passed the test.”

In the first sentence, the presence of the comma signals that what follows it is a nonrestrictive clause. That is, the clause adds information about the student, but it does not restrict the meaning of the first part of the sentence. The takeaway from this sentence is simply “The professor congratulated the student,” and the material after the comma just fills in some additional information. If we deleted the clause, the sentence would retain its most central and important meaning: “The professor congratulated the student.” In the second sentence, the absence of the comma signals that what follows is a restrictive clause. That is, it restricts the meaning of the sentence to the condition the second clause states. The takeaway is not “The professor congratulated the student,” but “The professor congratulated the student who had passed the test.”

The presence or absence of the comma, this modest speck of punctuation, speaks volumes about the professor’s character. In the non-restrictive version, in which the comma separates the non-restrictive clause from the rest of the sentence, the professor appears as a jovial soul who takes pleasure in congratulating (presumably) all his students. In the restrictive version, without a comma, in which the final clause is integral to the meaning of the sentence, the professor appears far more selective in dispensing congratulations, reserving this cordial sentiment for those students diligent enough to pass the exam he administered to them.

It is on such details that meaning and logic in expression depend. In complex sentences, commas are vital to evaluating the very sense of the sentence.

Consider: “Walking down the garden path, the butterfly was the object of contemplation.” Upon the comma, the two clauses balance, but something went wrong. Are we supposed to imagine the butterfly strolling down the garden path? Seems unlikely. And who is hanging around to do the contemplating?
Compare: “Walking down the garden path, the philosopher made the butterfly the object of contemplation.”

The first sentence is an example of a common but destructive grammatical catastrophe called the misplaced modifier or dangling modifier. Grammatically, we expect that the phrase “Walking down the garden path” modifies (acts upon, refers to) the phrase that follows it. Hence our impression of a strolling butterfly. We need to make sure that the opening clause modifies what we intend it to modify. In this case, we need to supply the missing subject, the philosopher, who does the walking and who focuses contemplatively on the butterfly.

The first sentence is absurd, so it is relatively easy to see that something is very wrong. Unfortunately, not all instances of dangling modifiers are sufficiently odd to present so bright a red flag.

Consider: “To create a convincing logical argument, a great deal of effort went into the research.”
This seems to make sense. But missing in action is the true subject of the sentence, the doer of the action.
Compare: “Philosophers make a great effort to research the data needed to create a convincing logical argument.”

Commas are instrumental in executing a syntactical technique called parallelism or parallel structure. This is a powerful rhetorical tool, which infuses sentences with balance and a strong argumentative direction. The authors of The Philosophy Student Writer’s Manual and Reader’s Guide cite a familiar example of parallelism from no less than the Preamble to the Constitution of the United States:

We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.

Boldface marks the parallel structures in this sentence. The sentence contains two parallel sets. The first completes the infinitive phrase (a verb phrase beginning with to). The to in “to form” applies to all the verbs in the long phrase and thereby ties them together into a strong, powerfully balanced, rhetorically rhythmical series. The second parallel structure balances the verbs ordain and establish

What does parallelism accomplish? The simple answer is that it lends eloquence to a statement. But, more importantly, it engages our natural craving for balance, pattern, and order. It promises relief from chaos and confusion, and it conveys a tone of authority, which helps to drive any argument to persuasive success. What is more, like balanced musical phrases—think Mozart—parallelism makes what you write more memorable and gives your words greater weight. Finally, those capable of creating parallel structure reveal themselves as accomplished writers who know what they want to say and how to say it. This makes a favorable impression on any reader, especially a philosopher who appreciates clear, confident argument.

If parallelism is a mark of good writing, faulty parallelism is not just indicative of bad writing, it tends to stick out like the proverbial sore thumb.

Consider: “The cost of taking an unethical shortcut is greater than the labor necessary to do the right thing.” The statement is not incorrect, but it falls flat.
Compare: “The cost of taking an unethical shortcut is greater than the cost of doing the right thing.” The two balanced phrases, each beginning with “the cost of” and each concluding with a gerund (a verb ending in -ing and used as a noun), give the sentence memorable rhetorical force. It makes the writing quotable.

Two Matters of Agreement

Parallelism is all about creating balance in a sentence. A quality related to balance is agreement. For instance, a sentence should not shift among first person (“I” and “we”), second person (“you”), and third person (“he,” “she,” “it,” “one,” and “they”) or between singular and plural.

Consider: “Most philosophers (third person plural) believe that if you (second person singular or plural) argue persuasively, they (third person plural) will make your point.” The shift in person and number is confusing.
Compare: “Most philosophers (third person plural) believe that if they (third person plural) argue persuasively, they (third person plural) will make their point.” Agreement preempts a possible cause of confusion.

Shifting number not only makes for an awkward sentence, it can also cause confusion in meaning.

Consider: “One is so confused (third person singular), they (third person plural) don’t know left from right.”
Compare: “One is so confused (third person singular), one (third person singular) doesn’t know left from right.”

Pronouns, words that take the place of nouns or other pronouns, must agree with their antecedent in both gender and number.

Consider: “Each of us must stand up for what they think is right.” Each is singular. In this sentence, however, it is the antecedent of the plural pronoun they. This is an error in number agreement.
Compare: “Each of us must stand up for what he or she thinks is right.” This is correct, but the “he or she” is one of those awkward efforts to avoid gender bias. So, try this instead: “We must all stand up for what we think is right.”

Sometimes it is difficult to determine the antecedent of a pronoun. This creates a sentence so vague that its meaning may evaporate completely.

Consider: “We rather loudly tried to persuade the professor to extend the deadline for turning in our papers. This became a sore point for the class.” What is the antecedent of the pronoun this? Is it the loud attempt to persuade the professor? Or is it the matter of extending the deadline? The sentence does not make it clear.
Compare: “We rather loudly tried to persuade the professor to extend the deadline for turning in our papers. His refusal became a sore point for the class.” When you have more than one candidate for the office of antecedent, don’t use a pronoun (this), use the noun itself (“His refusal”). Sometimes there’s just no good substitute for the real thing.

Use correct spelling

Since you are a good philosophy student, you may ask, “What’s so important about spelling?” The short answer is that correct spelling is widely perceived as an element and indicator of basic literacy. Misspelling undercuts your intellectual authority. It makes it difficult for a reader to take you seriously. At the very least, misspelling conveys a careless attitude toward your work. Either way, spelling errors sabotage your success.

Fortunately, thanks to the spell check feature of all popular word processors, it has never been easier to correct misspelling. Use that feature. Additionally, if you are aware of words that often trip you up, look them up, and practice spelling them.

Let’s not waste space here on a list of commonly misspelled words, but let’s take time to go back to a pronoun that is often misspelled. Here is a blunt question: Do you know the difference between its and it’s? If your answer is no, read on.

Its is the possessive form of the pronoun it. “I dropped my smartphone and shattered its screen.” Of course, most English possessives use an apostrophe: “I dropped Joe’s smartphone and shattered its screen. It ruined the poor guy’s day.” So, force of habit may prompt you to mistakenly use it’s when you should use its. But it’s is not even a pronoun. It is (it’s) a contraction for it is, which is a pronoun followed by a verb.

Use appropriate tone or diction

“Diction” refers to the choice of words in your writing. For all practical purposes, it is closely related to the concept of “tone,” which is the way writers choose their words to convey a distinctive voice, a sense of the kind of person who is “talking” to the reader through the words on the page (or on the screen).

We speak and write in multiple voices. To a friend to whom you want to convey your enthusiasm about philosophy, you might remark, “I think Kant is cool.” To your philosophy professor, it would be something more like, “I am impressed by Kant’s ambition in his project of synthesizing rationalism and empiricism without sacrificing the one to the other.” In everyday encounters, as with friends, the emphasis is often on how we feel. “I think Kant is cool” is an expression of how you feel about Kant. It is valid—for a brief, informal exchange. It is not suited, however, to an academic discussion. The diction and tone of an academic discussion—the kind of discussion you want to create in an essay for philosophy class—should embody the following:

• Absence of bias
• Clarity of argument
• Strong use of data and facts (evidence) to support the argument
• Respect for others; the word choice should be non-combative
• Emphasis on intellectual substance rather than emotion; compare “I think Kant is cool,”
• an emotional statement with no intellectual content, with “I am impressed by Kant’s ambition in his project of synthesizing rationalism and empiricism without sacrificing the one to the other,” which justifies the emotion (“I am impressed”) with substantive intellectual content.

The diction and tone of an academic paper should be formal in the sense of eschewing the clipped style of a text message, tweet, or slang. This does not mean that you should interpret the adjective “academic” as an implied call for dull, tedious, pedantic language and an ostentatious display of jargon. Use straightforward, literal language that is precise and that explains meaning rather than obscures it. “In light of recent academic commentary on Kant’s intellectual journey …” may be some people’s idea of academic writing, but that does not make it good writing or, for that matter, good academic writing. This is far preferable: “Based on recent analysis of Kant’s intellectual development …” Getting more specific would be even better: “Based on Professor X’s analysis of Kant’s mature view of empiricism …” Focus on substance rather than opinion. Use the fewest but most precise words possible.

Striking the right note in effective academic diction and tone is as much about what to avoid as it is about what to include. Avoid:

• Broad generalizations, such as always and never
• Hyped adjectives, such as greatest, obvious, spectacular
• Adverbs—wherever possible—such as clearly, truly, really
• Weasel-word qualifiers, such as more or less, all things being equal, sort of Emotional or inflammatory language, such as breathtaking, heartbreaking, disgusting

Use Structural Logic

Writing a philosophical paper typically has certain specialized requirements, which, be assured, we will discuss. But the structure of good philosophical writing is best built on a foundation of good general writing. So, let’s enumerate the essentials of writing with sound logical structure.

Formulate a thesis. Inside or outside the philosophy classroom, good non-fiction writing usually begins with a strong, clear thesis statement. A thesis is nothing more than the idea or point of view you intend to explain or prove in your paper. It is not just your subject, but your interpretation of it, your unique angle on it.

Let your thesis be your guide. If your thesis is well-written, it will pack enough information to point you the right way toward organizing your paper. Suppose you are assigned to briefly explain Marxism. That is a big subject, but it will be made manageable by formulating a straightforward thesis statement:

Marxism holds that societies come into being through class struggle. In capitalist societies, the struggle is a conflict between the ruling classes (the “bourgeoisie”) and the working classes (the “proletariat”). The bourgeoisie control the means of production, while the proletariat sell their labor to the bourgeoisie, enabling that class to use the means of production for profit. Based on history, Marxism predicts that the internal social tensions created in a capitalist society will lead to its destruction and replacement by socialism.

Using the thesis, sketch an outline. It might look something like this:

• Marxism holds that societies come into being through class struggle.
• Define the struggle in capitalist societies
  • Describe capitalism
  • Define the two classes in capitalism
  • Discuss the nature of the conflict between the two classes
• How Marx used history to predict the self-destruction of capitalism
  • Define “historical materialism”
  • Summarize Marx’s reasoning for why socialism will inevitably replace capitalism
• End by describing the nature of a socialist revolution
  • National allegiance replaced by allegiance to class: “Workers of the world, unite” The more numerous global class (proletariat) will necessarily prevail over the minority class (bourgeoisie)
    

For some writers—and depending on the length of the essay—a simple sketch like this will be all that is needed to guide writing the whole essay. Others may want to create a more elaborate and formal outline. The “outlining” feature of such popular wordprocessing programs as MS Word can facilitate such an outline. But unless your instructor requires a formal outline as part of the writing process, do not feel obliged to create one if you feel ready to write the essay.

Embody structural logic in every paragraph

Structuring a paper logically requires each of its building blocks, each paragraph, to be logically structured as well. Just as a single weak pillar can cause a building to collapse, a single poorly structured or less than coherent paragraph can undermine an entire essay. Each paragraph should contribute to developing your thesis or supporting your argument.

Unlike sentences, which are governed by grammatical and syntactical rules, paragraphs are intellectual/argumentative units rather than grammatical ones. Begin with a strong topic sentence, which tells your reader what to expect the paragraph to accomplish. Orienting your reader in this way makes your writing more effective because it makes it more logically coherent.

Think of the topic sentence as a mini thesis that states and controls the main idea of that paragraph. Fail to provide a strong topic sentence, and you risk casting your reader adrift. When you write a topic sentence, consider the following specifications:

The topic sentence should state a single key point in support of the thesis of your paper. Don’t bite off more in the topic sentence than the paragraph can chew. If you find that your topic sentence points to two or three big ideas, construct the paragraph as an introduction to at least two or three additional paragraphs, which develop each idea one at a time. Don’t cram too much into a single paragraph.

A topic sentence should support and advance your thesis. When you draft a topic sentence, ask yourself if it truly drives your paper forward. Ensure that the topic sentence is relevant to the paper’s thesis. As we discussed earlier, writing and thinking have a mutual or reciprocal relationship. Thought drives writing
even as writing enables thought. If you find yourself writing a topic sentence that breaks new ground not contemplated in your thesis, you have three choices. One is to modify the topic sentence to refocus it. Another is to skip the paragraph or cut it from your final draft. A third option is to reconsider your paper’s thesis. There is nothing wrong with this. Remember, writing is not just the expression of ideas, it is also the discovery of ideas.

The topic sentence of paragraph #2 should relate not only to that paragraph, but also to paragraph #1. That is, paragraph #2 should develop from paragraph #1. If it fails to do so, you have probably omitted some necessary steps in your exposition or argument. Topic sentences for paragraphs in the body of your essay must often include useful transitional phrases, which serve the reader as directional signposts: As we saw earlier; In contrast to; In consequence of; In some cases, we need to consider

Each topic sentence should control its paragraph. Often, a paragraph that seems loose or rambling when you reread it is the result of a weak topic sentence. Start by rewriting that sentence, and then edit the paragraph it begins.

A topic sentence should be positioned at the start of the paragraph unless you have a good reason to put it elsewhere. Some subjects require filling in background or contextual information before presenting your thesis. If you are confronted with this situation, consider deploying the background information first and then placing your topic sentence somewhere in the middle of the paragraph. You may even find it most effective to put the topic sentence at the end of a paragraph if you feel that it is necessary to lay out your complete line of reasoning first.

Aim to achieve stylistic success

Creating a successful style—a style that enhances the clarity and persuasiveness of your writing—begins with the issues of tone and diction discussed earlier as well as the use of direct language, language that presents your ideas precisely, without superfluous words and without jargon. In direct language, every word contributes to your intended meaning, revealing rather than obscuring.

A good way of achieving direct language is to put your emphasis on nouns and verbs —words that express things and actions—rather than adjectives and adverbs, words that elaborate on things and actions. Use these sparingly. It is always better to show than to tell, to present things and actions through nouns and verbs rather than layer on a lot of adjectives and adverbs.

Skilled writers have long used analogy and metaphor to “show” ideas and concepts rather than merely “tell” them. When the Scots poet Robert Burns wanted to write about what love felt like to him, he did not write a long explanatory paragraph but declared, “O my Love is like a red, red rose / That’s newly sprung in June.” Or take Plato. He believed that “knowledge” gained exclusively through the senses was actually no more than subjective opinion and that true knowledge required philosophical reasoning. To get this point across, he included in his masterpiece, The Republic (VII, 514-517), the so-called Allegory of the Cave, an elaborate metaphor in which he pictures a group of prisoners who have lived chained to
the wall of a cave since birth. They face a blank wall, on which they observe shadows projected from objects that pass to and fro before a fire burning behind them. Looking at these shadows, the prisoners give them names. For these shadows are their “reality,” much as our version of reality—unassisted by philosophy—is built on the mere shadows our senses convey to us. Use analogy and metaphor to help explain complex ideas but, in so doing, always favor directness and simplicity of expression over flights of flowery eloquence.

Be Aware of Your Audience

Finally, all good writers, whatever their subject or intention, write with a keen awareness of their readers. If you know that your best friend hates kale, you will make it your business not to feature kale in the dinner you prepare for her. Just as you make a meal to satisfy what you have reason to believe are the preferences of your dinner guest, so you should write on the basis of what you have reason to believe are the preferences of your reader. An essay on baseball written for an audience of baseball coaches will be markedly different from an essay on the same subject intended to be read by people seeking a general introduction to the game. In writing, one size does not fit all. The most successful writers aim to create the one size that fits their target readers.