The Turning Point

Reading Brit's richly textured post on whether to become a professional philosopher put me in mind of a conversation I had with Hugh Mellor about fourteen years (or two sabbaticals) ago.

I remarked to Hugh that until about 1975, the salary of a Professor (in the UK) was roughly comparable to that of a professional such as a GP or solicitor, at least on average. This meant that salary wasn't much of a factor in making a decision about whether to take up philosophy. . .

But at the time of the conversation, the gap was very significant: I don't remember what it was exactly, but since professors in the UK made about £30, ooo then, it might have been a factor of 2.5 or more.  (In North America, I think the gap today is not that large, at least with regard to the better-funded schools. The discourager here is the probability of getting a good tenure-track job.)

At what point, I asked, did the profession stop attracting the best talent?

Hugh was absolutely adamant that it made absolutely no difference. Nobody who the philosophy profession would want, or who wanted the profession, could possibly be deterred by the salary, no matter how much other easily accessible professions exceeded.

I realize now that Hugh Mellor, a major figure in recent philosophy, is like Brit Brogaard. He could have conducted Mark Lance's thought experiment of excluding himself from any job, and not be have been deterred. He would have looked the $90K IT job in the face and, as Brit did, disdained it in favour of a temporary $40K job in philosophy. (Actually, he did: he was in something else more lucrative before.) That's inspiring.

But my question remains: at what point of deprivation does the profession begin to lose a significant proportion of its best prospects? At what point does it begin to decline?