The Odyssey's Guide to the Academic Job Market

Since we are all in Odyssey-reading mode, and many aspiring legal academics are about to officially go on the job market, I’d like to say something about what Athena told Telemachus about how to give a talk to senior—and perhaps future—colleagues.

In Book 3 of the Odyssey, Telemachus arrives at Pylos to speak with Nestor, the wisest and most experienced of the Greek commanders at Troy. (No, it’s not in the movie.)

Understandably, Telemachus is very nervous about the whole thing. Here’s what he tells Mentor—who’s the goddess Athena in disguise—in the beautiful new translation by Daniel Mendelsohn (pp. 101-02):

“But, Mentor, just how should I go? How warmly should I address him?
I’ve had no experience at all in making artful speeches—
And it’s awkward for one so young to question his elders closely.”

Athena/Mentor answers (Mendelsohn p. 102):

“Now, Telémakhos! Some of it you’ll think up on your own,
While some Power will suggest the rest. For I hardly think
That you could have been born and raised against the will of the gods.”

In the original, “Power” is δαίμων, daimon, an extraordinarily rich and complex word which can mean god, goddess, deity, or divine power, but also fate or fortune. Emily Wilson, in another great translation, renders it “divine assistance.” Athena’s point is straightforward: Telemachus, you should think about what to say but, keep in mind that your success will depend on forces beyond your control, just like everything else that’s happened to you since you were born.

This is a great reminder about how success and failure work. There’s your own thinking (νόησις, noesis: intelligence, idea, thought) and then there’s the daimon: the divine power, the uncontrollable, good (or bad) luck.

It is a particularly helpful reminder for aspiring legal academics. Just like Telemachus, they feel nervous about addressing a groupof senior experts in their field (and in other fields). Like Telemachus, they rightly feel that the way they speak to their elders is very important to the outcome of the mission. And as Athena tells Telemachus, they should definitely think hard about their job talk and practice it even harder. My standard advice to job-market candidates is: Work relentlessly on your job talk. That’s the noesis: the thinking, the individual contribution.

But the other half of Athena’s advice is just as important. Fifty percent is noesis; the other fifty percent is in the hands of the gods. So many things are outside a candidates’ control that explaining the job-market outcomes through noesis alone is silly. Explaining any life outcome with noesis or individual effort alone is silly!

I hardly think
That you could have been born and raised against the will of the gods.

The idea returns in other passages of the Odyssey. In Book 22, after the Suitors are massacred, Phoemius, the bard, begs Odysseus to spare him. He entertained the Suitors with songs, but he did so under duress, he says. And speaking of his poetic ability—which is another kind of rhetorical skill—he says (Mendelsohn p. 417):

I honed my talent myself, but the gods planted in my mind
Every kind of song

Wilson, more literally, writes: “I am self-taught” (p. 488). The Greek word is αὐτοδίδακτος, autodidaktos, which English speakers will recognize.

So Phemius’s poetic ability depends both on his own study and effort—an autodidact!—and on theos, a god or divine power. Homer gives us no percentages, so let’s call it fifty-fifty: 50% individual effort and 50% daimon or theos—uncontrollable forces.

The most poetic illustration of this point occurs in Book 13. Athena and Odysseus sit beneath an olive tree to plan the destruction of the Suitors. Athena praises Odysseus’s ingenuity. “We’re both smart,” she says. And then, in Wilson’s translation (p. 326):

I have come here now
to weave a plan with you

Mendelsohn writes: “to stitch together our plot” (p. 276). Either way, the message is clear: the great revenge of Odysseus—the grand finale (well, not exactly the end of the poem, but let’s be practical)—is the product not only of Odysseus’s ingenuity but also of Athena’s. Man and goddess weave the plan together. That’s a wonderful image:

The American mind can comprehend this, but it takes some effort. I grew up faraway, in a place profoundly shaped by the idea that the daimon plays a huge role in our lives. In fact, in my hometown, most people think that 80% or 90% of life (not just 50%) is explained by uncontrollable forces. (It’s no coincidence that it is a former Greek colony, founded in the 7th century BC, a few decades after Homer wrote down the Odyssey.)

But one of the great things about the United States is the energetic denial of this simple truth. I call it a “great” thing, because it is, to some extent, a source of many good things, especially from a macro standpoint. The belief in the individual’s power to shape his or her destiny is one of the most important ingredients for the vital, dynamic, and progress-oriented character of this country.

But, strictly speaking, it isn’t true. Acting in life as though it were true is often a good idea. But reacting to life as though it were true is a very bad idea.

This is a very good rule for life generally, but it’s even more helpful while one navigates the dark-wine sea—that’s in Emily Wilso; a very traditional translation, after all—of the academic job market. May the gods grant you blessings.