Writing, new topic on Jan 21, new task for Jan 30
Freie Universität’s AI guidelines (in German) can be found here:
13 – Tue Jan 21 1–2 PM – co-producing texts with the help of ai
Key Session Content:
- Understand the fundamental differences between human writing processes and AI text generation
- Avoid getting trapped in AI-dependent workflows that bypass critical thinking
- Structure your writing process to maximize human insight while critically evaluating potential AI assistance
Core Concepts:
1. Human Writing Process vs. AI Generation - Writing as thinking vs. writing as pattern matching
- The value of struggle and uncertainty
- When clarity emerges through writing process
2. Critical AI Workflows - Identifying when AI seems tempting (language barriers, writer’s block, time pressure)
- Understanding what you lose by outsourcing different parts of writing
- Developing criteria for justified vs. convenient AI use
3. Community-Based Writing Strategies - Building peer support networks
- Collaborative writing and editing practices
- Shared resources and knowledge banks
14 – Tue Jan 28 12–2 PM – improving your text // independent writing time // peer-review
Trade paper drafts and examine them through the lens of AI co-production. Each reviewer should:
- Identify sections where AI assistance might be tempting but would bypass crucial thinking work
- Suggest alternative approaches that maintain intellectual sovereignty
- Find opportunities where limited AI use might be justified by clear social/academic benefit
TASK #7: Critical Writing Process Analysis
After peer reviewing each other’s drafts, submit a reflection (1-2 pages) that:
- Takes 1-2 examples from the papers you reviewed
- Analyzes specific passages where AI tools might be commonly used (e.g., language polishing, transitional phrases, literature summaries)
- Discusses the tradeoffs involved (environmental cost, thinking process, accessibility needs)
- Proposes concrete alternative strategies for addressing writing challenges through peer support and collaborative work
Submit your analysis as a PDF by e-mail from your zedat or @fu-berlin.de address to my email address, using the subject “porcupine”. Deadline Thu Jan 30 6 PM.
Writing, presentation for the session on constructing the problem
Writing, The Loneliness of Academic Writing: Why Do We Pretend Readers Don’t Matter?
Last week, teaching writing to graduate students, I watched a familiar scene unfold. We were discussing how to write for specific readers – scholars in their field, policy makers, community organizations. The usual confusion spread across their faces, then one student raised their hand: “But I thought good academic writing was about being objective and comprehensive? About showing we understand the material?”
This moment haunts me because it reveals something profound about how we teach writing in higher education – or rather, how we fail to teach it. For years, we train students in a peculiar form of intellectual performance. Write an introduction with background information. Define your terms. State your methodology. Demonstrate thorough knowledge of the literature. Follow proper citation formats. Use appropriate technical language. It’s a carefully choreographed dance, performed for an audience of one: the professor who already knows everything you’re writing about and is literally paid to read and evaluate your stuff.
Then suddenly, in graduate school or professional academia, we expect these same students to write for real readers – people who might actually need their insights, who have specific problems to solve, who are looking for new understanding, and – most importantly – who choose to read a text. The transition is jarring. All those carefully learned habits of “good academic writing” suddenly become barriers to effective communication.
Think about what we’re really teaching when we tell students to “start with background information.” We’re teaching them to assume readers know nothing – when in reality, readers – and academics even more so – are experts hungry for new insights. When we insist they “define their terms,” we’re teaching them to prioritize comprehensiveness over engagement – when actual readers want to know why they should care before they invest in definitions.
The deeper irony? Many of us know this. We know that our own reading habits are ruthlessly selective. We skim for relevance, hunting for insights that matter to our work. We abandon articles that don’t quickly show their value. We get frustrated with writing that buries its significance under layers of ritual academic performance. Yet when it comes to teaching writing, we perpetuate the very practices we find frustrating as readers.
Perhaps most troubling is how this approach shapes “academic” – or let’s simply call it complex – thinking itself. When you’re not writing for real readers with real needs, it’s easy to lose sight of why your work matters. Research becomes about filling gaps rather than solving problems. Arguments become about being right rather than being useful. The whole enterprise of academic writing starts to feel like an elaborate game of intellectual performance rather than a vital exchange of ideas that could make a difference in the world.
I see this in my students’ faces when we finally discuss real readers. There’s fear – because writing for actual people feels more exposed than writing for a generic “academic audience.” But there’s also relief and excitement. Suddenly, writing has a purpose beyond earning a grade or proving competence. It becomes about serving readers who need what you know.
This shifts everything. When students start asking “Who needs this knowledge and why?”, their writing transforms. They make bolder claims because they understand what’s at stake. They embrace clarity because they want to be useful. They stop hiding behind passive voice and vague generalizations because they’re no longer writing for no one in particular.
Maybe it’s time to radically rethink how we teach writing in higher education. Instead of starting with rules and formats, what if we started with readers? What if our first questions weren’t about proper academic form and showing off knowledge but about who needs this knowledge and why? What if we taught writing not as a performance of expertise but as an act of intellectual service?
As I write this, I’m acutely aware that I’m performing the very balancing act I’m critiquing – trying to speak simultaneously to scholars who might bristle at this challenge to academic conventions and to students and teachers who might recognize their own struggles in these words. But perhaps this tension itself points to something essential: the most valuable academic writing has always been about building bridges rather than towers. Our task isn’t to perfect an isolated form of professional communication, but to find ways to make complex ideas matter to the people who need them. The question isn’t whether to follow or break academic conventions – it’s whether our writing serves real readers with real needs. Everything else is just ritual.
Writing, three versions of an introduction
A
Over the last sixty years, Turkish immigration to Germany has been a significant phenomenon that has shaped both countries in numerous ways. This paper will examine how Turkish immigrants in Berlin are perceived through food culture, particularly döner kebab. The research question is: How do Middle Easterners in Germany shape perceptions about themselves and other Middle Easterners, and how do these self-perceptions influence the views of non-Middle Eastern Germans? To answer this question, it is first important to understand the historical background of Turkish migration to Germany.
Turkish migration to Germany began with the Labor Recruitment Agreement of 1961, which brought many guest workers to Germany. Initially intended as a temporary measure, this migration became permanent as workers settled and brought their families. Through this process, Turkish immigrants established businesses, including food establishments, which became an important part of German urban culture. The döner kebab, in particular, has become a symbol of Turkish presence in Germany.
This paper will argue that the reduction of Turkish identity to culinary contributions reveals ongoing issues with integration and recognition in German society. The methodology will involve analysis of personal experiences, historical documents, and contemporary social discourse. This research contributes to the growing body of literature on immigrant identity and cultural integration in Europe.
B
Despite extensive scholarship on Turkish immigration in Germany, our understanding of how cultural recognition operates in everyday urban spaces remains fundamentally flawed. The widely accepted framework that equates visibility with integration has obscured a more troubling phenomenon: the way seemingly positive acknowledgments of Turkish contributions to German society actually reinforce patterns of exclusion. This oversight has significant consequences for both migration theory and integration policy. While scholars have documented the economic impact of Turkish labor migration (Author Year), they have failed to recognize how celebratory discourses about Turkish food culture—particularly in Berlin—paradoxically serve to legitimize deeper forms of structural marginalization. This analytical gap is especially concerning given mounting evidence that cultural recognition policies across Western Europe consistently mistake surface visibility for meaningful inclusion. By examining how Turkish immigrants in Berlin navigate and contest these contradictory forms of recognition, this study challenges dominant theoretical assumptions about cultural integration that continue to shape both academic discourse and policy decisions. The stakes of this theoretical intervention extend beyond migration studies, offering crucial insights for scholars grappling with questions of recognition, urban belonging, and the persistent legacies of guest worker programs in contemporary Europe.
C
Media coverage of Turkish immigrant success stories in Germany continues to miss a crucial and troubling pattern: the more we celebrate döner kebab as a symbol of multicultural Berlin, the more we inadvertently reinforce harmful stereotypes about Turkish immigrants. While food journalists and cultural commentators have extensively covered Berlin’s vibrant Turkish food scene, this feel-good narrative obscures a concerning reality that threatens to undermine authentic reporting on immigrant communities. The widely-circulated story of döner kebab as proof of successful integration not only misrepresents the complex experiences of Turkish-Germans but actively hampers journalists’ ability to accurately portray contemporary urban dynamics. This investigation reveals how seemingly positive coverage can perpetuate outdated tropes, offering media professionals new frameworks for reporting on immigrant communities that avoid these common pitfalls. At stake is not just the accuracy of cultural journalism, but our ability to meaningfully convey how urban communities actually negotiate identity and belonging in contemporary Germany.
Writing, The Art of First Paragraphs: What We Learn When Students Review Each Other’s Writing
Today, I ran a peer review session for “Writing the Middle East for Your Daily Read.” The setup was simple: Students exchanged their papers and read just the first few paragraphs. What emerged was a fascinating pattern that writing teachers see constantly but students rarely notice until it’s pointed out.
Most academic papers start with what I call the “knowledge display dance” – a carefully choreographed sequence where writers demonstrate everything they’ve learned before getting to their actual point. It’s perfectly understandable: After weeks of research, we want to show we’ve done our homework. We lead with broad historical backgrounds, throw in a few scholarly references, maybe add some definitions. One student captured it perfectly: “I feel like I need to prove I know what I’m talking about before I can talk about it.” The problem? Readers don’t particularly care what we know. They care about what they might learn that matters to them.
This disconnect became obvious during our review session. When asked what the papers were trying to communicate, readers could identify topics but struggled to articulate why these topics mattered. “It’s about exhibitions of the Middle East in Berlin” one student said, “but I’m not sure why I should care about this.” Another noted, “There’s clearly deep research here, but I had to read three paragraphs before I understood why this research might be important.” This pattern showed up in nearly every paper: Writers leading with their knowledge rather than their contribution.
This happens a lot in academic writing how we usually teach it or require it in university settings. Students learn to write by showing teachers they’ve understood the material. This works perfectly well in school, where the reader (the teacher) is paid to care about your display of knowledge. But academic writing serves a different function – it helps readers understand something better that they already want to understand well. The shift from showing knowledge to serving readers is one of the hardest transitions for academic writers to make.
The review session revealed another common pattern: the “safety blanket introduction.” Writers tend to open with broad, historically sweeping or general statements that feel safe and inarguable. “Trade has been central to human civilization since ancient times.” “Scholars have long debated the role of women in medieval Islamic societies.” These openings feel scholarly, but they actually distance readers from what makes the work interesting. When we asked students in previous semesters to identify what made them want to keep reading, not a single person mentioned these broad openings. Instead, they pointed to moments where papers surfaced specific tensions or challenges in our understanding.
What makes this pattern so persistent? Partly, it’s habit – we write what we’ve read. But there’s also an element of academic imposter syndrome at work. Starting with broad knowledge displays and historical sweeps feels safer than leading with our specific intervention. It’s easier to hide behind other scholars’ work than to stand behind our own contribution.
The good news is that awareness of these patterns is the first step to breaking them. Once students could see how their writing reflected these unconscious habits, they began to imagine different approaches. “What if I started with the problem my research addresses?” one student suggested. “Maybe I could open with the specific question that drove my research,” said another, or “Maybe I could use a personal story.” These insights didn’t come from me lecturing about writing techniques – they emerged naturally from students seeing their work through others’ eyes.
The next challenge will be helping students move from awareness to action. But that’s a topic for another post.
Writing, ideas & questions & interesting stuff
Welcome to our intellectual playground! This space is designed for curious minds to share, explore, and wonder together. Whether you’ve stumbled upon a fascinating article, have a burning question, or want to share an idea that keeps you up at night – this is your platform.
What Can You Share?
- Interesting Links: Found an article that made you think differently? Share it! (Pro tip: Tell us why it caught your attention)
- Questions: No question is too big or too small. Sometimes the simplest questions lead to the most interesting discussions
- Ideas: Share those “what if” moments or connections you’ve made between different concepts
- Observations: Notice something intriguing in your daily life? Let’s explore it together
- Academic Mysteries: Stuck on a concept? Share what confuses you – sometimes explaining our confusion is the first step to clarity
Guidelines for Engagement
- Be Specific: Instead of just dropping a link, tell us what drew you to it
- Stay Curious: Approach others’ contributions with genuine interest
- Build On Ideas: Feel free to connect different thoughts and create new conversations
- Keep It Respectful: All thoughtful contributions are valuable
How to Comment
Simply use the comment section below to:
- Share your contribution
- Respond to others’ ideas
- Ask follow-up questions
- Make connections between different posts
Remember: There are no “silly” questions or “obvious” observations. The most meaningful discussions often start with someone brave enough to say “I wonder…”
Ready to start? Share your thoughts in the comments below!
Writing, welcome to academic rehab
writing seminar, essay on the power of citations and the diversity of narration in academic writing
Academic writing conventions often portray citation as a tactical tool for establishing scholarly credibility. By citing prominent theorists, we exhibit fluency in the field’s conceptual lexicon. Yet this narrow view of citation as intellectual credentialing overlooks its deeper rhetorical and relational significance. Beyond just demonstrating credibility, the act of citing contains generative power to validate marginalized perspectives, spur intersubjective dialogues, and catalyze theoretical evolution.
A traditional perspective sees citation as a one-way street of knowledge transmission – consuming information from past luminaries to buttress one’s own claims. However, TRUE citation functions cooperatively and dynamically. It not only extracts ideas from cited texts, but expands their insights by bringing them into conversation with new contexts. Diverse voices “think with” and through each other across time and space via citation. The most profound citations utilize the wisdom of past thinkers not as rigid dogma, but as kindling to spark new, contextually-attuned interpretations.
Likewise, the political and ethical dimensions of citation extend far beyond intellectual credibility. Strategic references validate the experiences of marginalized groups and highlight counter-canons excluded from mainstream citations narratives. Rather than always citing the “biggest names,” responsible citation uplifts oppressed peoples’ situated knowledge. It recenters dialogues around perspectives often denied seats at the academic table. Moreover, mindful citation acknowledges the inherent subjectivity and partiality of knowledge claims. It eschews portraying any scholarship – including one’s own – as detached, universal truth. Citation implicates ourselves within nested intersubjective discourses, not above them.
At its deepest level, citation is an act of generative relationality. It draws dispersed insights into fertile contact, gesturing toward possibilities greater than the sum of their parts. Like adding new hues to a palette, calibrated citations enrich the shades of meaning in academic conversations. Through cascading processes of acknowledgment, referral, and exchange, citation interweaves texts and thinkers. It enables accumulation not of discrete ideas but of shared resonance across difference. In this sense, thoughtful citation enacts ecological reciprocity: cycling accumulated wisdom through ongoing cycles of renewal, recontextualization, and replenishment.
By moving past it’s framing as a tactical credentialling maneuver, we can reclaim citation’s tremendous power – to validate multiplicity, to convene excluded voices, to hold knowledge as situated, to take up the wisdom of others as kindling for new insights. Citation as generative, intersubjective, cooperative. Citation as the heartbeat of evolving theoretical ecosystems. With this expanded vision, our citational practices deepen from displays of intellectual authority toward profound expressions of inclusive scholarly community.