Demystifying deductive and inductive reasoning for dissertators

Dissertators often struggle with theory. Virtually all dissertators must grapple with theory when they propose their research projects to their graduate school reviewers. Many whose proposals I’ve edited seem to think they can just ignore theory altogether. They seem to have a hard time choosing a theory, applying a theory… or even understanding why they need a theory in the first place.

The two fundamental theoretical approaches—deductive and inductive reasoning—offer dissertators two viewpoints to help them organize their thinking when they plan their projects.

Deductive reasoning

Deductive reasoning starts with a general theory about how something works. We collect observations to confirm the theory. It’s a birds-eye view of your topic.

For example, we can start with a theory, like this:

PROPOSED THEORY: Dissertators who don’t get enough sleep are cranky and dissatisfied with their doctoral experience.

Using that theory, we write a statement (hypothesis) that we can test: “Getting at least 8 hours of sleep a night significantly reduces dissertator dissatisfaction.” Then we collect observations of dissertators who get 8 hours of sleep per night and compare them to the data for dissertators who don’t. I bet the theory is confirmed: Dissertators who don’t get enough sleep act a lot like cranky teenagers who don’t want to go to school.

What can go wrong? The main drawback with research approaches that use deductive reasoning is the fact that the entire research project depends on the validity of the original theory or premise. The premise is assumed to be true. If the premise is incorrect, your conclusions may be valid, based on your theory, but only for that sample. Generalizing or transferring your conclusions to some other population or setting may be impossible.

For example, you might assume that toy preferences among six-year-olds are determined by gender.

PROPOSED THEORY: Girls prefer dolls and boys prefer toy trucks.

If you think this, you wouldn’t be alone: the toy industry has assumed this theory for years. Children may not know much about theory, but they know what they like. With two brothers, I had many opportunities to enjoy toy trucks, racing cars, little green army men, and cap guns. However, I also had my share of Barbies and troll dolls. Preferences vary by child, but overall, apparently, there is evidence to confirm the theory that children’s toy preferences are gender-typed from an early age. See here and here. But not all researchers have agreed: see here.

Your study of 50 six-year-olds may confirm or disconfirm this theory, thus adding to the body of knowledge on the topic and helping parents feel a little less guilty about watching their little girls grab for Barbies and their little boys grab for Legos.

For more on deductive reasoning, visit one of my favorite websites, changing minds.

Inductive reasoning

Inductive reasoning works from the specific and generates a theory from the observations. We observe some phenomenon, analyze the observation data, draw some inferences about it (our theory), and then collect more data to (we hope) confirm our conclusions.

  1. Observe
  2. Analyze
  3. Infer
  4. Confirm

Instead of starting with a theory, we collect observations of a phenomenon and build a theory from the ground up. That’s why grounded theory approaches used in qualitative research are considered inductive.

For example, you notice dissertators in the School of Education seem to sit around the library and cry a lot. You wonder what’s up. You talk to 10 dissertators from different programs and find some similarities and differences in their responses. Based on these patterns, you formulate a tentative hypothesis:

PROPOSED THEORY: Education dissertators worry more about everything, compared to dissertators in the business or computer departments, who usually worry about nothing.

Your data led you to generate this proposed theory. Thus, out of your data comes a broad theory about the tenderhearted education dissertator. You didn’t start with a theory: you got down and dirty with the data and the theory emerged from the patterns and themes you extracted from your data.

What can go wrong? The main issue with inductive reasoning approaches is that data collection can be an open-ended process. This is primarily a concern among qualitative dissertators. You can’t know ahead of time how big your sample needs to be, because you plan to collect data until you reach data saturation—that point at which new data generate no new insights.

That might sound like fun to you, but it’s a red flag for your Chair, Committee, and grad school reviewers. They are nervous enough letting a novice researcher collect data from human subjects: They know what can happen when overly enthusiastic interviewers go off the rails. What do I mean? Think about it: Pumped up (desperate) dissertators may badger, cajole, and otherwise manipulate their subjects into talking, thus injecting bias in their data, and setting up potential IRB issues for the institution that gave these dissertators permission to conduct research. That is why the idea of giving you a blank check to talk to an unknown number of people makes IRB reviewers shiver in their boots.

For more on inductive reasoning, visit changing minds.

Which approach should you use?

Most dissertators’ projects fall into the category of deductive reasoning. They start with a theory, collect some data, and see how their findings confirm or disconfirm the theory. This time-tested approach is safe and familiar, has lots of support in the literature, and your reviewers know and understand it. You are more likely to get your dissertation proposal approved if you use a deductive reasoning approach.

However, for all you off-the-beaten-path dissertators, if you can convince your Chair and Committee members that you can implement it successfully, the inductive approach is for you.

Misusing theory (or not using theory at all) is one of the reasons you might fail to get your dissertation proposal approved. If you need some help with your proposal, check out my book, available now through Amazon in both print and Kindle formats.

Getting help or going it alone: The lonely decision of the non-traditional dissertator

So far, I haven’t seen a book that addresses the plight of the dissertator who attends an online program or a for-profit university (or both, as I did). The nontraditional graduate experience is not the same as the traditional face-to-face graduate experience.

I described my experience of being a nontraditional graduate student in this blog post:

Some dissertators at my alma mater hired editors and coaches to help them complete their Ph.D. journey. While I was still struggling by myself in my dark dismal corner, I would read notes my fellow learners had left in the discussion folders. They effusively praised Dr. So-and-So for helping them get their proposals approved, even when the ink on Dr. So-and-So’s diploma was barely dry. I had mixed feelings about the idea of getting outside help.

For some of us, the prospect of getting help comes as a huge relief. For others, getting help seems like the worst form of giving up. Where are you on that continuum? And why do you believe what you believe? Now is the time to examine your own beliefs about getting help. Complete the following sentences:

Getting editing or coaching help is ____________________________________________

When I think of getting help, I feel ____________________________________________

People who get help are ___________________________________________________

Editors are ____________________________________________________________

People who hire editors think _______________________________________________

Dissertation coaches are ___________________________________________________

If other people found out I hired an editor or a coach, they would think that I _______________

There are no wrong answers. This isn’t a test, people. If you answered without overthinking it, maybe you now have some insight into how you perceive the question of whether to hire an editor and/or a coach.

Early on, I chose not to hire an editor. That means no one reviewed my work except my Chair and Committee member before it was submitted to the Graduate School. All the errors (and there are many) are therefore mine and mine alone. My rationale was that I wanted to be as sure as I could be that the work accurately represented my writing and research skills. I wanted to earn my place among the big dogs (or at least the mid-sized poodles) fair and square. Especially in light of the fact that I attended a for-profit institution, I felt the integrity of the entire process was at stake.

What it’s like to be a nontraditional learner at a for-profit university

Now that I’m on the editor’s side of the desk, I continue to have some misgivings about the use of editors. Sometimes I believe hiring an editor is the right choice, for example, when a dissertator’s first language is not English. If the dissertator’s ideas are doctoral-worthy but his or her grammar skills are lacking, I support the use of an editor, as long as the editor is able to accurately decipher the dissertator’s statements and translate them into correct academic English. If the statements are impossible to translate, then you can’t expect the editor to know if the writer’s ideas are doctoral-worthy or not.

On the other hand, if a dissertator’s ideas lack cohesion and logic, if the research problem and purpose are not clearly identified, if the research methodology and methods are unstated, not clearly stated, or inappropriate, then I think using an editor can camouflage the fact that the dissertator may not ready yet to advance to the dissertation level. You may ask, Am I nuts? I suppose if everyone agreed with me, I’d have a lot less editing work. But from an ethical point of view, I am expressing a concern: Some of the proposals I edit need a lot more than just copy editing. However, people don’t pay me to tell them that I think they aren’t ready for doctoral-level work; they pay me to edit their papers and make them look like they are ready for doctoral-level work. What’s a poor editor to do?

This situation reminds me of the hundreds of résumés I read for career-college students who could barely form complete sentences. My editing made them look like communications superstars on paper. I cringe when I think of how many of my former students probably closed their interviews by cheerily asking, “So, when are you going to make your guyses hiring decision?” Sigh.

I usually get editing jobs through an editing agency, so I see only a small part of each dissertator’s journey. I usually don’t know how much feedback the dissertator has received previously from his or her Chair or Committee. Sometimes, though, I see drafts with the Chair’s comments. Occasionally, the comments are extensive, thoughtful, explicit, and helpful. Yay. More often, the comments are tentative, sparse, terse, vague, and not helpful. In those cases, I feel compelled to offer what assistance I can to point some of these floundering dissertators toward shore.

Thus, when I edit a paper, I am performing the work of the Chair, without having the advantage of interaction with the dissertator. The most difficult decision people face is choosing methodology and methods. Multiple possibilities confound the dissertator’s overworked brain. I can almost hear the wheels spinning: Should I choose a qualitative design? Should I do a survey? Oh wait, maybe it is a case study?

What do you want from a dissertation coach?

Without knowing the dissertator’s objectives and disposition, I can only offer suggestions and point out options. However, as an editor, I can’t offer ongoing support after the dissertator chooses a survey method over an interview method. I hope my book might fill in some of the gaps for dissertators who struggle with unhelpful Chairs and Committees.

Back to the question, Should you get help or go it alone? The answer, as usual, is—it depends. Only you can decide. The best suggestion I can offer you is, Dissertator, know thyself. That means making a clear-eyed assessment of your skills and aptitudes. Take the Doctoral Readiness Survey. In particular, get some feedback on your writing skills from someone who already has some writing skills.

No worries. Either path you choose—whether you get help or go it alone—will teach you some interesting things about life and your place in it.

If you like to learn by reading, looking at diagrams, and hearing about other dissertators’ experiences, maybe my book can help.

Could unrealistic assumptions about getting a PhD be preventing you from getting your dissertation proposal approved?

When we enroll in a Ph.D. program, we’re making some assumptions about what a doctoral degree means and what it can do for us.

I made many assumptions about what it means to be in a doctoral program, some of which actually turned out to be true. For example, I assumed I was capable of doing the work, and luckily, I was, although at times I had doubts. I assumed I could complete the degree in the allotted amount of time. Fortunately, I did, barely, if you count the one-year extension I was granted. I also had an assumption about the value of a doctoral degree to my employer, which sadly turned out to be false.

Are you inadvertently holding yourself back because of your unrealistic assumptions? Here are some assumptions you might not realize you are making.

Assumption 1: You need a Ph.D. to succeed.

If you want to teach at the university level, I agree, you need a doctorate or other terminal degree. However, a doctorate is no guarantee of success, whatever success means to you. And lots of people have been successful (and maybe even happy?) without earning a doctorate. Just saying.

Assumption 2: A Ph.D. will make you happy.

Along those lines, if you are sure that finishing your dissertation and earning your doctoral degree is truly what will make you happy, then go for it. But don’t assume that you will finally be happy once you finish. If you make your happiness contingent upon achieving some external condition, whether it’s getting a new car or a doctoral degree, I fear you will be disappointed. Once the celebratory buzz wears off, you will discover that you are still the same person. And the people around you will still be the same people. A Ph.D. is not a personality transplant, for you or for your loved ones. If you can’t be happy without a Ph.D., odds are you won’t allow yourself to be happy when you have one.

Assumption 3: A Ph.D. will make you wealthy.

I bring this up just to get it out on the table. If becoming wealthy is your idea of success, if becoming wealthy is truly what will make you happy, start a tech firm or be a stockbroker. Don’t spend the next 3+ years of your life and $50,000+ in pursuit of a doctoral degree, especially if you plan on incurring student loan debt. You might get rich (whatever rich means to you) if you have a Ph.D., but you might also get rich without one. For sure, it will be a lot harder to get rich with $50,000+ in student loans hanging over your head.

Assumption 4: You deserve to have a Ph.D. just because you want one.

This assumption goes to the heart of who you believe you are. Some people believe the world owes them just for being alive. That sense of entitlement has a comical tendency to skew their perceptions of reality. Luckily, academe usually weeds out these folks. If you are one of these people, whoops, sorry if I offended you. Consider this a reality check. However, if you really feel you are entitled to a doctorate, nothing I say will change your belief, so carry on.

Assumption 5: Your Ph.D. will effortlessly come to you.

This sounds like an affirmation I used to say to myself back in the 80s. Everything I need comes to me easily and effortlessly. I manifest piles of money. I am successful, wealthy, and loved. Affirmations are nice, but there’s a reason why we resort to them. It’s because life isn’t how we would like it to be, and resorting to magical thinking seems like less work than actually taking action to change things.

Do you have a sense of entitlement?

See Assumptions 4 and 5. In every generation, some of us tend to believe we are special and deserve to have whatever we want without necessarily earning it. I don’t think it has much to do with when we were born. A sense of entitlement is something we are born with that gets nurtured or stifled, depending on environment. Sadly, dissertators who feel they are exempt from the rules don’t learn from their mistakes. Essential feedback goes unheeded because of arrogance.

Can we attribute the sense of entitlement that some of us have to generational differences? For example, I read that Millennials tend to have an inborn sense of entitlement, instilled in them by their well-meaning Baby Boomer parents. Baby Boomers, on the other hand, expect to work for what they get (and we expect to get everything we work for!). I think this might be nonsense.

Who knows? I’m not an expert on generational cohorts and personality traits; I’m just someone who recognizes from firsthand experience the hallmarks of a sense of entitlement.

How can you know if you have an inborn sense of entitlement?

Here’s a thought: When you are struggling to understand some dense article written by someone long dead, if you feel an overwhelming sense of something like, Why do I have to read this stupid stuff!? I should be exempt!  … take note. There’s your clue.

The point is, that pesky feeling that we are special, somehow exempt from the rules other people have to follow can blind us to reality. Some people call it terminal uniqueness. You are special (just like everybody else). But that doesn’t mean you deserve to have whatever you want, whenever you want it, without working for it.

If doctorates were so easy to earn, everyone would have one or two. You can earn yours, but only if you are willing to do the hard work required to achieve success.

If you are running into obstacles as you work on getting your dissertation proposal approved, maybe I can help. Check out my book.

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