Many dissertations I edit are steeped in a passionate brew of righteous anger, resentment, and desperation to be heard. It’s not suprising. Dissertators are fanatical about the problem they have decided to study. We need to be. We can’t be disengaged from our topic and successfully navigate the dissertation journey. It’s the rage within that keeps us going. I have some ideas about how you can maintain your objectivity while still conveying the need for your study to your reviewers and the urgency of your solutions to your readers.

What are you angry about?

Dissertators often write with passion (sometimes it’s really drama). The problem you identify has to be real and big enough to warrant doctoral-level research, so it’s not a trivial thing. When it seems as if there’s a lot at stake, it can be tempting to get on the soapbox. First, you have to convince university reviewers that your proposal merits approval. That means lamenting all the dire consequences of not approving your study—in other words, you have to make molehills look bigger than they are.

While you are writing about those dire consequences, though, it is so easy to fall into subjectivity.

Here’s an example from a paper I once edited:

While democracy and “good governance” are preached in the hallowed halls of Congress, American society suffers the consequences.

What’s wrong with this sentence? Plenty.

First, “good governance” in quotes sounds snarky (unless it is an actual quote from a source, then it needs a citation including a page number). “Preached” is a judgmental term; “discussed” would be a better choice. “Hallowed halls” is used sarcastically—you can tell the writer thinks the halls of Congress are anything but hallowed. Finally, “society suffers the consequences” is vague and overblown. “Society” is a vague term that essentially means nothing. “Suffers” is a frothy word that when combined with “society” becomes a perfect example of anthropomorphism: Society, no matter how you define it, is not an animate being with feelings and consciousness; therefore, how can it suffer? As if society were a neglected dog to be put out of its misery.

Reviewers spot the unsupported frothy emotional appeal a mile away—this dissertator’s argument is short on substance and long on restrained fury. Usually, it’s a sign the dissertator has not done much review of the literature and is more interested in expressing wrath than in finding objective reality.

More reading is the antidote to the lack of knowledge about the topic. However, it’s sometimes harder to deal with one’s anger.

Here’s another example, from my own dissertation experience.

I was a teacher at a for-profit career college. I had experienced firsthand the consequences of owners and administrators focusing on profits over education. I had a lot of rage. I wanted to know if any other teachers were as angry as I was, so I proposed a study about teachers’ perceptions of academic quality in for-profit career education. That fire within carried me through my years-long slog toward the finish line. I probably wouldn’t have completed my degree if I hadn’t had that rage to keep me warm during the long tedious frustrating dissertation journey. Fortunately, my anger didn’t carry over into my paper. After three years of struggling to get my proposal and IRB application approved, the anger had mostly seeped away. I no longer had the energy to be enraged.

How do readers interpret your anger?

It feels cathartic to express anger. However, writing a dissertation is not the same thing as talking to a therapist. Your readers are not hostages to your rage. They don’t like to be told what to think or what to feel. That moment when they stop being willing to accept your point of view and rebel against your resentment is different for every reader, but even your most stalwart fans will eventually realize your conclusions are based on your personal gripes and disengage. It’s like that moment when the curtain is pulled back to reveal not the superhero wizard but an angry curmudgeon with a “get off my lawn” sign.

Dissertators’ anger is not invisible. Many times, I’ve edited dissertations in which the authors’ conclusions and recommendations can’t logically follow from the findings of their studies. It’s obvious they thought they knew the answer to the research problem all along, even before they started collecting and analyzing data. They might as well have saved themselves years of trouble and just written a white paper and posted it on their blog.

I recently edited a paper written by a person of color about the situation faced by people of color in a certain industry. I use the word “situation.” The author used the word “plight.” It might not be obvious to you, but using the word “plight” reveals the dissertator’s perceptions. Instead of waiting to collect data from participants—and letting their voices demonstrate the challenges they faced (and letting readers reach their own conclusions)—the dissertator inserted her own interpretation of the problem. After other evaluative judgments appeared in the paper, I began to sense the depth of the author’s righteous indignation. I left her some comments in the margin, suggesting she might take a step back. Is she entitled to her anger? Of course! Is a social science dissertation the place to express that anger? I don’t think so.

How can you express your passion for your topic without sounding like a self-centered whiner or homicidal maniac?

The solution to the anger thing requires some self-awareness, a little soul-searching, and a commitment to finding and telling the truth as it exists, not as you perceive or desire it to be.

It’s not easy. Human nature conspires against us. People are emotional creatures—we like stories, preferably ones that make us feel things. In the process of being entertaining (i.e., not being boring), authors might pepper their prose with phrases aimed at stirring the pot. Dissertations aren’t supposed to be creative writing, but sometimes authors who aren’t solidly grounded in objectivity resort to frothy yet vague statements that readers might find entertaining but distracting or confusing.

As writers, it can be difficult to separate our opinion from fact, especially when it comes to a topic we care deeply about. If you want to make a passionate point, make sure you have lots of company (that means providing solid citations). If many previous researchers have uncovered reasons to be angry, point to their rage, instead of focusing on your own.

In other words, be a scribe. Dig through the literature on the topic, find the touchpoints that support the need for your study, and report what you find in good scholarly fashion, that is to say, without superlatives, unsubstantiated claims, fear-mongering, or whining. Lay out the case, hold up that gap you identified in the tapestry of knowledge, and then do your best to fill it with robust research leading to solid believable actionable conclusions. Strive to use value-free language.

Is there room for your passion in a dissertation? Yes! Offer your opinions in your Discussion chapter (and base them on your research findings). Don’t assume your view is the only view. Find all sides of the debate. Compare and contrast your findings with the literature, so readers can see your conclusions are trustworthy. You can indicate your position in your recommendations (but don’t whine or exaggerate).

It’s really satisfying to read a dissertation that identifies a problem, presents a solution based on solid objective research using value-free language, and then circles back to offer hope that the problem will soon be solved—tying up the dissertation with a big red bow.

Summary

In sum, be a fair, honest, and objective scholar. Dissertation projects are scientific research studies—yes, even if you are using qualitative methodology and methods. Your goal as a scholar is to remain as objective as you can throughout your study. Follow the guidelines offered by research experts. Set aside your rage, make your case, and trust your readers to find their own righteous anger. They will keep the fire burning.

When I was working on my dissertation proposal, I had to make some choices. For example, would I choose a quantitative or a qualitative methodology? Who should I study? Should I compare responses within one group, or should I compare across groups? How do I choose a theory? Do I need more than one? How do I apply a theory?

Like many dissertators, I entered my program without a lot of experience in social science research. Facing so many unknowns was daunting. All my questions seemed entangled like a poorly wound skein of yarn. Pulling on one thread meant other threads tightened or unraveled. More than once, I had to unwind my ideas and start over. I lacked a research strategy, and I didn’t know where to get one.

I asked my dissertation committee chair what I should do. She said, ”Do whatever answers your research questions best.” I did not find that response particularly helpful.

I considered hiring a dissertation coach but could not afford the cost. In addition, I’m a stubborn DIY kind of person. I wanted the personal satisfaction of knowing I muddled through on my own.

Still, I needed someone to talk to about my questions. Not someone to answer them, just someone to bounce ideas around with, someone who might have similar questions, someone who was willing to give and take feedback in the pursuit of producing robust dissertations.

You might say, well, Carol, why didn’t you just talk to people in your graduate courses? I would have, but I attended a 100% online university. All my courses were asynchronous. I never met or talked to any of my fellow classmates. We had no group projects. The vast majority of the interactions I had with mentors happened through email. My Chair and I talked on the phone a handful of times in three years.

This was the nature of online learning at a for-profit university in 2013. Although I enjoyed the convenience of learning from home, I never met any of my peers. Even though I am a rabid introvert, I realized I needed input from others. In desperation, I perused the university’s discussion folders. I found them overflowing with furious, poorly written comments from students complaining they received little to no guidance from their chairs. I did not want to add to the chaos.

By the time I entered my dissertation “courses,” I was truly alone. I felt isolated and unsure of my ability to finish my program on time. My remedy was to read dozens of dissertations published by the university. I gradually discovered the hoop I had to leap through was actually bigger than I thought.

I managed to succeed, mostly by sheer willpower and persistence. However, it would have been great to have had the opportunity to engage in some informal peer review with some fellow dissertators. Even two heads would have been better than my own tired noggin.

What I needed was a peer review.

What is peer review?

Most of us in academia think of peer review in relation to publishing in academic journals. We know that reputable journals employ some kind of peer-review process to ensure they publish accurate robust valid research. I would call that a formal peer-review process. Whether a publisher uses blind peer review, double-blind peer review, or something else, consumers of the research can have confidence in the researchers’ conclusions and recommendations.

Outside of academia, many organizations use some sort of peer-review process to boost the validity of (and buy-in for) their projects. Including multiple perspectives in decision making is more likely to produce solid thoughtful positions and actions. Further, stakeholders are more likely to support the projects if they feel like their own voices have been heard and included. I hope you are lucky enough to work for a company that sincerely seeks employees’ opinions before taking actions.

Of course, many organizations do not do peer review—when did your employer last ask you for input into a strategic decision? Decisions in a lot of companies are made at the top by those with power and authority, and those of us at the bottom implement the plan whether we agree or not. I am guessing the idea of incorporating multiple viewpoints in strategic decision making gives some leaders heart palpitations. Giving up power is hard, even when the payoff could be better, more robust decisions.

Informally, we engage in peer review every time we ask our friends what they think about something we are considering. For dissertators, informal review means asking our fellow dissertators to listen, to offer feedback, to ask questions, and to share their own process with us. Discuss, in other words. The best kind of informal peer review among dissertators is a small in-person, real-time discussion group of well-read, curious, helpful peers.  

Are you afraid of your peers?

Peer review is not something to fear. Criticism can be hard to take sometimes but we can always find something of value in it, even if it is simply evidence that the critic is wrong and we are actually on the right track.

When you are organizing a peer-review discussion group, set the ground rules first. It’s like joining any group. You need to know the guardrails so nobody accidentally goes over the cliff. What kind of work will you bring? What are the discussion questions? What kind of feedback will you offer? How will you help each other be accountable and stay on track?

Are you dismissive of your peers?

You might secretly believe your peers’ research and writing skills are beneath your own, that a peer group has nothing to offer you. O lofty one, I submit to you that helping others formulate their research questions and choose appropriate theories will strengthen your own research skills. You will learn not only to voice your opinions but also to explain how you arrived at them.

You will also learn compassion. It’s never too soon to be nice to your fellow academics. Some of your peers may be on your interview committee when it’s time for you to seek tenure.

Peer review can improve your dissertation

While we are in our doctoral courses, we benefit from peer review when we discuss topics in class, if we are lucky enough to have synchronous classes with fellow dissertators. Actively participating in peer discussions helps us master the research process. Feedback is invaluable. Learning how to talk about research in general is great, and learning how to discuss our own research will bring rewards for the rest of our careers. Like it or not, peer review is baked into scientific inquiry, so we should get used to it early.

After we move into the dissertation phase, if we are lucky, we might still meet with live humans once in a while to check in and discuss our progress. However, if you attend an online school, as I did, you might miss out on this important learning tool. Creating your own peer review group might be the lifeline that helps you finish your doctorate.

Upon reflection

My first attempt at a dissertation proposal was a murky, turgid, boiling mess. I figured I’d really impress my Chair by choosing mixed methods as my methodology. I planned to sample five different populations and compare the results across groups. I had one theory in the pot but tossed in two more just to be safe.

I threw everything into the pot and set it on high boil. As I clicked the submit button, I assumed (hoped) my Chair would sort through the muck and pick out the meat. She tossed the entire pot back at me in disgust. Hers was not a peer review. She was a PhD, and I was a lowly ABD. Her “review” was resentful retaliation for offending her tender self-image as a capable mentor. In other words, she was embarrassed for me, and it came out as anger.

However, her snarky comments contained nuggets of truth. I found out I only needed to study one group. I only needed one theory. I only needed one methodology. I realized that this was not the culmination of my research career. It was only the beginning. I didn’t need to wow anyone. I just needed to get the dissertation done and move on. So move on I did.