”You thought it was about seeking the truth?†an amused ex-academic asked me recently. Yes, I did think that was what a PhD was about, and I still do firmly believe it. But the university today is the last place a truth-seeker can feel at home.
In 1995 I returned to my alma mater, one of our most prestigious universities, where I was an undergraduate in the Sixties, to study for an honours degree. I emerged last year with a PhD. Apart from discovering that standards really have dropped (this is not just a figment of old fogeys’ imaginations), I was traumatised by the double standards and hypocrisy and the animosity of staff who were less than secure in their own knowledge.
By all accounts mine was not an isolated experience but one widely shared by PhD graduates in the humanities. (I cannot speak for the sciences; in their case it may be less easy to fudge things.) So much is bluff! Does anything inspire more cynical disbelief than that finely phrased thing, the ‘Mission Statementâ€? Too late you discover the watchwords are mediocrity, conformity and expedience.
Pursuing real scholarship when those around you are faking it makes you a pariah. A tough-minded mature student, I was nearly pushed over the edge, and suffered physical symptoms of severe stress. How, I wonder, does a dedicated young student resist the pressures of today’s pseudo-academia? The mediocre have less trouble: they are not a threat to their supervisors, and can be coached to write anything. As Roy Harris, former chair of linguistics at Oxford, observes, it is ‘easy to teach and provide formulas which make it possible for young graduate students to do fairly self-contained pieces of research as doctoral dissertationsâ€, a kind of work which ‘can be generated ad infinitum, and jobs and careers secured on the basis of it, without the workers ever having to bother their heads about the nature of the enterprise. A competent university supervisor can show them ‘how to do it’ in a matter of weeks: all the student has to do then is ‘get on with it’â€.
If you are sufficiently obedient you can complete a PhD in two years, even while employed in your first post. ‘That’s the way to do it!†enthused the head of department, setting a precedent that put future PhD candidates on the spot. No shilly-shallying, please! Just get it done as quickly as possible, because we’re anxious for our subsidy. Your thesis needn’t mean anything — who’s going to read it other than some pussycat examiners?
But consider for a moment what ‘Doctor of Philosophy†should mean. Etymologically, philosophy is ‘love of wisdomâ€, and a doctor is a teacher. A PhD should make you a wise teacher, not a conduit for unsifted facts and uncritically accepted theories. It is not just another degree but one of a different kind — the change in your title from Mr or Ms to Dr shows this.
As Stefan Collini (against prodspeak: ‘research†in the humanities) says, we need to ‘return to using categories and concepts which suggest an adequate understanding of the activities which an academic community exists to promote in the first placeâ€. Labels speak. ‘How’s your ‘D’ coming along?†a colleague asked me. That shows the degradation the degree is undergoing, dragged down by the domino collapse of the postgraduate degrees: the masters toppling to honours level, the honours to what an undergraduate used to be expected to master. Small signs reveal hidden shifts of meaning in our institutions. Shortly after graduating I received a personally signed letter from the registrar: ‘Dear Ms Kilpert, Congratulations on the achievement of your degree …†A small matter, but for me it pointed to the university’s diminished respect for the doctoral degree.
Consider also what a doctoral thesis should be. For one thing, you must tackle a significant topic. Critical thinking about trivia does not constitute wisdom. I chose the awkward question of why the modern ‘science†of linguistics is so at odds with the layperson’s perception of language, a topic that matters now the humanities must prove to stakeholders their right to exist. How can we give the public what it wants, yet not abandon the search for truth and the cultivation of judgement which are the humanities’ raison d’être? Grappling with a philosophical issue takes time, and inevitably leads you down some blind alleys. The head of department asked me indignantly ‘Are you doing this for your own education?†Well of course I was! What will I have to offer others if I haven’t first educated myself?
The supervisor may be a large part of your difficulties. A lecturer with a PhD in physics tells me he does not believe a doctoral candidate should have a supervisor, because if you can’t do it on your own it’s not a PhD. And some of mine were a hindrance rather than a help. They were not experts in their field, knew little about mine (and cared less), were uninformed about international issues in the discipline, and lacked judgement and integrity. Perhaps most demoralising was their ill-concealed conviction that I would not complete the thesis. I did, however, have one who maintained a steady confidence in my abilities, which is all a PhD candidate worth her salt really needs.
When I’m asked ‘Why do a PhD?†I say it’s like running the Comrades: no practical use, but demonstrates you have an impressive capacity for suffering. Not just the inevitable hard grind, but suffering in ways you cannot foresee. Studying is a lonely occupation in the best of circumstances. How can I convey the sense of profound isolation I experienced working among people who did not share my values?
Something you hope for when embarking on a PhD is to be part of a community of scholars passionate about the life of the intellect. Sharing your thoughts with like-minded people should be compensation for the hours alone in your study. But I’ve heard it suggested that you can judge the ‘research culture†of a department by its tea-room conversation: if it is typically about when the curtains were last washed or who won the rugby, then something is wrong.
Where the ethos is not conducive to scholarship, the temptation to ‘go with the flow†can be overwhelming, especially when everyone else is having an easy time. The humanities today struggle to attract students in sufficient numbers to keep a department viable, so it’s tempting to lure them in by offering an easy credit. The resulting low standards will be assiduously concealed by massaging results. Typical of this department will be the ‘shopping mall†curriculum. Anything easily teachable is welcome, however foolish. A PhD candidate who wants to get the undergrads to think critically can be a serious embarrassment.
Despite the mission statement’s endorsement of critical thinking, you will be warned off with veiled threats. The head of department informed me that the reason a colleague who had been a rival candidate for the chair failed to get it was that he voiced criticisms of the discipline. Some threats were not so veiled: ‘The dean says I should get rid of you†was a memorable one.
Among other discouragements will be a cynical attitude towards your goals (‘Don’t try to write the perfect PhD — one copy of mine had a page missing and no one noticed. Ha ha!â€). Worst of all is the pressure to produce the goods in a hurry (‘You might end up like Dr X, who took 18 years to complete his PhDâ€). Early in your studies you will be told to stop reading, stop visiting the library, and just write. The relentless pressure makes PhD candidates reluctant to tackle big subjects, which of course ultimately threatens to trivialise the degree.
The final hurdle is ensuring your work gets judged by examiners who will value its worth. In the course of my studies I learnt to talk with international experts on their level. I did not want my thesis examined by ‘pussycatsâ€.
Why sweat it? you might ask. It’s possible to turn out a doctoral thesis that is essentially meaningless but resembles the real thing and is impressive enough to fool most — especially as few have time to read a thesis thoroughly these days. Fields have become so specialised and the literature so huge that it’s difficult to track down phoneyism. Perhaps academia is already a lost cause? As Collini remarks, trying to fight ‘Prodspeak†in the humanities is like ‘throwing a handful of flowers at an advancing tankâ€. Why not just go along with the game and get what you can out of it?
Was the suffering really worth it? Despite everything, I think it was in the end. I wrote the thesis I wanted to, in the teeth of my alma mater’s indifference and hostility, and it is something to have been taken seriously by some of the best scholars in the field. A PhD is a real possession, something no one can take away from you. I would not want to discourage anybody from doing one. But if you value your integrity, be prepared to go through hell.
And it’s worth it for the sake of our universities. Barney Pityana observes (Beyond Matric, May 7 2004) that some of them have ‘gone the whole hog to embrace change and thereby traded essential values and traditions for ephemeral gainsâ€. Doctoral students can strike a blow for the revival of those values.
Diana Kilpert works as a freelance copy editor in Cape Town