Our contribution is part of a forum on “Dead-Ends, Disasters, Delays? Reflecting on Research Failure in International Studies and Ways to Avoid It” in ‘International Studies Perspectives’ and you can find it here.

In the article, we reflect on our own academic journeys and the pivotal role that failure and derailment have played in getting us to where we are today. For Andrew, he at some point made the difficult decision to move countries, and leave the UK for France despite his permanent position there, and for me, well most of you know my story of how long-term illness forced me to pause my PhD for a very long time.

You can read our reflections in the journal, but I thought I’d summarise the article in a shorter advice format here. Here are 8 key lessons we learnt from navigating failure in academia:

1. Academia is not the meritocracy it claims to be. Don’t buy into the ‘myth of failure’ and internalise the belief that derailment or failure reflects on your capability or worth.
2. Research failure is normal and par for the course — don’t take it personally. (Easier said than done!!)
3. Academia tends not to be great at supporting its people. Incentive structures are often at odds with your wellbeing. Take care of yourself! It can be rough out there.
4. Understand the academic landscape. Questions to ask: what is valued, what isn’t, and how do I allocate my energy wisely? What do I need to say no to?
5. Academic networks are vital. Invest in building connections in your field.
6. Mentorship is crucial, especially early on. Sadly, mentorship is currently often not sufficiently supported and valued. Again, it’s not personal, but it has real consequences.
7. Failure and success are distributed unequally: intersectionality matters and survivorship bias is real.
8. And finally: you will need to draw on your creativity to navigate success and failure. (You can do this! I believe in you!)

To our credit we also managed to include a reference to the 1990s cult classic: Sliding Doors. We’re 90s kids what can I say?

If you’re struggling with any of the above know you’re not alone. If you need some support in all of this, I am available for 1:1 coaching and I would be delighted to work with you.

Pick the right supervisor.

It is THE power relationship that matters when you are writing a PhD, and its impact not only on your work and career, but also on your wellbeing should not be underestimated. If you are looking for a PhD position, don’t just start with the university, the reputation of the department or the field. People matter, and academia is built on personal networks. Being part of the right ecosystem so to speak, is everything.

I’ll tell you a story to illustrate.

I thought I had all this supervision business covered when I applied for my PhD position. I researched the person who would likely become (and in fact did become) my first supervisor ahead of time. He had worked very closely with a professor I knew well at my home university, a professor who had been a mentor figure for me and who I trusted. I had read the papers they had co-authored and they seemed interesting enough. My thought process was as follows: well, they seem to like each other, so he is probably a decent person, and they have written some interesting stuff together, so all will be good.

Not so.

Turns out he was a bully.

During our first ever group supervision meeting, he decided to put me down in front of my peers by saying: “I doubt you’re capable of producing one single coherent and rationally sound argument,” when I stumbled trying to answer one of his questions, after he had already made clear my PhD proposal did not fit into his idea of what political science was about.

Rather ironically, these group supervision meetings were an initiative to try to create a more supportive, collective supervision culture.

It worked in a way, I suppose: later that week at the bar (and after a couple of drinks) one of my colleagues remarked: “he is a pig to everyone, you know.”

I switched supervisors soon after and this man left no mark on my self-worth or the rest of my PhD trajectory. In a way him being so extreme made it easier to see the problem was entirely him. But I don’t even want to think about what it might have been like to have to complete a PhD under his ‘guidance’. As some of my colleagues would have to suffer through.

So, how to prevent supervision mishaps and disasters?

My advice would be to get in touch with a prospective supervisor’s current or past supervisees for a coffee and an informal chat and see what they have to say. Don’t be afraid to ask: this information is key! If you hear multiple negative stories, it’s an easy decision: don’t do it. Just don’t. There will be other, better opportunities for you, trust me here.

I may have a skewed perspective because I hear all the stories where things have not gone well, but my conclusion is that if you have ambitions in academia a supportive supervision relationship is one of the most important pieces to get right. (Support may mean different things to different people, but that’s a post all to its own.)

What are your thoughts on supervision? Any stories to share?

I could hear the debate in my mind, which wasn’t really about my own PhD, but about hers, which she too was trying to finish in difficult circumstances:

It may not be worth it, was a thought I had. When you’re facing something big (she was facing something big) you realise that the PhD isn’t that important. It doesn’t really matter whether you finish the project or not; the title mostly only matters within the narrow confines of academia. In the grand scheme of things it doesn’t matter!

It may not be worth it, was a thought I had. More than two thirds of PhDs go on to find employment outside of academia anyway, and you may not need the title. And of the third that stay, most everyone seems to be stretched to the max, running around trying to get published and tick all the boxes. Although many academics love (parts of) their work, and many can’t see themselves doing anything else, so many are at maximum capacity, which is not necessarily a place you want to be.

It may not be worth it, I might have said. Quitting your PhD may be a wise decision, a courageous decision, and a decision that may work out in your favour in many ways.

But in the end my answer, the personal answer she asked for is unambiguous: it has been more than worth it to finish my PhD, and I can say that to be true even if it wouldn’t have helped me in doing the work I am doing with academics now (which it rather obviously does!).

It has been worth it for me, because it gave me a sense of achievement during a difficult time. I honestly didn’t think it was possible to finish, but I did it, and now it’s done! Finishing the thesis reminded me that I was capable and also that my work over the years had been valuable – even if only to me.

It has been worth it to celebrate the achievement, to not only start but to finish the project and to do so publicly. I could even argue it was worth it just to strut down the aisle at the Covento di San Domenico wearing a robe and hat and kitten heels, with a massive smile on my face, and drink prosecco with my pals afterwards to celebrate the occasion! Maybe that day alone made it worth it.

Fundamentally it was worth it for the simple reason that deep down I had a genuine desire to finish it. I wanted to see the project completed, that’s what it comes down to. I wanted to complete the thoughts I had started thinking and had mulled over for years; to complete the sentences, the arguments, the chapters. There is power in completion, and in this case, completion was for me. It was stimulating, it was exhausting, it was worth it.

When you look at the figures, they suggest that finishing a PhD is definitely worth it: one study shows that 85% of PhDs said that obtaining a PhD had had a positive influence on their career. People with PhDs tend to have the highest rates of employment of any of the professional categories. They earn more than others too. Now, although this is useful information in the sense that it is always good to know that finishing your PhD won’t harm and may enhance your career prospects, these figures say little beyond that blanket statement.

You are the only one who knows what is right for you, and if you would ask me for advice this is what I’d say:

You are capable of finishing your PhD if you desire to do so.

You do not have to finish: quitting your PhD can be a powerful move.

Do not take on academia’s perspective on ‘failure’: it is (they are) misguided.

Finishing your PhD can be an exhilarating experience (especially once it is done!)

What do you think: Is it worth it to finish your PhD?

The passage in Bolker’s book goes as follows:

“There’s another kind of hitting the wall that sometimes happens to thesis writers: you feel an impossible barrier between you and the finish line, the bottom falls out of your hopefulness and ambition, and your spirits border on despair and collapse. I’ve more than once heard someone with less than five percent of her thesis left to write say, ‘I’ve decided not to go on with this project.’ This is a time when the demons can catch up with you, when every one of the internal creatures who got in your way all along decides to gang up on you just this side of the finish, to remind you of all the good reasons why you shouldn’t finish your degree.”

Bolker then goes on to advise to accelerate past this resistance and just get on with it, get it done! Sound advice.

But what if the internal demons gang up on you if you are only say a year or perhaps two in? And what if they turn out not to be bad ugly demons, but friendly ones, with your best interest at heart? What if they are insistently whispering that what you are doing… is not the right thing to be working on, not the right project to spend these years of your life on? What if they are right?

The researcher I was talking to had ‘optimised’ her workday – as in she knew exactly when her best hours of the day were and worked on her PhD during those time slots, she had self-care routines firmly in place – and she was still very much into her research topic. Yet…it wasn’t happening, her chapters weren’t getting written, it was all at a stand-still. And perhaps…that was because she was finding out she didn’t enjoy academic work that much. Maybe there were better things for her to do…

Committing to a PhD is a big decision, but dropping a project halfway in is an even bigger one. Especially because of the connotation of failure. Quitting is failing, isn’t it?

Well, no. It is not. It is a profoundly courageous thing to do. The ‘easy thing’ to do is to just keep plodding along mindlessly, no matter whether all of this is still a good idea.

It can be treacherous territory: there are ups and downs to the PhD process. There will slumps and blues along the way. It is par for the course, and it is best to not get all existential over them. At the same time: if all of it is slump then maybe it is time to reconsider. Sometimes you do have to ponder the big questions.

When you start the PhD there are so many unknowns, and along the way you find out about all sorts of things. Such as whether you are well suited to doing academic work (Do you enjoy the slow, profound, nuanced nature of academic research, does it light you up to get that footnote exactly right, after editing it a hundred times?), whether you enjoy working at your university (perhaps it is just you, quite isolated, working away?), whether the whole setting of the pressures of getting published is something you can work with or may even motivate you to write your papers, or whether you’d just rather not! The same goes for teaching if that’s part of your PhD programme: you cannot know until you try.

In my PhD programme you could quit after year one, with a Masters in Research. Clever idea, because it means that even if you quit the work had not been ‘for nothing’. In theory, that is. In practice it was still a hard decision to make. That ‘failure’ thing again…

There are all sorts of ways to assess whether you should get a PhD. Unless the PhD is a requirement for a next step you want to take (say the possibility of an academic career, or certain positions), I have found a good question to ask is this one: how would I feel if I could drop the entire project?

Disclaimer as above: PhD slumps are normal and natural, so perhaps not torture yourself with this question if you’re going through a difficult stretch. You can and will make it through if you want to. But that is the question: do you want to?

I remember the first time someone asked me why I was doing a PhD. I hadn’t started yet. It was an older lesbian woman in a shady bar wearing a leather jacket who I’d excitedly told I was going to do a PhD. She dropped the big question immediately. ‘Why? Why do you want to so this?’ I have to laugh because I remember my stupid answer. It was: ‘Because I want to show them I can do it.’ She looked at me, shook her head and told me it was the wrong answer. She was completely 100% right and I hang my head in shame. It had something to do with me quite belatedly figuring out I was good at this academic stuff. But yes, wrong reason! In any case, even with the wrong reason for starting I am now glad I did embark on the PhD, and did finish it. Although I sometimes wonder what might have happened if I had changed course mid-way…

As for the researcher I was talking to: she has decided it is time to take some time out to answer the big questions: ‘why, what for, do I really want to do this?’ I wonder what her decision is going to be…

Do you have doubts about your PhD? Would you like to quit? If you would like to talk things over with me check out my coaching page. If you decide to proceed (I am very much cheering you on!!!), the Stress-Free PhD Programme will get you over the finish line…

The setting is bizarre (which I don’t necessarily object to), and it is also incredibly competitive (which is why the economics case is one to pay attention to, as I am seeing other disciplines moving in the same direction). In fact it is so competitive that I heard my boyfriend mutter something along the lines of: “I would not have stood a chance in the current job market. These CVs!” Back home he had more evaluating to do. This time for grants. Again, a similar sentiment: “I’m not so sure my chances would have been as great to get a VIDI grant if I had applied now, compared to ten years ago.” Ouch. The job market is changing. And however much we hate it (and I do believe most academics aren’t too keen on this development, collectively squeezed as they are) you have to somehow work taking into account the present conditions. That or leave, which is increasingly an option to take seriously, especially right after the PhD.

I asked Bas (pictured on the right, waiting for well-deserved best-of-San-Francisco-ramen-noodles after a long day of interviews), as he now is part of the human machinery of academic hiring and judging what he would advise current PhDs and ECRs.

How to prepare if you want to stay in academia?

This is what I’ve distilled from our conversations on the topic:

1. Publications

No surprise here. Publications are a sine qua non. Make sure you have at least one single-authored paper in the mix, and go for quality over quantity. [AD: I remember a conversation with my late supervisor in Florence who was concerned by the CVs with lists and lists of multi-authored papers, often produced without much individual say. To him this heralded the end of the profession. Some of his colleagues rather disagreed, and urged their PhDs to collaborate and ‘pool resources’ so to speak, often including themselves in the mix, at times adding themselves as first author despite little intellectual investment in the work. Depends very much on the field…]

2. Push to the frontier

The PhD and ECR years are an investment to learn all there is to learn about your field, then push to the frontier of knowledge in your field. This is very much a marathon-like pursuit: training, training, training, putting the miles in, rather than having to do with genius or superior intellect. Many academics aren’t exquisitely bright. They do well because they chose their niche well and simply were consistent and kept at it. It doesn’t matter where you start exactly, just get going. Put yourself out there.

3. Beware of ‘lamp post academics’

Imagine I’ve dropped my wallet in a dark little alley at night. Now, where do academics tend to look for the wallet? Right, you’ve guessed it – on the main road where the lamp post is. At least there they can see what is going on! In other words: avoid doing data-driven research. It doesn’t answer any interesting questions. Sure, you may be able to get a publication out of it, and some people manage to build their entire careers on data-driven research, but it’s hardly satisfying and it doesn’t impress. Try to find the wallet in a place you may actually find it, even though it might take some stumbling around in the dark.

4. Develop your idea, make it researchable and convincing

If you’re trying to get a grant for a project there are three things you’ll need to demonstrate:
1. That you’re capable. That you can perform the research proposed.
2. That whatever you are proposing to do is important. You need an idea, and you need to show that that idea will contribute to one of the important debates in the field.
3. You need to convince the evaluation committee their money will be well spent.
Don’t underestimate the second and third part. They are what gives you a competitive edge. Many people are capable, only a sub-set have interesting ideas, and only a small sub-set manage to communicate successfully how exactly the project will be set up. Many academics are great at theorising, but get stuck in the clouds. Don’t be one of them. Tell us why your research is important, and be as specific as you can regarding the details of how research will be carried out, what exactly the grant money will achieve. Many researchers fail to do so. They overestimate the importance of skill and technique and method and get caught up in showing off how clever they are. The main idea and realisation of the project are the more important parts, and is what will make your proposal stand out.

5. Get to know your field

Go to seminars regularly, and contribute. Get to know people. Pay attention. To succeed in academia you need to get involved, to show up, to engage. How does the tribe work? What are the do’s? What are the don’ts? Read between the lines. What are the important debates? What triggers the main discussions? How do people ask questions and how are they answered? Observe and learn. Engaging is an investment in your human capital, and you cannot go without.

Academia is a verb

What I have learned from observing Bas carving out an academic career for himself over the past decade is that academia is very much about doing the work, about getting engaged, about putting yourself and your work out there. Academia is a network of people with ideas, and becoming part of this network is as important as the ideas themselves. Another thing I’ve noticed, and the reason I believe he is doing well is inner drive. Depending on workload and competitiveness in your field inner drive is what will allow and motivate you to continue on the academic trail. You need abundant inner resources to overcome the obstacles and hurdles that are par for the course. Without, academia can be a tough gig, and you may be better off somewhere else…

Which of the above advice speaks to you? Should you focus in on that next publication, rewrite that grant proposal, or spend some more time getting to know people in your field? The inner drive part is addressed in the HappyPhD course. It will give you tools to uncover it, and help you work with ‘effortless effort’. As always, if you like this post, could you share it? I appreciate it!