Metaphors for the PhD

As part of a research training course, I have been tasked to consider what metaphors I would use to describe my PhD research. I don’t want to say it is a journey – a motif too cliched for someone engaging in children’s literature. I have kept this question at the back of my head for like a week and ideas keep popping up. None of them can be a perfect allegory, but each should highlight certain aspects how I perceive my PhD research.


PhD is an adventure in the Wonderland

We were all probably first lured by an intriguing White Rabbit in the first place into the rabbit hole. Down the rabbit hole we have fallen into the Wonderland, an unknown land inhabited by incomprehensible creatures such as the Caterpillar smoking a hookah. We once again ask fundamental questions like ‘who are you’ / ‘who am I’ / ‘what am I doing’ / ‘why am I here’. We have to unlearn as we learn, and be prepared to abandon any preconceived ideas to acquire a new perspective of seeing things. The adventure is episodic, not necessarily linked by causality but rather a matter of serendipity (or randomness, for people who don’t feel too positive about it).  It is fascinating to wander in this new land but it can be confusing and frustrating at times. It is not a place without trouble and fear. The fear of having our heads off is always lurking there. It is an adventure without a fixed itinerary and we do not know the destination. We know when we arrive.


PhD is mining

This time it is not the White Rabbit that led us into the mine. We probably are attracted by the possibilities of finding precious gold or diamond there, or at least some useful coal. Hence into the dark hole we went. Carrying the necessary equipment, we started mining. At times we might realise that we do not have the best equipment for this particular mine. After all each mine has its own unique landscape, for example with especially narrow tunnels or particularly hard rocks. So we have to get out of the mine and get hold of some more effective tools. On some days we dig out nothing despite all the effort spend. On some other days we might chance on some valuable minerals. It is a lonely process in a dark mine and we have to get out to bathe in sunlight for a balance sometimes. (The disturbing aspect: mining is a dangerous job and the casualty rate is high too.)


PhD is a rhizome

Borrowing the metaphor from Deleuze and Guattari, the metaphor of the rhizome is best used to describe the process of picking up academic reading. From one scholar we go on to another because A has cited B’s work. From B we go on to C, then C to D, who might have also been referred to by A and who might also be quoting E. And so on and so forth. From one idea we are connected to another, seeing how different scholars are juxtaposing previously unrelated thoughts. From one discipline we glide to another discipline, almost another ecosystem, and yet the roots are so interwoven that we cannot completely sever one from another. Where will we end up? There is no end, unless we give up on the whole botanical system and go back above the ground – so yes we are in the underground darkness finding our ways without the privileged ability to oversee the entire network.


Although I tend to be dark with the above metaphors, I am rather positive that we will get something invaluable out of the adventure, or the mine, or the underground roots, that we cannot otherwise gain. After all it is not the destination that matters the most, but the adventure itself. And if we remain in the academia, this intellectual adventure will go on and on and on.

Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think!

A Story of Children’s Literature Researchers

I’ve read an amazing story about children’s literature researchers. Not me, sadly.

The reason why I got to read this story is that one of the Glasgow lecturers here is in the story – Evelyn Arizpe, director of MEd in Children’s Literature and Literacies at University of Glasgow. She gave a guest lecture yesterday which I attended, and we were shown the following, in addition to a lecture fused with zeal.

These are historical items! An 18C chapbook and a doll with letters and words on its body – probably one that would have been sold by John Newbery back then?

It’s exciting to be able to touch these, but what is more exciting is a story in which she was a part. She told us a little bit in class, but for the full story, please do go and have a read of the Prologue of a book entitled Reading Lessons from the Eighteenth Century by Evelyn Arizpe and Morag Styles. (There’s one in CUHK University Library – though on loan at this moment. That might be the only copy in Hong Kong!)

That’s a fascinating story of some children’s literature researchers inspiring one another, joining at different stages of the project, in the search of the history of a mother writing for her children in the 18th century, Jane Johnson.

Let me summarise a bit for people who don’t get to read it. Styles, one of the authors of the book, was first inspired by an American researcher Shirley Brice Heath, who brought to her knowledge a precious collection in Lilly Library at Indiana University – that of Jane Johnson’s. Fascinated by Johnson’s works, Styles was determined to pursue further in collaboration with her colleague Victor Watson.

The two of them, together with the visiting scholar, immediately went on a trip to London to study the wills of the Johnson family, and then to Witham-on-the-Hill, where Johnson lived. It was a small village and the people there were somewhat surprised by the visiting of the scholars. With the kind help of the people there, they got to see what Johnson’s house would look like, and also read a book related to Johnson’s daughter.

This is just the first part of the story, but I fear that any longer description will lose your interest. The scholars continued with the project, with a lot of coincidences and help of interested people (including Evelyn Arizpe, of course), a lot of trips and a lot of research on online archives, they got to dig up a lot of old documents (!!!) and unravel the obscure history of the eighteenth-century reading household.

The burning passion scribed into the book can hardly be missed. The prologue was clearly written with great enthusiasm and the excitement they felt must have been hundred times greater than what pops up on paper. (Read it if you have the chance!)

How I wish I could have the opportunity to do research like they did!

Academic Ethics, Honesty and Integrity

Anyone who believes in the value of academic research would consider academic ethics / honesty / integrity as something that cannot be compromised. The academia is a system, just like the legal system, whose credibility depends highly upon the integrity of the operators. Strict ethical codes and regulations are there to minimise possible corruption that would cause the ivory tower, or the court likewise, to collapse into rubble. In other words, they are to forestall academic dishonesty.

The most commonly mentioned kind of academic dishonesty is plagiarism – copying others’ ideas without acknowledgment, which is the same as stealing people’s intellectual property. Another kind of academic dishonesty is improper or unethical obtainment of data, for example, without the consent of participants, or deliberately obscuring the purpose of the project when obtaining data.

These are all ACAD 101. What attracts my attention here is how different academic institutions refer to this core value that we embrace: academic ethics? academic honesty? academic integrity?

Some institutions prefer to use the term academic ethics. Ethics, commonly used to refer to moral principles, is a philosophically complex term. Forgive me for not being able to elaborate on this due to the lack of knowledge about moral philosophy, but this piece of news about an ethics professor might be something to think about. Unlike honesty and integrity, ethics has nothing to do with a person’s character. It’s in the action itself – we don’t call somebody unethical, but we would say an act is.

In Hong Kong, a number of universities, including The Chinese University of Hong Kong where I studied, adopt the phrase academic honesty. Academic honesty, at the first glance, is the conspicuous opposite of academic dishonesty, the way most people term the sin in the academia. (I googled a bit and did find the rare use of the phrase ‘academic disintegrity’ on a few webpages.) Researchers ought to be honest – honestly informing participants of the purpose of research, honestly using the data collected, honestly presenting the findings. Honesty refers to one’s attitude when performing an action, and more than that.

A check on Oxford English Dictionary yields more insights about the word ‘honesty’. It is related to the Middle French word honnesté, meaning ‘virtue, honour, integrity’. Coming to think of that, the word ‘honest’ does sound related to the word ‘honour’, which denotes much more than truthfulness. An honest person in this sense is not only candid, but also respectable and honourable for being virtuous. Academic honesty then means more than ‘not lying’ – it speaks of the importance of maintaining the honour of the academia, the communal esteem shared by people in the academic community.

Yet some other institutions would adopt the term academic integrity. This is the term I like the most, perhaps partly because it is one of the five core values of QC boys (Note: my alma mater, Queen’s College). I’m quite proud that my secondary school celebrates integrity as an important value. But what exactly does this word mean?

According to Oxford English Dictionary (again), ‘integrity’ is the ‘soundness of moral principle; the character of uncorrupted virtue, esp. in relation to truth and fair dealing; uprightness, honesty, sincerity’. From the OED definitions we can clearly see that the concepts of honesty and integrity are inter-related, each constituting the other.

Cambridge Dictionary Online defines ‘sb’s artistic, professional, etc. integrity’ as ‘someone’s high artistic standards or standards of doing their job, and that person’s determination not to lower those standards‘ (my emphasis). Here integrity has the meaning of unyielding consistency and adherence to certain standards. Perhaps different people have different artistic standards, but when it comes to academic integrity, it refers to a set of agreed standards which everyone entering the established community must not compromise, as the impact otherwise will not be individual but collective.

The word ‘integrity’ has one additional layer of meaning when referring to objects, and that is ‘the condition of not being marred or violated; unimparied or uncorrupted condition; original perfect state; soundness’. The soundness of the academia as a whole can be marred and corrupted by individual acts of impropriety, and this points to the seriousness of academic dishonesty. Once corrupted, it is difficult – at least takes great effort – to make intact again. (I’m not innocent enough to believe that the academia is intact without any corruption now, but one must hope for an ideal if one believes in the value of the system.)


This is why we should take academic dishonesty seriously. If we allow people to obtain an academic degree using problematic data, or if we allow dishonest researchers to publish inaccurate findings, we are allowing corruption of the system from within, not only tarnishing the reputation and credibility of individual institutes, but also compromising the honour and integrity of the entire intellectual community.

New Journey

Lake Kawaguchi, Japan, 2 September 2016

This September I’m officially unemployed. Quitting a job that granted me stable income and careers prospect to pursue a PhD in a foreign country was a difficult decision which some might deem unwise. Voices, internal and external, have been warning me against such a decision.

‘You could stay and earn enough to buy a flat soon!’

‘It’s a shame to give up what you’ve established here. You could have good prospect if you stay.’

‘There’s no guarantee that you can earn as much as you do now after your PhD.’

I well understand that these are all true. Yet, I’m proud, with a mix of anxiety and excitement, to have made this decision, leaving the path of certainty and taking the one less travelled by, with the hope of seeing scenery unavailable to me previously.

This blog will be a record of my footprints on this new path, sharing my new life and thoughts as a PhD student in Glasgow.

Ten more days before I physically embark on the journey… Should start packing soon.