I bought my first new car at 50 – a Tesla. Now, four years later, I’ve bought a second electric vehicle, a ridiculously yellow EX30 Volvo with a dual motor. Some might question buying new cars in quick succession, but I see it as helping to kickstart the second-hand electric vehicle market. After years of precarious employment, the immense privilege of job security leading to owning such a fancy one isn’t lost on me. But that’s not really what this post is about. I want to talk about dealing with new situations, like the PhD or a new job.
A car analogy often helps, I think. My first ever post on Thesiswhisperer was how writing a thesis is a bit like driving a car. Over the last month I’ve realised there’s a lot of parallels between my new car experience and the way people successfully orient themselves to new situations.
Now I have to talk about cars for a bit. Stay with me.
Modern cars are essentially robots you sit inside. Even modest models now come packed with computers, cameras and software that connect seamlessly to your phone. Like any good robot companion, they need names – my Tesla was ‘Thesiswhisperer’s Ute’ (The Ute for short), and the new yellow Volvo simply had to be ‘Little Rascal’.
Maybe cars eventually drive themselves, but that dream is still far off. For now, you and the car-robot have to collaborate on making driving happen.
Car-robots are designed to keep in their lanes, manage the lights and wipers according to conditions, and take over from you in a crash situation. They give you feedback through sounds and visual displays in addition to haptic feedback, via the wheels and pedals. You get used to how each car-robot feels, so changing cars is an involved process. There’s so much more to learn than where reverse gear is, and how to turn on the windscreen wipers.
When I picked up Little Rascal, Shane at Volvo spent twenty minutes showing me the basics and connecting my phone. We both knew this demo barely scratched the surface of what the car could do. ‘You’ll learn the rest through driver discovery’ he assured me with practiced sales-person confidence, delivering those two innocent-sounding words with a smile that suggested we both knew exactly what was coming.
Let me tell you, there’s a whole world of frustration packed in those two words ‘driver discovery’.
I’ve been getting to know Little Rascal as I drive it. Some of what I’ve found out is great, and some … not so much. I’ve had to work out how crucial features, like indicators and brakes, work – at speed, in the wet and while weaving through Sydney and Melbourne traffic. Twice now it has saved me from a major accident, reacting before I did to a hazard. I don’t always like the feeling I am not really in control of my car-robot, despite the obvious benefits.
The whole PhD deal is a bit like being given a new robot-car to drive. It’s pretty much all ‘driver discovery’ – some of it is not pleasant. And it comes with the dawning realisation that you are not always in control.
Just as modern cars are complex systems of interconnected parts and software, universities are complex systems of rules, relationships and culture. You’re given the keys to an office (hopefully), a computer (hopefully), and a supervisor (probably?), but your PhD is taking place within this larger system, the features of which you discover as your PhD experience unfolds. Like my experience learning to work with Little Rascal’s various safety features and quirks, you have to learn how to work with – and sometimes around – the institutional features designed to keep you ‘safe’.
You see, the PhD system you’re in is meant to reduce risk (for the insitution) and increase safety (for you, and for university staff). When I say ‘system’, I mean bureaucratic rules and processes, which appear in the form of milestone presentations or forms to fill out, but I also mean organisational culture or ‘The Vibe’. The Vibe is generated by how people treat each other, what they expect from each other and how they react in times of stress. Having a good PhD experience is like surviving a road trip in my EX 30: it’s better if you packed snacks and carefully plan where to get the next charge.
There’s many ways of thinking about systems and safety. While reading a book about computer science careers (The Staff Engineer’s path) I stumbled across the work of Ron Westrum, an American sociologist. He was doing the kind of sociology that is a bit frowned upon now (the sort that has grand, totalising narratives) but I still think his theory of systems and safety is interesting and useful.
In his paper ‘A typology of organisational cultures’, Westrum starts with the premise that the safety of a system depends on how information flows through it. In some it flows well, in others information is “hoarded for political reasons or it languishes due to bureaucratic barriers”. Rewards and punishments, Westrum argues, depend on leadership to a large extent. It’s up to individuals to ‘read the room’ to work out how to succeed. The longer you are in an organisation the better you are at interpreting the system you are in, and thus can avoid what he calls “expensive lessons”.
Westrum grandly simplies all the complexity of organisations into three different organisational types: Pathological, Bureaucratic and Generative. These categories are a bit of sociological astrology really, but they are fun to think about in relation to Academia:
Pathological organisations are very power oriented and often hierarchical. There’s low co-operation between members and a ‘shoot the messenger’ reflex when things go wrong. People in pathological organisations will try to shirk responsibility and accountability (committees are a great vehicle for this). People will be discouraged from crossing boundaries (anyone who has tried to be ‘inter-disciplinary’ will know what this means). Pathological cultures, Westrum contends, crush novelty, which would seem counter to the academic mission. But we academics have studied ourselves and know that novelty that threatens existing power structures can be actively quashed (see Belcher and Trowlers’ Academic Tribes and Territories for more).
Bureaucratic organisation are rule-oriented places where people cooperate, but only modestly. While speaking truth to power in a pathological organisation might mean retribution, in a bureaucratic one you’re more likely to be politely ignored. People take responsibility, but only within narrow bounds. You’ll hear a lot of ‘not my job’ responses when you have problems – if you’ve ever tried to complain about a colleague or supervisor’s behaviour within a university, you’ll know exactly what I mean.
The final type, Generative Organisations, seem a little more like wish fulfillment than real places. These organisations are ‘mission driven’ and ‘performance orientated’ with high levels of co-operation. If you have bad news for leaders, they listen and take action. Risks are shared and failure is seen as a chance for improvement, rather than finger pointing. (Oh I wish!)
It’s a mistake, I think to see Westrum’s types as real. They work better if you think of them as tendencies, which can grow and change, depending on leadership and other factors. In my experience of academia, one tendency may be more or less expressed, depending on where you are, and who is in charge.
Your local school might operate quite differently from the wider university. While your department might show pathological or generative tendencies, the broader institution usually defaults to bureaucratic mode. It’s helpful to know that the tendencies are in constant tension. Take bullying for example: if you can edge your way through the local politics and get your complaint to exactly the right person higher up, you might find help. The trick is knowing how to find the safer pathways and don’t collect bruises along the way.
I’ve often heard people complain that academia is a ‘broken system’ – but I think that’s the wrong way to look at it. As my PhD student Jay Caldwell wisely observed to me at Christmas drinks: ‘no system is ever broken’. A system simply is what it does; it emerges from countless interactions and decisions, with little or no conscious design. You have choices about how to work with this reality. You can accept the system’s constraints and learn to thrive within them or you can push back and try to change things.
Or you can do what I do – both at once. (And this is why I am tired).
So, if doing a PhD, or starting somewhere new, is on the cards for you, how do you get better at ‘driver discovery’ and avoiding crashes? Here’s some thoughts:
Read the manual: A lot of organisational rules are never written down, but you should know the ones that are. Manuals can be thick and boring, but when you start make yourself skim the contents. For PhD students, this is usually a boring sounding document called the ‘research award rules’ or something similar (here is a good page for navigating the rules at ANU). For early career researchers, go to the staff code of conduct. ‘Innoculating’ yourself with knowledge is not a cure all, but at least you will know where to look when real trouble strikes.
Find the people who are just ahead of you: long term members of an organisation can be very helpful, but often The Vibe is just the air they breathe. They swerve around hazards with their eyes closed and think you can too, so they don’t think to give you a warning of poor road conditions ahead. The most helpful guides are people who have been there a couple of years. They may look like inexperienced drivers, but they have worked the important shit out. For most of you, this will be the Post Docs and early career researchers.
Don’t be hasty: driver discovery can be fatal when you are doing it at speed, stressed, tired or driving at night. If you are reckless, you are likely to get an expensive lesson. If The Vibe feels off, pull over and have a rest. If in doubt about how to act, observe what others are doing. Ask questions. Don’t assume you know best and boldly be different without understanding all the consequences. But similarly, don’t mindlessly copy what other people are doing – what worked for them, may not work for you. Look at the tendencies around you – if they are pathological, look for the bureaucratic rope ladders.
Thanks for reading to the end of these musings – it helped me to write them. I hope it helped you too.
Finaally – big thanks to the 250 people who completed my reader survey! Here’s what I learned:
Audience composition:
- Only 40% are current PhD students (lower than expected!)
- 33% are academics and 9% university professional staff
- Remaining 18% include public servants, aspiring PhD students, and even undergraduates (welcome!)
- 23% all readers currently supervise PhD students – and many share these posts to them (thank you!)
- Wide spread of disciplines, with slight lean to social sciences.
Reading habits:
- Most read every post in detail (bless you all)
- Majority read on laptops, not mobile devices
- 22% listen to On The Reg podcast and 26% didn’t know about the podcasts at all (check the footer for links!)
Content preferences:
- 64% want more AI content, 7% are tired of it (less than I thought).
- Most popular topics:
- Writing advice (83%)
- Research processes (78%)
- Technology tips (60%)
- Career advice (41%)
- 30% interested in return of guest posts
And a big Thank You for all the lovely messages of appreciation too – they mean the world to me and motivate me to keep going. I truly have the best readers!
Given this feedback, I’ll be making some adjustments to the blog in 2025:
Since writing advice is still the most valued content, I’ll make sure to do regular posts on this topic, but with fresh angles and new research. I’ll keep the AI content coming, but perhaps integrate it more with other themes rather than making it the sole focus. The strong interest in research processes suggests it’s time to revisit some classics like note-taking and literature management – with updates for new tools and techniques. While I won’t return to accepting guest posts regularly, I might occasionally feature a carefully chosen one here and there. Finally, since most of you are reading on laptops, I’ll be reviewing the layout to make sure it works well on bigger screens. But don’t worry – I’ll keep my signature Thesis Whisperer style