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TRN0010.1177/0265378813501731TransformationO’Loughlin

Article

Transformation
2015, Vol. 32(2) 128­–134
Writing a PhD Dissertation in © The Author(s) 2013
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Theology: Some Common Pitfalls sagepub.co.uk/journalsPermissions.nav
DOI: 10.1177/0265378813501731
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Thomas O’Loughlin
Department of Theology and Religious Studies, University of Nottingham, UK

Abstract
The PhD is one of the most demanding investments (in terms of time, energy and money) made by most
aspiring theologians.This article argues that apart from thinking about the topic of the PhD, the student needs
to think through some basic questions about why she/he wants to go through this process. How does one
see one’s topic in relation to the work one is going to do? How does it related to your interests in life and
religion? And are you willing to engage in the change/growth in your own theology that is part of the process?

Keywords
apologetic, doctorate, paradigms, PhD, teaching, theology

In 1 August 2009, I took up the position of Professor of Historical Theology at the University of
Nottingham. In the excitement of taking up this new challenge, I did not take account of one down-
side. Like most academics, I had an office full of paper in piles that all had to be sorted: some items
to be kept (and filed), and much more to be discarded via the shredder (and thence to compost) or
the recycling sack. In those piles, I came across drafts of PhD chapters, plans for theses, finished
works, and copies of umpteen reports on PhDs. Thumbing through them – I reckon that over the
past 12 years I have been involved with well over 100 theses as supervisor, examiner, or advisor
– I began to look at the comments I had pencilled in the margins. Sometimes these made me
chuckle as I remembered the student in question, at other times I was saddened that work that was
initially promising never came to completion, but what struck me increasingly as I went through
these pages was that I made the same comments, time and again, on the work of many different
individuals whose topics were also different from one another.
Having noticed that there was a pattern to my comments, I decided to jot down these common-
places and consider what they might say about the pitfalls that are encountered by novice theologians
as they set out on what is both a Herculean labour and an academic rite of passage. What follows
makes no pretence to being a ‘scientific’ study, but rather some pointers built upon a fairly large
exposure to the genre covering a wide range of theological topics based not only on my own students
and those I have examined – of necessity a group within just one corner of the discipline – but on the
theses I met in outline or prior to examination through acting as a moderator/advisor on PhDs in
several institutions. I now pass them on because, on reflection, I believe that these pitfalls are fairly

Corresponding author:
Thomas O’Loughlin, Department of Theology and Religious Studies, University of Nottingham, Humanities Building,
University Park, Nottingham NG7 2RD, UK.
Email: Tom.O’loughlin@nottingham.ac.uk
O’Loughlin 129

common in the discipline and that consideration of these issues may save those setting out on the road
to the doctorate much time and energy.

Old Questions versus Real Questions

Theology as a discipline is conservative of its past: what theological work can be written without
engagement with texts that are almost 2,000 years old, the New Testament, and many that are much
older than that. Who is the theologian today who does not engage in creative dialogue with a part
of the range of theological writing produced down the centuries? So in a sense, there are few, if any,
‘new’ questions in theology in the way that there are new questions in physics. On the other hand,
there are many questions that have been beaten to death by a succession of people going over the
same body of evidence with the same assumptions/presuppositions within the same paradigm. In
any such situation within the humanities there will never be any single solution as to how the evi-
dence is to be arranged for a conclusion, and consequently there will emerge a number of fixed
positions, let us call them A, B, C, E, and F where each position is determined by giving particular
weight to either individual items of evidence or by similar shifts regarding how items of evidence
are to be viewed. Eventually, these positions tend to resolve into two positions, let us call them X
and Y: the dominant one within the academic tribe and the rest seen as the batch of ‘alternative
theories’ to be picked up, perused and rejected. Once this territory has been gone over by the major
scholars in a field there are only three courses open to PhD students. First, act as ‘the mopper up’
in the wake of one of the established major theorists whereby the students become the disciples in
a ‘school’. But this supposes that the novice works directly with the theorist, something that is
available only to a few and in the immediate aftermath of the major protagonist’s work. Second,
rearrange the pieces in the jigsaw and produce a slightly different picture. This is, by far, the most
common process, but the results are always disappointing as the thesis invariably becomes X-with-
a-bit-of-Y (the sprinkling of Y acting as variety). The third option is to bring new evidence, or a
different set of assumptions, or relocate the debate within a new paradigm. This is often the genu-
ine solution to the stalemate: but it is as much the result of serendipity as it is that of labour.
The second of these options is that which attracts most students: they have heard of a debate in
their undergraduate classes, read about it and become interested during their masters’ degrees, and
think that because they know the debate so well, and have mastered the skills of evidence-handling
within the debate – often to the extent of knowing every problematic detail of the evidence – that
they can join the debate via the PhD. Alas, there may be so little to tackle, in reality, that all that
happens is that a new summary is produced, an academic pirouette is performed, some trees are cut
down for paper, and occasionally a doctorate is obtained. What is actually new could all be pub-
lished in a short paper in one of area’s learned journals.
What is the tell-tale sign of such overworked, stalemated areas? In the literature review, one
finds that all the positions have been very clearly staked out not only in major works but in a host
of secondary works, usually in the journals, supporting or attacking those positions. The lines are
clearly drawn, sometimes they are even summarized in textbooks, and the PhD is no more than a
statement of adherence to one or other camp. However, if one wishes to be a researcher, adding to
the sum of knowledge, as distinct from a cataloguer and organizer of academic opinions, then one
must ask: have I anything really new to bring to this debate? By really new I mean: new evidence
from archaeology, history or the sciences; different assumptions because of developments in other
areas, or because the whole field has changed: it is not simply a matter of finding a ‘new angle’. If
the answer is ‘no’, then look elsewhere to the real questions that are brought before us today where
even a small advance may be a worthwhile contribution.
130 Transformation 32(2)

The machine-driven PhD

In many areas of theology, but especially in Scripture studies, there is the phenomenon of the PhD
that is built around a system whereby a fixed method is applied to a small batch of evidence, and
the product is an exegesis that is the function of the method employed. From the stand-point of the
PhD student, it has the advantages that it trains one in formal method, teaches skills in close read-
ing, fosters a paradigm, and virtually guarantees (provided the student has acquired the appropriate
skills and applied them diligently) the successful outcome of the candidacy. This is a well-known
model and, truth be told, is a necessary one given that many students need a PhD not because they
are naturally research-active but because they are needed within their churches or communities to
be teachers in colleges where ministers are trained. The PhD in this case gives them the edge so
that that they understand the problems of their students, allows them the confidence to write text-
books, and trains them to access and prepare materials on their own in the field.
However, while we all need good teachers – and I would never want to criticize those who
desire to be recognized as a ‘teacher’ (doctor) because this is her/his vocation – we should note
two limits of the process. First, over the past 30 years I have seen a whole range styles of exege-
sis come and go: most claiming to be ‘[almost] the best thing since sliced bread’. Each has had
its enthusiastic teachers and even more enthusiastic PhD devotees. However, having visited
seminaries/bible colleges on four continents, I have noticed that one can tell from curricula when
the teachers did their doctorates. While the main researchers have moved on from one style of
exegesis to another, often their students are still turning out more and more of the same materials
they learned to produce while doing their PhDs. It is incumbent, therefore, on supervisors to
ensure that while a student may produce work within the latest style, they should be shown that
this is but one way of doing things and make sure that they are acquainted with as wide a range
of styles of exegesis as possible: even if the student thinks that this is a waste of her/his valuable
time. Styles, fashions, and interests change in theology as elsewhere, and the teacher has to know
how to learn new tricks.
Second, when a student has successfully finished such a work, having devoted several years
of life to the project and now in possession of an impressive manuscript of 80,000 words, the
natural desire is to share it with the academy by publication. Here the student often faces disap-
pointment – and I write as the editor of a series – for publishers often simply do not wish to
know. While it may suit student and supervisor to write a PhD within a well-known formula, to
a publisher faced with investing money in the work’s publication it is simply more of the same:
another book within a flooded marked whose original content can be adequately reduced to a
couple of journal articles. However, if such a PhD does generate a couple of good articles, that
is a successful outcome and should be welcomed: it is the what is left when the literature
review, the discussion of method, and odd-and-ends put in to satisfy various extrinsic needs
(such as some pet hate of one of the examiners) have been removed. Such an outcome, giving
the new doctor an entrée to the world of writing theology in journals, is far to be preferred to
the expenditure on a vanity publication of the thesis. Such books are never reviewed, rarely
read, and often stand as monuments to youthful hopes unrealized. The successful PhD needs to
be encouraged to view her/his work realistically, and then move on. My own doctor-father –
who had three doctorates – always ended our meetings by invoking the sage’s words: ars longa,
vita brevis which I always translated as ‘get on with it, there is more to life that this thesis’. But,
lest I seem to decry those who need a PhD to be teachers: we should always remember the
words of Dan 12:3: ‘the learned shall shine with the splendour of the firmament, and those who
have taught many righteousness will be like the stars’.
O’Loughlin 131

Apologetics
Many of those who put themselves forward to undertake a PhD in theology – and here our disci-
pline in noticeably different from much of the rest of the academy – do so not simply because of a
passionate engagement with the topic (many researchers are passionate about their interests), but
out of a desire to defend a position that they perceive being attacked, undermined, or ignored. They
then hope that their work may provide an antidote to this problem, a refutation of those who chal-
lenge their committed position, and a defence of the faith. In short, they see themselves as apolo-
gists and the PhD as an act of apologetics. While every thesis, from its very nature, upholds one
position and, by implication, challenges others, this desire to engage in explicit apologetics in the
writing of a PhD fails to take account of the nature of the activity.
A PhD is a work that should demonstrate that its author has already mastered all the skills to be
an academic theologian, has made a contribution to the advancement of knowledge, and can be
considered a member of the academy. Its keynote is the demonstration of understanding a problem,
rather than providing a defence of a position; while it should exhibit skilled and measured criticism
of every position, it should not be structured around the refutation of a set of doctrines held as false.
Many theologians have to engage in apologetics, but this should be seen as separate or subsequent
to the PhD process, and not as an activity that can be assimilated to it. The apologist writes with
her/his own skills taken as granted, and then proceeds to show the shortcomings in others’ posi-
tions. But in the PhD, it is the clear possession of those skills and of a high level of understanding
that is in question: that is the fundamental fact that must be communicated, or the thesis will fail.
Then, those skills have to be used to some purpose, and exposition of one’s own position is logi-
cally prior to offering a defence of that position against an opponent.
Many students turn to studies from engagement in mission or ministry precisely because
they are fearful of the attacks that are being made upon either Christianity or their particular
positions on aspects of Christianity and hope that by writing their PhD they will perform a
direct service to the Church. In my experience they often see themselves defending a position
‘on which’ they believe ‘the faith stands or falls’ and imagine themselves in a tradition stretch-
ing from Athanasius through Luther to Bonhoeffer. In the face of such ardour it is often diffi-
cult to say that while, ideally, every PhD should become a book, not every book should become
a PhD. Having a PhD may make them better equipped to the act as apologists later on, but that
should not be their aim at the outset. So the starting point should be focussed on encompassing
and assimilating the ways of the scholar by acting as a scholar in the basic mode of scholar-
ship; then later the doctor can turn to more specialist activities. Some, however, cannot wait
till then to set off as knights errant – they lack that curious anatomical feature that German
academics call Sitzfleisch – and it is better that they depart sooner rather than later from a PhD
programme.

Tilting at windmills
Having a reason to set one’s thoughts on paper in the fashion that one does is a basic aspect of liter-
ary style. The ancient rhetoricians referred to it as the causa scribendi: the explanation for why you
are picking up your pen. Take this article: my causa scribendi is set out in the opening paragraph.
I have been going back over bundles of papers and noticed a continuity of comments, and want to
share these insights with others. One favourite formula is to present what is being written as attack-
ing some vague group ‘over there’ – whose character is usually imagined as a mixture of the village
idiot and the hide-bound professor – who are to be persuaded of the rectitude of what is being
132 Transformation 32(2)

presented in the thesis. While this can be an effective stylistic device that can give a welcome lift
to dreary prose, it must be used very sparingly. Otherwise, it can become the a basic motive of a
thesis whereby the reader is left in no doubt about what all the wrong positions are, but it is not at
all clear what the author herself wants to state. I have heard such theses described as ‘bombing
runs’ where the author is like a soldier bounding down a trench lobbing at every corner a hand
grenade into the void, and moving on. The PhD must add positively to knowledge, while this will
almost inevitably involve the correction of the idea of others, but this does not mean that one
should set oneself up as judge and jury on the surrounding scholars. Suffice to demonstrate how
well founded one’s own positions are, then perhaps the erroneous positions that you have encoun-
tered will be voluntarily abandoned as no longer defensible.
However, certain students are naturally pugnacious: the idiocy of the proponents of false notions
must be simultaneously exposed with the false ideas! While I personally detest this identification
of people with ideas – people seem multi-dimensional, ideas can often be barely two-dimensional
– there are those for whom the fray is the spice of life. When I have encountered one of that group
I have invariably written in the margin of the thesis: ‘get your PhD first, you can spend the rest of
your life reviewing books’ (which is often the academic equivalent of trench warfare).

Pursuing old enemies

It is the common perception of ‘theology’ that it is idle religious types fighting old battles about
obscure points that really affect no one. Indeed, the adjective ‘theological’ has as one of its accepted
meanings ‘the pursuit of useless arguments’, while many Continental languages have the phrase
‘odium theologicum’ meaning being fed up of useless, unending (indeed, un-end-able) debates.
Theology is linked with discord; and in a post 9/11 world religion is seen as a promoter of discord
and its experts, theologians, seen as stoking the fires of discord. Most theologians would reject this
as a wicked caricature of their endeavours for understanding, insight, and wisdom. But be that as it
may, this is the way we are viewed both by other members of the academy and by many of the
public at large.
Sadly, too often PhD proposals are built around a core aim of pursuing an old enemy and repeat-
ing ancient slogans, while casually ignoring the fact of historical change: a real dispute of the early-
5th century or of the 16th century may now be a matter whose chief importance lies in explaining
how we came to be what we are. To repeat the battles of yesterday does not advance understanding
for it fails to situate those battles in context and then view them historically. To claim that while
one repeats Augustine against Pelagius one is ‘defending’ the doctrine of grace is simply to engage
in name-calling. One may need to label modern positions that fall short of an adequate understand-
ing of Christianity, but then simply to use tags, for example, such as ‘these latter-day Pelagians’ is
not to encounter our time and its problems to prejudge a situation in terms of the past. The PhD
must aim at the subtlety that is needed for the understanding of complex situations, rather than
engage shouting matches, especially if the shouts are simply repetitions from societies and times
very different to our own.
In an age when religion is being blamed for discord, it is the task of every act of scholarship to
promote discourse. Discourse is facilitated by seeking to understand the whole nexus of positions
with which one disagrees; by developing sympathy so that one can look at opinions and actions
without allergic reactions; and by developing the moral discipline that can distinguish between a
person and an idea. Any PhD that does not promote discourse in our world is a missed opportunity;
while any PhD that contributes to discord ultimately negates the values of the Christian societies
that value such possessions as doctorates. However, even if you reject my moral arguments, the
O’Loughlin 133

reality is that the world and theology moves on, and no young theologian can demonstrate her/his
brilliance by the repetition of the shibboleths of yesterday.

Citing Theses
One feature of theses in theology – I am told that it virtually never happens in other areas where
academics are under greater pressures to publish or perish – is the frequency with which unpub-
lished theses are cited in other doctoral theses. I always shudder when I go through the footnotes
or bibliography of a thesis and see this formula after a title ‘. . . (Unpublished PhD Thesis, University
of Erewhon, 2001)’. Moreover, I forbid the students I am supervising from using such materials.
Why?
We live in a world where publishing has never been easier: only a couple of decades ago we still
had printers’ galleys and it was not unusual for a journal to charge a fee for any changes of correc-
tions one made to a paper once they had paid a compositor ‘to set it’. Today, it is just a few clicks
of a mouse. So the question arises why has this thesis not being published either as a book or as an
article or a suite of articles?
First, although many theses may succeed in obtaining for their writers the degree of doctor,
which does not necessarily mean that the scholarship meets the best standards of academia. The
thesis may have ‘barely passed’ or it may have been referred back to the student and only passed
on the second attempt when its most serious defects had been removed or repaired. So what weight
can you put on any particular part of its findings?
Second, if the author is a good scholar she/he will be anxious to get the thesis out into the main-
stream of academic life by publishing the work and establishing a reputation as an expert in an
area. Why has this not happened? There may be a simple answer to this such as pressure of other
work, or it may be that the ideas were still only half-baked in the thesis, and many successful theses
are still ‘being worked-up as a book’ (that is, properly thought through) a decade or more later! But
it may be that the student was only half-hearted and completed the PhD as a chore, and in that case
while it may be technically acceptable as a thesis, it may be uncreative and defective as a piece of
scholarship. It may be that the work is so riddled with holes that no publisher will touch it!
Third, if one sees ‘unpublished thesis’ in a note, this really means that the information is still
private and inaccessible (it is far too difficult to call it out again from a distant library to check a
note!). So the ideas have not been put into the common arena where they can be sifted by the criti-
cism of other, more mature scholars. Yet, it is this essentially private and untried material that you,
as a PhD student are willing to use as part of the foundation of your own edifice! You might reply
that ‘it was good enough to get a PhD’ and such faith in the universal quality of the PhD is touching
but the fact remains that standards do vary, above a minimum, and that it why good universities go
hunting good supervisors and ambitious students seek out these scholars as their directors – and
these same ambitious good students seek to get their theses finished to such a standard that on the
day of their viva examinations, they are able to dispatch the same work to a publisher. Looking
back on my comments on drafts and requests to use unpublished work I notice that on several occa-
sions I had recourse to the same formula, which I repeat here: ‘No. Please see Mt 7:24–7.’

Change and Growth

The long process of the PhD is one of remarkable growth and development in the theology of the
student: you and your theology change as you get deeper and deeper into a topic and ask new and
challenging questions. Not only will many of your assumptions and guesses about the nature of
134 Transformation 32(2)

a subject change over the course off doing the research, but many of the theological positions
that you took for granted will be challenged and modified during the research, and other theo-
logical standpoints that you would not have entertained at the outset will gradually appear more
appealing – or less appalling. However, it is not infrequently the case that the candidate has not
recognized this development in her/his own theology. This manifests itself in two ways in the
final draft or the presented thesis. First, the aims set out at the beginning are not fulfilled in the
thesis, but a different set of findings presented. What appeared important at the beginning was
no longer what seemed important at the end. The result is a mismatch that can result in the need
to restructure; and hence the common advice: write the first chapter last. Second, and less easy
to spot until one reads an entire thesis in draft (as opposed to individual chapters or sections) is
where the underlying theology – the lived, operational theology of the actual author – has shifted
from what it was in chapters 2 and 3 to what it is in chapters 5 and 6. This is entirely natural – it
would be foolish to study theology and not reckon with those studies affecting who we are and
our theology – but this seems always to surprise candidates. The result is that there is often a
dissonance between the early and the later parts of the thesis, and this dissonance has to be rem-
edied if the work is to be consistent and argue its case cogently.
Alas, while we all love our ideas (which is why it is so hard to shake off silly ones), we are even
more deeply attached to our theological ideas, and sometimes the event of confronting how we
have changed is painful. At such moments is worth remembering that theology is not just about
study but reflection; and that while we publicly proclaim that the study of theology has an affect on
people’s lives, we must also acknowledge that it affects us theologians as individuals. Indeed, I
would go so far as to say that if anyone were to write a PhD in theology and not have her/his own
theology affected in the process, then that person probably does not have the personal qualities of
reflection and imaginative sympathy that are the keys to creative and good theology.
At the moment that one sets out on a PhD one stands at a cross-roads: one could go in many
directions, and whichever choice one makes at that moment may affect the rest of your life as a
scholar and as an academic. It is also a great adventure: the thrill of discovery repays many boring
hours in libraries or with grammar books! It is also a most useful occupation: the world and the
Church need skilled researchers and good teachers who, to use Daniel’s image, can be ‘stars’. So
think well what you want to do, find a supervisor who is both appropriate in skills to your topic and
one with which you can work. Lastly, read Lk 14:28–30; and then start out.

Funding
This article has been made Open Access through a grant from the University of Nottingham.

Author biography
Dr Thomas O’Loughlin is Professor of Historical Theology in the faculty of Arts, The University of
Nottingham.