Thursday 20 April 2017

Why do academics and PhDers carefully choose useless titles for articles and chapters?

 Source: https://medium.com/@write4research/why-do-academics-and-phders-carefully-choose-useless-titles-for-articles-and-chapters-518f02a2ecbb

Writing For Research

Why do academics and PhDers carefully choose useless titles for articles and chapters?

Six ways to get it wrong, and four steps to get it right

When
you want to get your paper or chapter read and appreciated by a wide
audience, adopted for courses, and hopefully cited by great authors in
good journals — in short, when you want to ‘sell’ your writing to
colleagues — titles can play a key role. It is obvious too that a title
is how you ‘brand’ your text, how you attract readers.
Most
people find articles, chapters and papers now via Google Scholar or
other online sources, for instance, by searching for key or ‘trigger’
words. The search algorithms used by Google and other search engines
assign extra importance to words appearing in a title, compared with an
abstract, or the body text of a paper. So if your article title includes
key words that other academics and researchers in your field are likely
to search for, then your text is much more likely to show up high on
their search returns. For readers more generally, (such as business or
public policy folk, media people and others interested in your field)
using some widely used but subject-specific vocabulary in your titles
will tend to improve the visibility of your work.
When
readers first see a search return for your paper or chapter, it is
usually just the title itself (for instance, on a journal or book
contents page) or at best in a ‘snippet’ form, showing the title and
perhaps a couple of lines of text. If the title looks dull, routine,
like a hundred others, or if it seems enigmatic or obscure, then the
odds are strong that people will pass it by and never even read the
abstract in a journal, or try to find out what the chapter says on
Google Books. By contrast, if the title looks interesting and relevant
for their interests, potential readers will next click through to
download the abstract or look for some accessible window onto your book
chapter. If the these materials are also interesting and relevant, and
the paper is open access, then potential readers will download it. If
the paper or chapter sits behind a paywall, practitioner or general
readers generally give up immediately. They either forget your text
straightaway or try to retain for their purposes just whatever they
gleaned from the abstract or preview. Only academic readers (with big
libraries) will bear the time costs of trying to find the paper or
chapter on their library systems, so as to download the full text. It’s a
final (huge) sweat nowadays for an academic to leave their study and go
search for a book chapter in their library’s stacks — so naturally they
economize on the effort unless the title and any Web-visible materials
strongly suggest relevance and value for their needs.
Even
after other researchers have found and read your text, titles remain
important. If they liked your piece they may enter it into a
bibliographic system or save it as a PDF in a PC archive or on Mendeley
or similar systems. Very rarely they might make notes on it. Now the
issue is: will they cite your work in their own professional
publications, often written months or years later, by which time they
have scanned lots of other publication details and their memory of your
work is dim and vague? To re-find it they must search their PDF library,
or if they haven’t saved it, recall that the paper exists out there in
the ether. In both circumstances a great, informative title for an
article or chapter maximizes the likelihood that they correctly remember
enough to re-discover what they are looking for. If your paper is
‘grey’ literature — such as a working paper, research paper, conference
presentation, or a report for an outside body — remembering your name
and something about the title will both be crucial. Without these cues
your work will sit undisturbed on other scholars’ PDF libraries, or
languish unread among hundreds of millions of other documents on the
Web.
Yet,
over and over again, academics and (perhaps even more) PhD students
choose titles for their journal articles, chapters in books and research
or working papers that are almost completely uninformative. Clearly
many authors believe that
  • there
    is some kind of professional obligation on them as academics to be
    deliberately and carefully obscure, to choose titles that convey as
    little as possible to potential readers about what their text says; and
  • they
    will be penalized or viewed as ‘racey’, reckless, or over-claiming if
    they do anything like give a clear picture of their argument or findings
    in the article or chapter title.

How to design a completely uninformative title (irony warning)

Rather
than batter my head against a brick wall on this subject yet again,
I’ve decided to write this section throughout in ironic mode, as if I
was going with the grain of existing practice. So here I advise you on
how to get to the ultimate ineffective
title for academic work, one that utterly fails to communicate what it
is about, let alone ‘sell’, the ideas involved. Hopefully seeing things
in this extreme way will illuminate what’s wrong with the over-caution
and lack of imagination that afflicts most of us, most of the time.
(Yes, I’ve done everything below here myself at some time).
A
completely ineffective title should systematically repel and put off
potential readers, to ensure that as few as possible are motivated to
look beyond the title to the abstract, or the full text. If anyone has
by mischance persevered and read the abstract or saved a PDF, the title
should deprive them of any memorable cues to help them recall the paper
or chapter in context when it comes to citing sources or influences in
their own work.
The
really useless title must be as similar as possible to a thousand
others, or so obscure that its meaning completely evades readers. It
could also miscue or mis-direct readers, for instance, appearing as if
it is about a completely different topic, or undertaken in a completely
different discipline. Including a high quotient of words that no one
else is ever likely to use (or search for) can be especially helpful for
a useless title. The top five most popular versions are:
  1. A ‘cute’ title using ‘ordinary language’ words with a clear meaning, but taken radically out of context. The
    essence of a cute title is that the author should know what it means,
    and as few other people as possible. This is great for academic
    snobbery — it says to potential readers: ‘I introduce my work in such
    esoteric ways, because I am so much cleverer than you’. It also ensures
    that anyone interested in the topic covered would be very unlikely to
    input these words into a search engine. For instance, an article about
    not teaching thinking skills in high school education could be entitled:
    ‘Burning down the pagoda in order to roast the pork’. (This actually
    quotes an apt analogy from Edward de Bono: but someone who’d not read
    the source already would never, ever think that these words relate to
    the topic of high school curricula). However, a cute, understandable
    title may be a bit memorable for the few searchers who ever find it, if
    it is quirky or distinctive like this.
  2. A ‘cute’ title that is completely obscure. This
    is a variant of (1) where even the language the author includes in the
    title is incomprehensible. My favorite example is a 2004 report by an
    eminent group of professors at the British Academy, about the role of
    the humanities and social sciences in promoting economic growth and
    social development. They chose as a title: ‘That compleat complement of
    riches’. This is a vague-sounding quotation from the eighteenth century
    philosopher David Hume, which could be about anything, and with the
    added advantage of using an archaic English spelling that no one has
    used for 250 years. The report duly became very little known.
  3. An ultra-vague, vacuous, completely conventional, or wholly formal title, preferably one that could mean almost anything.
    To be fully obscure here it is vital to pick vocabulary that is as
    general or unspecific as possible and is capable of multiple possible
    meanings. It is especially effective to be ambiguous about what field of
    interest is covered, or what discipline the paper is in. For example:
    ‘Power and society’ could be about many things in sociology or political
    science; equally it could be about generating electricity and
    associated technology. In the same vein, ‘Accounting for ministers’
    could be about politicians running government departments in
    parliamentary countries; or alternatively, a manual for vicars or
    priests doing their income tax returns.
  4. An empty box title. This
    is by far the most popular academic approach. Its advantage is that it
    can look as if the author is being pretty specific, while actually
    telling readers nothing about what findings have been made, or what line
    of argument is being followed. For example: ‘Regional development in
    eastern Uganda, 1975-95' gives you a location, a date range and a topic.
    But the key message is still: ‘I have done some work in this box (topic
    area), and I have some findings. But I’m not going to give you any
    clues at all about what they are’. Most book contents pages incidentally
    are nested box titles, all equally opaque as to what argument is being
    made in a chapter.
  5. The look-alike, empty box title,
    is a variant of 4 above, where the paper title has lower memorability
    by closely resembling hundreds of others, and is devoid of any
    distinguishing or memorable features of its own. For instance: ‘John
    Stuart Mill on Education’ tells us what author and sub-field you are
    covering, but that’s it. Is the discipline you are working in
    philosophy, or history, or education? Combining box titles with
    formal/vacuous wording also keeps the potential scope really broad. So:
    ‘Key features of capitalism’, leaves us with a blank sheet to guess
    about what you have done, in which discipline.
  6. The interrogative title,
    which must always end with a question mark. Again vagueness is an asset
    in seeking obscurity. For example: ‘Can democracies compete?’ is
    suitably non-specific. Compete with whom or what? And in what sphere? At
    other times an interrogative title may regrettably give away some clues
    to what you are actually discussing, or glimpses of the slant you might
    have taken on it. But you are at least completely disguising your
    answer. For example: ‘Was Jane Austen ever in love?’ Well, was she, or
    wasn’t she? Many academics write articles and even blogposts with
    interogative titles in the mistaken belief that they are ‘teasing’
    readers, to motivate them to read further. This actually cuts little
    ice, because jaded expert readers have seen the trick so many times
    before. As I think Microsoft used to say in their advertising several
    years ago, the key problem with interrogative titles is that: ‘Questions
    are everywhere, but answers are few’. Lots of us can frame perfectly
    decent questions. But far, far fewer of us can generate the interesting,
    valuable or novel answers that researchers and practitioners are
    looking for.

Four steps to getting a better title

It’s
not hard to improve. The first step is to look seriously, critically
and comparatively at a range of possible alternatives. Make a resolution
not to be too vague, general, or convention-bound in choosing what
words to use. Try and think things through from a reader’s point of
view: How will this wording be interpreted by someone scanning on Google
Scholar? What will attract them to click through to the abstract?
And
what about this title would make a potential citer of my paper find it
easily in their PDF library or Mendeley files, or recall it to mind
months or years after they first read it? Always makes crystal clear too
(from your choice of concepts and vocabulary) what academic discipline
you are operating in. I recommend generating a minimum of 10 possible
titles and printing them out on a sheet of paper for careful
consideration. Compare these alternatives with each other and see if
recombining words from different titles might work better. Type your
possible titles as search terms into Google Scholar or subject-specific
databases and see what existing work comes up. Is this the right company
you want to keep?
The
second step is to look at whether your title words are picked up in the
abstract of the the article or chapter, and in the internal
sub-headings. It’s a good sign if the title, abstract and sub-headings
all use consistent, linking, meshing or nesting concepts and vocabulary.
It’s a very bad sign if the title words and concepts don’t recur at all
in the abstract and sub-heads, especially if these other elements use
different, rival or non-synonymous concepts or wording from the title.
A third step is to consider using a full narrative title,
one that makes completely clear what your argument, conclusions or
findings are. Narrative titles take practice to write well. And they
rarely work at the level of whole-book or whole-report titles. But they
are often very effective for articles and chapters. One of my current
best cited journal articles (written with colleagues) is ‘New Public
Management is Dead — Long Live Digital Era Governance’. Here the title
sums up the whole argument of the paper, and triggers two specific
topics (‘New Public Management’ or NPM, and ‘Digital Era Governance’ or
DEG). Since NPM has a huge literature whereas DEG was a brand new
concept that we’d just invented, it was very helpful to link them
together strongly in the title, and to subtly try to put DEG on a par
with NPM. The provocative ordinary language terms here (‘dead’ and ‘long
live’) are memorable. And their association with the passing of a crown
from one monarch to the next helps make clear our highly controversial
argument that DEG has displaced NPM as the dominant form of public
management in advanced democracies. The title’s advantages don’t stop
there either. By summarizing the argument so completely the title lends
itself to mini-quotation and citation even by the many conventional
public management folk who strongly disagree with it. It is also perfect
for people to cite who haven’t even read the paper (from the rest of
what they say). So I’ve lost count of the number of times that other
authors have said something like: ‘Some commentators have argued
unconvincingly that NPM is ‘dead’ (Dunleavy et al, 2006)’. Well, we
can’t all agree, and in the meantime a cite is a cite.
Now
perhaps some readers will already feel outside their comfort zone. But
do give a full narrative heading a try before you reject it. This
approach does nott have to be as deliberately provocative as my example.
The essence of a narrative heading is that it tries to tell the full
story of your paper or chapter. It seeks to summarize the substance or
core value-added of your argument, to capture ‘your takeaway’ (as a
management consultant might say) — that is, the one key point that you
want to stay in readers’ minds a week after they have read your paper
and forgotten most of its details. Notice too that a narrative title
does not have to be claiming a lot: if yours is a modest paper, then fit
the wording closely to the paper.
Even
if you reject a full narrative heading, if academic susceptibilities or
disciplinary conservatism mean that you cannot quite bring yourself to
be so explicit, there is still a fourth step to try . This compromise
solution is to at least provide some narrative cues in
your title, some helpful hints or signs for readers about the
conclusions you have reached or the line of argument you are making. If
you have an empty box or an interogative title already, then ask, how
can I make this more informative? So: ‘For Mill, should giving women the
vote precede or come after implementing ungendered education?’ does not
quite tell us your answer. It hints at a potential difficulty, but it
does not yet tell us how you think that Mill addressed it.
To put these ideas in a wider context, you might find it helpful to read parts of my book: Patrick Dunleavy, ‘Authoring a PhD’ (Palgrave, 2003). See also useful material on the LSE’s Impact blog.
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Why do academics and PhDers carefully choose useless titles for articles and chapters?

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