I recently had the chance to attend several thesis defense sessions for Master’s students in Public Policy. These are formal occasions where students present the findings of their months-long research, followed by assessments and critiques from an academic panel. What struck me most, however, was the disconnect I sensed—a kind of academic dissonance between the people involved.
Many theses were criticized for being “off-topic,” “theoretically weak,” or “lacking analytical frameworks.” Reviewers often pointed out that research questions were poorly formulated, theoretical foundations were unclear, or conclusions lacked depth. These are valid concerns. But here’s the paradox: some of the students being criticized had been closely guided and approved throughout the process by their assigned academic supervisors.
So where does the problem lie? Did students misinterpret the guidance? Did supervisors fail to give timely feedback? Or does the issue reflect something more systemic—a lack of coherence within the academic structure itself?
I believe the disconnect reveals a structural weakness in the coordination among students, supervisors, and review committees. It’s as if everyone is speaking a different academic language. Students are told they’ve gone off track, supervisors are caught off guard, and reviewers often assess a thesis from the narrow lens of their own expertise.
I witnessed a thesis rich with fieldwork and full of relevant, practical insights. The student chose a non-traditional approach—one that didn’t strictly follow conventional academic frameworks. The result? A low evaluation due to a “lack of theoretical foundation” and “improper framing.” In contrast, another thesis based on outdated data and unfeasible policy recommendations was rated higher because it “fit the academic structure.”
Of course, academic structure matters. Theoretical rigor is essential for building solid research. But are we sacrificing real-world relevance and fresh perspectives in the name of clean formatting and textbook logic? And if a thesis is built on a flawed theoretical framework from the start, should the student alone bear the consequences—especially when it has been approved through multiple checkpoints?
The truth is, universities are not only training students—they are also responsible for shaping a supportive, coherent, and proactive academic environment. Supervisors shouldn’t just validate each step of the process. They need to guide students clearly on theoretical direction, help them refine research questions, and maintain active communication with review committees to ensure alignment throughout the journey.
Similarly, thesis review committees need to be composed of experts who understand the field of the thesis topic. Assigning reviewers from unrelated disciplines—or those who only focus on narrow technicalities—can lead to skewed assessments. Academic critique should open space for dialogue and growth, not just point out mistakes. Sometimes, a clumsy but heartfelt idea contains more future value than a flawless paper that says little.
Public policy is a field that demands interdisciplinary thinking and a constant dialogue between theory and practice, data and lived experience. If we treat a thesis as just another academic exercise, we risk missing out on solutions that could genuinely impact society.
This is not a criticism of any person or institution. It’s a reflection—a call to examine the entire academic ecosystem, from curriculum and supervision to evaluation and beyond. Every thesis represents a serious intellectual journey, but also a human one—full of effort, aspiration, and vulnerability.
One can only hope that in the near future, thesis defense sessions will no longer be seen as academic “trials,” but rather as platforms to recognize students as contributors to knowledge and social progress. And that the gap among the three academic anchors—students, supervisors, and reviewers—can evolve into a stable tripod that supports a more integrated and meaningful academic experience.
