In the past year, I taught an upper division comparative politics course on
Nonviolent Social Movements that culminated in some of the students
presenting their research at the International Studies Association Midwest
conference in St. Louis. While undergraduate students presenting papers at a
local conference is not exceptional, the fact that I am a graduate student
makes the coordination of this panel particularly unique. There is an
extensive literature on the values of involving undergraduates in research
(Gregerman 1999; Tinto 1998; Nikolova Eddins et al. 1997;
Astin 1984), though little in political science (one notable exception is
Ishayama 2002) and none that provides a map for
actually implementing the task. Rather, most of the literature focuses on
larger department or college-wide programs to encourage undergraduate
research (Gregerman 2000). My experience reinforces the value of
undergraduate research, even when the instructor is still working on a
dissertation. In this paper, I discuss this experience through the lens of
the broader issues encountered in the development of my course and the
research assignment as well as a practical accounting of the submission,
preparation, and delivery of our presentation.
Loyola University Chicago, like many other Ph.D.-granting universities,
conducts a year-long seminar to prepare graduate students to become
teachers. Traditionally, much of the preparation for an academic position is
in terms of research, but many universities are now acknowledging that
teaching skills must also be taught during the graduate career (Dolan,
Kropf, O'Conner, and Ezra 1997). At Loyola, the
selection process for participating in this seminar involves designing a
course. Because I had already begun working on my dissertation on velvet
revolutions (those with little or no violence), I sought to integrate an
upper-division comparative politics course with my research. While I had
discussions with several professors about engaging students in active
learning, I knew nothing about the vast literature (outside of political
science) related to undergraduate research. This understanding came after
the course was completed while in preparation for our panel presentation. I
designed my course so that each student would conduct a case study similar
to those in my dissertation. This was a win-win situation: they would get to
participate in cutting-edge research (what a dissertation, by definition,
should be) and I would have the opportunity to gain a broader perspective
from other cases as well as sharpen my theoretical elements. The course
evaluations reflected at least one aspect of the students' “win” side of the
equation: in the general comments section, over 25% of the evaluations
remarked about the level of interest the instructor showed in the topic,
using descriptions such as “inspiring” and “refreshing.” In the early stages
of planning the course, I dreamt that some of the students would present
their cases at a conference with me, helping illuminate the importance of
studying velvet revolutions to the wider academic community.
Issues in Undergraduate Research
My conception of undergraduate research was not in line with what
Hal-stead calls “traditional undergraduate research,” where “a student
collaborates with a faculty mentor on an ongoing long-term project,
usually initiated by the faculty member. The project is expected to be
funded by traditional external funding agencies and to result in
publication in a peer-reviewed scientific journal” (1997, 1390). Rather,
my conception of undergraduate research reflects the differences between
undergraduate research in the “hard” sciences and in the social sciences
and humanities, and is therefore much broader than Halstead's
definition. It is very different from using students as lab technicians
or research assistants. In the social sciences and humanities, students
can be given a focused research project and then freed to independently
answer the question of the project. To focus their research, I
encountered a number of broad issues that are likely to be addressed in
any social science course with research as its end result. These issues
included: beginning research in light of theory, defining key concepts,
reviewing the relevant literature to discover avenues for new research,
the concept of “crucial cases,” generating a research question and a
testable hypothesis, and analyzing an historical case. I will discuss
each broadly, using my course as an example of their application.
The course, Nonviolent Revolutionary Movements, provided a theoretical
background for students to engage in research in the field of
nonviolence and revolutions. It provided the theoretical literature
review so that the class began their research on a level theoretical
playing field. Because I wanted the students' limited research time to
be as focused as possible, we covered the major theories of revolution
and nonviolence in class and through the course readings. We analyzed
the classic approaches to revolution, reading Marx, Weber, Huntington,
Tilly, and Skocpol (all in Goldstone 1994).
Then we turned to the classic theoretical work on nonviolent action by
Gene Sharp (1973).
To sharpen the focus of any research project, careful attention must be
paid in laying out the key concepts of the work (Dogan 1990, 26). To this end, while reviewing the
theoretical literature we discussed the way different scholars defined
the phenomena they studied. In the case of revolution, differences in
definition have a profound effect on what is legitimate as a case study.
Comparing Tilly's inclusive definition with that of Skocpol's focus on
social revolution served to highlight the importance of defining the
scope of one's research. I encouraged the use of a broader definition
(building on Tilly's work) so that as many possible cases of recent
revolution could be analyzed. However, in the directions for the
research assignment, I required that students first define revolution to
clarify their subject of analysis—allowing for alternate definitions.
Forcing the students to first define the scope of their research helped
to focus what they were analyzing. Some students used definitions closer
to Huntington and Skocpol's when analyzing their case, depending on the
type of argument they wanted to make about that case.
Another concept that I included in this review of the theoretical work
was that of a literature review. More than just stating what scholars
have said about revolution or nonviolence, with each work I stressed
what they were not saying, what was omitted. This gave us possibilities
for advancing theories—to explore the gaps in the literature. In this
way we could read the works critically, but also glean insights into
developing new theories. Mirroring my dissertation, I emphasized the
structural orientation of so much of the revolution literature as well
as the fact that most of the cases studied were violent. This literature
review led to the need to analyze the process of nonviolent aspects of
revolution. In addition to addressing the gap in the revolution
literature, recent events suggest that velvet revolutions have occurred.
This fact led to a discussion about historical events necessitating
theoretical development. Thus, we investigated two such events that
clearly showed nonviolent action played a significant role in
revolution.
Crucial cases are useful for clarifying and developing a theory to
explain larger processes or more cases (Eckstein 1992, 156). In terms of velvet revolution, the presentation
of a crucial case can serve exactly this purpose before the students
test a hypothesis on more troublesome cases. In class I presented two
velvet revolutions: India's independence movement from England and
Czechoslovakia's toppling of Communism. During this section of the
course, the students read first-hand accounts of those most responsible
for the nonviolent change—Mohandas Gandhi in India (Autobiography:
The Story of My Experiments with Truth) and Vaclav Havel in
Czechoslovakia (Open Letters—Selected Writings 1965–1990).
These crucial cases reinforced the inadequacies of the revolution
literature from the literature review and suggested that nonviolent
action can be very important in creating change.
The next conceptual issue that we encountered was the crucial task of
posing a research question and hypothesis. In class, to get students
thinking in terms of the scientific method, before posing my question
and hypothesis, we did an exercise where they generated hypotheses (as
well as how to test them) about why fire came out of a lighter. Next
came the application of this type of inquiry (the scientific method) to
revolutions: how to generate questions and testable hypotheses. Unlike
our class exercise about the origins of the lighter's flame, we could
not take two identical societies, randomly select one to have a
revolution, and manipulate variables to test a hypothesis. So we
discussed ways to test hypotheses in a social science. The question
generated from the study of the crucial cases was: does nonviolent
action play a significant role in all revolutions? My hypothesis was
yes, or, stated more formally, nonviolent action is vital in beginning
any revolution.
Discussion of testing this hypothesis led to the last major conceptual
element: the case study and case selection. Many of the theoretical
works that we read combined the development of theories of revolution
with the analysis of a particular case. Scholars are not interested just
in understanding a particular case or in creating a detached theory, but
in creating a theory to explain events in history and ensuring that it
appropriately fits those events (Walt 1996,
2–3). The selection of the students' cases was constrained by a list of
recent potential revolutions (some violent and some nonviolent) that I
compiled in my own research (see Table 1). I
also included the year(s) of the revolution to help focus their
research. Because of the class size (20), each student had their own
case study.
The research assignment was to analyze the process of revolution in their
case to suggest whether nonviolence led to revolution. They were to
focus on the events that preceded the change of government. Were these
predominantly violent or nonviolent? What role did each type of action
have in shaping the revolution? Given this process tracing, they were to
decide whether or not non-violence was crucial to their revolution. This
would suggest whether nonviolence is required for revolution, in
general. From this, they could make suggestions about whether their case
was unique and why, or whether it was similar to other cases, and why.
By posing the research question and defining how the analysis was to be
conducted, I brought the students into the world of revolution scholars.
Rather than simply reading theories and case histories, I asked the
students to evaluate the scholars whose theories they read—to create new
ideas using new cases. Their research was limited in terms of the
question and their case, but was open ended in terms of how they
explained their results given their case.
The Panel Presentation Experience
Having discussed the elements of the course and research in general, I
will now give a brief accounting of the steps taken to move several
students from a research paper for a class to a panel presentation. When
the students turned in their papers, instead of a final exam, each gave
a brief presentation on their findings. They took turns discussing their
cases, grouped by different regions of the world. In their evaluations,
a number of students commented that this was one of the more meaningful
aspects of the class because they were able to see how their case study
compared with others. Throughout the course, I mentioned that I would
like to try and work the paper into a format that could be presented as
a panel at the International Studies Association Midwest conference. At
the end of the class, I asked if anyone was interested in pursuing the
development of their research paper. To my delight, a number of students
volunteered.
During the summer, I found six students who were interested and asked
each to write an abstract for their paper to submit as a proposal. I
collected these and sent them along with an abstract of this paper to
the ISA Midwest conference organizer. Given the fact that students have
limited time and energy, we decided not to make revisions until we were
accepted to the conference. In August, when we received the preliminary
program, we began working on revising the papers and ensuring that the
students were registered for the conference. To this end, I spoke with
the department chair about finding financial assistance to help defray
the students' costs—I was covered through existing funds for graduate
students. The department agreed to cover the cost of the registration,
lodging, and even some money for gas (we planned to drive from Chicago
to the conference in St. Louis).
I asked the students to resubmit their papers to me and gave substantial
comments and editorial suggestions. In this re-editing, I was much more
critical of the papers than when they were submitted for class. We met
in early October to go over these revisions and make sure that we were
all on the right track. At this meeting, they brought their papers and
read each other's work for further comments and questions. I wanted them
to see what the other students were working on and to give them a better
perspective of how different events unfolded in different situations.
They also read and commented on a draft of this paper. The meeting was
also important for addressing logistical matters such as carpooling to
the conference and arranging for hotel accommodations. At this point,
one of the students decided that she would not be able to attend because
of a conflicting engagement. Three of the other students also expressed
the possibility of a conflict, as they were all active in various
student organizations and a large demonstration was planned for the same
weekend in Milwaukee. They eventually chose to participate in the
conference, to my relief. This illustrates one of the difficulties of
undergraduate research of this type. Because it was not part of a class
assignment, the panel presentation was just one more extracurricular
activity in a crowded field.
We met a week before the conference to practice our panel presentation. I
arranged for a few professors and graduate students from our department
to attend and ask questions as if they were attending our panel. This
was important for the students to practice giving their presentation as
well as to see what types of comments and questions may come from an
audience. At this practice session, we learned that the students needed
to give more of the historical background for their case. They assumed
that professors knew the revolutionary history of their particular case.
While the practice session helped build the confidence of some of the
students, several were extremely nervous about presenting to professors
who they knew and would likely have as teachers in the future (the
students at the time of the conference were: one sophomore, one junior,
and three seniors). It was at this point that another student decided
not to participate in the panel because he felt that he had not made
enough progress on revisions to his paper and because he needed to study
for upcoming exams (that brought our panel to four students and
myself).
The week before the conference the students gave me their final drafts so
that I could copy extras for the paper table. We finalized our hotel
arrangements; with just four, they would share a room. The first week of
November arrived and we headed for St. Louis. One of the students rode
in my car, two came later that night together, and the fourth came with
a friend. Some attended the plenary session as well as sessions the next
morning with me, though they expressed some boredom and confusion at
these. I never realized how many of the jokes at keynote events are not
funny to non-political scientists. Before our panel, we met to make sure
everyone was prepared (and had arrived safely).
I would like to say that our panel was overflowing, but that is rarely
(if ever) the case at the regional conferences that I have attended. At
one point, the audience size matched that of our panel, my personal
benchmark for success. I ran the panel as a typical presentation, and
then opened it up for a broader discussion about undergraduate research.
The consensus of the students' responses during the panel seemed to be
that they enjoyed pursuing a topic that they were interested in, but the
time commitments of current classes, jobs, organizations, and personal
life severely limited their ability to develop their work as much as
they would have liked. I also found that facilitating the panel was
considerably more administrative work than I had envisioned—from
registration, lodging, transportation, and funding, to the individual
attention of allaying fears, encouraging confidence, and editing
papers.
Given these hurdles, when I do this again (and I am planning on doing it
again), I will try to participate in a conference closer to home. Most
of the difficulties I experienced revolved around the logistics of
getting to and from the conference. I will also try to better match the
conference with the class. Most of the other panels were unappealing to
these students who, though my class was a political science course, were
more interested in peace studies or the activist rather than the
academic side of politics. Something like a Peace Studies Association
conference would probably have been more interesting to them. Finally, I
will try to do a better job of walking the fine line between pushing
them to do more with their paper and yet not scaring them away with the
prospect of too much work. The idea of educating professors is
intimidating to students and it was difficult for me to balance
encouraging comments such as “don't worry, they won't make you look like
a fool,” with those like, “this paragraph is unclear.”
While it was a considerable amount of work, I believe that the experience
was well worth the effort. It helped me get a better perspective on some
revolutions that I had not researched as thoroughly as the case studies
for my dissertation. Because my research is on velvet revolutions, it
was valuable for me to see students analyze violent revolutions with the
same research question. Personally, it also allowed me to interact with
students who were really interested in my area of research. More
importantly, I believe that the students have grown from the experience.
Most of them have expressed interest in graduate school. The opportunity
to sample some of what happens in graduate work is valuable in shaping
that decision (Peppas 1981). Further, few
undergraduates have the opportunity to participate in a political
science conference, where many new ideas are first tested. They also had
the opportunity to further develop and refine a piece of writing beyond
the requirements of a class. As Ishayama summarizes, a number of studies
have shown that undergraduate research benefits students in a variety of
ways: “(1) gaining experience and learn about the research process by
working on an unsolved, open-ended research problem; (2) increasing
their disciplinary knowledge and their understanding of how that
knowledge may be applied; (3) defining and refining their research and
career interests; (4) learn about the world of academia and graduate
school life; (5) are provided with a forum for collegial interaction
with a faculty member” (2002, 382). I believe that my students'
experience reflected all of these benefits. Finally, if nothing else,
they were able to visit St. Louis and walk around the Gateway Arch for a
few hours before heading home.
