Some little thoughts on originality, unexpected findings and lessons from my own PhD journey.
When I was doing my PhD, one phrase that kept appearing in the academic world was "original contribution to knowledge." If you are a PhD student, I am sure you have heard this phrase many times too. During proposal presentations, discussions with supervisors, research methodology classes and even viva preparation, this phrase seems to follow us everywhere.
But have you ever stopped for a moment and wondered what it actually means? Does it mean our research must discover something that nobody in the world has ever discovered before? Does it mean we need to come up with a completely new theory? Or perhaps find a research topic so unique that nobody has written about it?
Well, after completing my own PhD journey, I have come to appreciate that originality is not necessarily as complicated as we sometimes make it. In fact, I think we sometimes put too much pressure on ourselves, especially when trying to convince others that our research is something special.
One interesting thing I realised is that originality does not always appear exactly where we expect to find it. Sometimes, we begin our research with one idea about what our contribution might be, only to discover something rather different when we finally analyse our data and write our discussion chapter.
So, I thought I would share a few things I learned along the way, including a little plot twist from my own doctoral research. Nothing too academic or complicated, just some personal reflections that might be useful, especially if you are still trying to figure out what makes your PhD research original.
Your PhD Doesn't Have to Change the World
Sometimes, I think we expect too much from ourselves. We want our research to be special, our topic to sound impressive and our findings to be something extraordinary. Nothing wrong with that, of course. After all, we are spending years working on something, so naturally we want it to mean something. But here is something I have learned. Your PhD does not have to change the whole world. It just needs to contribute something meaningful to what we already know.
For example, let's say many researchers have already studied leadership in organisations. Does that mean there is nothing left for us to investigate? Of course not. Perhaps previous researchers studied leadership in private companies, but we want to understand it within Malaysian public universities. Maybe they used qualitative interviews, while we want to examine relationships between variables through quantitative research. Or perhaps we want to explore how another factor might influence an existing relationship.
The general topic may be similar, but our approach and the insights we produce could be different. And that difference, if properly justified and supported by evidence, may become part of our original contribution. Of course, simply changing the research location or method does not automatically make a study original. What matters is whether the difference helps us understand something meaningful that previous research has not fully explained.
I think this is where we sometimes misunderstand the idea of originality. We assume that being original means everything about our research must be new, from the topic and theories to the research framework and findings. But research does not always work that way. Sometimes, originality comes from building on what others have already discovered, questioning an existing assumption or providing new evidence from a different context.
And interestingly, we may not fully recognise that contribution at the beginning of our research. Sometimes, it becomes clearer much later, especially when we start examining what our findings actually mean.
Sometimes, Research Doesn't Give Us the Answer We Expected
This is probably the part I can relate to most through my own PhD experience. When we develop our research framework and hypotheses, we naturally have certain expectations. Based on previous studies and theories, we may expect a positive relationship between two variables or believe that a particular factor will influence another. We spend so much time developing our arguments from the literature, so naturally we hope that our findings will support what we have proposed.
But what happens when our data tell us something different? What if a relationship that we expected to be significant turns out to be statistically insignificant? Or what if the relationship exists, but behaves differently from what we initially expected? Does it mean our research has failed? Not necessarily. Sometimes, this is where the interesting part of research begins.
Let me share a little example from my own doctoral research. My study examined how ethical leadership and Islamic Work Ethics influence the development of learning organisations in Malaysian public universities, with psychological safety acting as a moderator. I collected data from 303 administrative staff across two public universities. Basically, I wanted to understand how leadership, work ethics and employees' sense of psychological safety might relate to an organisation's ability to continuously learn and improve.
Some findings were quite straightforward. Ethical leadership showed a significant positive relationship with learning organisations, which was consistent with what I expected. However, Islamic Work Ethics did not show a statistically significant direct relationship with learning organisations. To be honest, this finding was quite surprising, perhaps even a little alarming at first, especially when previous studies had suggested that Islamic Work Ethics could encourage positive workplace behaviour, knowledge sharing and innovation.
So, naturally, I started wondering why. Does this mean Islamic Work Ethics are not important in developing a learning organisation? Of course, we cannot simply make that conclusion. When I explored this further in my thesis discussion chapter, I realised there were several possible explanations. One interesting idea is that having good personal work ethics does not automatically mean an organisation will become a learning organisation.
Think about it. An employee may be honest, hardworking, responsible and committed to Islamic ethical values. But if the organisation does not have the right systems, supportive leadership or opportunities for knowledge sharing, those personal values may not necessarily translate into organisational learning. This explanation can be understood through the organisational learning framework by Crossan and colleagues (1999), which describes how learning moves from individuals to groups and eventually becomes part of organisational practices.
Another possible explanation is what we might call a normalisation effect. In a workplace where Islamic ethical values are already familiar and widely accepted, these principles may have become part of everyday working life. As a result, their influence on differences in organisational learning may be less noticeable. This is one possible interpretation that can be discussed using institutional theory, although my research did not directly test whether such a normalisation effect had occurred.
And then came another interesting finding, something I would call a little plot twist in my thesis.
I examined whether psychological safety, which generally refers to employees feeling safe to speak up, share ideas and take interpersonal risks, would influence the relationship between ethical leadership and learning organisations. Interestingly, the positive relationship between ethical leadership and learning organisations was stronger when psychological safety was low, rather than high.
At first, this may sound a little strange. We normally think that a psychologically safe working environment should support positive organisational outcomes. So why would ethical leadership show a stronger relationship with organisational learning when psychological safety was lower? One possible explanation is that ethical leadership may become particularly important in environments where employees feel less confident about speaking up or sharing their opinions. In such situations, leaders who demonstrate fairness, integrity and ethical behaviour may play an especially meaningful role in supporting organisational learning. Of course, this is a possible interpretation, not proof of why the relationship occurred.
What made these findings interesting to me was not simply that some hypotheses were unsupported or that the results were different from what I expected. It was the opportunity to look at the relationships from another perspective, explore possible explanations and connect the findings with existing theories. These discussions helped me see aspects of my research contribution that were not necessarily obvious when I first developed my proposal.
And that brings me to something I think postgraduate students should remember. Sometimes, the originality or novelty of our research becomes clearer only after we have collected the data, analysed the findings and started writing the discussion chapter.
Of course, unexpected findings do not automatically mean we have discovered something new. We still need to compare our results with previous research, consider the limitations of our study and support our interpretations with relevant theories and evidence. But we should not immediately see an unsupported hypothesis as a failure either. Sometimes, a finding that initially seems disappointing can open the door to a more interesting discussion.
Looking back, I think this was one of the most valuable lessons from my PhD journey. The findings that surprised me were also the ones that encouraged me to think more deeply about my research. And perhaps that is where part of our original contribution can emerge, not simply from discovering something completely new, but from offering a meaningful explanation or a different perspective on something we thought we already understood.
What Makes Our Research Good Enough?
Another question worth thinking about is what actually makes research good enough, particularly when we want to publish our findings. We often focus so much on originality that we sometimes overlook other important aspects of research quality. An interesting finding may attract attention, but it does not automatically mean the study is strong enough to be published.
Think about the journal articles we read. A good research paper should clearly explain what the researcher is trying to investigate and why the study matters. The methodology should be appropriate, the data should be suitable and the analysis should be properly conducted. More importantly, the conclusions should reflect what the findings actually show, rather than what the researcher wishes they had shown.
Sounds quite straightforward, right? But achieving all these things requires effort. We cannot simply claim that our research makes an important contribution without showing how the evidence supports that claim. We also cannot draw conclusions that go beyond what our data can reasonably tell us. Even when our findings are interesting, weak methodology or unsupported interpretations can affect the credibility of the study.
I think this is especially important when discussing unexpected findings. It can be tempting to describe every surprising result as something novel or groundbreaking. But originality is not just about finding something different. We need to explain why the difference matters, how it relates to existing knowledge and what others might learn from it.
A strong thesis is not necessarily the one with the most complicated words, the most impressive diagrams or the longest discussion. Sometimes, what matters more is how clearly we explain what we have done, why we did it and what we found. Good research is not about making everything sound complicated. It is about presenting a convincing argument based on appropriate evidence.
And perhaps this is also how originality becomes meaningful. It is not enough to say that our findings are new or different. We need to help readers understand what those findings add to the existing body of knowledge.
A Little Thought Before I End
If there is one thing I have come to appreciate after completing my PhD, it is that originality and novelty do not always appear in the way we expect.
When we first prepare our research proposal, we are usually asked to identify our contribution to knowledge. We explain our research gaps, justify our framework and describe what makes our study different from previous research. And yes, these are important parts of planning a PhD. We need a clear direction and a reasonable justification before beginning our study.
But there is something interesting about research. The contribution we propose at the beginning may not be exactly the same as the contribution we finally recognise at the end.
Sometimes, after months or even years of working on our thesis, we discover that our findings do not fully support our original expectations. Perhaps a relationship we expected to be significant turns out otherwise. Perhaps a variable behaves differently from what previous studies suggested. Or perhaps the results reveal a pattern that we did not initially anticipate.
At that moment, it may feel disappointing. We may even start questioning whether something has gone wrong with our research. But before jumping to that conclusion, perhaps we should ask ourselves another question: What are these findings actually trying to tell us?
I think this is where the discussion chapter becomes particularly meaningful. It is not merely a place to repeat our results or explain which hypotheses were accepted or rejected. It is where we begin to make sense of our findings, connect them with existing knowledge, consider possible explanations and identify what our research may genuinely contribute.
I am not suggesting that every unexpected result is a new discovery. Sometimes, a surprising finding may simply reflect the limitations of our data, research design or measurement. But sometimes, when properly examined and supported, it may reveal something worth understanding further. And that possibility is what makes research interesting.
So, to my fellow postgraduate students, especially those still worrying about originality and novelty, perhaps we should not expect to have every answer at the proposal stage. We certainly need to know why our research is worth conducting, but we should also remain open to what the findings may eventually reveal.
Your original contribution may begin with a research gap, a different context or a new approach. But it may also become clearer through an unexpected finding, a thoughtful interpretation or an explanation that helps us see an existing issue differently.
For me, that was one of the meaningful experiences of completing my PhD. I began with certain research expectations, but some of the most interesting discussions emerged from results that did not turn out quite as I had imagined.
Perhaps originality is not always something we must fully discover before starting our PhD. Sometimes, it is something we gradually recognise through the research process, and only truly understand when we reach the end of our thesis.
After all, research is not about making the findings agree with what we already believe. It is about being willing to learn something from what we actually discover.
And sometimes, the answer we never expected may be the one that gives our research its most interesting contribution.
Just a little sharing from my own PhD journey. I certainly do not have all the answers, but I hope these reflections offer something useful to those who are still finding their way.
To everyone still working on your thesis, keep going. You may discover something meaningful in places you least expect.
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