To most undergraduate and postgraduate students, deciding to undertake a doctoral degree is not common.
What is involved can be rather opaque – if not completely mysterious – with many potential applicants unaware of how to navigate the PhD journey.
Unfortunately, there is evidence of underrepresentation for some groups at doctoral level. For example, 59 per cent of the undergraduate population identify as White, rising to 68 per cent of taught postgraduates and 74 per cent for research degrees as of 2022-23.
This broken pipeline is demonstrated by just 1.2 per cent of the 19,868 studentships awarded by all UKRI research councils from 2016-17 – 2018-19 went to Black or Black Mixed students, with just 30 of those being from a Black Caribbean background.
In addition, those from underrepresented groups have fewer role models in PhD study and in academia. For academic staff, HESA data for 2023-24 shows that just 3.4 per cent of all academic staff are Black, with data from 2022-23 showing that 1 per cent of all professors are Black (and just 31 per cent of professors are female).
The value of personal contact
One of the most effective ways to help potential applicants understand what is involved in a doctorate is a face-to-face event, where current doctoral researchers and supervisors can deliver presentations, answer questions and talk one-to-one with attendees. However, such in-person events can be challenging for many students including those with physical disabilities and may not be suitable for those who are neurodivergent. In addition, they can be costly in terms of travel, time not available for paid employment and/or requiring the expense of childcare. Last, but not least, the idea of attending such an event can simply be intimidating, especially to those who do not come from a middle-class background.
Working with the Bloomsbury Learning Exchange, we surveyed over 200 PhD students about their application journey. Most gained understanding through personal contacts rather than formal events, with significant numbers regretting their lack of preparation for the intensity of doctoral study.
Guided by these survey results and input from academics, support staff and students, we developed “Is a PhD Right for Me?”, a Massive Open Online Course (MOOC) on FutureLearn as a readily available resource for potential PhD applicants coming from a wide range of backgrounds and circumstances. The MOOC format allows the students to engage with it at times that suit them best. We focused on information regarding preparation, funding, and commitment, but also factors which may cause a potential PhD student to pre-emptively talk themselves out of applying, such as personal circumstances like ethnicity, disability, gender, age, psychological wellbeing, and insecurities about intellectual fitness to engage in high level academic study. Through frank interviews and diverse representation, we show authentic experiences of doctoral study. The feedback we have received suggests that our approach is proving effective.
Participants who have completed the whole course have told us that it has empowered them to make a better-informed decision about whether or not to proceed with a PhD application:
I haven’t been in paid employment for many years due to ill health. I am very tenacious and adaptable, I am disabled so have to be. Yes, I feel ready for a PhD. This course has been really helpful thank you. I feel more confident on the application process and the time management aspects in particular.
It has also changed how some potential applicants see more personal aspects of PhD study:
This course overturned the stereotype I had. I learned that there could be PhD students who are easy-going and enjoy life and work and who are not serious all the time.
Supervision
The gatekeepers to PhD study are usually the staff who work in a supervisory capacity. In many institutions, the initial contact is made with a potential supervisor before a formal application is made. At such a stage there is no monitoring of the characteristics of the inquirer (not yet formally an applicant) so biases – conscious or otherwise – will not be apparent.
Some barriers can be inadvertent: such as requiring a master’s for PhD study or requiring a publication. The former is expensive, especially for students carrying substantial financial burdens from undergraduate study and the latter can be harder for those with caring responsibilities or for those who are not already familiar with the focus on publication in academia.
It is important that universities do not focus only on the application process but also ensure appropriate support during doctoral study for those from traditionally under-represented groups. In particular, universities can facilitate peer-support groups similar to existing examples such as the Blackett Lab Family, developed at Imperial from Mark Richards’ decision to take on two Black students as their academic and social mentor and now a national collective who share a passion for physics and positive representations of the Black community.
While supervisor training exists, uptake is often low. Universities might instead integrate inclusion discussions into regular departmental activities, making these conversations harder to avoid.
New deal
If we are to truly level the playing field for PhD study, the sector needs coordinated action across multiple fronts. While UKRI’s New Deal for Postgraduate Research represents important progress, its reach extends to only 20% of UK doctoral researchers, leaving the majority of provision unmonitored and unregulated. The current system’s reliance on individual supervisors as informal gatekeepers perpetuates existing inequalities, often unconsciously.
What is needed is a more systematic approach: a national framework that standardises PhD admission processes, monitors equity outcomes across all institutions, and mandates inclusive practices rather than leaving them to institutional discretion. This could include establishing minimum standards for supervisor training on unconscious bias, requiring transparent reporting of demographic data at inquiry and application stages, and creating pathways that do not penalise those without traditional academic capital.
Universities must also recognise that widening participation cannot end at enrolment; it requires sustained support structures that acknowledge the different challenges faced by doctoral students from underrepresented backgrounds. The prize is significant: a more diverse doctoral cohort will not only address issues of fairness and representation but will ultimately strengthen the quality and relevance of research itself. The question is whether the sector has the collective will to move beyond well-intentioned initiatives toward the structural changes that genuine equity demands.
Contributing authors from the Bloomsbury Learning Exchange: Tom Graham, Nancy Weitz, Sarah Sherman
Recently, some colleagues and I released a paper about the experiences of neurodivergent PhD students. It’s a systematic review of the literature to date, which is currently under review, but available via pre-print here.
But reading each and every paper published about neurodivergent PhD students provoked strong feelings of rage and frustration. (These feelings only increased, with a tinge of fear added in, when I read of plans for the US health department to make a ‘list’ of autistic people?! Reading what is going on there is frankly terrifying – solidarity to all.) We all know what needs to be done to make research degrees more accessible. Make expectations explicit. Create flexible policies. Value diverse thinking styles. Implement Universal Design Principles… These suggestions appear in report after report, I’ve ranted on the blog here and here, yet real change remains frustratingly elusive. So why don’t these great ideas become reality? Here’s some thoughts on barriers that keep neurodivergent-friendly changes from taking hold.
The myth of meritocracy
Academia clings to the fiction that the current system rewards pure intellectual merit. Acknowledging the need for accessibility requires admitting that the playing field isn’t level. Many senior academics succeeded in the current system and genuinely believe “if I could do it, anyone can… if they work hard enough”. They are either 1) failing to recognise their neurotypical privilege, or 2) not acknowledging the cost of masking their own neurodivergence (I’ll get to this in a moment).
I’ve talked to many academics about things we could do – like getting rid of the dissertation – but too many of us are secretly proud of our own trauma. The harshness of the PhD has been compared to a badge of honour that we wear proudly – and expect others to earn.
Resource scarcity (real and perceived)
Universities often respond to suggestions about increased accessibility measures with budget concerns. The vibe is often: “We’d love to offer more support, but who will pay for it?”. However, many accommodations (like flexible deadlines or allowing students to work remotely) cost little, or even nothing. Frequently, the real issue isn’t resources but priorities of the powerful. There’s no denying universities (in Australia, and elsewhere) are often cash strapped. The academic hunger games are real. However, in the fight for resources, power dynamics dictate who gets fed and who goes without.
I wish we would just be honest about our choices – some people in universities still have huge travel budgets. The catering at some events is still pretty good. Some people seem to avoid every hiring freeze. There are consistent patterns in how resources are distributed. It’s the gaslighting that makes me angry. If we really want to, we can do most things. We have to want to do something about this.
Administrative inertia
Changing established processes in a university is like turning a battleship with a canoe paddle. Approval pathways are long and winding. For example, altering a single line in the research award rules at ANU requires approval from parliament (yes – the politicians actually have to get together and vote. Luckily we are not as dysfunctional in Australia as other places… yet). By the time a solution is implemented, the student who needed it has likely graduated – or dropped out. This creates a vicious cycle where the support staff, who see multiple generations of students suffer the same way, can get burned out and stop pushing for change.
The individualisation of disability
Universities tend to treat neurodivergence as an individual problem requiring individual accommodations rather than recognising systemic barriers. This puts the burden on students to disclose, request support, and advocate for themselves – precisely the executive function and communication challenges many neurodivergent students struggle with.
It’s akin to building a university with only stairs, then offering individual students a piggyback ride instead of installing ramps. I’ve met plenty of people who simply get so exhausted they don’t bother applying for the accommodations they desperately need, and then end up dropping out anyway.
Fear of lowering ‘standards’
Perhaps the most insidious barrier is the mistaken belief that accommodations somehow “lower standards.” I’ve heard academics worrying that flexible deadlines will “give some students an unfair advantage” or that making expectations explicit somehow “spoon-feeds” students.
The fear of “lowering standards” becomes even more puzzling when you look at how PhD requirements have inflated over time. Anyone who’s spent time in university archives knows that doctoral standards aren’t fixed – they’re constantly evolving. Pull a dissertation from the 1950s or 60s off the shelf and you’ll likely find something remarkably slim compared to today’s tomes. Many were essentially extended literature reviews with modest empirical components. Today, we expect multiple studies, theoretical innovations, methodological sophistication, and immediate publishability – all while completing within strict time limits on ever-shrinking funding.
The standards haven’t just increased; they’ve multiplied. So when universities resist accommodations that might “compromise standards,” we should ask: which era’s standards are we protecting? Certainly not the ones under which most people supervising today had to meet. The irony is that by making the PhD more accessible to neurodivergent thinkers, we might actually be raising standards – allowing truly innovative minds to contribute rather than filtering them out through irrelevant barriers like arbitrary deadlines or neurotypical communication expectations. The real threat to academic standards isn’t accommodation – it’s the loss of brilliant, unconventional thinkers who could push knowledge boundaries in ways we haven’t yet imagined.
Unexamined neurodiversity among supervisors
Perhaps one of the most overlooked barriers is that many supervisors are themselves neurodivergent but don’t recognise it or acknowledge what’s going on with them! In fact, since starting this research, I’ve formed a private view that you almost can’t succeed in this profession without at least a little neurospicey.
Academia tends to attract deep thinkers with intense focus on specific topics – traits often associated with autism (‘special interests’ anyone?). The contemporary university is constantly in crisis, which some people with ADHD can find provides the stimulation they need to get things done! Yet many supervisors have succeeded through decades of masking and compensating, often at great personal cost.
The problem is not the neurodivergence or the supervisor – it’s how the unexamined neurodivergence becomes embedded in practice, underpinned by an expectation that their students should function exactly as they do, complete with the same struggles they’ve internalised as “normal.”
I want to hold on to this idea for a moment, because maybe you recognise some of these supervisors:
The Hyperfocuser: Expects students to match their pattern of intense, extended work sessions. This supervisor regularly works through weekends on research “when inspiration strikes,” sending emails at 2am and expecting quick responses. They struggle to understand when students need breaks or maintain strict work boundaries, viewing it as “lack of passion.” Conveniently, they have ignored those couple of episodes of burn out, never considering their own work pattern might reflect ADHD or autistic hyper-focus, rather than superior work ethic.
The Process Pedant: Requires students to submit written work in highly specific formats with rigid attachment to particular reference styles, document formatting, and organisational structures. Gets disproportionately distressed by minor variations from their preferred system, focusing on these details over content, such that their feedback primarily addresses structural issues rather than ideas. I get more complaints about this than almost any other kind of supervision style – it’s so demoralising to be constantly corrected and not have someone genuinely engage with your work.
The Talker: Excels in spontaneous verbal feedback but rarely provides written comments. Expects students to take notes during rapid-fire conversational feedback, remembering all key points. They tend to tell you to do the same thing over and over, or forget what they have said and recommend something completely different next time. Can get mad when questioned over inconsistencies – suggesting you have a problem with listening. This supervisor never considers that their preference for verbal communication might reflect their own neurodivergent processing style, which isn’t universal. Couple this with a poor memory and the frustration of students reaches critical. (I confess, being a Talker is definitely my weakness as a supervisor – I warn my students in advance and make an effort to be open to criticism about it!).
The Context-Switching Avoider: Schedules all student meetings on a single day of the week, keeping other days “sacred” for uninterrupted research. Becomes noticeably agitated when asked to accommodate a meeting outside this structure, even for urgent matters. Instead of recognising their own need for predictable routines and difficulty with transitions (common in many forms of neurodivergence), they frame this as “proper time management” that students should always emulate. Students who have caring responsibilities suffer the most with this kind of inflexible relationship.
The Novelty-Chaser: Constantly introduces new theories, methodologies, or research directions in supervision meetings. Gets visibly excited about fresh perspectives and encourages students to incorporate them into already-developed projects. May send students a stream of articles or ideas completely tangential to their core research, expecting them to pivot accordingly. Never recognises that their difficulty maintaining focus on a single pathway to completion might reflect ADHD-related novelty-seeking. Students learn either 1) to chase butterflies and make little progress or 2) to nod politely at new suggestions while quietly continuing on their original track. The first kind of reaction can lead to a dangerous lack of progress, the second reaction can lead to real friction because, from the supervisor’s point of view, the student ‘never listens’. NO one is happy in these set ups, believe me.
The Theoretical Purist: Has devoted their career to a particular theoretical framework or methodology and expects all their students to work strictly within these boundaries. Dismisses alternative approaches as “methodologically unsound” or “lacking theoretical rigour” without substantive engagement. Becomes noticeably uncomfortable when students bring in cross-disciplinary perspectives, responding with increasingly rigid defences of their preferred approach. Fails to recognise their intense attachment to specific knowledge systems and resistance to integrating new perspectives may reflect autistic patterns of specialised interests, or even difficulty with cognitive flexibility. Students learn to frame all their ideas within the supervisor’s preferred language, even when doing so limits their research potential.
Now that I know what I am looking for, I see these supervisory dynamics ALL THE TIME. Add in whatever dash of neuro-spiciness is going on with you and all kinds of misunderstandings and hurt feelings result … Again – the problem is not the neurodivergence of any one person – it’s the lack of self reflection, coupled with the power dynamics that can make things toxic.
These barriers aren’t insurmountable, but honestly, after decades in this profession, I’m not holding my breath for institutional enlightenment. Universities move at the pace of bureaucracy after all.
So what do we do? If you’re neurodivergent, find your people – that informal network who “get it” will save your sanity more than any official university policy. If you’re a supervisor, maybe take a good hard look at your own quirky work habits before deciding your student is “difficult.” And if you’re in university management, please, for the love of research, let’s work on not making neurodivergent students jump through flaming bureaucratic hoops to get basic support.
The PhD doesn’t need to be a traumatic hazing ritual we inflict because “that’s how it was in my day.” It’s 2025. Time to admit that diverse brains make for better research. And for goodness sake, don’t put anyone on a damn list, ok?
AI disclaimer: This post was developed with Claude from Anthropic because I’m so busy with the burning trash fire that is 2025 it would not have happened otherwise. I provided the concept, core ideas, detailed content, and personal viewpoint while Claude helped organise and refine the text. We iteratively revised the content together to ensure it maintained my voice and perspective. The final post represents my authentic thoughts and experiences, with Claude serving as an editorial assistant and sounding board.
This blog was first published on Inger Mewburn’s legendary website The Thesis Whisperer on 1 May 2025. It is reproduced with permission here.
Professor Inger Mewburn is the Director of Researcher Development at The Australian National University where she oversees professional development workshops and programs for all ANU researchers. Aside from creating new posts on the Thesis Whisperer blog (www.thesiswhisperer.com), she writes scholarly papers and books about research education, with a special interest in post PhD employability, research communications and neurodivergence.
