Digging Beneath the Surface: Why I Chose Critical Realism to Frame My PhD Research

When people ask what research theory underpins my PhD research, my answer is simple but deliberate: critical realism. In studying China’s Higher Education Exchange Programs in PNG—from scholarships and language training to public sector upskilling—I needed a lens that could help me see beyond the numbers and stories. Critical realism allows me to ask not just what is happening, but why, and what deeper structures are at play. This is essential when dealing with international education, soft power, and foreign policy.

This diagram illustrates the layered structure of the research design: starting with a critical realist epistemology, guided by soft power as the theoretical lens, employing an explanatory sequential mixed-methods methodology, and using surveys and interviews as core data collection methods.

At its core, critical realism is a philosophical framework developed by British philosopher Roy Bhaskar. It suggests that reality exists in layers: what we can observe (empirical), what actually happens (actual), and the underlying causes and mechanisms that generate those events (real). This three-part view is ideal for unpacking the complex effects of educational diplomacy, where a scholarship might look like a simple opportunity on the surface, but in fact serves a deeper strategic purpose.

In my case, the “empirical” layer includes survey data from over 230 Papua New Guineans who participated in Chinese-sponsored programs. Their responses give us a snapshot of what they experienced, how they viewed the programs, and what outcomes they observed. The “actual” layer involves their lived experiences—completing their degrees, facing language barriers, adapting to cultural norms, or navigating career pathways post-study. But the “real” layer—the heart of my study—is what drives all this: China’s soft power strategy, PNG’s foreign policy gaps, and the institutional pathways that either empower or constrain PNG citizens.

Critical realism is particularly helpful because I’m using a mixed-methods design. First, I conducted online surveys through platforms like LinkedIn and WeChat to gather broad quantitative data. Now, I’m moving into qualitative interviews with students, alumni, public servants, and policymakers to dig deeper into the meanings and mechanisms behind the numbers. Critical realism supports this layered approach. It doesn’t demand that I choose between numbers or narratives—it tells me both are valid windows into reality.

A powerful insight I’ve gained from this approach is that not all influence is visible. For example, a respondent might say they chose to study in China because of a scholarship, but further probing reveals that subtle political messaging, peer influence, and lack of alternatives shaped their decision. Critical realism helps me identify these unseen drivers—not to discredit surface explanations, but to enrich and contextualize them.

This framework also pushes me to think critically about causation. Just because PNG’s foreign policy is becoming more China-friendly doesn’t mean scholarships alone caused it. But critical realism allows me to explore how educational exchanges may play a contributing role in reshaping policy preferences, diplomatic language, and elite perception—especially when combined with other forms of engagement like infrastructure aid, media cooperation, and military exchanges.

In a world where development aid and diplomacy increasingly blur, we need analytical tools that help us understand not just the visible outcomes, but the invisible forces shaping them. That’s what critical realism offers: a disciplined way of thinking about complexity, power, and meaning in international relations. It respects empirical evidence but challenges us to go deeper—to investigate what’s beneath the data, beneath the decisions, beneath the headlines.

As my PhD progresses, I hope critical realism will continue to guide my inquiry—not just as a theoretical position, but as a research attitude. One that listens to voices, follows patterns, challenges assumptions, and remains grounded in the pursuit of explanation, not just description. After all, in the story of China-PNG relations, the most important forces aren’t always the loudest or most obvious. Sometimes, they’re the quiet mechanisms shaping choices behind the scenes.