A “good”1 honors thesis should use appropriate methods to answer an “important”2 question in an “original” way3 — ideally, by the grading deadline.
That’s it!
And, what’s more—that’s going to be enough. Yes, really!
But…it will be harder than you think. Checking off all of those points involves labor. To use an appropriate method, you have to learn about a couple of different analytical techniques before settling on how to use the right one. The same will go for the theory in which you’ll ground your argument. Developing a thesis is tough work, and finding the evidence you’ll need to substantiate your thesis is going to be even tougher — you’ll likely spend a good chunk of your waking school hours scouring Google Scholar (and even more specialized databases). You might even visit a library and read books.
A simple definition of a good thesis? One that uses an appropriate method to develop an original argument that answers an important question — all before the grading deadline.
But let’s not put the proverbial cart before the horse. Perhaps the most important dimension to writing a thesis involves balancing the scope of your project with the feasibility of actually conducting the research. Whatever your research topic, can your labors provide answers that satisfactorily, and perhaps even thoroughly, answer the research question you posed? (Notice we’re not saying “exhaustively.” You only have a year to write this.)
In our view, a good thesis focuses on an investigation of a particular set of ideas rather than speculating about comically complicated, multi-causal theories.
Students should begin learning how to research by learning how to undertake a garden-variety research project. That means looking for innovative ways to expand on one part of the following triad: theory, methods, and evidence. Just one! So if you can find a new source of evidence, or apply a new method, or extend an existing theory, then that’s probably enough.
You can narrow your focus by examining what’s been written about before and locating the existing debate in one of several dimensions:
in theory (can you identify a crucial case or test for one or more theories’ expectations?)
in time (have earlier writers looked at only one period and neglected others—or change over time?)
in space (the same question, but for location—have other writers only examined the United States, or Chicago, or Europe? )
in social terms (does the theory or the debate only look at one social class or the perspective of the dominant gender or racial group?)
in sequence (yes, sequence is different than time—here, you’re interested in learning whether a causal sequence unfolds as it’s supposed to, or whether a process that people have assumed is uniform varies over its lifecycle)
in scope (have earlier writers only looked at macro phenomena while ignoring the micro level—or vice versa?)
in breadth (does the earlier work only look at general tendencies rather than exploring specific cases—or does it only look at specific cases rather than testing general tendencies?)
in specificity (does the earlier work make sweeping predictions or highly precise ones? Do the precise ones stand up to scrutiny when you change the assumptions—or can you make the sweeping predictions narrower by refining some part of the process?)
All you need to do is to probe one of these dimensions to find a way to make an original contribution. That could mean you focus on one case, or adding one variable, or using one new method—but as long as you know how your contribution fits into the field, that’s all you need to do. This is a thesis, not a submission for a Nobel.
Focusing on one contribution, perversely, makes it easier to think about how to make a contribution to a big debate than starting with a blue-sky ceiling. If you’re able to extend a debate and complete an argument, you will be better positioned to make a larger intervention the next time, because all of this takes skills—skills you hone by becoming more comfortable with the tools and tricks of the intellectual trade. Really, this shouldn’t be so surprising: the whole point of academic work is intense focus.
Indeed, thinking about the task of developing arguments using a search strategy like this makes clear that it’s relatively easy to find how to make a narrow, original contribution—the trick is, rather, how to make a meaningful one. And for an undergraduate thesis, being able to make a meaningful contribution within all of the constraints you’ll face will require some intense focus so that you can be sure you’ll deliver your contribution on time.
The takeaway: Real intellectual work contributes to big ideas through discrete efforts, not big, flailing interventions. Finding a narrow topic isn’t a surrender but the beginning of entering into a conversation.
The practical: Learning the literature is a part of how you can learn how to focus.
I.e. a thesis that not only passes the requirements set forth by one’s college / department but is also something you’d want to write.
Importance is, of course, in the eye of the beholder; whatever you do, at least choose something interesting that involves an idea of substance.
Originality does not imply complete and total novelty. There are precious few truly new things left under the sun. Instead, you should understand “original” in the sense that you are creatively contributing to an ongoing conversation by bringing an intervention that has either (1) not been previously explored or (2) has been insufficiently developed elsewhere. Original research ideas almost always offer a “twist” on some pre-existing scholarly work. You’re not, under any circumstances, trying to reinvent the wheel.