Read Understanding Research Online
Authors: Marianne Franklin
Understanding Research (13 page)
In other words, whilst the world as we see it – facts – may exist and there are ways of knowing that are scientific as well as ‘non-scientific’, what is observed may require our intervention. A number of longstanding alternative or dissenting modes of research, from feminist, to postcolonial, to forms of ‘action research’ and including those that are ‘against method’ (Feyerabend 1978) fall under this rubric. As
Figure 3.4
below conveys, the social world under investigation may be an objective reality but this does not mean it is a pre-given. It can, indeed must, be acted upon.
What do this rough topology mean to anyone trying to get started on a research project? On the face of it, these complex, often arcane discussions do tend to unfold over the top of the heads of most fledgling researchers, those engaging directly with these debates as part of their research aside. However, at some point or other these issues do raise their heads. How so?
- In standoffs between advocates of any position within or between the above clustered worldviews, experienced by most students in their ‘Classics’, ‘Key thinkers’ or ‘Theories of . . .’ classes, often regarded as far removed from real-life research (see Creswell 2009: 6).
- When competing for funding, places in programmes, or approval by senior members of staff, these issues also emerge in the form of intense debates about which, if any, methods best pertain to local (departmental, faculty, or even national) understandings of research ‘excellence’.
- As noted in
Chapter 1
it is often when embarking on a major piece of individual research for the first time that students encounter an idea of a particular worldview (your own, or one seen as the opposition) as synonymous with a particular method or cluster of methods.
How to cope, then, when these divisions appear under our feet?
- For practical purposes, getting too bogged down in these issues, no matter how fascinating, or when they constitute the content of many erudite books on the matter, is not particularly helpful when setting out on a project (see Gray 2009: 34).
- That said – and this is the balancing act – any one, or combination of approaches you then adopt, or nominate for the time being, as the way in which you intend to gather and analyse your material (‘facts’, ‘empirical data’, ‘the literature’) are not neutral either; their operating principles are also loaded with their respective historical and intellectual loads about what the world is (
ontology
) and how we come to know it (
epistemology
).
An important question to ask yourself when writing your research plan and developing your research project is to ask yourself; is this doable? Consideration of time, resource and even intellectual limitations is an important part of the planning phase. If you pay enough attention to constructing a research project, and thereby a question that is answerable, or hypotheses that can be tested with data collected within the time frame of the project or assignment, then you are further along the path of achieving your goal than you may think.
This is when you become aware of time-limits, what resources you really do have at your disposal in terms of costs and other logistics, and whether you have underestimated either the time or resources available. One way to have some back-up is to keep a record of your ‘reject’ ideas in case you need to draw up a contingency plan. Setting up a time-schedule thereby has its uses in the research proposal stage, for understanding time limitations is an important reason to make sure the timeline in the research proposal is reasonable, too generous or not generous enough. Be willing to ask yourself as well whether the research you are designing is suitable for the degree being awarded.
There are two other key areas where we may well find ourselves having our limits set for us: codes of research practice and related ethics on the one hand; and on the other, the way a supervisory relationship evolves during the course of a project.
For the most part, this book is addressing academic projects in which a researcher carries out their research in the ‘real world’. For that reason alone it is a misconception to proceed as if academic research is immune from social, cultural, and legal concerns, as if a researcher can go anywhere, do anything in the name of scientific (read: ‘objective’) knowledge. History, past and quite recent, shows how such an approach, especially when backed by a particular worldview, military might, or the ‘rights’ of imperial conquest, has left its own legacy.
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Over the last fifty years or so this assumption has been significantly revised; under the aegis of international human rights, intellectual property rights covenants, and also notions of
corporate social responsibility
, codes of ethics are now integral to doing research in private and public sectors. The statement below encapsulates the underlying principle as one of
socially responsible research
, one that is echoed in institutional and professional codes and guidelines around the world:
Social researchers must strive to be aware of the intrusive potential of their work. They have no special entitlement to study all phenomena. The advancement of knowledge and the pursuit of information are not themselves sufficient justifications for overriding social and other cultural values.
(Social Research Association 2003: 25–6)
How this principle is developed and enforced as mandatory and recommended codes of research conduct is a large area of philosophical debate in itself. It takes many forms, from lecture modules to simple or complex ethics forms that researchers are expected to complete and submit for approval at a certain stage in their project. It also underscores increasing levels of documentation researchers now need to complete when applying for research funding or gaining permission to access funding from their institutions. The oversight resides in guidelines as well as committees, who take a hands-off or hands-on approach accordingly.
Two points bear noting straightaway:
- In practical terms ethical issues arising either when designing or carrying out research, legal as well as more sociocultural sensitive issues (copyright permissions and access permission respectively) are largely delegated to individual institutions, if not devolved entirely to the individual researcher, in consultation with supervisors, at the end of the day.
- Things are changing as things move onto the web; as human subjects take the form of avatars, simulations, or game-based creations, we see these issues further complicated for online research scenarios.
Chapter 5
takes these initial points further, given the way that changes brought about by the internet in particular in terms of where and how researchers now carry out observations, interviews, or even experiments now include cyberspace (‘virtual’) domains and computer-created subjects (e.g. avatars, game characters).
This overview looks at the role played by ethical considerations in general and ethics forms in particular at the moments they exert pressure on your research plans and ambitions. All the points raised below are open to further debate within departments; indeed they are often the source of some friction in working research communities given the power some committees can wield. In theoretical terms they are also covered extensively in philosophical critiques as well as professional guidelines and discussion papers.
For the sake of argument and simplicity, I have framed the discussion as if it were a Q&A session between a (frazzled or resistant) research student and their supervisor or tutor.
So what is the point here?
For the most part codes of ethics have been formulated on behalf of research subjects (people) and their production (texts, words, images). But these codes also bear the weight of varying degrees of institutional liability as well as seeking to look out for the well-being of their students and research staff. There are regional, national, and disciplinary differences in terms of just how far limits are imposed on any individual researcher or team; in theory (in the design and consultation phase) and in practice (during the research and its eventual dissemination). There are also ongoing debates in certain quarters about the longer-term implications the formalities can have on independent thinking, or innovative research project plans anyway. What are complex cultural and moral questions that differ from project to
project, place to place, and periods of time, can become inflexible rules and procedures wielded by powerful committees, as is the case in the US in particular.
Who calls the shots?
Nonetheless, recent years have seen universities, international academic organizations, and national research bodies developing and refining their respective ‘codes of research ethics’ to comply with legal obligations but also to keep up to pace with changes in the context and challenges of research today. Anthropology, sociology, and psychology are particularly active in this area, as are medical researchers and those fields where experimental work is carried out. Apart from moral and philosophical inquiries into the origins of ethics, there is a more practical point. As the Social Research Association puts it,
Poor design or trivial and foolish studies can waste people’s time and can contaminate the field for future research. Thus research design itself raises many ethical considerations.
(Social Research Association 2003: 25)
When considering doing research with human subjects, and their avatars (see Chapter 5), all researchers, students included, need to consider whether their inquiry will have an impact, namely a detrimental one, on their interlocutors. The converse is also the case, ensuring that a research project has taken account of any physical or emotional risks; when researching criminal organizations or in post-conflict zones, a research project should not put a researcher in any unreasonable or excessive danger. There is also the whole legal matter of litigation, liability, and responsibility by which institutions, hospitals and research centres look to cover their backs at worst, and ensure their staff and students conduct themselves appropriately at best.
The assumption underwriting unwritten and formalized codes of research practice is that researchers are social actors working with other people directly or in situations where others may be, or see themselves affected by what researchers are doing. Theoretical pursuits such as astrophysics, mathematics, and philosophy do not fall under this rubric on the whole. In addition, as a scholarly and legal pursuit on its own terms, ethics is an area of specialist knowledge. And with the influence and penetration of the internet into everyday research and methodological innovations emerging from there, codes of ethics are being overhauled accordingly; in other words, ‘new methods pose new ethical problems’ (Social Reasearch Association 2003: 5); more on these matters in
Chapter 5
.
When should I start being concerned with ethical issues?
The main thing to bear in mind is that ethical practicalities, and dilemmas, can arise at three moments: when designing, when carrying out, and when writing up or going public with the results of the project. The good thing about the increasing clarity and referenced guidelines readily available these days, including mandatory forms and permissions for advanced research projects (postgraduate and onwards though not excluding any bachelor level), is that they provide a wealth of information and resources. The downside is that these details can threaten to overwhelm those starting out or confront those who have left these things until the very last minute with some frightening limits to what they can say and eventually claim.
What sorts of projects in particular see researchers having to devote time and consideration to these issues?
Basically, any research involving interviews, focus groups,
or participation-observation requires ‘informed consent’, implying some sort of access permission from a gatekeeper, if not a whole community, or a tacit recognition that the observation is happening in a public place. Here too the definition of publicness is not clear-cut. For conducting interviews and/or focus groups, you need to use, or compose your own informed consent form. These vary from basic to more developed depending on the sort of interviews you envisage doing (see
Chapter 6
). Do consult with your supervisor about the wording and the eventual use of interview material; these matters will become clearer at a later point and are touched on in
Chapters 6
–
8
.
For official definitions and extensions pertaining to your disciplinary home-base or data-gathering approach, I advise you to consult your institutional or respective inter/national association’s documentation; most of which are now available on the web. For the time being, the key principles to bear in mind are first those applying to the design and execution phases, and second those related to how we treat the material we’ve gathered afterwards in terms of its use in the project and storage:
- informed consent
- access rights and obligations
- anonymity and data-use
- data-retention
- transparency and accountability.
This principle is the cornerstone of research ethics today in that how a researcher goes about contacting and interacting with research subjects in an ethical way sets the tone for aspects below. What we mean by the notion of ‘informed consent’ is that any individual, group, or community who you envisage as your ‘research subjects’ (and that means they effectively become the object of inquiry) – those you plan to survey, interview, or observe – knows who you are and what you are doing. They then grant consent, in written form usually and where necessary orally. It is up to the researcher in the latter case to show how consent was gained; Appendix 1 provides a template for this sort of request.
Gaining informed consent is a procedure for ensuring that research subjects understand what is being done to them, the limits to their participation and an awareness of any potential risks they incur. . . . The amount of information needed to ensure a subject is adequately informed about the purpose and nature of an inquiry is bound to vary from study to study.
(Social Reasearch Association 2003: 28)
The basic point here is that active deception or coercion for most social research scenarios, and journalistic codes of ethics moreover, is not acceptable on the whole. There are exceptions whereby covert research is possible; experimental research and in the case of police work and investigative journalism undercover work. The latter are also governed by professional and legal codes and so lie beyond the scope of this discussion. On a more informal level, whilst there are some ongoing debates about
whether it is justified to tell a ‘white lie’ to gain access where normally access (e.g. to sacred or gender-based restricted areas such as married women only) would be denied, it is advisable to err on the side of caution.
If consent is not granted, or is controversial for legal or cultural reasons, then you may need to rethink the object of analysis; some research topics are not feasible for student projects whilst others accepted in one discipline may well be considered inappropriate in another. For academic research the bottom line is that we are not undercover police officers or journalists (see
Chapter 1
, ‘What is
academic
research?’) so gaining consent or access by deception is a breach of ethics.
Here the distinction between what is a public place and what is a private one is particularly difficult sometimes for research situations. It is a truism to note that there are cultural, and commercial if not civic variations on what is meant by a ‘public’ or a ‘private’ space. Online, in social networking sites for instance a lot of ‘private’ level interactions are taking place in ostensibly ‘public’ spaces which some researchers see as not requiring informed consent or access. Carrying out observations in public areas such as railway stations or shopping centres unobtrusively, or conducting surveys with passers-by, may all require you as a researcher to obtain if not access from the ‘owner’ (e.g. shopping centres are private spaces) then from those you may want to approach.
The way that research on the web makes this shifting line even fuzzier notwithstanding, in most sorts of fieldwork scenarios researchers rely on gatekeepers (e.g. village elders or discussion group moderators, website owners) to grant them initial access (see
Chapter 6
). However, gaining access is just a start and it is conditional; access can be withdrawn or made difficult. Online, where visibility is less obvious, ‘lurking’, whereby researchers observe and follow discussions without indicating their presence to other participants, the initial access granted by moderators or website owners often needs to be supported by the larger community.
On the other hand, if a gatekeeper refuses or later blocks access then it is sometimes unsustainable to continue (Social Research Association 2003: 29); not only because gatekeepers hold the keys to a group or community but also because if researchers were to circumvent these people they could create other sorts of disturbance within the community at the cost of the integrity of the eventual findings. Most codes and guidelines will note here the need to account for these eventualities in your methodological rationale; ways to gain access and consent as well as a clear reason as to why you may wish to observe ‘covertly’. Bottom line is that an appeal to the need to maintain scientific objectivity, or that the findings will be compromised, is not considered an argument in itself.
On the one hand academic research is about leaving a clear trail (citations, methodology, data-gathering tracks). On the other hand, most social research with human subjects is based on privacy whereby informants’ identities and their pro-
nouncements (written or spoken) are treated anonymously unless they provide consent to be named.
In interviews or situations where your project has you recording or videoing your subjects you also need to gain (usually written) consent to record these conversations, for not everyone wants to be recorded or videoed.
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In most cases, though, anonymity is the rule rather than the exception; in larger surveys anonymity is a given, and for probability sampling a rule. But when citing interviews or online discussions, and when anonymizing these texts, the ability for others to follow up on these words may be impaired; so here the trade-off between protecting informants’ anonymity, ensuring transparency and accountability to keep the integrity of the data clear (i.e. not making things up), and conducting research in an ethical way have to be balanced out.
How we use any interview data when conducting qualitative interviews or conversations had in the field (see
Chapter 6
) is also an ethical matter. As anonymity is the standard rule this makes it easier to be consistent when citing. That also means, though, that the onus is on the researcher to treat others’ words in context, to cite accurately, and with respect. When researching other cultures or marginalized groups where controversial topics are at stake, these issues can create their own stress points when analysing and then writing up the results (see
Chapters 7
and
8
).
For large-scale surveys, quasi-experimental projects and questionnaire-based interviews there are usually nationally set rules for where and how researchers should retain the data they’ve collected, particularly those data that can identify anonymized informants. In the UK and the European Union this period is between 5 and 7 years. Your job is to know what the regulations are and whether they will affect your project. Keeping identity-based information on a password-protected part of your computer, with disks or tapes locked up is a simple way. Most regulations insist that researchers destroy this material after a certain time period; the UK in particular is very strict in theory on these matters. As we are conducting research and hopefully will be using the material more than once, or want to refer to it at a later date, these regulations do not mean students need destroy their raw material the day after handing in the project. The main principle is to treat it with care.
I mentioned above how research subjects, particularly those with strong gatekeeping power, can exert their own pressure on researchers to grant them full authorship rights, or full access to any transcripts. In some settings where the topic may be politically or culturally charged, government representatives may also demand exclusive rights over your work.
This is a delicate area where ethics and accountability are double-edged. Consult any guidelines, or ethics committee members as well as your supervisor if you find yourself in this position. Remember that the eventual dissertation is an original piece
of work of which you are the author (unless this research has been carried out in a partnership with those you are researching, as is the case with
participatory action research
). Research into NGOs, for instance, can lead to demands for co-authorship or full rights over any material a researcher gathers as these organizations wish to maintain control over the eventual results or access to the data.