Researching Death, Dying and Bereavement

Erica Borgstrom, Julie Ellis, Kate Woodthorpe, Erica Borgstrom, Julie Ellis, Kate Woodthorpe

• Publisher: Taylor & Francis
• Year: 2018
• Print ISBN: 9781138103085
• eBook ISBN: 9781351593809
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Social Sciences
• Subtopic: Sociology
• Index: Social Sciences

This book examines research on death, dying and bereavement, and how our approaches, perceptions and expectations shapes what we can know about the end of life. The contributions include personal and professional reflections, and practical suggestions for conducting research in this field.

The volume stems from the resurgence of the international and interdisciplinary study of death in the last 20 years. Within this, empirical research is often viewed as sensitive, but little has been written about the experience of conducting research in this area. There has thus been little reflection on the opportunities and challenges faced in undertaking research as the field of death studies grows, including the accommodation and recognition of cultural differences. This volume seeks to in part address this gap. The chapters in this book were originally published in the Mortality journal and the Death Studies journal.

Reflecting on death: The emotionality of the research encounter

KATE WOODTHORPE

ABSTRACT This paper considers some of the issues encountered when researching a particular space in which death is engaged: a cemetery landscape. Building on literature available on research and reflexivity, the paper addresses some of the challenges the author dealt with when both in and away from the cemetery field site. At the core of the paper is the recognition that emotional responses can both contribute and distract from the research process. It is the extent to which emotional baggage enlightens and/or diverts from the research process and the data being generated that underpins this paper.

Introduction

Walking up to the cemetery from Manor Park station for the first time with my supervisor, I feel really, really anxious. What would it look like? What would it feel like? Would there be lots of people crying? Would there be lots of ‘death’ around? I mean, I have experienced funerals before and been to cemeteries, but they were usually very modern, with small, rectangular headstones. I know of places like Highgate and fancier Victorian cemeteries, but don’t really know what to expect with the City of London. And I’ve certainly never been to a cemetery that’s so big ... Am totally overwhelmed by the size of the site and the (daunting) task of ‘researching’ it. How on earth am I going to do that? It certainly is very well kept though, and at times I realise I have to remind myself I am in a ‘cemetery’ rather than a garden or a park. And it doesn’t seem like there is so much doom and gloom around. It was even a bit cheerful! My supervisor seems very happy to have seen the site, I am too, it’s very exciting. We will have a lot to talk about in our next supervision I’m sure.

(An extract from fieldnotes that documents my first impression of my fieldsite almost a year before I ‘entered’ the field to generate data).

And so began my research journey in the autumn of 2003, when I visited my fieldsite for the first time with my supervisor. Now over 5 years later, the memory of seeing the site for the first time, and the disconcerting mix of excitement, anticipation and outright fear, is one I can vividly recall. This paper considers the types of emotions that can be aroused within the qualitative research process, and details some of the challenges that I faced when in the field. Its aim is to highlight the complexity of the research process and contribute to ongoing discussions regarding the potential of reflexivity in research accounts.

Throughout the 2000s, scholarly research into death, dying and bereavement has been expanding rapidly, reflected in the establishment of the Centre for Death and Society at the University of Bath in 2005 and numerous publications, such as Francis, Kellaher, andNeophytou (2005), Garces-Foley (2005), Howarth (2007), Kellehear (2007) and Valentine (2008). Handbooks and textbooks from the USA have also been doing particularly well, with many now in multiple editions (see Corr, Nabe, & Corr, 2008 [in its 6^th edition]; DeSpelder & Strickland, 2008 [in its 8^th edition]; Kastenbaum, 2006 [in its 9^th edition]). In the UK, topical edited collections include Earle, Komaromy, and Bartholomew (2008), Hockey, Komaromy, and Woodthorpe (2010) and Olivere and Monroe (2004). Much of this momentum has been underpinned by empirical research into death, dying and bereavement, often evidenced and analysed in the pages of this journal.

Within this growing field, empirical research into dying and end-of-life care has already gained a considerable foothold thanks to the escalation of intensive care (see Seymour, 2001) and the ongoing success of the hospice movement. Research into bereavement, both social and psychological, has also grown (see Genevro, 2004; Valentine, 2006). Studies into activities that do not fit neatly into these two categories, on the other hand, has still some way to go; empirical research about (for example) cemeteries, ashes and how people perceive the afterlife and ghosts are still in the (relatively) emergent stages.

Within all these differing explorations of death, comparatively little, with some notable exceptions (such as Hockey, 2007; Howarth, 1993; Rowling, 1999; and Valentine, 2007), has been written about the methodological implications of undertaking research into this area. That is not to say that it has not been recognised that there is a connection between the research, the research problem and the researcher (Irwin, 2006); rather, that the majority of researchers in the field of death studies have chosen not to make a public exploration of their experience, or the potential messiness of their research encounter. A reluctance to disclose the research experience is not unique to the field of death studies; it is widely accepted within the social sciences that researchers (especially qualitative researchers) tend not to publicly share their experiences as it may leave them vulnerable to accusations of bias, prejudice and partiality (Bryman & Burgess, 1994).

Evidence suggests, however, that change is happening. The field of sociology of emotion has expanded enormously in the UK since the 1990s (Holland, 2007), sending emotions much further up the sociological agenda, which in turn have begun to infiltrate research accounts. Thus, within the last two decades there has been an increasing acceptance of emotions being part of the research process (Rager, 2005), reflected in the expanding body of work on emotionality and research (Valentine, 2007). Nonetheless, there still remains a general lack of consideration given to the uniqueness of the (human) researcher and their experience in methodological discussions (Hedican, 2006). This invisibility includes the more unsavoury aspects of the researcher’s experience(s) both before and during their research encounter (Hubbard, Brackett-Milburn, & Kemmer, 2001).

Why this is perhaps surprising in the field of death and dying in particular is the intimate nature of the topic under the microscope, which as Riches and Dawson (1996) point out, effectively forces the researcher into reflecting on their own viewpoint. Despite this, and the fact that death is one of the binding facts of human existence (Bauman, 1992) that cannot be ‘magicked away’ (Lofland, 1978, as cited in Williams, 2003), what constitutes competence in reflection, both overtly in research accounts and privately in the researcher’s personal life away from their writing, is open to debate. Indeed, in even the earliest studies of death it was questioned whether it was ever possible to intellectually reflect on such a delicate topic:

We all believe we know what death is because it is a familiar event and one that arouses intense emotion. It seems both ridiculous and sacrilegious to question the value of that intimate knowledge and to wish to apply reason to a subject where only the heart is competent (Hertz, 1907/1960, p. 27).

The scope of this paper means that it is not possible to consider Hertz’s point much further: that is a task for those sociologists and philosophers interested in rationality, reason and logic. What is pertinent here, however, is the extent to which the tensions stimulated by emotional responses in the research process are disclosed (see Blackman, 2007).

As a contribution to these ongoing discussions regarding research and emotion, this paper is one novice researcher’s endeavour to recount their experience. Framed as an experience akin to a ‘rite of passage’ as a researcher (see Peacock, 2001), the paper builds on accounts already published (such as Valentine, 2007), and relies heavily on the argument proposed by Guillemin and Gillam (2004) that the act of reflection in research (commonly referred to as reflexivity) is a resource rather than a burden. At the core of the paper is the recognition that emotional responses can both contribute and distract from the research process. Rather than providing a wide-ranging discussion on the emotional component of the research process however (which has already been done in an excellent summary by Hubbard et al., 2001), the aim here is to take this as a starting point and explore what this actually means for the novice researcher.

Using data from an ethnographic study of a cemetery, this paper thus explores the challenges that emotions can create, and the depth they can add to the research experience. Structured around the chronological process of the research process of ‘before’ the field, being ‘in’ the field, and ‘leaving’ the field, it focuses specifically on some of the minute decisions that take place when doing fieldwork (see Mason, 1996). More than an act of introspection, navel-gazing or self-indulgence, the purpose of the paper is to draw further attention to connections between the topic and the researcher, and the relationship between the field and feelings (see Woodthorpe, 2007).

Being reflexive

Usually associated with qualitative research, being reflexive: ‘... involves honesty and openness about how, where and by whom the data were collected and locates the researcher as a participant in the dynamic interrelationship of the research process’ (Ryan & Golden, 2006, p. 288). Essentially, it is about critical self-reflection (see Rolls & Relf, 2006, for a very accessible account of two researchers undertaking this). In recent publications, researchers have mused on how reflexivity is often related to gender (Lewis, 2008) and reflected on the importance of projecting the ‘right’ image in research (see Oritz, 2005). Others, such as Allan (2006), have been very honest about how their research made them feel: in her case about her own infertility.

The growing popularity of reflexive accounts such as these has contributed to, and stemmed from, the growth of autoethnography as a research method (Ellis & Bochner, 2000). This is where the researcher turns their critical eye on their self, either using firsthand accounts or vignettes, in a bid to further knowledge (Humphreys, 2005). Within this, however, there has typically been an emphasis on ethics (Guillemin and Gillam, 2004), reflected in publications such as Valentine (2007), who considered her ethical standpoint on what was ‘inside’ and ‘outside’ her remit. Furthermore, the spotlight has tended to rest on the interview, and interviewer/interviewee interaction, rather than the place in which the research takes place (Cylwick, 2001).

The stance that this paper takes is that the act of reflexivity goes beyond reflecting on methods and ethics; indeed, it is that:

reflexivity has became much more than methodological visibility. It now provides a means of dealing with epistemological concerns about how our identities as researchers are multiple, contradictory, partial, strategic and located. It shows how all research accounts are ultimately screened through the narrator’s eye (Kingdon, 2005, p. 623).

Reflexivity thus offers the researcher the opportunity to critically unpack their own assumptions and expectations, openly account for their particular interpretation(s) and reflect on their successes and failures. However, as I have already noted, publicly recognising these can also leave the researcher exposed to accusations of partiality and bias. Consequently, for those that choose to disclose their experiences:

...embarking on reflexivity is akin to entering uncertain terrain where social ground can all too easily give way to swamp and mire. The challenge is to negotiate a path through this complicated landscape—one that exposes the traveller to interesting discoveries while ensuring a route out the other side. Researchers have to negotiate the ‘swamp’ of interminable self analysis and self disclosure. On their journey, they can all too easily fall into the mire of the infinite regress of excessive self analysis and deconstructions at the expense of focusing on the research participants and developing understanding (Finlay, 2002, p. 212).

It is my hope that this paper negotiates this terrain and comes ‘out the other side.’ To do this, it is important that it is noted that the central purpose of this paper is not to provide an extensive, all-encompassing answer to ‘how’ to deal with emotions in research. Rather, it is to provide a contribution to the discussion about the reality of research in particular reference to a particular topic (death) and fieldsite (a cemetery).

My own desire to be reflexive comes from my experience of the gap between training and the actual undertaking of empirical research. As an undergraduate and postgraduate student, I was fortunate enough to receive substantial training in research methods. Furthermore, in my time as a doctoral student I also had the opportunity to teach undergraduates about research methods. However, all this knowledge did not (and generally does not, according to Batchelor & Briggs, 1994) prepare me for the emotional and interactive nature of undertaking empirical research on my own in the cemetery and the emotional challenges it would present. This has been noted too by Rager (2005), who has as...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half Title
• Title
• Copyright
• Contents
• Citation Information
• Notes on Contributors
• Preface
• Introduction: researching death, dying and bereavement
• 1. Reflecting on death: The emotionality of the research encounter
• 2. “Doing death”: Reflecting on the researcher’s subjectivity and emotions
• 3. Trans-Atlantic death methods: disciplinarity shared and challenged by a common language
• 4. Interpreting ‘grief’ in Senegal: language, emotions and cross-cultural translation in a francophone African context
• 5. Images of fatal violence: negotiating the dark heart of death research
• 6. Auto/biographical approaches to researching death and bereavement: connections, continuums, contrasts
• 7. Negotiating post-research encounters: reflections on learning of participant deaths following a qualitative study
• Index