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PUTTING DANGER IN THE FRAME
Geraldine Lee-Treweek and Stephanie Linkogle
Introduction
The role of this chapter is to present a framework for conceptualising the dangers which qualitative researchers must negotiate in their work. The framework identifies four key areas of danger: physical, emotional, ethical and professional. These are illustrated in the chapters that follow. This scheme of dangers can be seen to have an ideal-type quality, as it simplifies and separates out experiences of serious danger. It is important to note that, although, for ease of discussion, we deal in this chapter with each form of danger in a distinct manner, in the contributions the interconnectedness of research risks is highlighted. We seek to demonstrate the robustness of this framework as a device for categorising the experience of danger and risk in research. As this is a possibility within all research settings, our discussion is of pertinence to all qualitative social science researchers. The chapter intends to turn the spotlight on both the conspicuous and the hidden dangers of research and to initiate debate about how researchers can plan for, mitigate and cope with a range of dangers within the field.
We argue that, traditionally, danger for the social researcher has been narrowly understood as immediate physical threat. Whilst it is important to acknowledge this dimension, we attempt here to expand the notion of danger to encompass other forms of risk. Consider this simple example: two researchers are carrying out research involving participant observation, one into white-water rafting and another into the work of nurses in hospital accident and emergency departments. White-water rafting may appear to be more dangerous as the researcher has to engage in a physically challenging pursuit in which injury might occur. The researcher, or those who are in receipt of funding and employ him or her, would possibly assess the dangers of data collection and (perhaps) try to mitigate risk by making decisions about safety equipment and training. In comparison, the risks of the hospital study may seem tame, as although the consideration of ethical issues around protecting participants will almost certainly have played a major role in preparations for the research, a hospital setting does not seem as risky to the researcher as the potentially physically dangerous pursuit of rafting.
On closer investigation, however, the hospital is revealed as the site of different types of physical danger to our example of rafting. Staff working in accident and emergency departments increasingly find themselves the target of physical assault; in the same way the researcher, observing and participating in this setting, may also be placing themselves in physical jeopardy. Accidental exposure to disease, contaminating body fluids or needle-point injuries are other potential sources of physical danger a researcher may encounter in this setting. There are also emotional and ethical stresses which may arise from studying hospital work. For instance, the researcher may witness fatally injured patients at the hospital, which could induce severe emotional distress, either at the research site or perhaps later at home. The threats involved in studying hospital work are less likely to have been anticipated because of the way we conventionally divide up research settings in terms of safety and danger. But the consequences of such dangers are no less real than those faced by the researcher observing rafting. Furthermore, the emotional aspect of this setting may have insidious long-term effects of a psychological nature.
We argue that risk and danger are often concealed aspects of social research. This book aims to address these lacunae. Throughout the text, a focus is placed on reflexive experience to highlight the ways in which the authors managed danger as an aspect of their work.
Social research in ârisk societyâ
Ulrich Beck (1992) argues that attempts to minimise and measure risk have become defining features of contemporary societies.1 This concern has arisen out of the emergence of new risks, which are the by-products of the information age and an enhanced capacity to estimate and contain previous threats, such as certain types of disease (Beck 1992; Beck et al. 1994). However, although there is a shift towards controlling threat in general society, the workplace and the home, in an unequal society some individuals and social groups have more access to knowledge about risk, and greater agency to limit their exposure to it, than do other groups. We would add that there are also issues arising out of risk management for academics and researchers, for instance we often study the risks to society, from ill health or crime, etc., yet we rarely consider the dangers involved in carrying out research.
Social science researchers are oddly placed within risk society. Public and private sector institutions are held responsible for performing relevant risk assessments for the constituencies they serve and society at large. For instance, in most countries, employers are under an obligation to protect the health and safety of their workers by taking appropriate steps to identify and minimise workplace hazards. Ultimately, however, the benefits of minimising risk are weighed up in relation to the financial costs of compensation. The social researcher, whilst covered on campus or in the research centre by risk assessments carried out on the safety of offices and corridors, workstations and electrical goods, etc., are not in the same situation outside of them. Although employers still have obligations towards employees who are on business outside the workplace, assessing risk becomes more difficult and, to some extent, researchers themselves are expected to make choices about the risks they face. Social research involves us entering other peopleâs workplaces, homes and communities and we are often unaware of the threats of the field until we have been there for some time. Moreover, the traditional view of research as an individual vocation and craft has meant that the occupational risks of doing research have not been recognised. Even though many, if not most, social researchers are linked to academic institutions, either as employees or as students, the risks they take are frequently seen as exclusively their own. In fact research âexcellenceâ is traditionally bound up with the notion of a researcher striking out and breaking new ground. In this formulation, the researcher must take risks to expand the parameters of social science knowledge and to do so implies a strategic choice.
Therefore, we posit that all qualitative research is to some extent potentially dangerous. In highlighting the need for researchers to be more aware of the risks they are taking and for greater responsibility on the part of relevant institutions, we are not, however, arguing that such risk is intrinsically negative. The nature of qualitative inquiry means that researchers encounter the unexpected and threatening as part of their attempt to understand the world of participants. Quite often such experience provides insight as it is a normal part of the range of threats experienced by participants themselves. It would not be realistic to remove all threat involved in social researching. This does not obviate the need to prepare for the potential risks one might encounter in the field.
Physical danger
Physical danger has featured in research accounts from early anthropological literature through to the Chicago School and modern urban ethnographies (Fielding 1981). One might argue that Chicago School sociology was built upon the elevation of the endurance of physical danger. Fieldworkers studied aspects of everyday life in the city, often focusing upon street life, male work cultures and gangs (Anderson 1923; Wirth 1928; Whyte 1955; Becker 1966, 1970). It is not surprising that such accounts are popular, they provide vivid and alluring descriptions of risky researcher/participant encounters and of aspects of social life with which the majority of people have little contact. This type of research (quite literally) provides us with a view of another world with different rules, values and experiences of risk. Moreover, the researcherâs account of narrow escapes and nerve in the face of danger have often been taken to indicate commitment to the pursuit of knowledge. For example, Jamesâs (1973) study of Glasgow street gangs can be interpreted as a demonstration of how a researcherâs toughness in the face of adversity served as a passport into the world of male subcultures. The danger James encounters is a gripping feature of his description of life in the field.
Research on communities under threat, for example in high crime areas, war zones and in situations where torture and political repression occur, also presents obvious and immediate dangers to researchers. For instance, anthropologist Myrna Mack Chang, one of the first researchers to study and document the appalling situation of internally displaced people in Guatemala, was brutally murdered by individuals with strong connections to the Guatemalan military (MenchĂș 1998). In such cases the consideration of the consequences of physical threat is of paramount importance to staying alive in the field. However, the practical day-to-day work of researching within less politically charged settings can also be physically dangerous. In this volume, for instance, Westmarland and Calvey discuss the study of physically dangerous occupations: police work and night-club door work respectively. To groups engaged in illegal activities, social research may be perceived as a threat and consequently group members may act in violent ways to protect themselves from exposure and punishment. At the same time, the researcher may be at risk from others, such as law enforcement or rival dangerous groups (Williams et al. 1992).
One may also be at personal risk when carrying out mundane research-related duties, such as travelling on foot to peopleâs homes to carry out interviews. This type of risk is often low priority when planning research yet many researchers face it whilst carrying out projects. There are other types of physical danger which do not involve violence or the threat of violence, but do carry the potential of physical harm. For example, contributor Gloria Lankshear came into contact with highly dangerous biological material whilst conducting research in a hospital. She notes that workers at the research site were warned of the dangers and protected via inoculation, whereas she was only offered protection halfway through her observation. Researchers who carry out fieldwork in developing countries, where there is little provision of hygienic drinking water and infectious disease is common, may risk serious adverse health consequences. For instance, as described in this collection, Linkogle suffered a number of debilitating health problems whilst conducting research in Nicaragua. These problems ranged from contracting intestinal parasites to having an adverse reaction to anti-malaria medication. The threat of disease in the field is more usually, and more easily, associated with researching other cultures, but Lankshearâs chapter illustrates the need for the issue of protection of health to include potential risk in our own societies.
In seeking to expand the concept of physical danger within the research process it is clear that experiences of risk or actual danger are not evenly distributed. We need to consider the gender dynamics of physical threat. Although it is possible for both male and female researchers to experience physical risk, gender often shapes the forms such dangers take, as well as the ways in which researchers are able to counter these threats. In this book, both Louise Westmarland and David Calvey reflect on their different experiences of physical danger whilst conducting research on exclusive, maledominated occupational settings. In part, these differences arise from the nature of the masculinised setting under study; masculinity is exhibited in different ways in the police force and the occupation of night-club door work. However, Westmarland and Calveyâs respective genders also had a significant impact on how they were able to navigate their research terrain. Although not directly discussed within this text, women researchers may also face the threat of sexual harassment and assault (Warren 1988). In this volume, Jeff Peterson notes that prevailing constructions of masculinity and femininity meant that when he was threatened with a knife in the Mexican village in which he lived and was conducting fieldwork he received an unexpected response from villagers. His encounter was laughed off and it was assumed that as a man he would possess the skills and the courage to defend himself. At the same time increased security measures were recommended for his wife, who was his co-researcher and who, as a woman, was seen to be far more vulnerable if attacked. It is evident that a lack of awareness of gender systems in the field they are entering can be hazardous to researchers when their norms and expectations of gender are not shared by their participants.
We argue that certain dangers have traditionally been hidden within research accounts. Reflexive accounts are important in drawing out and making explicit the dangerous character of research. Furthermore, we maintain that physical danger has itself been characterised too narrowly. More mundane experiences of danger may not be as immediately compelling as the image of the intrepid researcher facing imminent physical violence. However, they constitute a significant and under-explored area of danger for researchers. Physical dangers often cannot be removed from research sites and we are not suggesting that the researcherâs response to them should necessarily be to abandon their research. The risk of physical threat is often shared by participants and researchers alike. Understanding these situated threats can provide a greater appreciation of participantsâ lives and experiences. However, the safety and well-being of the researcher should always be placed as equal to protecting participants when planning research.
Emotional danger
Serious threats to a researcherâs emotional stability and sense of self are often involved when undertaking qualitative research with participants undergoing stressful life events. We would like to invite you to think about the possible emotional implications of this recent job advertisement for a qualitative researcher. One section of the advertisement has been included below but it is paraphrased to conceal the identity of the institution and study. The research project was to involve in-depth interviews with terminally ill patients and their carers:
The researcher will have daily interaction with patients who are dying and their kin, thus awareness of the issues these groups may experience and the capability to cope with this kind of setting are essential. When required, support will be available.
This example provides an illustration of research work which would involve obvious emotional stress to the individual researcher. The work would entail gathering potentially distressing data on the experience of serious illness and could require the researcher witnessing participants in states of pain, fear or anxiety. Relationships with the research participants may sometimes demand emotional support work which could threaten the researcherâs own mental well-being. In this case the possibility of damage to the researcher, through handling and managing threatening emotions, can be quite easily identified.
It is not necessary to carry out research with the dying to experience feelings of emotional threat in the field. Qualitative researchers experience a myriad of feelings ranging from extreme fear and anxiety to warmth and joy. This collection is, in part, concerned with the ways that negative emotions can affect the researcherâs sense of self and, in the long run, the quality of their research. We define emotional danger as the experience of severe threat due to negative âfeeling statesâ induced by the research process. Therefore, we are not talking about just feeling uncomfortable but real distress which can spill over into other areas of the researcherâs life, such as their family and personal relationships or connections with colleagues at work. Emotional danger is a complex subject because research settings may produce diverse emotions in researchers and participants. Indeed, individual life experience always mediates how one responds to a setting. This point is clearly illustrated in this collection by Letherbyâs discussion of autobiographical research and Lankshearâs chapter on the different dangers in a pathology laboratory and hospital maternity suite. Lankshear expresses her surprise at the way carrying out research in a maternity suite led her to recall, and question, her own experiences of childbirth and motherhood. This chapter highlights the way research often affects the everyday and taken-for-granted meanings of our lives, causing us to examine our assumptions and seek new interpretations of events.
The emotional side of social life was, until recently, perceived to be outside the remit of social research. In parallel, traditional research methodologies have generally excluded the emotions of the researcher from the research process (Kleinman and Copp 1993: 23). The inclusion of emotion was considered to be unacceptable and at odds with the construction of social science as akin to the natural sciences. Within the normative model of research, investigation and discovery were only possible if untainted by feeling states and other intangible aspects of human experience. Later, with the development of symbolic interactionism and ethnographic methods of inquiry, emotions were still often absent from discussion with perhaps only a passing mention of them within the reflexive sections, which were clearly differentiated from the main body of the text.
In many ways the inclusion of feelings in early qualitative studies was deemed useful only as part of the proof that one had actually been in the setting and carried out the research. For instance, early Chicago School sociologists, such as Anderson (1923), Wirth (1928) and Zorbaugh (1929), and the second wave of Chicago interactionists (sometimes termed the neo-Chicagoans), such as W. F. Whyte (1955) and Becker (1963), produced works which contain data of an emotional nature. To research and create their ethnographies these researchers must have been embroiled in emotional relationships and gathered emotional data in the field. However, this aspect of the fieldwork is not overtly discussed and is made invisible through the selective and exclusionary processes of writing. How fascinating it would be if we could call up the accounts of emotional effort and skill which these ethnographic texts represent. Perhaps then we could gain an understanding of how these experiences are transformed into meaning for the researcher. Without such accounts, we are left to assume that there is an imperceptible shift from the researcherâs experience of emotion during research, to its contribution to understanding. This kind of writing has helped create the mystique of ethnographic methods, concealing the components of undertaking such research and minimising its emotional and self-engaging aspects.
From the avoidance of the emotional, much contemporary qualitative sociology can now be said to have become overtly âemotionally awareâ. This manifests itself in two ways. First, researchers are far more aware of the emotions of participants. According to the British Sociological Associationâs Statement of Ethical Practice (1992: 704), one of the researcherâs key priorities is to prevent the distress of participants. Homan (1991) has noted that the model for statements of ethical practice, which are now part of organisations like the British and American Sociological Associations, were developed from medical and scientific ones. Within these models the participant was given primacy in terms of protection from negative consequences and this is reflected in statements developed by the social sciences such as: âmembers should consider carefully the possibility that the research experience may be a disturbing one and, normally, should attempt to minimise disturbance to those participant in researchâ (British Sociological Association 1992: 705). The statement adds that this might include threat to participants from having to face self-knowledge or being made to dwell on distressing aspects of social life that they would normally avoid. Although the guidelines are not rules and cannot legislate for all experiences, they advise caution, planning and forethought by the researcher on the possible consequences of research. One of the difficulties faced by social researchers is that consequences can be difficult to predict and the definition of what is distressing differs from perso...
