1
Contents
P refa ce xiii
CHAPTER 1 What Is Social Research?
Some Practical and Theoretical Concerns 1
What Is Social Research? 1
Why Do Research? 3
Developing a Sociological Imagination 4
The Research Process: Moving Between Theory and Data 5
Positivism: Traditional Approaches to Social Research 10
Challenges to Traditional Ways of Doing Social Science 11
“You Are Here”: Locating the Self in Social Research 12
Naturalism 13
Social Constructionist and Interpretive Approaches 15
Feminist and Other Critical Approaches 17
Critical Social Research 17
Feminist Research 18
Postmodernism 20
Making Claims About Paradigms 22
Questions for Thought 22
Exercises 22
Suggestions for Further Reading 23
CHAPTER 2 Strategies for Beginning Research 25
Getting Started: Where to Begin? 25
Generating Ideas 26
V
vi Contents
Deciding What to Research 28
How Do You Turn a Topic into a Question? 29
Is the Topic Interesting? 30
Whose Perspective Should You Take? 30
Is the Research Feasible? 31
Is the Research Worth Doing? 32
Developing a Research Strategy 33
Different Traditions, Different Starting Points 33
Types of Research Strategies 35
Reading the Literature 37
Evaluating Web Sites 38
The Research Process in Review 39
Question for Thought 40
Exercises 4 1
Suggestions for Further Reading 41
CHAPTER 3 Ethical Issues 43
Sleeping Well at Night: A Practical Ethics 44
Ethical Codes 44
Confidentiality and Informed Consent 45
Controversies in Social Research 46
Milgram’s “Obedience" Study 46
Humphreys’"Tearoom" Study 47
Feminist Approaches to Research Ethics 48
Institutional Review Boards 49
Ethical Concerns in Qualitative Research 50
Some Problems of Confidentiality and Intimacy 50
Some Problems of Informed Consent 51
Overt Versus Covert Observation 52
Practical Concerns in Protecting Privacy 53
Talking About Ethical Issues 55
Questions for Thought 55
Exercises 56
Suggestions for Further Reading 56
CHAPTER 4 Observation: Participant and Otherwise 57
Ethnography 58
Participating and Observing 60
The Self as Instrument 61
Contents V ll
Thinking About Settings and Selecting a Site 62
Is This an Appropriate Place to Study
What You Want to Study? 63
What Are the Boundaries ofThis Site? 63
Who Are You in Relation to This Site? 64
How Can You Gain Access to This Site? 65
What Kinds of Ethical Dilemmas Might Arise in This Site? 67
What Kinds of Risks Are Inherent in This Setting? 68
Getting In and Gaining Access 68
Developing Relationships 69
Cultivating Informants 70
Developing a Cover Story 70
Becoming Imnsible 71
Dealing with Emotions 72
Writing Field Notes 72
Developing Observational Skills 72
When to Write? 73
What to Write? 74
How to Write? 77
Leaving the Field 78
Focusing Your Observations 79
Making Meaning 79
Coming to See Multiple Realities 80
Questions for Thought 80
Exercises 81
Suggestions for Further Reading 82
CHAPTER 5 Interviews 83
Interviewing as a Relationship 84
Types of Interviews 85
Structured Interviews 85
Semistructured Interviews 87
Unstructured Interviews 89
Closeness and Distance in Interview Situations 90
Preparing for the Interview 92
Deciding Whom to Interview 93
Preparing an Interview Guide 94
Deciding What Kinds of Questions to Ask 95
Structuring and Ordering Questions 96
Making Questions Open-Ended 98
Pretesting Your Interview Guide 100
viii Contents
Before the Interview 100
Establishing a Location 101
Constructing a Face Sheet 101
Deciding What to Bring 101
DressingAppropriately 102
During the Interview 102
Warming Up 103
Keeping the Conversation Rolling 103
Thinking on Your Feet: Follow-Ups and Probes 104
Speaking and Keeping Quiet 104
Communicating Nonverbally 105
Keeping on Track 105
Taping and Taking Notes 106
After the Interview 107
Writing Field Notes 107
Transcribing and Making Sense 107
Group Interviews 108
The Role of the Focus Group 108
The Role ofModerator 110
Ethical Issues in Conducting Focus Groups 111
Recording the Focus Group 111
Making Meaning 112
Questions for Thought 112
Exercises 112
Suggestions for Further Reading 113
CHAPTER 6 Unobtrusive Measures:
Analyzing Texts and Material Artifacts 115
Physical Traces 116
Material Artifacts 117
Documents and Records 121
Public Records 121
Documents and Private Papers 122
Primary and Secondary Sources 123
Media Accounts 124
Electronic Texts 125
Historical Research 128
Doing Historical-Comparative Research 129
GainingAccess to Historical Materials 130
Contents IX
Evaluating Sources 131
Creating Meaning 132
Question for Thought 133
Exercises 133
Suggestions for Further Reading 134
CHAPTER 7 Action Research 135
The Purpose of Action Research 135
Varieties of Action Research 137
Participatory Action Research (PAR) 137
FeministAction Research 139
Evaluation Research 140
Research for Whom? 140
Empowerment 141
The Process of Action Research: Look, Think, Act 142
Look: Identifying Stakeholders and Formulating
a Collective Problem 142
Think: Exploring the Problem 145
Act: Defining an Agenda forAction 145
Sharing the Results 146
Some Problems and Opportunities in Action Research 146
Sharing Power 147
Leading Groups 148
Acting Ethically 148
Questions for Thought 149
Exercises 149
Suggestions for Further Reading 149
CHAPTER 8 Making Sense of Data 151
Making Meaning Out of Qualitative Data 152
Managing Data 153
Separating Different Types ofData 153
Keeping Data in Chronological Order 154
Organizing by Topic or Document Type 154
Making a List or Logbook 155
Choosing Between Computer and Hard Copy 156
Keeping Multiple Copies 156
Getting Intimate with Your Data 157
X Contents
Coding 157
Open Coding 158
Development of Themes 159
Focused Coding 161
Maps and Diagrams 162
Memos 164
Procedural Memos 165
Analytic Memos 165
Asking Questions 166
Developing an Analysis 168
Lookingfor Patterns 168
Comparing Cases 168
Building Typologies 169
Getting Stuck and Unstuck 170
Content Analysis 171
Semiotic Analysis 172
Grounding the Analysis 173
Shortcomings in the Research 174
Negative Cases 174
The Null Hypothesis Trick 175
Triangulation 176
Computer-Assisted Data Analysis 176
Question for Thought 179
Exercises 179
Suggestions for Further Reading 180
CHAPTER 9 Narrative Analysis 181
What Is a Narrative? 182
The Structure of Stories 183
Other Structures of Stories 185
Structure, Story, and Social Context 187
A Focus on Structure 188
The Social Contexts of Stories 188
The Story Itself 190
Telling the Story in Other Ways 192
Some Practical Advice 192
Evaluating Narratives 195
Questions for Thought 196
Exercises 196
Suggestions for Further Reading 197
Contents xi
CHAPTER 10 Writing About Research 199
Writing as a Process 200
Sitting Down to Write: Just Do It 201
Beginning Writing 202
Jotting Notes 202
Finding Direction: Making a Writing Plan 203
Writing a First Draft 203
Revising and Editing 203
Proofreading 204
Audiences and Venues 205
Useful Ways to Structure Qualitative Research 207
Title and Abstract 207
Introduction 208
Literature Review 210
Sources of Data and Methodology 211
The Main Body: Findings 213
Summary and Conclusion 214
List ofReferences and Appendixes 214
Making Writing Vivid 215
Other Genres of Qualitative Research 216
Questionsfor Thought 217
Exercises 217
Suggestions for Further Reading 218
Appendix A: American Sociological Association Code of Ethics 221
Appendix B: Sample Informed Consent Form 235
References 237
Index 251
Preface
O v e r the past year, I've had more than a few conversations that begin
something like this: “What are you working on these days?” someone asks.
“A book/’I answer. “What’s it about?”they ask. “Qualitative research methods/’I
respond. “Oh.”End of conversation.
This book is aimed at those people who end the conversation there.
Those of us who are involved in qualitative research tend to find it
endlessly engaging. I like teaching qualitative research methods perhaps
more than any other subject. At the beginning of the semester, my students
usually don’t understand my attitude. They think I’m just a little
odd but tend to be tolerant of my peculiarities. At least I’m enthusiastic.
By the end of the semester, I usually have scored a few converts, who
decide that investigating the social world is one of the most interesting
things they could do.
This odd clash between my enthusiasm for the subject and students’
preconceived notions about methods classes has pushed me to
develop more creative strategies for teaching than I might otherwise
have done. This book, then, is the product of that mismatch. I wrote this
book because I was frustrated with the available texts on qualitative
methods. I wanted to provide a broad overview of qualitative methodologies,
including newer, more innovative approaches to textual analysis,
and I wanted to do so in a way that would provide a more theoretically
informed approach. Other texts focused exclusively on ethnography
and observation, took too much of a “cookbook” approach to methods,
or didn’t discuss the current debates over qualitative methodologies.
Much as I love to read cookbooks, I didn't want to write one. Still other
texts, including a number of excellent texts for graduate students and
professionals, tend to be written at too high a level for most undergraduate
students.
xiii
xiv Preface
This introductory text differs from others in that it takes a theoretically
informed approach to qualitative research methods. It begins with
a discussion of the debates surrounding positivism and encourages students
to consider the challenges that postmodern, feminist, and other
critical approaches have posed. Yet the text emphasizes practical skills
as well. Throughout, the text encourages students to become more
thoughtful observers of social life and encourages them to make informed
choices about methodological questions. I believe that students
are capable of making their own choices about methodological issues
and that they can (and do) become invested in these issues. My experience
is that students care about questions of representation, objectivity,
and subjectivity, and they are willing to tackle difficult subjects if they
anticipate a payoff.
This text is accessible to a broad range of students. Because most
students are not intrinsically motivated by the subject, I try to engage
them from the beginning using a variety of examples and approaches.
Despite their initial hesitation, most students come to enjoy qualitative
research methods because they get to do stuff. I teach methods using a
hands-on approach, and I have found that students enjoy going out into
the field and studying topics that interest them. In the book, I try to balance
theoretical concerns with more practical issues, and I offer many
vivid and concrete examples based on actual sociological research.
The text includes many examples of research, including excerpts
from field notes, and of coding and data analysis conducted by both students
and professional researchers. My aim is to show students a range of
examples to which they can legitimately aspire. Because research methods
are best learned through practice, the text includes a number of
exercises, including suggestions for student collaboration, at the end of
each chapter. Questions for thought encourage students to consider
where they stand on both the theoretical and practical issues involved in
conducting qualitative research, and suggestions for further reading provide
additional resources.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A number of people have helped make this book a much different—and
better—book than I could have managed on my own. Thanks, first, to
Serina Beauparlant, an extraordinary editor. Serina is a grueling taskmaster
and supportive friend. I’m thankful to have worked with her on this
book. Kazuyo Masuda and Sue Bergmeier generously read portions of
Preface xv
the manuscript and provided tactful comments. Several years ago I had
the opportunity to conduct collaborative research with Kazuyo Masuda
and Ken Erickson; I'm thankful for the use of their field notes, which
appear in this text. Heidi Elsinger, research assistant on the mothers
project, has been helpful in numerous ways.
A number of reviewers have provided helpful commentary. They
include Linda Grant, University of Georgia; Christy M. Ponticelli, University
of South Florida; Kathryn J. Fox, University of Vermont; Dan E.
Miller, University of Dayton; Jean H. Thoresen, Eastern Connecticut
State University; Phyllis L. Baker, University of Northern Iowa; Judith
K. Little, Humboldt State University; Cheryl Childers, Washburn University;
Lynn Schlesinger, Plattsburgh State University of New York;
Jane E. Prather, California State University, Northridge; Linda L. Shaw,
California State University, San Marcos; Kathleen Slobin, North Dakota
State University; Trudy A. Salsberry, Kansas State University; Amy L.
Best, San Jose State University; and John P. Bartkowski, Mississippi
State University.
In acknowledgment sections, authors often thank their families for
letting them slide on their share of the household work. Sue Bergmeier
and Katherine Ren Peng Bergmeier insisted that I be fully engaged and
present in our family life. My life and work are much richer because of it.
Finally, thanks to my students, at both the University of MissouriKansas
City and the University of Massachusetts at Lowell. My Kansas
City students generously served as “guinea pigs,” allowing me to initially
develop my ideas about teaching qualitative methodologies. My students
at Lowell continually push me to be a better teacher. I thank them all.
1
W hat Is Social Research?
Some Practical and Theoretical Concerns
WHAT IS SOCIAL RESEARCH?
What is social research? How does it differ from, say, journalism, or philosophy,
or fiction, or any other way of knowing about the world? How does
qualitative research, which this textbook focuses on, differ from quantitative
research? What do social researchers do?
Sociologists answer these questions in many ways. These answers often
reflect deep philosophical differences about the nature of social reality and
the ways in which one should study it. Sociologists who prefer quantitative
methodologies tend to argue that, unless researchers use something called
“the" scientific method and follow the same kinds of rules that natural scientists
(such as chemists) use, it isn’t really social science research. Other sociologists
believe that social science research is fundamentally different from
the natural sciences. They argue that social research is primarily a matter of
interpretation. In their eyes, the most important goal of social research is to
investigate and illuminate how humans construct social reality.
I argue in this book that there are many different ways to do social
research, with many different aims. What all these methods share is the goal
of learning something about the social world, however that world is construed.
While social scientists may disagree, sometimes heatedly, about the
nature of social reality and the best ways to study it, they all agree on the
importance of understanding the social world. Although I was trained in a
quantitative tradition, modeled after the natural sciences, I have come to
1
2 CHAPTER 1 What Is Social Research?
adopt an interpretive approach in my own research and writing. Yet I continue
to appreciate the diversity of approaches that social scientists take in
their work. In this text, I hope you will learn to make your own judgments
about the social world and the best methods for studying it.
This text focuses on qualitative methods for social research. Although
some have argued that the distinction between qualitative and quantitative
methods is an artificial one (Jayaratne and Stewart 1991), there are some
important differences. Most obviously, quantitative research involves enumerating
things—that is, using numbers to describe relatively large groups
of people. (This doesn’t mean that qualitative researchers never count or
use numbers; rather, it means that quantifying is not their main strategy.)
Quantitative researchers might be interested, for example, in studying the
effects of race and gender on people’s earnings or the statistically significant
differences between men’s and women’s earnings. But if there are only a
small number of cases, quantitative research is of little use. Quantitative
research is not particularly useful in revealing the meanings people ascribe
to particular events or activities; nor is it well suited to understanding complicated
social processes in context.
In contrast, qualitative research involves the scrutiny of social phenomena
(Gubrium and Holstein 1997, pp. 11-14). Sociologists Jaber Gubrium
and James Holstein argue that qualitative researchers look beyond ordinary,
everyday ways of seeing social life and try to understand it in novel ways.
Take, for example, the simple social act of talking on the telephone. When
you answer the phone, chances are you don’t think about the social rules for
telephone talking. You merely pick up the phone and say, “Hello.”You probably
don’t think about how you’ll know who is on the other end; you simply
expect the person to tell you. You might be frustrated if someone you
don’t know very well says, “It’s me,”and expects you to guess. A qualitative
researcher might be interested in exploring this phenomenon further. In
fact, sociologists who actually have done so have identified social rules for
talking on the telephone. There are rules for determining whose turn it is to
talk, for signaling that it’s the other person’s turn, and for determining how
long silences can last before people become uncomfortable. (You might
want to test this out the next time you’re on the phone: How long can you
remain silent before the other person speaks up?)
Instead of trying to extract abstract categories from social phenomena,
as quantitative scholars do, qualitative researchers try to understand social
processes in context. In addition, qualitative researchers pay attention to the
subjective nature of human life—not only the subjective experiences of
those they are studying but also the subjectivity of the researchers themselves.
In other words, qualitative researchers try to understand the mean­
Why Do Research? 3
ings of social events for those who are involved in them. They also try
to understand the researchers’ own perspectives: How do researchers’ own
points of view affect how they conduct their work?
Because qualitative research consists of words, many people, especially
beginning researchers, think that it is easier than quantitative research, especially
since there are no mathematical formulas to remember, no statistics to
puzzle over. But this isn't actually so. Qualitative research can actually be
more difficult, because it involves complex issues of interpretation. Gathering
data typically takes longer in qualitative research, and the researcher has
to develop his or her analytical skills and apply them to texts. Learning to
think sociologically in qualitative research involves not only developing a set
of discrete methodological skills (such as interviewing or doing participant
observation) but also learning how to move back and forth between theory
and evidence. It involves learning the art of interpretation. But moving from
people's everyday speech or activities to a sociological analysis is a very difficult
skill to learn.
Consider some of the difficulties. Let’s imagine that you have been observing
children on a playground for several months. You have visited several
times a week for an hour at a time, and you have tried to take accurate
and detailed notes about what you have seen. You have observed children
doing many things: playing hopscotch and soccer and four-square, chasing
one another, talking, arguing, yelling, crying. You have many pages of notes
that document, in detail, a slice of children’s playground life. How do you
then make sense of it all? How do you begin to identify larger social patterns?
How do you move from your notes and observations to a sociological
analysis? That’s what this book aims to help you with.
WHY DO RESEARCH?
People conduct research for many reasons. Some do it because it’s fun—
they enjoy the challenge of gathering data and trying to make sense of it.
Doing research is a process of exploration, a way of finding out things that
they’re interested in. Other people conduct research because they have to,
perhaps as part of their degree requirement or their work. Many people
have jobs that require some type of research skills. Social workers, for example,
may need to do social research to find out if a particular program or policy
is effective. They might want to know if welfare-to-work initiatives that
aim to move poor women into the labor force actually work. Do they actually
help poor women move out of poverty? Others, like community organizers,
social policy makers, or teachers, may need to read reports compiled
4 CHAPTER 1 What Is Social Research?
by professional researchers. Teachers may need to know, for example, if
whole-language reading strategies work better than phonics for some children.
Even if they do not want to do the research themselves, they need to
know what others have found. They also need to know how to evaluate
research, rather than simply accept it at face value. If several studies suggest
that whole-language reading strategies work better and several others recommend
phonics-based approaches, the teachers need to know how to reconcile
what seem to be conflicting results.
Some researchers are motivated by a sense of social justice. They want
to right what they see as social wrongs, and they want to use social research
to aid in that effort. For example, Ronnie Steinberg has conducted research
on pay inequities in order to help close the gap between men’s and women’s
pay. She describes herself as a feminist social scientist who does advocacy
work on behalf of women (1996, p. 225). Others are motivated by a deep
curiosity about the social world. Although basic research, which is aimed at
creating knowledge for its own sake, may not have an immediate, practical
purpose, it helps us to understand social life. For example, sociologist Jack
Katz (1996) analyzed how families interacted in a Paris fun house in order
to understand the social construction of humor. Although this research may
not have an immediate application, knowing more about how people construct
humor may—or may not—ultimately have some practical use. Like
Katz, many social scientists conduct research because it’s a way of learning
about things that interest them.
DEVELOPING A SOCIOLOGICAL IMAGINATION
We shouldn’t think of social research methods as merely a set of cookbook
procedures for obtaining information. Whether qualitative or quantitative,
social research methods are intertwined with theoretical concerns. When
you try to understand the social world, you are developing what C. Wright
Mills (1959) called a sociological imagination: the ability to see individual
issues within a larger social context. Developing this sociological imagination
involves theorizing. Sometimes, students groan or their eyes glaze over
when I mention theory. People often think that theory is necessarily boring
or arcane and clearly not useful in the “real”social world. But the ability to
theorize is a highly useful skill. Life would be very confusing without the
ability to theorize. In fact, you theorize all the time—you just don’t think
about what you're doing in that way.
Any time you try to understand the world around you, you are theorizing.
You have theories for why your professors act the way they do and what
The Research Process: Moving Between Theory and Data
will happen if you turn in an assignment late. You have theories for why
some people get paid more than others and why some people go on to college
and others do not. You may not formally frame those kinds of explanations,
but they are theories nonetheless. What I mean by theory is not merely
the abstractions you might encounter in a social theory class. You may have
learned about Marx's theory of historical materialism or Durkheim’s theory
of social integration in your theory class. If so, you may have found the
language used by these theorists laborious, perhaps difficult to understand.
These are examples of theories that provide grand, overarching explanations
of social phenomena. Although these types of explanation are certainly
theory, they are not the only kind. Another way to think about theory is as a
story about some event or some piece of the social world. A theory helps
provide an explanation for a whole class of events. Some theories are highly
abstract and difficult to understand; others are not. If you think about theories
in this way, you can see that you use them all the time.
For example, let’s say your parents immigrated to the United States
before you were born. They have ways of doing things that they brought
from their home country and ways of doing things they learned here. Because
you were born in the United States, however, you feel clearly American.
Yet you also have strong ties to your ethnic community. Sometimes,
your parents seem too strict; other times, they seem just right. You probably
have developed theories about why they act the way they do. One way of
explaining your parents would be to theorize about why, individually, they
act the way they do. You might see your mother as very strict in comparison
with some of your friends’ mothers, and maybe that is simply part of her
personality. Or you might think about whether your family shares some
commonalities with other immigrant families. In that case, you might want
to theorize about how the experience of immigration affects family life. This
would be an attempt to explain a whole class of families.
THE RESEARCH PROCESS:
MOVING BETWEEN THEORY AND DATA
Before you can begin to conduct social research, you need to consider the
relationship between theories and the empirical world. The empirical world
is the world of the senses: the world you can see, hear, smell, touch, and (less
frequently considered in the social sciences) taste. Traditional social research
draws on the model of a natural scientist conducting research in a laboratory.
In this tradition, often called the “scientific method,”the main goal of
6 CHAPTER 1 What Is Social Research?
Stage 1
Develop the
A Stage 2
Operationalize
Develop testable Choose sample and
hypotheses ___ _ research design
Stage 3
Collect and analyze data
t
Stage 4
Disseminate results
FIGURE 1.1 A Deductive Approach to Research
social research is theory construction and, most importantly, theory testing.
Conventional social research uses deductive reasoning. That is, you begin
with a theory and then deduce logical extensions of it, called hypotheses,
that you can test.
The process of deductive reasoning is usually described as having several
stages. The first stage involves developing a theory, usually based on the
body of research that other scholars have already conducted. The second
stage involves operationalizing the theory—that is, putting it in a testable
form—by developing hypotheses and choosing a representative sample and
a research design. The third stage involves actually carrying out the research:
collecting data and conducting analyses. If the results of the test confirm the
hypotheses, then the theory is considered more plausible. If not, the theory
needs to be reconsidered and further research conducted. The final stage
involves writing the results up and disseminating them either in a journal or
book or in an oral presentation at a professional conference. Figure 1.1 summarizes
the deductive reasoning process.
For example, Phyllis Moen wanted to investigate what factors might
affect mothers’ well-being. One theory suggested that when mothers work
outside the home they experience role strain from being pulled in too many
conflicting directions, and thus report greater stress (stage 1). Moen decided
to test this hypothesis by measuring psychological distress among a sample
of Swedish parents (stage 2). She found that the mothers reported much
The Research Process: Moving Between Theory and Data 7
less distress in 1981 than they had in earlier periods, even though they were
more likely to work outside the home in the later time period. Thus, she
concluded that role strain isn’t useful in understanding the effect of
women’s paid employment on their well-being (stage 3). She published this
research in her 1989 book Working Parents (stage 4).
In qualitative research, investigators typically are less concerned with
this kind of theory testing. Qualitative research often uses inductive reasoning
That is, rather than beginning with a particular theory and then looking
at the empirical world to see if the theory is supported by “facts,”you begin
by examining the social world and, in that process, develop a theory consistent
with what you are seeing. This approach, illustrated in Figure 1.2, is
often called a “grounded approach” (Strauss and Corbin 1990).
For example, Susan Walzer (1998) also was interested in studying mothers’
well-being, but in a very different way. She wanted to understand the
process by which women and men become mothers and fathers—that is,
how couples negotiate transitions to parenthood. Instead of beginning with
a theory to test, however, she selected a sample of 50 new parents to interview
in depth. As she analyzed the interviews, she realized that the experiences
of the women seemed similar, as did the men's experiences. Based
on her observations, she began to think about the different cultural meanings
of parenthood for men and for women. The theories she developed to
try to explain this gender differentiation arose from the empirical evidence
she gathered.
8 CHAPTER 1 What Is Social Research?
There is a long history of grounded research within sociology. In the
1920s and for decades after, the University of Chicago served as a center of
qualitative field research. Sociologists there saw the urban setting as a “social
laboratory” for social scientists and social reformers (Park 1967). The Chicago
School, as it was called, trained students to go out into the world and
study the people and settings they encountered. Researchers trained in the
Chicago School investigated, among other topics, Italian Americans living in
an urban slum (Gans 1962), medical students (Becker, Geer, Hughes, and
Strauss 1961), and marijuana smokers (Becker 1963). These scholars were
encouraged to see how their empirical research could be “integrated with”
social theory (Shaffir and Stebbins 1991, p. 9). At the same time, prominent
anthropologists like Margaret Mead, Franz Boas, and Bronislaw Malinowski
were developing procedures for fieldwork within the field of anthropology.
This kind of research—intensively studying a specific social group by
observing the group in its natural setting—is known as ethnography and
sometimes as participant observation. Researchers who do this work are
called ethnographers.
Women scholars were active in the early years of Chicago School sociology—and
even earlier. Harriet Martineau, for example, was one of the
founders of sociology (one whose role has been little discussed until
recently). Her book Society in America, published in 1837, is considered by
some to be one of the earliest examples of ethnographic research (Deegan
1991; Reinharz 1992). Later, in the period 1890-1920, a number of women
scholars such as Jane Addams, Edith Abbott, and Sophonisba Breckenridge
actively engaged in qualitative research. These women, many of whom were
involved in applying the tools of sociology to the pressing problems of the
day, had an impact on the development of sociology within the United
States. In fact, Mary Jo Deegan, who has studied extensively the role of
women in the history of sociology, argues that women scholars in the settlement
movement both predated and actively shaped the contours of the
more famous male scholars of the Chicago School (Deegan 1991).*
Sometimes, researchers move back and forth between inductive and
deductive reasoning. Another way to think about the research process is
as an ongoing dialogue between theoretical concerns and empirical evi*The
settlement houses, established during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries,
were centers of moral reform and progressive activism. Women involved with the settlement
house movement were involved in a number of activities aimed at social improvement, including
work on labor legislation (such as that establishing the 8-hour workday for women and
children), housing, and public health and sanitation. The most famous was Hull-House in
Chicago, established by Jane Addams in 1889. At Hull-House, women activists and scholars
lived and supported each other. Some of the most important early women sociologists were
associated with Hull-House and the settlement movement (Deegan 1991).
The Research Process: Moving Between Theory and Data 9
dence. If theories are stories about the way the world (or some portion of it)
works, then they are always in a state of revision, and there are always other,
alternative stories that could be told. In this sense, we are never really done
theorizing, and we can rarely reject theories out of hand. Instead, we need
to think about the multiple stories that might be told. At the same time, the
process of telling stories alerts us to different features of the social world.
Michael Burawoy describes a process he calls “theory reconstruction”
(Burawoy et al. 1991). He argues that one of the goals of research is to extend
and improve existing theories based on an awareness of features of the
empirical world that aren’t explainable by current theories. When we do
research we find things that, based on our theories, we didn’t expect to find.
But instead of interpreting these puzzles as a failure of the theories (and a
need to reject them), he argues, we should use these “failures” to improve
our theories.
Whatever you think about the relationship between theory and data,
social research still entails some kind of movement between theoretical and
empirical concerns. Different ways of thinking about the research process
involve different paradigms, or worldviews. Rather than have your worldview
remain implicit, or understood, it is much better to make it explicit.
The choices researchers make about paradigms shape the research strategies
they think they should use. These are partisan choices, and they reflect the
training, sensibilities, and beliefs of researchers. That's why, as researchers,
you need to think reflexively—that is, to think about who you are and what
your beliefs about the social world are—in order to make these decisions.
As basic worldviews, paradigms represent beliefs about the nature of
reality and the ways in which we create knowledge. Scientific paradigms
attempt to answer a number of questions about social research:
♦ What is the purpose of social research?
♦ Should social research aim to improve the social world or merely
comment on it?
♦ What is the nature of social reality?
♦ Is there an objectively “knowable”world out there, or is all knowledge
subjective?
♦ What constitutes a good explanation or theory?
♦ How does one evaluate any particular theory?
Paradigms are not provable. That is, you cannot prove that one paradigm is
essentially better than another. They are, essentially, matters of faith. But
10 CHAPTER 1 What Is Social Research?
paradigms shape the methodological choices you make and the relationships
you see between theory and data.
In this chapter, I’ll discuss five different research traditions. The first
one, called positivism, has been the dominant tradition in sociology since
World War II, especially in quantitative research. A number of new traditions,
in addition to the earlier tradition of field research developed by the
Chicago School, have developed in opposition to this way of doing research.
I’ll discuss four alternatives: naturalism, social constructionism, feminism
and critical approaches, and postmodernism. What’s most important is not
that you remember the labels, but that you see how they point you toward
different directions in your research.
POSITIVISM: TRADITIONAL APPROACHES
TO SOCIAL RESEARCH
Traditional approaches to social research are based on a paradigm known as
positivism. In this tradition, the goal of social research is to discover a set of
causal laws that can be used to predict general patterns of human behavior.
Prediction is closely related to social control. If you can predict people’s
behavior, then you can also find ways to control it. Early positivists like
Auguste Comte believed that sociology could become a “positive”science of
society. By discovering the laws that governed social behavior, sociologists
could develop policies that would improve, or even perfect, society.
The paradigm of positivism assumes that the social world is inherently
knowable and that we can all agree on the nature of social reality. The social
world thus has a regular order that social scientists can discover. Knowledge
is created by deductive logic: finding ways to operationalize and then test
social theories. Explanations in the form of causal reasoning are taken as
“true" when they have no logical contradictions and are consistent with observed
facts (empirical evidence). In this tradition, there is a sharp break between
scientific ways of knowing and other ways of knowing (such as religion,
intuition, or magic).
For example, suppose you have a theory that groups of oppressed people
will protest when social conditions are at their worst. You go out and
measure the social conditions (such as unfair laws, a lack of jobs and housing,
and high arrest rates) of different groups of people. And you have good
measures of protests—riots, demonstrations, and the like. What you find is
that people seem to protest most not when social conditions are at rock bottom,
as your theory predicted, but when things are improving. In this case,
the empirical evidence (the measures of protests and social conditions) log­
Challenges to Traditional Ways of Doing Social Science 11
ically contradicts your theory. In the positivist tradition, you would have to
reject your theory and come up with a new one. (This is, in fact, what many
social researchers did.)
Social scientists who work within this tradition argue that social research
must be value-free and objective. Social researchers must somehow
free themselves from the social and cultural values that govern other kinds
of human activity. They must transcend personal biases, prejudices, and values
and remain neutral toward their object of study.
CHALLENGES TO TRADITIONAL WAYS
OF DOING SOCIAL SCIENCE
There have been many challenges to the positivist tradition, on many
grounds. For one thing, studying humans is different from studying other
aspects of the natural world because human behavior isn’t mechanistic. Humans
have the capacity to reflect on their actions. In fact, when you study
people, chances are they’re going to change their behavior—even subtly—
just because you are focusing on them. Molecules or atoms and other
aspects of the physical world don’t, by and large, do this. And unlike many
features of the physical world, human behavior is very context sensitive.
Thus, if you bring people into an experimental laboratory to study them,
their behavior will be different from what it would be if you observe them
in their homes or workplaces or other natural settings.
In addition, human reality is multifaceted. Humans can express themselves
through art and literature and other forms of self-expression in addition
to more goal-directed forms of behavior. Thus, some social scientists
argue, it doesn't make sense to study humans using the same methodologies
that physicists or chemists might.
Furthermore, in social research, humans are the researchers as well as
the objects of study, which means that pure objectivity is impossible. We
have a vested interest in what we study. As Dorothy Smith argues, “In the
social sciences the pursuit of objectivity makes it possible for people to be
paid to pursue a knowledge to which they are otherwise indifferent”
(1987, p. 88). We are not indifferent to what we study! In fact, if we look
at the ways in which social researchers have developed their theories and
framed their research projects, we can see that these reflect the interests
and priorities of the researchers. And because most researchers and theorists
have come from the upper social classes, it’s no surprise that much
social research reflects the views of those people who have more power in
society.
12 CHAPTER 1 What Is Social Research?
Theorists like Nancy Hartsock (1987), Sandra Harding (1986), and
Patricia Hill Collins (1990) have argued that, if researchers begin their
investigation from the perspective of dispossessed groups, they will end up
with a very different perspective than if they begin from the perspective of
the wealthy and powerful. So, for example, if you begin from the standpoint
of poor women, you probably wouldn’t develop theories of welfare rooted
in the assumption that poor women are “lazy” or don’t want to work.
Rather, you probably would begin with an entirely different understanding
of the problem of welfare. For example, you might begin by looking at the
realities of poor women's lives, such as the low wages available or the difficulty
in gaining decent child care or health care.
Challengers to traditional ways of doing social science argue that all
knowledge is created within human interaction. Who we are shapes the
kinds of theories we create and the kinds of explanations we offer. Instead of
assuming that objectivity is possible, then, we need to be reflexive: We need
to develop an understanding of how our positions shape the research topics
we choose and the methods we use to study the social world. Literally, what
we see is shaped by who we are. Laura Ellingson (1998) discusses these issues
in her research on cancer survivors. A survivor of bone cancer herself,
she argues that her experiences gave her crucial insights into the worlds of
cancer survivors and clinic staff. Not only did she have a more thorough
“technical understanding” of the clinical setting than other researchers who
did not share her background, she also had an increased empathy for the
patients she was studying. “Although no one can fully understand another’s
experience,” she argues, “I come closer to putting myself in the place of
another than one who has never known life threatening illness” (1998,
p. 497). Because of her experiences, the research process itself was not without
pain. For example, when she observed a patient ask her clinician about
an endoscopy, she experienced nausea and gagged, remembering her own
endoscopy years earlier. The way in which Ellingson wrote up her research
reflects her position. She interspersed her report with memories of her own
cancer treatment.
“YOU ARE HERE”: LOCATING THE SELF
IN SOCIAL RESEARCH
“You are here.”Have you ever seen a map at, say, a mall or a tourist attraction,
that labels where you are in relation to other places of interest? Study­
Naturalism 13
ing these maps, you can figure out where you are and how to get to where
you want to go. You need to do something similar in social research. Before
you begin your research project, you have to consider where you stand on a
number of important issues:
♦ What are your own biases and preconceptions?
> What are your own investments in particular issues and in particular
ways of seeing the world?
What do you already think you know, and how do you know it?
Instead of thinking of yourself as a neutral, disinterested observer, think
about the connections that you bring to what you plan to study. We’ll consider
four research traditions that encourage you to ask these kinds of questions:
naturalism, social constructionism, feminist and critical approaches,
and postmodernism.
NATURALISM
One of the most influential approaches in qualitative research, especially as
conducted by many anthropologists and other field researchers, has been
naturalism. The goal of naturalistic forms of inquiry is to present the lives
and perspectives of those being studied as faithfully as possible. Naturalistic
research is often conducted in a particular geographic place (Gubrium and
Holstein 1997). One of the best-known examples of this is Tally's Comer, a
study of urban Black men whose lives centered around a particular street
corner (Liebow 1967). Elliot Liebow wanted to understand the social lives
of these men on their own terms. So, rather than begin with a concept like
“delinquency,”Liebow began by hanging out with the men to understand, as
best he could, their experience.
The classic naturalist image is that of the field researcher who goes out
into distant social worlds (either literally or figuratively) to study the people
within them. In naturalistic inquiry, the researcher attempts to observe as
carefully and accurately as possible and to present the stories of those being
studied in their own voices. As Norman Denzin notes, this research is
grounded in the "behaviors, languages, definitions, attitudes, and feelings of
those studied” (1989, p. 71). To accomplish this, the researcher has to
develop close, personal, and empathic relationships with those being studied;
she or he has to become fully engaged with their world.
14 CHAPTER 1 What Is Social Research?
Although there are a few similarities between naturalistic and positivist
research (the assumption, for example, that there is a “real world”out there
that the researcher can document), there are many more differences. In naturalistic
inquiry, the goal is not to abstract a few concepts and to determine
the causal relationships among them, but to understand the social world of
those being studied. The social context is crucial in naturalistic research.
Typically, naturalistic researchers immerse themselves in their held settings,
often living among those being studied for long periods of time. Rather than
relying on impersonal methods (such as surveys or questionnaires), naturalistic
observers rely on their own powers of observation or on in-depth personal
interviews to collect data.
Although naturalism remains an important method within qualitative
research, it is being supplanted by other paradigms. Critics have identified
several problems with naturalism (Denzin and Lincoln 1998). For one
thing, this tradition assumes that researchers can accurately portray the concerns
and issues of those being studied. But the way in which they produce
their social research privileges the researchers’ accounts. Once they have
collected their data, they still must present the final story. Because researchers
have the final say, as it were, their account carries more weight
than the accounts of those being researched. Researchers get to choose what
to present and what to leave out and how to portray those being studied.
The people who have been made the objects of study might disagree with
the conclusions, but because they are not writing the final report, their disagreements
may not be aired.
Critics also argue that it is impossible for naturalistic researchers to
produce objective accounts. Rather, naturalistic reports are always filtered
through researchers’ perspectives. Also, when observing, researchers cannot
attend to everything at once. For example, try to observe and write down
everything that is going on in a classroom for just 10 or 15 minutes. You
probably will not be able to see or hear everything or to understand all of
what you see, and you certainly cannot write down everything. Therefore,
you have to pick and choose among what you think is important. So it is
with naturalistic research. The naturalistic observer selects what she or he
thinks is important and, in this way, creates his or her own version of reality.
More fundamentally, the naturalistic perspective assumes that there’s a
social world “out there” that can be faithfully studied and reproduced.
Other critics, such as those we will consider next, argue that all social life is
constructed. Everyday life, in this view, is created through social interaction,
and the activity of “conducting research” is no different. Thus, we need to
pay attention to the researcher and to the social process of research, as well
as to those researched.
Social Constructionist and Interpretive Approaches 15
SOCIAL CONSTRUCTIONIST
AND INTERPRETIVE APPROACHES
Social constructionist and interpretive approaches are enormously varied.
What they share, however, is the notion that all social reality is constructed,
or created, by social actors. These approaches ask us to focus on interaction:
How do humans act toward one another and the objects in their worlds?
What meanings do they attach to them?
Interpretive approaches in social research are closely related to a theoretical
tradition called symbolic interactionism, which rests on three premises
(Blumer 1969, p. 2). The first is that humans act toward things based on the
meanings those things have for them. For example, a European American
might look at a bundle of bamboo or wood sticks and think of them as kindling
or as merely sticks, without a particular use or purpose. But someone
from China or someone who has traveled throughout Asia might look at
that same bundle of sticks and see pairs of chopsticks. And to my daughter
Katherine, that same bundle of sticks might become a group of imaginary
friends, or dolls, who are playing together. Each of us acts toward the sticks
(starting a fire with them, using them to eat with, playing with them) on the
basis of the meanings they hold for us.
The second premise is that the meanings of things arise out of social
interaction. For example, in Chinese culture, the notion that bamboo sticks
are eating utensils called chopsticks (or, more accurately, kuai zi) is constructed
through group life. The sticks have a special name that all can
recognize. Children learn to eat with chopsticks at a very early age, and
chopsticks are offered in restaurants and households as appropriate eating
utensils. If someone hands you a pair of chopsticks, it is understood that
they are to be used to eat with, not to build a fire with or plant with or for
some other use.
The third premise is that meanings are created (and changed) through
a process of interpretation. There is nothing in the bamboo or wood itself
that tells us whether the sticks are dolls or eating utensils or fuel or any
other thing. We understand their uses—that is, we create their meanings—
through a process of interpretation. Thus, when chopsticks are placed
beside a bowl at mealtime, we interpret that they are intended as eating
utensils. While waiting for her food to arrive, however, my daughter may
interpret them as toys. And if, in interaction with my daughter, I interpret
the sticks as eating utensils, I may become annoyed and ask that she stop
playing with them. But if I interpret them as toys, I can play along with her.
Because humans are social creatures, however, our interpretations of reality
are not just individual creations. Although my daughter might prefer to see
16 CHAPTER 1 What Is Social Research?
chopsticks as dolls or toys, hers is an idiosyncratic reading.* Creating and
interpreting reality are essentially social processes.
What are the implications of this process of interpretation for qualitative
research? First, this interpretive tradition assumes that researchers need
to begin by examining the empirical world. That is, rather than begin with
a theory or preconceived notion of the way the world works, researchers
should begin by immersing themselves in the world inhabited by those they
wish to study. This initial approach is similar to that of the naturalistic perspective.
But instead of seeking to go “inside the worlds of their subjects,”
the researchers’ emphasis is on understanding how individuals construct
and interpret social reality (Gubrium and Holstein 1997, p. 38). There is no
social reality apart from how individuals construct it, and so the main
research task is to interpret those constructions. The focus is on how given
realities are produced.
For interpretive scholars like Clifford Geertz, interpreting social reality
is a lot like doing clinical work. Given a particular set of symptoms, these
scholars ask, What could they mean? How can they be interpreted? Like a
clinician, an interpretive researcher doesn’t predict (as is the goal of the
positivist researcher); rather, she or he diagnoses. How do you tell if a piece
of interpretive research is good research? It must ring true, or at least seem
plausible, to the participants themselves, and it must help to explain the
“symptoms.”
Because researchers, too, are human, the research process itself can be
seen as a social production. The meanings of research are negotiated between
and among researchers and research subjects, as well as among other
social researchers. Researchers begin with the constructions social actors use
to define what happens to them, but they do not stop there. As Clifford
Geertz (1973) reminds us, researchers never truly capture the viewpoints of
others. Researchers’ writings are always interpretations of what they think
their research subjects are doing. But their insights are always limited, because
they cannot know for certain what is really going on. In this regard, interpretive
writing is akin to fiction, in that it is fashioned from a researcher's
interpretation, or best guess, of what is going on. But it is not wholly fiction
because it is rooted in social actors’ actual lives; it is not simply made up.**
*Or, at least, it is partially so. I am indebted to an anonymous reviewer who suggested that the
use of chopsticks as dolls isn’t really idiosyncratic. Rather, it can be understood within the
social construction of childhood as a distinct period of life organized in particular ways—for
example, characterized by “play”instead of “work.”
**More recently, interpretive scholars have begun to examine the boundaries between fiction
and social research. We will discuss these efforts shortly.
Feminist and Other Critical Approaches 17
The next tradition we’ll consider is feminism and critical research. In
some respects, the division between various traditions is not clear-cut. There
are some researchers, for example, who think of themselves as feminist and
as constructionist. Nonetheless, the distinction helps highlight some important
differences in the aims of social research.
FEMINIST AND OTHER CRITICAL APPROACHES
Critical Social Research
Feminist and critical researchers are a diverse group comprising many researchers
who might not be happy to be lumped together in this way. Generally,
critical social research, including feminist research, seeks insight into
the social world in order to help people change oppressive conditions. In
this context, criticism doesn’t merely mean judging negatively; it also
means, as feminist scholar Joyce Nielsen notes, exposing existing belief
structures that “restrict or limit human freedom” (1990, p. 9). Whereas the
goal of positivist research, described earlier, is to “predict and control” and
the goal of interpretive research is to understand and interpret, the goal of
critical social research is to work toward human emancipation.
For example, feminist researcher Pierrette Hondagneu-Sotelo (1996)
studied immigrant women who did housecleaning in private households.
But she wasn’t interested only in how these women organized their work
lives. She also wanted to find ways to act as an advocate to improve the
women’s working conditions, which typically included isolation, low pay,
and opportunities for exploitation. With this in mind, she and her colleagues
developed a set of novelas, or booklets that resemble comic books, that
explain domestic workers' rights and some strategies for increasing their pay
and decreasing the possibility of exploitation.
Like Hondagneu-Sotelo, critical researchers pay close attention to the
underlying mechanisms that account for unequal social relations. They want
to examine the nature of inequality and work toward the empowerment of
those with less power. Thus, they want to understand not only people’s subjective
feelings and experiences but also the material world and power relations
within it. Because oppression is reproduced most easily when people
view oppressive conditions as natural or inevitable (Kincheloe and McLaren
1998, p. 263), many critical researchers focus on how oppressive conditions
are constructed and maintained over time. In doing so, many critical researchers
hope to uncover myths that maintain oppression (for example,
M A S A R Y K O V A UNIVERZITA
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18 CHAPTER 1 What Is Social Research?
myths about welfare mothers or immigrant domestic workers). Critical
researchers also hope to communicate their findings to people—especially
the people they study—so that they can use them to fight oppression.
How can you tell if an explanation is true or false in critical social science?
As a first step, it is important to know if the descriptions are plausible
to those being researched. At the same time, “good”critical research teaches
people about their own experiences, gives them insight into their place in
the social world, and helps them transform the world. Because of the nature
of oppression, those in less powerful positions may not always be able to see
clearly the ways in which their reality is shaped and limited by what
Dorothy Smith (1987) calls the “relations of ruling.”Critical social science is
action-oriented; thus, values are involved. Critical researchers argue that
social research is, itself, a moral and political activity. Scientific activity is
never neutral, and it can be used as a source of social control. Thus, researchers
must not only be aware of their own values but also embrace a set
of carefully considered values.
Feminist Research
A feminist approach in sociology emerged in the late 1960s and early 1970s
out of an interaction between feminist activists and sociologists (Laslett and
Thorne 1997). Since that time, a vibrant body of research and theory and a
network of scholars has developed. Feminist approaches to social science are
extraordinarily diverse. Although some feminist scholars may take a more
liberal approach and others a more radical one, what they share is a sense
that social science as traditionally conducted does not fully take into account
the presence of women in social life and the range of women's concerns.
When feminist scholars looked at traditional sociological topics like
work and occupations, and organizations, and at existing theory, they found
that women’s perspectives were not included. Apart from a few areas such
as sociology of the family, women were essentially missing in sociological
theory and research.
Feminist scholars have been among the most important critics of traditional
ways of doing social science. Not all feminist social research is qualitative,
and not all feminist scholars agree with one another on issues of
theory and method. Still, feminist critiques have played an important role in
transforming social research methodologies.
Understanding the distinction between methodology and method
might be useful in highlighting the depth of the challenge feminist scholars
Feminist and Other Critical Approaches 19
posed. Methods are the actual tools or techniques that scholars might use,
such as conducting a survey or interview. Methodology refers to the “theory
and analysis of how research should proceed” (Harding 1987, p. 2). Feminist
scholars have called for a transformation not so much in the concrete methods
that social scientists might use but in the methodologies. And this
makes sense. Researchers from a variety of paradigms might use very similar
techniques when observing or asking questions. But how they think about
these techniques and how they analyze the evidence they have amassed
may differ radically.
Some of the earliest feminist scholars challenged social scientists to
include women as subjects in their research. They also encouraged social
researchers to study the contributions of earlier women social scientists
whose work had been ignored or forgotten, like Harriet Martineau and Jane
Addams. Increasingly, feminist scholars have argued that the very theories
and methodologies social scientists have used are fundamentally flawed.
Scholars such as Dorothy Smith and Patricia Hill Collins recommend a
fundamental reshaping of the social research process. In an early influential
statement, for example, Ann Oakley (1981) argued that the pretense of objectivity
in interviews actually prohibits a deeper understanding of women’s
lives. In her interview studies of new mothers, she found that sharing her
own experiences of mothering facilitated a much richer understanding of
the women.
Dorothy Smith has argued for a fundamental transformation of sociology,
urging that we create a sociology for women. Such a sociology would
begin from the standpoint of women and be rooted in women's experiences
of daily life. But it would not end there. The purpose of such a sociology
would be to locate women’s experiences in a broader network of ruling relations,
which includes a complicated set of social practices and social institutions
such as government, the military, business, and the media (Smith 1987,
p. 3). It would seek to understand how women’s lives are shaped by forces
outside of their control. Yet, in looking at these larger-level forces, such a
sociology must not lose sight of women’s real and subjective experiences.
Smith argues, “The development of a feminist method in sociology has to go
beyond our interviewing practices and our research relationships to explore
methods of thinking that will organize our inquiry and write our sociological
texts so as to preserve the presence of actual subjects while exploring
and explicating the relations in which our everyday worlds are embedded”
(1987, p. 111).
Just as feminist scholarship challenged traditional methods, so has it
come under challenge. In its earliest formulations, feminist scholarship
2 0 CHAPTER 1 What Is Social Research?
often focused on the experiences of White, middle-class, and heterosexual
women. The resulting theories and accounts thus did not necessarily reflect
the experiences of women in all their diversity. Women of color, lesbians,
disabled women, and others have challenged feminist scholars to be more
inclusive in their scholarship (see, for example, Cannon, Higginbotham, and
Leung 1991). Recent scholarship focusing on the intersections of race, class,
gender, and sexuality has expanded and transformed this earlier feminist
research.
What are the implications of feminist critiques of social research? Shulamit
Reinharz (1992) argues that feminism is a perspective, not a method.
In her survey of feminist methodologies, she identified a number of themes
that characterize feminist research, including a critical stance toward traditional
methodologies and theories, the goal of creating social change, the
desire to represent human diversity, and the attempt to think about the relationship
between researcher and those being researched. At the very least,
feminist scholars argue, the experiences of women in all their diversity are
important and must be included in designing and carrying out research. At
their most expansive, feminist scholars argue that traditional methodologies
themselves must be transformed.
POSTMODERNISM
The final research tradition we’ll consider is postmodernism. Some scholars
believe that social conditions have changed so dramatically that we have
entered a new, postmodern era in which previous ways of knowing are no
longer useful (see, for example, Gergen 1991). As traditional bases of
authority have been undermined, they say, a variety of competing perspectives
have replaced established ways of knowing. Although those who have
been influenced by postmodernism may not agree on much, they tend to
agree that there is not one reality, but instead a number of different realities
and ways of knowing, all equally valid.
Some argue that the postmodern world is, increasingly, a world made
up of texts and images characterized by a hyperreality, “a term used to describe
an information society socially saturated with ever-increasing forms
of representation: filmic, photographic, electronic, and so on” (Kincheloe
and McLaren 1998, p. 269). As people are exposed to this rapidly growing
number and variety of images and types of information, there is the erosion
of what some call “master narratives,”or single theories as all-encompassing
explanations. There can no longer be one coherent, objective theory
Postmodernism 21
to explain social phenomena, but rather multiple stories, positions, and
representations.
Postmodernism poses a crisis for previously accepted ways of knowing
(and, hence, for qualitative research) that centers on two issues (Denzin and
Lincoln 1998). First, postmodernists question whether “qualitative researchers
can directly capture lived experience” (1998, p. 21). If there is no
one objective reality, then a researcher cannot, of course, capture that reality
in a study. If the self is fragmented, as scholars like Kenneth Gergen
(1991) argue, then how can a researcher be fully reflexive (see also Gergen
and Gergen 2000)? How can a researcher maintain a unified stance toward
the subjects of his or her research?
The second issue revolves around what has been called the “legitimation
crisis” (Lincoln and Denzin 2000). This crisis arose when anthropologists
and other social scientists criticized the authority of the written text—that
is, the idea that texts can be considered “accurate, true, and complete”(Lincoln
and Denzin 2000, p. 1051). In the postmodern perspective, texts are
always partial, limited, and rooted within a particular viewpoint. If all
knowledge is limited and socially constructed, then how do we evaluate and
interpret social research? If there is no one reality, but merely a variety of
perspectives, then traditional criteria for evaluating and interpreting social
research simply are not relevant.
Not surprisingly, scholars who have been influenced by postmodernism
are not a unified group. There are substantial debates about what postmodernism
is and what its implications are for doing qualitative research. For
example, if there is no single reality or truth to be told, then there is no one
“right”way of doing research or interpreting data. Rather, there are multiple
stories, from multiple perspectives, that might be told. Qualitative research
accounts are always incomplete and uncertain, because all knowledge is
provisional. This has led some researchers to experiment with new forms of
research—what George Marcus called “messy texts” (1998). So, for example,
some researchers have experimented with the boundaries between
qualitative research and fiction (Krieger 1991) and poetry (Richardson
1992). In her study of unmarried mothers, Laurel Richardson (1992)
decided to write a poem, using the respondent’s own words, to portray the
life story of one of her informants, named Louisa May. She felt that by
doing so she could portray Louisa May's life much more faithfully than if
she had produced a simple transcript. In addition, if all knowledge is created
by someone, then it is important to understand who that someone might
be. Even if the self is, ultimately, fragmented and unknowable, it is important
to consider the ways in which researchers are situated in particular,
local settings.
22 CHAPTER 1 What Is Social Research?
MAKING CLAIMS ABOUT PARADIGMS
By now, you might be wondering why you’ve been reading what seems to
be a philosophical discussion. Why should you care about paradigms? Why
does a book about research methods have to be phrased so abstractly? I
argue that if you don’t think about them explicitly you will still be operating
within the constraints of a paradigm. You just won’t be doing it consciously,
as a result of choices that you make. Throughout the rest of the
book, I will try to show you how the choices you make about research traditions
influence the research strategies that are available to you. For now, I
urge you to think about which tradition(s) seem to make the most sense to
you and which ones seem most plausible. This is a first step toward creating
your own research project.
QUESTIONS FOR THOUGHT
1. Think about the different traditions you have just read about. Which
ones seem more reasonable to you? Why? Do any seem less plausible to
you? Why?
2. Have any readings in sociology particularly interested you? If so, which
ones? What kinds of perspectives did they take? Why were the readings
so compelling?
3. Think about who you are. What kind of family do you come from?
Where do you live? What kinds of experiences have been most important
to you in shaping your values? Now, think about someone who
seems very different from you. If you are relatively young, you might
think about someone who is older. If you live in a city, you might think
about someone who lives on a farm. Or, if you are gay or lesbian, you
might think about someone who is heterosexual. Now consider a social
issue that you see as important. How might you go about researching it?
How might someone who is very different from you think about the
same subject?
EXERCISES
1. Try this one with a friend. Go to a public place—a library, shopping mall,
cafeteria, or similar place—to observe. Observe for about 20 minutes.
While you are doing so, take careful notes on everything you think is
Suggestions for Further Reading 23
important. After you have finished, read each other’s notes. Did you
both notice the same things? What differences do you see? Why do you
think you saw things differently? How did your personal experiences
give you somewhat different perspectives?
2. Every day for a week, read a national newspaper, such as the New York
Times. As you go through the paper, look for stories that report the
results of social research. How can you tell that social research is being
reported? Can you think of any ways that the research being reported
might be useful?
3. Try to find several qualitative research reports in the library. (You might
browse, for example, through journals like Journal of Contemporary
Ethnography, Gender Society, Symbolic Interaction, or Qualitative Inquiry.)
If your library provides access to a computer database that lets
you print out whole articles, like Infotrac or EBSCOhost, you might
search any topic that interests you. Or you can search using terms
like “qualitative research” or “qualitative methods”or “qualitative study.”
These will yield too many citations for you to look at each one, but you
can browse through to find ones that interest you. Alternatively, you
might try to find writings by some of the researchers mentioned in this
chapter. Once you’ve located several qualitative research reports, see if
you can find descriptions of the researchers themselves. Do they give any
personal information about themselves? Do they describe how they
became interested in the topic? How do you think researchers' personal
lives affect the choices they make?
4. Go back to the research reports that you found in Exercise 3. What kind
of reasoning did the researchers use—inductive or deductive? How can
you tell?
SUGGESTIONS FOR FURTHER READING
Examples of Qualitative Research
Becker, Howard; Blanche Geer; Everett Hughes; and Anselm Strauss. Boys in White:
Student Culture in Medical School. N ew Brunswick, NJ: Transaction, [1961]
1977. A classic Chicago School study of the socialization of medical students.
Burawoy, Michael, et al. Ethnography Unbound: Power and Resistance in the Modem
Metropolis. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991. A collection of short
ethnographies written by graduate students at the University of California,
Berkeley, each of which uses the process of theory reconstruction.
24 CHAPTER 1 What Is Social Research?
Kondo, Dorinne. Crafting Selves: Power, Gender, and Discourses of Identity in a Japanese
Workplace. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1990. An innovative study,
influenced by postmodernism, o f self and identity in a Japanese workplace.
Liebow, Elliott. Tally’s Comer. Boston: Little, Brown, 1967. A classic field study of
urban Black men.
Stacey, Judith. Brave New Families: Stories of Domestic Upheaval in Late Twentieth
Century America. New York: Basic Books, 1991. A feminist analysis of postmodern
family life.
Stack, Carol. All Our Kin: Strategies for Survival in a Black Community. N ew York:
Harper, 1974. An important study of family and kinship in an urban Black
community.
Whyte, William Foote. Street Comer Society, 4th ed. Chicago: University of Chicago
Press, [1943] 1993. A study of Italian Americans in Boston’s North End; one of
the most widely read and influential field studies.
Resources on Research Paradigms
Lincoln, Yvonna S., and Egon G. Guba. "Paradigmatic Controversies, Contradictions,
and Emerging Confluences.” Pp. 163-188 in Handbook of Qualitative Research,
2nd ed., edited by Norman K. Denzin and Yvonna S. Lincoln. Thousand Oaks,
CA: Sage, 2000. An overview of research paradigms and the controversies surrounding
them.
DeVault, Marjorie L. Liberating Method: Feminism and Social Research. Philadelphia:
Temple University Press, 1999. A look at research from a feminist perspective.
General Resources on Qualitative Research
Denzin, Norman K., and Yvonna S. Lincoln (eds.). Handbook of Qualitative Research,
2nd ed. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 2000. A comprehensive guide.
2
Strategies for
Beginning Research
GETTING STARTED: WHERE TO BEGIN?
Getting started is often one of the hardest tasks for beginning researchers.
How do you know if you have a good idea for a research project? How can
you tell if the research project is doable? Just as important, how can you
tell if the research is worth doing? Even experienced researchers sometimes
have trouble finding a topic, beginning a new research project, figuring
out how to start, choosing a research strategy, or developing a general
research plan.
The first step in any research project is deciding on a general topic and
then refining the topic. Suppose you are interested in homelessness or in
students' alcohol use. Homelessness in general would be far too big a
topic—even for someone doing a Ph.D. dissertation—so you would have to
find a way to make your research more manageable. You could focus on just
one aspect of homelessness, such as the experiences of workers in homeless
shelters or the effects of homelessness on children. To narrow down the
topic of student alcohol use, you could focus on the role of alcohol at student
parties or the effects of alcohol consumption on academic achievement.
You also need to think about the different approaches you could take
to your research, as reflected in the paradigms discussed in Chapter 1. But
what do you do if you don’t know what general topic interests you? How do
you begin then?
25
26 CHAPTER 2 Strategies for Beginning Research
GENERATING IDEAS
How do you generate useful, interesting ideas? It’s hard to give sound advice
on finding good research topics, for several reasons. One problem is that we
don't usually think about where good ideas come from. They seem somehow
serendipitous, a stroke of magnificent luck. Suppose you are walking
down the street and suddenly notice that most of the streetlights are out on
one block but functioning on the next. You also notice that the trash seems
to be picked up on that block but not on the first one. This leads you to
wonder about how different neighborhoods gain access to city services. Or
suppose you read an article in the newspaper or see a program on TV that
sparks your curiosity about how homeless people survive in the winter in
cold climates. Or maybe you have a long-standing interest in sports or
young children, and so research ideas seem to come naturally. These are all
legitimate ways to identify a research topic. If you don’t have any interests
at all, you’ll find it difficult to find an interesting research topic. But most of
us are interested in at least something.
Often, qualitative researchers begin where they are. That is, they look at
their own lives to see if they can find anything interesting to study, an unusual
angle or puzzling event or phenomenon. Then they try to refine the
topic into a more manageable—and researchable—form.
For example, Carol Freedman, a graduate student raising a young child,
needed to do a research project for a course on research methods. She had
been participating in a mothers' group, and so she decided to study it. The
project eventually became her master’s thesis, titled “Setting Stay-at-Home
Standards: An Ethnographic Study of the Southland Mothers Association”
(Freedman 1997).
Elliot Liebow wrote in the preface to his book Tell Them Who I Am that
he had been diagnosed with cancer and had a limited life expectancy, so he
decided to volunteer at a soup kitchen. As he put it, “I did not want to spend
my last months on the 12th floor of a government office building, so at 58
I retired on disability from my job of 20-some years as an anthropologist
with the National Institute of Mental Health" (1993, p. viii). Because he felt
pretty good for a lot longer than he expected, he started volunteering at a
homeless shelter as well. He became interested in the lives of the women at
the shelter, so he began taking field notes and thinking about the shelters as
a site in which to do research. Ultimately, he did an in-depth study of the
lives of homeless women.
Other researchers, too, have written about how they developed their
research interests. Lynn Davidman (1999) wrote about the experience of
losing her mother to cancer when she was 13 and how that shaped her
Generating Ideas 27
decision to study what she calls “motherloss.” The point is, if you look
around at your own environment, you may find the beginnings of a
research topic.*
But should you stop there? What would happen if researchers began
only with their own experiences and never considered others’perspectives?
In framing research questions, it’s important to remember that how people
select research problems is not a neutral process. Rather, research questions
always reflect someone’s interests and priorities—either the researcher’s or, if
the researcher is getting funding from someone else, the people who are
doing the funding. While this is not necessarily a bad thing, you do need to
think about the variety of perspectives that different people bring to
research projects.
Consider the following example: City officials in a midwestern city became
concerned with drug use in a poor section of town. That section contained
a low-income public housing complex, populated mainly by poor
women and their children, that was in bad condition, with leaky roofs,
dilapidated interiors, and crumbling steps. City officials convened a series of
meetings at the housing complex to try to deal with the problem. A number
of people attended the meetings, including the managers of the housing
complex, members of an antidrug task force, various government officials,
the police, a legal aid attorney, residents of the housing complex, and a few
university researchers.
Over the course of the meetings, it became clear that the women who
lived in the complex didn’t see drugs as a major problem in their community.
The main problem, from their perspective, was the dilapidated condition
of the buildings they lived in. They also felt harassed by the complex
security guards, most of whom were off-duty police officers. But the managers
of the complex didn’t see things in the same way at all. They felt that
if the women could just “pull themselves up by their own bootstraps” and
get jobs (or husbands with jobs), they would pay more rent and the buildings
would soon be fixed. They felt the security guards were needed to protect
the buildings and that if the women hadn’t broken any laws then they
had nothing to fear from the police. The legal aid attorney had yet another
interpretation of the problem—as a civil rights violation. Finally, one graduate
student researcher who was studying the meetings interpreted the
dynamics between management, police, government officials, and the tenants
in terms of state attempts to control poor women (Masuda 1998).
*If you’re interested in learning more about how researchers come up with their topics, you
might want to read some of the stories in Qualitative Sociology as Everyday Life, edited by
Barry Glassner and Rosanna Hertz.
28 CHAPTER 2 Strategies for Beginning Research
So whose interpretation of the situation was correct? What was the
“real” problem? Was it drugs? Dilapidated housing? Police harassment?
Social control? It depends on whose perspective you take. This is what I
mean when I say that problems are never neutral. A problem is always a
problem for someone. Sociologists sometimes refèr to this as the “definition
of the situation.” In any social setting, people make assumptions about
what they think is happening and how to interpret the actors and events.
Researchers are also involved in a process of social interaction. They, too,
make assumptions about what they think is happening and define the situation
in diverse ways. How researchers choose to frame their research
questions reflects their sense of what “the” problem is. What if you were
going to research this situation? Whose perspective would you take into
account? Why?
DECIDING WHAT TO RESEARCH
When you are first deciding what to research, you need to ask yourself a
number of questions. First, what do you already know about the topic? And
if you don’t know very much, how can you get more information? Going to
the library or searching the Internet are good ways to learn more about a
topic (and we’ll discuss these further later in the chapter), but they’re not
the only ways. You can also talk to other people, such as a professor or
another student, who have an interest in the topic. You can visit places to
get more information. For example, if you are interested in homeless people,
you might volunteer at a shelter or visit the site.
A second question you need to consider is, How do you feel about your
potential topic? Do you have very strong feelings about it? If so, your feelings
might lead you to focus on one particular area and avoid others or blind
you to other perspectives. You may be too biased to do a good job or to
understand others’points of view. It’s important to remain open to a variety
of perspectives.
Being a member of the group you are studying can be both positive and
negative. People often have strong feelings about the people and groups
they are involved with. If you are studying a familiar group, you’ll need to
be especially careful to remain open-minded. For example, imagine that you
are a member of a campus sorority or fraternity. You know that students
who aren’t involved in these groups often have negative opinions about
them, and you want to do research to try to counter these stereotypes. Your
involvement helps you gain access to members, and that is certainly positive.
But you are so invested in showing the positive side that you aren’t able
Deciding VVhat to Research 29
to see any other points of view. In this case, being a member might hinder
your ability to do good research.
As you develop your research project, you need to keep an open mind
about the people and events in your research setting and to remain open to
multiple definitions of the situation. If you close yourself off to alternative
explanations too soon, you may miss important insights into your research
setting.
How Do You Turn a Topic into a Question?
Once you’ve settled on a general topic, it’s time to turn it into a research
question. In qualitative research, your research question may shift once you
begin your investigation. In fact, many scholars argue that a good qualitative
researcher must have the ability to remain open to what the field setting or
research site has to offer. They believe that the most important thing is simply
to go out into the field to see what is out there. I argue that an initial
focus is important. Even though your research question may change—and
sometimes dramatically—once you begin work, you still need to start somewhere.
Otherwise, you may have difficulty figuring out how to begin your
research. As your research progresses, however, you need to keep an open
mind to other questions that may arise in the course of your research—questions
that may be even more important than the ones you initially devised.
As a first step, try brainstorming a list of questions about your topic.
Then you can evaluate whether the questions can be answered using the
resources you have at hand. Let's say you're interested in the general topic
of abortion, but you’re not sure how to narrow your topic down. Try asking
some questions:
What is the experience of abortion like for women?
# How do activists on both sides of the debate think about abortion?
What do they think women’s roles should be?
How do abortion clinic staff deal with the threats of violence? Does
it change the way they think about their work?
How have media portrayals of abortion changed over time?
Notice how these questions are all answerable, at some level, with reference
to the empirical world (the world of the senses). You could ask women who
have had abortions what their experience is like; you could observe the staff
in a clinic; you could examine news accounts of abortion to see how they
have changed.
30 CHAPTER 2 Strategies for Beginning Research
Compare those questions with, say, the following:
❖ Is abortion a good or a bad thing?
♦ Should women be able to choose to have an abortion?
These kinds of questions really can’t be answered with reference to the empirical
world. While they may be important ethical questions, they aren’t
amenable to social research. Thus, you need to consider whether the research
questions you propose can be answered with reference to the “real”
world.
You also need to ask yourself what your own assumptions about abortion
and the women who have them are. If you have had an abortion yourself
or know someone who has had one, that will certainly shape your
thinking about the topic. If you have strong feelings pro or con, those will
influence your initial question as well. You need to consider whether your
own investments in the issue will allow you to investigate it with an open
mind.
Is the Topic Interesting?
Next, you need to consider whether your research question is interesting. A
good qualitative researcher can make just about any topic interesting. But if
you are bored by or indifferent to your project, you probably ought to
choose another one. Doing qualitative research can take a long time, and
completing a research project—even one that you are interested in—can be
difficult. It’s tough to keep going when you’re bored by your topic. Sometimes,
beginning researchers pick questions because they think they will be
easy or because their professor or adviser suggested the topic. These are
poor reasons to choose a topic, unless, of course, you already have an interest
in the topic. No research project is truly easy, and even the easiest
research becomes difficult when you don’t want to do it.
Whose Perspective Should You Take?
Once you’ve settled on a tentative research question, you need to think
about how you will begin to approach it. At this stage, consider how taking
different perspectives will lead you to embark on very different research
projects. If your topic is homelessness, for example, you will find yourself
moving down a very different path if you decide to study workers in homeless
shelters than if you decide to study homeless people themselves. Simi­
Deciding What to Research 31
larly, you will find yourself doing a very different research project if you
choose to conduct your research in a small shelter that houses homeless
women and their families rather than a large shelter that provides temporary
housing for single men. Try to list as many perspectives as you can
before you settle on a tentative focus. But even then, it’s important to keep
a questioning attitude. And as you continue with your work, you should
remain open to as many perspectives as possible.
You also need to consider how different paradigms might shape different
approaches to your research. Although you do not need to settle on a
paradigm at this early stage, it's helpful to think about how these choices
will affect your research. With a social constructionist approach, for example,
you would want to pay close attention to how individuals define and
create social reality. With a critical approach, you would want to frame your
research so that it would be useful in creating social change.
Let’s consider the example of education in preschools and kindergartens.
A feminist researcher might focus on gender relations in the classroom—perhaps
on how boys and girls interact and how gender is produced
through that interaction (see, for example, Thorne 1993). A social constructionist
might focus on interaction as well. But this researcher might be more
interested in exploring how children come to define the classroom as a
"school” and how they learn the expectations for behaving in that setting
(see, for example, Corsaro and Molinari 2000). A postmodernist might
focus on the multiple and fragmented realities within and around the
school setting: the realities of children, teachers, administrators, and others.
This researcher might explore children’s cartoons, commercial culture, and
other texts that shape children’s realities. A positivist might begin with a
theory about education—for example, that children who attend preschool
adjust better to kindergarten than those who do not—and focus the research
on that question.
Is the Research Feasible?
Once you’ve settled on a tentative question, you need to ask whether you
can actually do the research. For example, if you are interested in studying
people in homeless shelters, you need to get permission from the shelter
staff (probably the director) and from the residents themselves. Some
groups are relatively easy to gain access to (such as other students); others
are relatively difficult (such as people who are involved in illegal activities,
like drug smugglers). You may also need to gain permission from an institutional
review board at your school, which scrutinizes projects for ethical
problems.
32 CHAPTER 2 Strategies for Beginning Research
Once you’ve determined that you can gain access to the group you are
interested in studying, you need to think about what other resources you
will need. First, consider time. Doing qualitative research can take a great
deal of time. If you are trying to study a group to which it may be difficult
to gain access or that may be hostile to researchers, be sure you have enough
time to develop the kinds of relationships you will need to do the research.
For example, suppose you are interested in illegal drug use, as anthropologist
Steven Koester is (Koester 1994). Specifically, you are interested in how
HIV might be transmitted among street people who inject drugs. It will take
a long time before they trust you enough to confide in you, so you need to
consider whether you have enough time to gain trust.
Another important resource is money. Doing qualitative research can
cost money. If you are going to do the research full-time, you still need to
support yourself. If you are going to interview people, you need to purchase
or have access to a reliable tape recorder and audiotapes. You also might
have to hire someone to transcribe interview tapes, unless you plan to do it
yourself. You may have to travel somewhere else to get to your research
population or to find documents in an archive. You may need to purchase
films or other texts to analyze. And there may be other costs as well.
The question of feasibility can be particularly difficult if you are trying
to conduct a research project over the course of a semester. You may have
great ideas for research projects, but the projects are too ambitious to be
carried out over 14 or so weeks. Once you finally gain access to your research
population or data, it is the end of the semester and time to wrap
things up. Thus, you may find it easier to begin with a setting that you
already know or can gain access to. But this means you’ll have to be especially
careful about the preconceptions and biases you bring to your work.
Is the Research Worth Doing?
A final issue is whether you should do a particular project. Just because you
are interested and have the resources you need, it doesn’t mean you should
actually do the research. The key issue is whether the research has any
potential uses or benefits. Will your research make a contribution, either to
individuals or to a larger group or to our general knowledge base? Does it
have the capacity to harm anyone—either yourself or the research participants?
Before you begin any research project, you need to consider the
potential benefits and risks. (These ethical issues will be considered in detail
in Chapter 3.)
Again, let’s say you are interested in researching people in homeless
shelters. You think the study might have potential benefits because people
Developing a Research Strategy 33
might be more sympathetic to the problems of the homeless if they understood
what their lives were like. They might be more interested in building
affordable housing or having the government spend more money on subsidized
homes. While the research might not have an immediate positive
impact on the participants’ themselves, you think that in the long run your
work might help debunk stereotypes about homeless people.
DEVELOPING A RESEARCH STRATEGY
Once you’ve chosen a topic and framed a research question, you need to
develop a research strategy. Specifically, you need to address these questions:
How will you gather the data?
What kind of population or setting will you study?
Will you use in-depth interviews, or do an observational study, or
work with “texts” (which can include things like books and magazines
but also media such as TV shows, movies, and songs)?
♦ How will you begin to analyze and make sense of the data you have
collected?
Different research traditions suggest somewhat different strategies. We’ll
consider these next.
Different Traditions, Different Starting Points
Depending on which research tradition you choose, you will begin your
research from very different starting points. Before you get too far in your
work, then, you need to consider which tradition(s) makes the most sense
to you. According to the positivist paradigm, which we discussed in Chapter
1, the goal of social research is theory testing. Thus, in this tradition, you
need to settle on a theory before you begin your research. Researchers who
work within this tradition usually spend much time researching what others
have found about their topic. They then develop hypotheses, or statements
that can be tested, based on these theories, which often are framed in
causal language: “x causes (or affects) y” or “The more of x, the less of y.”
Then they develop a research design that they can use to test their hypotheses.
They use the results of their empirical tests to determine whether
their theory is useful.
34 CHAPTER 2 Strategies for Beginning Research
Let’s say you’re interested in rational choice theory (Friedman and
Hechter 1988), which states that people act according to their best interests.
Specifically, you’re interested in applying rational choice theory to
divorce. You think that, if people feel they will get more out of divorcing
than staying in a marriage, they will choose to divorce. You’re aware that
raising children after a divorce can be hard, so you think that people with
children have less to gain from a divorce than those without. Your hypothesis
might be this: Couples who have children are less likely to divorce than
couples who have no children. You could test this by comparing the divorce
rate of couples who have children with that of couples who do not.
Qualitative researchers rarely work within this positivist tradition. That
is, they are much less likely to test hypotheses than are quantitative
researchers and are much more likely to work within one of the other traditions
discussed in Chapter 1. Instead of beginning with a theory, qualitative
researchers are more likely to begin with an examination of the empirical
world. In the naturalistic and constructionist traditions, researchers immerse
themselves in the social worlds of their research subjects. Only when they
have been in a setting for a long time do they begin to develop theories.
Some call this a grounded theory perspective (Charmaz 2000; Strauss and
Corbin 1998), in which the aim is to develop theory grounded in the empirical
world. If you choose this approach, your first step is to decide on a
field setting or site for your research. At this stage, although you should do a
library search to determine if others have studied the same kinds of sites,
you should not try to develop testable hypotheses. Rather, you should focus
on how you might gain access to the site and begin building relationships
with the people there.
Researchers working within a critical research tradition might decide to
do action research, in which the objective is to produce some kind of social
change. For example, you might work with a coalition that seeks to end
homelessness in your community. In this case, you first need to identify the
stakeholders—the people who have a stake in eliminating homelessness.
Obviously, people without homes do, but who else? Shelter workers? Community
agencies? Neighborhood residents? You also need to identify who
has the power to effect change and what the people you are working with
think needs researching. For example, they might believe that the research
should focus on the cost of housing in the community and on people’s
wages. In action research, rather than begin with a theory, you need to begin
with a clear statement of the needs and priorities of the group.
While the discussion of research paradigms in Chapter 1 may have
seemed abstract, the choice of a paradigm has real-life implications. The
Developing a Research Strategy 35
choices you eventually make will determine whether you turn first to the
published research, or to the empirical world. In research that draws on the
positivist tradition, you need to have well-developed hypotheses before you
begin your research. In research that draws on the naturalistic or constructionist
traditions, you need to frame a general research question and choose
a site for your research. In research that draws on postmodernist traditions,
you might focus on texts. In this approach, although it’s a good idea to read
at least some of the published literature before you begin (and many
researchers, myself included, would insist that you do so), you don’t begin
with already formed hypotheses. Instead, you develop your theory and an
increasingly refined research question as you conduct the research.
Types of Research Strategies
Once you have settled on a research question and research tradition, you
need to decide how you will collect your data. Specifically, you need to
address these issues:
What research strategy will you use?
What population or site will you study?
What texts will you choose?
What will your evidence consist of? Transcripts of interviews?
Observational notes? Archival materials, like letters or diaries or an
organization's records? Songs or videotapes ofTV programs?
How will you spend your time? Listening and talking to people?
Observing? Going through published materials? Watching audio-
tapes?
You can choose from several general research strategies. Which one you settle
on depends on your research question, the research tradition you see
yourself as working in, and your own individual preferences.
Observational Studies In the naturalistic or constructionist traditions, you
might conduct an observational study, in which you gather data by observing
interaction in a particular site (such as a street corner or homeless shelter).
Observational studies are useful when you want to understand how people
behave in a particular setting or when you want an in-depth understanding
of a particular culture or group. In an observational study, you might choose
36 CHAPTER 2 Strategies for Beginning Research
to participate. For example, you might volunteer at a homeless shelter, as
Elliot Liebow, whom we discussed in Chapter 1, did. Or you might choose
simply to observe in a public place (such as a shopping mall or a public
park], without participating.
Interviews Many qualitative researchers choose to conduct formal indepth
interviews with people. These can be relatively structured or unstructured.
Interviews are good research techniques when you want to know
what people think or feel about something. Researchers often combine
observational techniques with either formal or informal interviews. In formal
interviews, the researcher sets a particular time and place for an interview.
Informal interviews tend to arise spontaneously in the course of
observation. For example, you might decide to formally interview people
who volunteer in a homeless shelter in order to understand their experiences,
as well as to observe and informally interview shelter residents.
Unobtrusive Measures Not all research involves talking with or observing
people. Unobtrusive research involves examining human traces, or evidence
of human activity. For example, if you want to know which magazines in
the library are most popular, you might study which ones seem to have
thumbed pages or seem to have been heavily perused. A number of researchers
have studied public graffiti. Caroline Cole (1991), for example,
analyzed the writing on walls in women's bathrooms, arguing that the graffiti
there served as an alternative means of communication. Jeff Ferrell
(1995) analyzed hip-hop graffiti in Denver, Colorado, combining participant
observation of graffiti writers with visits to graffiti sites in other cities.
He argues that hip-hop graffiti reflects young people’s efforts to resist social
control.
Sometimes, researchers study “texts”such as newspapers, books, organizational
records, TV shows, and court transcripts. For example, Sharon Hays
wanted to investigate what she called the “cultural contradictions of motherhood”
(1996). To do so, she analyzed child-rearing manuals to identify the
kinds of social norms for mothering contained in them and conducted indepth
interviews with mothers of small children to determine how they
actually viewed their mothering.
Triangulation Each research strategy has particular strengths and weaknesses.
For example, in-depth interviews can provide insight into people’s
thoughts and feelings, but people’s behaviors don’t always match their
words. Analysis of texts can tell you about social ideals for behavior, but the
Reading the Literature 37
texts can’t tell you how people actually respond to them. For this reason,
researchers often use two or more research strategies. This is called triangulation.
Because different data collection strategies have different strengths
and weaknesses, research designs that include multiple research strategies
tend to be the strongest ones.
READING THE LITERATURE
Whichever research tradition and strategy you choose, you should visit the
library early in the process of designing your research. Although some naturalistic
researchers caution against becoming too wedded to a particular theory
or viewpoint before immersing yourself in your field setting, I think this
concern is a little overstated. By knowing what other researchers have
already said about your topic, you are in a better position to come up with a
well-thought-out research plan. And at some point during the research process,
you will still need to conduct a literature review to help you place your
own research in context.
I recommend that you begin any research project by simply browsing.
Look through the journals and books that seem most interesting to you,
or browse through the databases available at your library. I usually skim
through the abstract or the introduction quickly to see if I might want to
read the whole article or book. Then I go through those readings that seem
most useful in more detail. I recommend looking at as wide a variety of
sources as you can. As you do so, be sure to take good notes (including accurate
citations) so that you can locate the sources again as needed. There’s
nothing more frustrating than knowing that you had the perfect source but
being unable to use it because you can’t find it again.
Every library is different. Some have subscriptions to many journals and
excellent on-line searching capabilities; others don’t. Each library has its
own special way of providing access to the materials. Some libraries have
on-line search services, like EBSCOhost or Infotrac, which will deliver
whole articles to you on-line. Others have a large selection of books and
journals in print that you can browse through. Your librarian or professor
will be the best person to help you search in your own library.
Most libraries will have access to Sociological Abstracts, either in print
or on-line. One of the most important databases for sociologists, Sociological
Abstracts summarizes the articles in the most important journals that
sociologists publish in. By searching this index, you should be able to get a
good idea of what others have said about your topic. Depending on your
38 CHAPTER 2 Strategies for Beginning Research
field and topic, you may also want to search databases such as Psychological
Abstracts, ERIC, or Criminal Justice Abstracts. Again, I strongly recommend
that you check with your professor or librarian to see what resources on
your campus might be helpful for you.
Although this book can’t help you search your specific library, it can
give you some general tips on conducting a useful library search:
1. Try a number of different terms for the same thing. Different databases
will often use somewhat different key words, and the same
database may yield very different articles if you use just slightly different
search terms.
2. If the term you’ve searched yields too many citations to look
through, try narrowing it down. For example, I recently used the
on-line version of Sociological Abstracts to search the term "working
women.”When I did so, I received 3669 “hits”—clearly, too
many to look through. When I narrowed the topic to "working
women and sexual harassment,”I received 49 citations—still a lot
to look through, but a much more manageable number.
3. Try a number of different sources, including the book catalogue,
the journals (also called serials), and the Internet. Different sources
will tend to give you very different kinds of results.
4. Once you’ve found a useful article or book, see if you can track
down some of the sources the author used. They are often helpful.
5. Ask a librarian for help, especially if you’re finding very little information
about what you think should be a popular topic. But be
sure you’ve already thought about some potential angles for your
project. The librarian can’t create a research topic for you, but she
or he can help you find the right resources, given a specific topic.
EVALUATING WEB SITES
The Internet can provide a wealth of material for research projects. You can
get information from a variety of government and private sources, as well as
research reports, book reviews, and other useful texts. Many government
agencies have Web sites, including the Census Bureau, the Bureau of Labor
Statistics, and the FBI. However, the Internet can also lead you astray. A
friend of mine says that the World Wide Web is like a huge catalogue—
everyone wants to sell you something. Thus, you need to evaluate Web sites
The Research Process in Review 39
carefully before relying on them in your research. Here are a few questions
to ask in judging the usefulness of various sites:
♦ Who sponsored the site? Is it maintained by a commercial enterprise
or individuals who stand to gain something? Does it contain
advertising? Is it maintained by a government agency or university
or research institution? Or is it maintained by an individual? If so,
what qualifications does the person have? Is she or he an expert in
the field, or someone who is mainly trying to express a personal
point of view?
♦ Does the site seem obviously biased? Does it use obviously inflammatory
language? Is it published by a political or social organization
with a particular agenda? Does it have a mission statement or statement
of purpose anywhere on the site? What kinds of sites is it
linked to?
♦ How often is the site updated? If it was published several years ago
and hasn’t been updated since, it probably is not a particularly reliable
source.
As you continue to develop and refine your research project, you will
probably need to return to the library a number of times. As your research
changes, so will the literature that you find useful. But these tips at least will
get you started.
THE RESEARCH PROCESS IN REVIEW
Developing a good research project is an ongoing process. There are a number
of steps you need to take when embarking on a research project.
Although the steps are listed in one order here, you will probably find that
you need to go back and forth between the steps as your research unfolds.
You should also realize that your project may shift its focus as you learn
more and gather more evidence about your topic. At each of these stages,
try to remain open to alternative paths.
1. Choose a general topic and try to refine it into a research question.
2. Evaluate whether your topic is interesting, feasible, and worth
doing—and ethical. Chapter 3 discusses ethical issues that may
arise in research.
3. Develop a research strategy. Decide on the kinds of data you will
collect, and think about how you will try to analyze or make sense
of them. Make sure that the strategy is consistent with the research
question you pose and the research tradition you are working
within.
4. Begin your search of the literature. Although you will probably
need to return to the literature at other stages in the research process,
you should begin with a good sense of what others who have
studied the same topic have found.
5. Begin collecting and organizing your data. Chapters 4-7 examine
different methods of collecting data, including observation, interviews,
textual analysis, and action research.
6. Begin analyzing (or interpreting) your data. Although qualitative
researchers usually move back and forth between analyzing and collecting
data, it is sometimes helpful to think of the two as separate
steps, at least initially. Chapters 8 and 9 discuss strategies for interpreting
data.
7. Write up your research. In qualitative research, it can sometimes
seem as if you are writing all the time. Certainly, the process of
organizing data entails writing, as does interpretation. Qualitative
researchers present their work in many venues: as journal articles or
books, as presentations at professional conferences, at training sessions
or in-service meetings for professionals, and as presentations
for community groups. Chapter 10 focuses on strategies for writing
up your research and presenting it to a larger community.
40 CHAPTER 2 Strategies for Beginning Research
QUESTION FOR THOUGHT
Now is the time to consider where you stand in relation to your research
question. Think back to the research traditions, or paradigms, outlined in
Chapter 1. Which one(s) seem most convincing to you? Do you think researchers
should take a critical position? Or does a more traditional orientation
appeal to you? What do you think are the strengths and weaknesses of
the various approaches? What personal insights do you have into your proposed
research topic? What kinds of special knowledge might you have by
virtue of your own life experiences? How might these insights shape the
kinds of research you might do?
Suggestions for Further Reading 41
EXERCISES
1. As you go about your daily routine, try to pay particular attention to
your surroundings. See if you can develop at least two research questions
sparked by what you encounter in your daily life.
2. Evaluate one of your research questions in terms of whether it is interesting,
feasible, and worth doing. Consider what kinds of resources you
would need to complete the research.
3. Think of a general research topic that you might find interesting. Can
you come up with three or four different perspectives on it? Try refining
the topic into several different research questions.
4. Go to the library to see what information you can find about the
research questions you developed. Locate at least five books or journal
articles that you think might be useful.
5. Search the Internet to find at least two different Web sites of interest to
you. Evaluate each Web site you’ve chosen in terms of its potential usefulness
or bias.
6. Use several different research strategies to locate information about your
topic. Try several different search engines on the Internet, such as Yahoo
or Excite, and several academic databases, such as the card catalogue and
Sociological Abstracts. (Check with your professor or librarian about the
best methods for searching on your campus.) What different kinds of
materials do you find using each strategy?
SUGGESTIONS FOR FURTHER READING
Creswell, John W. Research Design: Qualitative and Quantitative Approaches. Thousand
Oaks, CA: Sage, 1994. A good introduction to research design, especially
for those interested in comparing qualitative and quantitative approaches.
Glassner, Barry, and Rosanna Hertz (eds.). Qualitative Sociology as Everyday Life.
Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 1999. A collection of essays by qualitative scholars
that examine the linkages between sociological research and everyday life.
Lareau, Annette, and Jeffrey Shultz (eds.). Journeys Through Ethnography: Realistic
Accounts of Fieldwork. Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1996. A collection of
researchers’ accounts of doing qualitative research.
LeCompte, Margaret D., and Jean J. Schensul. Designing and Conducting Ethnographic
Research. Walnut Creek, CA: AltaMira Press, 1999. Part of the Ethnographer’s
Toolkit, a seven-book guide to conducting ethnographic research.
Ethical Issues
T
Imagine that you have been researching radical environmentalists—those
activists, like members of Earth First!, who believe that to achieve their
goals they must sometimes break the law. You are interested in studying
how these groups operate and how their members are like or unlike participants
in other social movements. You have amassed hundreds of pages of
confidential notes, transcripts of personal interviews, and other materials.
Now imagine that a federal grand jury wants access to your confidential
materials for a case it is developing against some of your informants. On the
one hand, you guaranteed your research subjects confidentiality. They probably
would not have agreed to talk with you otherwise, and they certainly
didn't expect that you would be telling the police what they told you. On
the other hand, you are being threatened with jail time yourself if you do
not hand over the materials. What should you do?
The chances that you will be threatened with jail time or otherwise run
afoul of the law while conducting research are fairly slim. But this is exactly
the dilemma that sociologist Rik Scarce encountered in 1993 while studying
the radical environmental movement (Scarce 1995). Scarce believed
that his commitment to an ethical code meant maintaining his informants’
confidentiality at all costs. Then a graduate student at Washington State
University, Scarce was jailed for 159 days for refusing to share his confidential
information with the authorities.
43
44 CHAPTER 3 Ethical Issues
SLEEPING WELL AT NIGHT:
A PRACTICAL ETHICS
Researchers who study controversial groups are not the only ones who face
ethical dilemmas. Because social research is conducted by, for, and about
people, there is always the potential to harm others. For this reason, all social
researchers need to think about ethical issues. We need to consider a
number of questions, such as these:
How should we conduct research so as not to hurt others?
. What kinds of relationships should we attempt to create with our
research subjects?
♦ What kinds of power relations are there between those who are
doing the research and those who are being researched?
♦ Who benefits from social research? Who should benefit?
In my own current research on at-home mothers, it’s very unlikely that
a grand jury will try to force me to reveal my informants’ names. Yet I still
worry about ethical issues. I worry about whether I have treated those I am
researching well and whether they will benefit from my research. I worry
about what happens when I develop friendships in the process of conducting
research and about whether I am interpreting the women’s lives in ways
they might disapprove of. At a very practical level, I like to sleep well at
night. To do so, I need to know that I have treated my research subjects ethically.
But what is ethical treatment of research subjects? How do I know if
I have conducted myself in an ethical way? Researchers answer these questions
in a number of ways. There is no one “guaranteed”way to act ethically
in a given research situation, and reasonable people—all of whom may think
carefully about ethics—may disagree. My aim in this chapter is to encourage
you to think about the kinds of ethical dilemmas that research can pose. I
hope you’ll consider how your own belief systems shape your responses to
important ethical questions.
Ethical Codes
To help researchers make ethical decisions, most professional organizations
to which researchers belong (such as the American Sociological Association
[ASA] and the American Psychological Association) have ethical codes.
Codes of ethics provide standards for behavior. The ASA, for example, has a
detailed code of ethics that “sets forth the principles and ethical standards
Sleeping Well at Night: A Practical Ethics 45
that underlie sociologists’ professional responsibilities and conduct” (ASA
Code of Ethics, p. 1). (You can read the complete version of the ASA code of
ethics on its Web page: http://www.asanet.org. Parts of it are also reprinted
in Appendix A.) Although much of the code is not necessarily relevant for
beginning social researchers, it also contains many useful guidelines.
Confidentiality and Informed Consent
Two issues are of particular relevance for beginning researchers: (1) maintaining
confidentiality and (2) obtaining informed consent. That is, researchers
must ensure that participants freely agree to participate in the research, and
they must protect the privacy of their research participants. They also must
inform participants of all potential risks from participating in the research
and gain formal consent before beginning. Although, as we’ll see, the notion
of informed consent may be especially tricky in qualitative research, there
are important reasons for considering the issue carefully before beginning.
Concern for treating research participants ethically arose out of people’s
horror at the practices of Nazi medical researchers during World War
II. For example, they injected Jewish prisoners with spotted fever virus to
keep the virus alive, and they deliberately infected other prisoners with
strep, tetanus, and gangrene. Some prisoners were placed in tanks of freezing
water for up to 3 hours or forced to stand outside, naked, in below-freezing
temperatures (Neutens and Rubinson 1997, p. 16).
In order to stop these kinds of abuses, judges at the Nazi war crimes tribunal
developed the Nuremberg Code in 1947 (Shuster 1998). The code
provided basic standards for conducting research on human subjects. First,
and perhaps foremost, research subjects must voluntarily consent to the
research. Second, the research must show clear benefits to society. Third, the
research must be designed so as to minimize the potential of harm. Although
the code contains other standards (for example, researchers must be
qualified to conduct their work), the notion of informed consent has perhaps
most influenced contemporary social scientists.
Nazi scientists have not been the only ones to engage in unethical practices—and,
indeed, debates about the ethics of medical research continue
today. Much closer to home is the Tuskegee Study funded by the U.S. Public
Health Service. In this study, poor Black men who had been exposed to
syphilis were left untreated for many years—even after penicillin had been
developed and made widely available (Caplan 1992). About 600 Black men
from Tuskegee, Alabama, were originally enrolled in the study. Promised
free medical treatment (for diseases other than syphilis), lunches, and transportation,
the men (at least, as one writer notes, those who were still living)
46 CHAPTER 3 Ethical Issues
were followed from 1932 to 1973 in order to determine what would happen
if the disease were left untreated. (Syphilis is highly contagious and can
lead to serious heart problems, blindness, paralysis, insanity, and, ultimately,
death.) It wasn’t until a Public Health Service officer named Peter Buxtun
aired his ethical concerns to the press that the study was stopped. Outrage
over theTuskegee Study led Congress in 1974 to create the National Commission
for the Protection of Human Subjects of Biomedical and Behavioral
Research (Caplan 1992). This commission played a major role in the development
of institutional review boards, or committees set up to consider
ethical issues in research.
Clearly, medical research has the capacity to harm—or help—its research
subjects in direct ways. But what about social research? Can it be
considered in the same light? Some people argue that it can and that social
researchers must follow strictly the same kinds of guidelines as medical
researchers. Other researchers argue that there are crucial differences
(Morse 1998). Two influential research projects have highlighted some
of the ethical issues in social research. In each case, the ethical issues are
complex, and social scientists have disagreed—sometimes heatedly—about
what the researchers should have done.
CONTROVERSIES IN SOCIAL RESEARCH
Milgram’s “Obedience” Study
One controversial study was conducted by psychologist Stanley Milgram in
the 1950s (Milgram 1974). Milgram wanted to investigate how people are
influenced by authority. He brought his research subjects into the laboratory
and asked them to read pairs of words to another “subject” (really a confederate
of the experimenter), who was sitting in another room, strapped to
what looked like an electric shock machine. The research subjects sat in
front of an elaborate control panel, with dials indicating voltages ranging
from 15 to 315 and labels such as “extreme-intensity shock.”The subjects
believed that the object of the experiment was to see if the other person
(the confederate) could remember the word pairs correctly. If the confederate
answered incorrectly, the subjects were instructed by a researcher in a
white lab coat to administer a shock. But the subjects couldn’t actually see
the confederate; they only saw the lights of the control panel indicating the
answers and heard the responses to the shocks through an open door. As the
experiment continued, the subjects were instructed to give what they
thought were more and more intense shocks. When the subjects hesitated or
Controversies in Social Research 47
refused, the researcher ordered them to continue. As the shocks became
more intense, the confederate screamed in (feigned) pain, kicked on the
door, and, finally, fell silent. When subjects finally refused to give additional
shocks, despite the urgings of the researcher, the trial was over.
What Milgram was interested in was when people would stop administering
the shocks. That is, once they felt they were hurting someone, would
they refuse—even though a scientist, someone in a position of authority,
pressed them to continue? Many of the subjects did continue, experiencing
great stress in the process. Some begged the scientist to let them stop;
others experienced physical symptoms of stress. Even though the subjects
were not, themselves, subjected to electric shocks, many felt as if they had
been.
This study highlights several ethical dilemmas. Should researchers be
allowed to deceive their subjects? Under what conditions? Once Milgram
knew that the subjects were experiencing stress, should he have stopped the
experiment? Could he have obtained the information he wanted in any
other way? These are just a few of the ethical questions raised in relation to
Milgram's study—and there are no easy answers.
Qualitative researchers don't typically conduct experiments like Milgram’s.
Nonetheless, issues of deception can still come up—especially in
types of research, like participant observation or in-depth interviews, in
which researchers need to develop relatively close and trusting relationships
with their research subjects. For example, should you tell your research subjects
exactly what you plan to study? What if your findings are not necessarily
flattering to your subjects? Or what if you are studying a group whose
ideals you are critical of? Should you only study groups you approve of? For
example, Kathleen Blee (1996) studied White women activists in racist
groups such as the Ku Klux Klan and White supremacist groups. Blee
describes herself as “decidedly unsympathetic” to the goals of the groups
and, indeed, considers how her work could be used to help fight racism.
Should she have informed her research participants of this before she
began? If some of her research findings would help further the group’s racist
goals, should she share them? What should a researcher be obligated to tell
his or her informants about the nature of the research?
Humphreys’“Tearoom” Study
A highly controversial study involving deception was conducted by Laud
Humphreys in the 1960s and published as a book, Tearoom Trade (Humphreys
1970). Humphreys wanted to study homosexuality at a time when
homosexuality was highly stigmatized (and illegal in most states) and when
48 CHAPTER 3 Ethical Issues
there was very little research about it. Specifically, he was interested in those
men who had sexual encounters with other men in public bathrooms, or
“tearooms.” If he had tried to pass out questionnaires or even simply observe,
the men likely would have assumed he was a police officer and left
the scene. Given the stigma (and legal consequences) attached to homosexual
behavior, he probably would not have been able to conduct his study if
he had approached participants directly. So, Humphreys decided to participate
in the scene by acting as a “watch queen,”someone who kept watch for
the police so that other men could engage in sex. Humphreys did not reveal
his role as researcher; nor did he engage in sexual activities himself during
the course of the study. But he secretly wrote down the license plate numbers
of the men he observed. Later, under the guise of conducting another
study, he was able to get the addresses of those men through a contact at the
Department of Motor Vehicles. He then followed up with an in-person
interview with the men, some of whom had wives and children, at their
homes. He never revealed to the men how he had obtained their names and
addresses or where they had encountered each other earlier.
Again, this study raises ethical issues. Should Humphreys have acted as
a participant in an illegal activity? Should he have told the men about his
research? Could he have obtained the information any other way? Should
he have followed up with the interviews in the way he did? Did the benefits
of his research outweigh the risks? These are just a few of the ethical questions
about his study—and, again, there are no easy answers.
FEMINIST APPROACHES TO RESEARCH ETHICS
Many feminist scholars have criticized researchers for not paying enough
attention to ethical issues in conducting research. Although there is no single
feminist approach to research ethics, many feminist scholars believe that
researchers need to address the power relationships that are embedded in
research. Researchers, they note, often tend to be of a higher social class
than the research participants. Researchers benefit from the research they
conduct by publishing their findings and gaining public recognition, which
helps them advance in their jobs. Researchers also determine how the
research is conducted. In interviewing and other forms of data collection,
they usually set the agenda and determine what is important, and they have
the power to end the research relationship when they’re finished. And it’s
their interpretations and analyses that get written up. The research subjects,
while they may have the power to stop participating, do not have the power
to leave the field that researchers do. Research participants can lie (and have
Institutional Review Boards 49
lied) or exaggerate their stories, but they do not typically have the power to
determine, ultimately, how the data are used.
Feminist scholars argue that researchers need to consider these power
issues when doing research. Most feminist scholars agree that feminist research
should contribute in some way, even if indirectly, to social change
(Reinharz 1992). Many have urged the development of close, personal ties
between researchers and subjects (Oakley 1981), although others have
argued that such ties lead to a greater potential for manipulation and ethical
dilemmas than other, more distant forms of research (Stacey 1996). Many
believe that reciprocity can help reduce some of the power differences between
researcher and researched. That is, researchers may be able to offer
things that are of use to those being researched, such as giving rides or tutoring
or doing other favors that place researcher and researched in a more
reciprocal role. Still other feminist scholars believe that research should be
more collaborative in order to level, as much as possible, the differences in
power and status (Cancian 1996; Naples and Clark 1996). Many feminist
scholars argue that researchers should share their findings with their subjects,
and some believe that researchers should seek participants’ responses
and get approval from them before publishing their work. We will consider
these issues further in Chapter 7, on action research.
INSTITUTIONAL REVIEW BOARDS
Most colleges and universities—and other institutions that do research on
humans—have review boards to make certain that researchers follow ethical
guidelines. These boards, called institutional review boards (IRBs) (or
sometimes human subjects committees), review research proposals before
the research begins to ensure that certain standards are followed. Each institution
has its own special procedures, but all must follow federal guidelines.
For example, all IRBs must include at least one member who is not a social
scientist (for example, a lawyer or member of the clergy), and all IRBs must
ensure that researchers have adequate procedures for obtaining informed
consent. Sometimes, research that is conducted under the supervision of an
instructor as part of a class is considered exempt; that is, it does not need
special IRB approval. Other schools have special procedures for student
researchers to gain approval. If you are planning to conduct research as part
of your program or class, you should check with your professor to see if you
need IRB approval before you begin.
IRBs are unpopular with many researchers. You might wonder about
this. Why would anyone object to making researchers think about ethical
50 CHAPTER 3 Ethical Issues
issues? Who could not want research participants to be treated fairly? The
problem is that many IRBs are more familiar with biomedical and behavioral
research that is experimental in design (like Milgram’s—which probably
wouldn’t be able to get IRB approval today). Many IRBs are not as
familiar with qualitative research designs and the specific kinds of questions
that arise. For example, much qualitative research is open-ended in nature.
Unlike survey research, in-depth interviews are not wholly scripted. Thus, it
may be impossible for a researcher to tell an IRB exactly the questions he or
she plans to ask research subjects. Because of perceived (and sometimes
actual) difficulties in receiving IRB approval, some researchers have shied
away from controversial topics or innovative research designs.
ETHICAL CONCERNS IN QUALITATIVE RESEARCH
Some Problems of Confidentiality and Intimacy
Several features of qualitative research raise difficult ethical issues. The goal
of qualitative research is typically an in-depth, detailed study. Instead of
making statistical generalizations about a large number of cases, the goal is
often to tell detailed stories (what some call “thick description”) about a
particular case or a small number of cases. And rather than use impersonal
techniques of data collection, like surveys, which lend themselves to anonymity,
the data are often collected after long periods (sometimes even
years) in the field. Field researchers often develop close, intimate relationships
with their research participants. Most qualitative researchers stress
that the quality of the relationship between researcher and subject affects
the quality of the research. Even when qualitative researchers conduct a
one-time interview, it is still typically more intimate and personal. In a faceto-face
interview, true anonymity is impossible. The researcher sees the interviewee
in person, up close.
Under these conditions, it is often difficult to maintain confidentiality.
Imagine that you are studying people in a small community. Chances are,
providing only a few details about a participant—like job title, race, and
age—might be enough information for others to guess the person’s identity.
In my first book, for example, I studied a small lesbian and bisexual community.
One of the women I studied had a very unusual story. We both
knew, when I was conducting the interview, that if anyone guessed the town
in which the study was set, they would be able to tell who she was, even if I
used a pseudonym (which I did) and changed identifying details (such as
her occupation) in the book. We talked about the risks in the interview. In
Ethical Concerns in Qualitative Research 51
this case, she felt that her story was important, and she wanted other
women to hear it. But what if she had felt otherwise? Would I have been
obligated to leave it out of the book?
Judith Stacey (1996) has written about some of the ethical dilemmas
qualitative researchers face when they develop close, personal relationships
with their research participants over a long period of time. While the participants
(and the researcher as well) may see the relationship as one of friendship,
the researcher still gains from that relationship. At some level, this
relationship can be exploitative. At the same time, some argue that those
being researched may also benefit from the relationship. They may enjoy the
opportunity to talk about themselves or like the fact that someone is interested
in their lives. Indeed, Stacey acknowledged that her own research participants
benefited in certain ways.
Although there may be other, more tangible benefits to participation,
however, researchers typically have much more to gain. It is, thus, a lopsided
relationship, one that researchers can end simply by leaving the field.
In addition, when participants experience hardship or personal troubles,
researchers are in an ambiguous role. Should they act as a friend? Should
they observe and take notes? What does it mean when a“friend" takes notes
about another’s hardship and then benefits from it? When bad things happen
to research participants, it may simply be, to researchers, “grist for the
ethnographic mill,”as Stacey (1996, p. 92) puts it. Ethnographic researchers
may find themselves concealing information or telling half-truths and otherwise
behaving in ways that leave them feeling very uncomfortable—and in
ways that might disturb research participants if they knew. Thus, researchers
must be aware of the contradictions and tensions involved in doing feminist
and ethnographic research.
Some Problems of Informed Consent
Because of the open-ended nature of much qualitative research, it is also
difficult to provide truly informed consent. In a one-time interview, it is not
too difficult to anticipate the risks of participation and to gain informed
consent before beginning. But what if you are observing an organization for
a long period of time? You might gain consent at the beginning of the study,
before you begin. But if new members join several months after you begin,
should you continue to announce your research objectives? Also, people
might forget that you are a researcher. Ifyour informants come to see you as
a friend, they might feel subtly coerced into participating. As one researcher
has commented, “A major part of the problem is that informed consent
52 CHAPTER 3 Ethical Issues
changes almost as frequently as the weather” (Coy 1999, p. 2). In this type
of situation, how do you negotiate and renegotiate informed consent?
You must also consider the types of settings in which you need to request
informed consent. For example, you certainly need to gain consent in
an interview or private setting in which all the members can be identified.
But suppose you are observing a large public rally or demonstration—one
with hundreds or maybe even thousands of participants. Should you attempt
to gain consent from all the people there? Or suppose you are
observing a private meeting with a large number of people. What steps can
you take to inform people of your research? Should you make any distinctions
between private and public settings? That is, do people have a greater
right not to be researched in private settings than in public ones?
In addition to protecting confidentiality, researchers also need to be
aware of some other privacy issues. At what point does social research
invade the research participants' privacy? Because there are not always
preestablished boundaries when conducting qualitative research, it’s sometimes
hard to tell when to stop collecting data. The line between collecting
information for “legitimate” research purposes and invading respondents’
privacy is a thin one. For example, suppose people share deeply personal
information with you that, at least as far as you can tell, seems unrelated to
your study. Should you encourage them to continue? Should you try to subtly
change the subject? Or suppose people tell you intimate details about
other people’s lives—maybe people you know or other people involved in
your study? What are your ethical obligations to them?
Overt Versus Covert Observation
Is it ever ethical to carry out research covertly—that is, without the participants’
knowledge? Some researchers believe that deception is sometimes
necessary for the research to take place at all. Humphreys' “tearoom”study
would never have been done without it, for example. Others argue that
deception is rarely or never ethical (see, for example, James Richardson’s
1991 discussion of covert research in new religions). Richardson argues that
covert research isn’t really necessary most of the time—and probably isn’t as
effective, ultimately, as overt research methods.
I tend to agree that covert research is almost never ethical, although
there may be times when deception is necessary. But sometimes deception
is crucial. Let's say you want to study whether bankers practice racial discrimination
in their mortgage lending practices. One of the best ways to do
so is to send out matched testers—people with identical credentials but
Practical Concerns in Protecting Privacy 53
from different racial/ethnic groups—and see if they are treated differently
when they apply for mortgages. The mortgage lender can't give informed
consent; otherwise, the test won’t work. Is this ethical? It probably is ethical
to use deception when the intent is to uncover some kind of abuse or bad
practice. What about in other situations?
Before choosing a covert research strategy, I would encourage you to
think carefully about the dilemmas involved. You might want to consider
how you would feel if you found out that a researcher was studying you
without your consent. When do you think you should reasonably expect
privacy—which presumably includes the right not to be researched? In your
home? Your car? Your place of employment? In public places like shopping
malls or restaurants? What about in a classroom? In general, when people
can reasonably expect privacy, you must attempt to gain informed consent.
In public places (like shopping malls), where people reasonably expect that
others might see them and in which informed consent might be impossible
to obtain, covert research may be fine.
Sometimes, beginning researchers think that they must conduct research
covertly because if people know they are being observed they will act
differently. While this may be true, there are things you can do to minimize
the effect. (Chapter 4 will deal with this issue in detail.) You should also be
aware that you miss important details when you conduct research covertly,
because you are typically less free to ask clarifying questions or to take
notes. In addition, the stress of researching covertly may subtly shift your
interactions and make you inhibited around the people you want to study.
Still, the issue of covert versus overt strategies is not always clear-cut, and
researchers continue to debate the issue, often passionately (see Mitchell
1993; Punch, 1998).
PRACTICAL CONCERNS IN PROTECTING PRIVACY
Researchers need to be careful about protecting participants’confidentiality
while collecting and analyzing the data and when publishing it or otherwise
disseminating their results. While collecting your data, there are several
things you can do to try to protect your respondents' privacy. First, you can
make sure that you don’t leave their names or phone numbers or e-mail
addresses lying about where others can see them. (This might seem obvious,
but for those of us who tend to be messy, it’s sound advice.) It’s a good idea
to keep this kind of information in a locked file cabinet. Some researchers,
especially those who are working with members of controversial groups, are
54 CHAPTER 3 Ethical Issues
careful not to keep lists of participants, or they discard them as soon as possible.
If you share a computer with others or use the Internet to correspond
with research participants, you should take special steps to preserve your
participants’privacy.
A relatively easy way to help protect your subjects’ privacy when you
are writing notes and transcribing interview tapes is to assign a code number
or pseudonym and use that instead of the person’s real name. (And, if you
do attempt to do “high-risk” work—for example, research on groups that
break the law—it's absolutely crucial.] My own students have found this
important in their class research projects. One group was conducting a campus
study on student cheating. They knew that student participants
wouldn’t be honest if they thought that professors might learn their identities.
If the research was going to yield anything of value, the student
researchers had to be scrupulous about protecting their informants' privacy.
But I also had to read the student researchers’field notes and interview transcripts
in order to evaluate their course work. By omitting names from those
documents and by asking me not to observe a focus group session, the students
were able to protect their informants.
You also need to think about how to discuss your work with others
while you are doing it. If you are excited about how your data collection is
going, it’s often difficult not to talk about it. But you need to consider
whether you are giving away important identifying details. For example, a
former student of mine and I presented a paper based on some ongoing field
research in an urban housing project in Kansas City (Masuda 1998). The
conference was in Iowa. We didn’t reveal the name of the housing project
(there were a number in the city], the management company, or any of the
people involved. Yet at the end of the session, someone came up to us and
asked if one of the participants in the study was “Jan” (I won’t give you her
real name, but he had guessed it correctly]. It sometimes takes very little
information for someone even slightly familiar with the setting to guess
another individual’s identity. This may be even more crucial in a college or
university setting if you are conducting a research project on campus.
When you are presenting your research—either as a presentation or a
published piece of writing—you need to be especially careful to protect
your participants. Most social researchers use pseudonyms for participants
and vague descriptions for the actual place in which they do research. Thus,
William Foote Whyte (1943] wrote about “Cornerville," which he revealed
years later to be the North End of Boston. Judith Stacey (1991] located her
respondents in Silicon Valley—a large enough geographic region to protect
the confidentiality of her informants.
Questions for Thought 55
TALKING ABOUT ETHICAL ISSUES
Ethical issues may occur at all stages of a research project. In the early
stages, you should plan to minimize any harmful consequences to your
research participants. You also need to consider what you can give back to
the people you are studying. As your research unfolds, new ethical challenges
may arise as your work goes in new and unexpected directions. At all
stages, it is important to talk with others about these ethical challenges.
Others may see ethical problems you hadn’t considered, or they may offer
novel solutions. By talking with others, you may gain greater insight into
how to handle ethical dilemmas.
QUESTIONS FOR THOUGHT
1. Some researchers have gone to great lengths and some have even broken
the law to conduct their research. For example, Jeff Ferrell (1995) was
arrested for “graffiti vandalism”in the course of his participant observation
with hip-hop graffiti writers. In doing research on sex workers,
Wendy Chapkis (1997) spent an afternoon selling sex to women clients
(legally) in Amsterdam. Much closer to home, some students have gone
to parties where illegal substances have been present. How far would
you go in your research? Would you break the law? Do something that
some consider unethical? Why or why not?
2. What would you do if you observed someone doing something illegal or
unethical in the course of your research? Why? What would you do if a
research participant told you about doing something illegal (but you
didn’t observe it)? Would your reaction be different? Why?
3. Imagine that you have been interviewing students about a whole range
of controversial issues, including their religious beliefs, their use of alcohol
and drugs, and their sexual behaviors. How can you protect their privacy
and confidentiality? What if you want to interview students whom
you already know? Is this ethical? What kinds of special precautions
should you take?
4. Imagine that you are conducting research on sexual violence. You have
been interviewing students and observing at a rape crisis shelter. One of
your research participants becomes upset during the interview, visibly
shaking and crying. What should you do? Suppose that she names someone
you know or have heard of as her attacker. What should you do?
56 CHAPTER 3 Ethical Issues
5. Imagine that you have been doing an in-depth study of personal relationships
in a small community. You have been observing and conducting
taped interviews. Suppose that in one of your interviews your subject
freely talks about a number of people whom you know through your
research. What should you do? Suppose that in the course of conducting
one of your interviews, you become very attracted to the person you are
interviewing. Is it ethical to ask him or her for a date?
EXERCISES
1. Find out the procedures for getting IRB approval on your campus. Do
students have to get special approval for their research projects? What
procedures must they follow?
2. Choose one of the research questions you evaluated in Chapter 2.
Develop a plan for protecting research subjects’confidentiality and gaining
informed consent, if appropriate.
3. Following the model in Appendix B, develop a form for obtaining informed
consent from a potential research subject.
SUGGESTIONS FOR FURTHER READING
Fine, Michelle; Lois Weis; Susan Weseen; and Loonmun Wong. "For Whom? Qualitative
Research, Representations, and Social Responsibilities.” Pp. 107-131 in
Handbook of Qualitative Research, 2nd ed., edited by Norman K. Denzin and
Yvonna S. Lincoln. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 2000.
Punch, Maurice. “Politics and Ethics in Qualitative Research." Pp. 156-184 in The
Landscape of Qualitative Research, edited by Norman K. Denzin and Yvonna S.
Lincoln. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 1998.
Richardson, James T. "Experiencing Research on N ew Religions and Cults: Practical
and Ethical Considerations.” Pp. 62-71 in Experiencing Fieldwork: An Inside View
of Qualitative Research, edited by William B. Shaffir and Robert A. Stebbins.
Newbury Park, CA: Sage, 1991.
Stacey, Judith. “Can There Be a Feminist Ethnography?” Pp. 88-101 in Feminism and
Social Change: Bridging Theory and Practice, edited by Heidi Gottfried. Urbana:
University of Illinois Press, 1996.
Wolf, Diane L. (ed.). Feminist Dilemmas in Fieldwork. Boulder, CO: Westview Press,
1996.
4
Observation:
Participant and Otherwise
Y ou observe all the time—on your way from home to school and work,
during class and meals, and so on. But how much do you really see? If you're
like most people, much of what you observe in your day-to-day life you
ignore. Your eyes don’t really focus, or you don’t think much about what
you’re seeing. You forget almost as soon as you move on.
Here’s a quick test I sometimes do with my students. I ask them to close
their eyes and tell me the color of the walls and the floor of the classroom.
Usually, most of them don’t know. Can you remember the color of the classroom
where your methods class meets? Probably not. This shouldn’t be a
surprise. After all, you don’t really need to remember its color, and so you
don’t. But you probably do remember the topic from your last assignment—
or at least could bring it to mind if you thought about it. In class, you're
expected to focus on the substance of the course, and not on your physical
surroundings. You’re likely to remember more about the topic because you
have been focusing on it.
How much more do you see when you really pay attention? How much
more can you recall when you make a mental note to remember something
or when you take the time to write things down? When you focus on
observing, you see so much more. In qualitative social research, you need to
train yourself to look, to observe. This isn’t that much different from what
you do the rest of the time. It’s more a question of degree.
57
58 CHAPTER 4 Observation: Participant and Otherwise
Observation—looking in a focused way—is at the heart of qualitative
research. This chapter focuses on the ways in which scholars use observation
to understand social life. Observational studies are very different from surveys
or experiments or even interviews. Instead of asking people questions
about their thoughts and behavior or conducting experiments in a laboratory
these researchers go to the “natural”settings in which social life takes
place and observe what people “really" do in those settings. In observational
studies, researchers play a much more prominent role than in other kinds of
research. They usually immerse themselves for relatively long periods of
time in a specific setting, getting to know the people there intimately.
Researchers have used observation to study many different groups
of people in many different kinds of settings. William Shaffir, for example,
used participant observation to study ultra Orthodox Jews in Israel and
Montreal (Shaffir 1991). Alma Gottlieb lived for 15 months among the
Beng people ofWest Africa with her husband, fiction writer Philip Graham.
They wrote about their experiences in an award-winning book, Parallel
Worlds: An Anthropologist and a Writer Encounter Africa (Gottlieb and
Graham 1993). Closer to home, researchers have studied lesbian communities
in the Midwest (Krieger 1983) and Northeast (Esterberg 1997), lowincome
women in the Boston area (Dodson 1998), families in California’s
Silicon Valley (Stacey 1991), and children in elementary schools in California
and Michigan (Thorne 1993). Researchers have used observational
methods to study taxi drivers, jazz musicians, biker gangs, and police officers,
among many others.
ETHNOGRAPHY
Scholars from different traditions use somewhat different words to describe
this kind of work. Some, especially those from anthropology, use the word
ethnography. Often, those who do ethnography—called ethnographers—supplement
their observations with in-depth interviews (which we'll deal with
in Chapter 5) and archival research (which we’ll consider in Chapter 6).
Historically, sociologists have used the term participant observation, although
an increasing number call it ethnography as well. Still others call it field
research or field studies. Whatever you call it, this kind of research entails
immersing yourself in the social life of a group, observing, and writing about
what you see.
Many of those who have traditionally done ethnography have argued
that the study of culture is—or should be—the central concern of this kind
of research (Geertz 1973). There are many debates about what ethnogra­
Ethnography 59
phy (and culture) is; one anthropologist defines ethnography as “the study
of the customary social behaviors of identifiable groups of people” (Wolcott
1999, pp. 252-253). In this sense, the challenge for ethnographers is to gain
insight into the lives of particular people within particular social settings, to
understand social behavior in context. By observing and participating, they
try to understand how the participants themselves view social life.
By participating, ethnographers hope to develop an understanding
based on first-hand experience (what some researchers call “lived experience”).
They learn more by participating than they would by other means,
such as simply asking others questions. They can use all of their senses: sight,
hearing, smell, taste, and touch. Let’s say, for example, you want to understand
what life is like for men in a homeless shelter. You will have a much
better idea if you actually go to the shelter and talk to the men there than if
you simply ask questions over the phone. You will be able to see, hear, and
smell what the men themselves do and thereby get a much richer understanding
of shelter life. Your understanding will be deepened if you actually
spend the night and experience some of the same things as the homeless
men. And if you hang out and observe at the shelter for an extended period
of time—not just once—your understanding will be further enriched. By
sharing experiences with the men over time, you can gain insight into their
lives. Will you actually begin to experience life exactly as the homeless men
do? Not as long as you have a home that you could go to. But you will come
much closer to their experiences than you would otherwise.
Ethnography developed out of an impulse for westerners to understand
what they thought of as “primitive” people. Traditionally, ethnographic researchers
were encouraged to study groups of people in distant communities
or, at least, groups of people who were very different from the researchers
themselves. Thus, anthropologists typically studied groups in far-off places,
and sociologists studied hoboes, slum dwellers, prostitutes, and the like.
Ethnographic researchers were not encouraged to study themselves or people
like themselves. While ethnographers still study marginalized groups,
they often do so with the explicit aim of giving voice or bearing witness
to their experiences. Many ethnographers hope that their writing will dispel
stereotypes or help increase understanding of the group they are studying.
More recently, some scholars have created what they call autoethnography,
or ethnography of the self. The purpose of this kind of ethnography is
to try to understand the researcher’s own experiences by using introspection
and recalling personal experiences (Ellis 1999). Autoethnographers
focus on their own thoughts, feelings, and experiences. By exploring their
own lives, autoethnographers like Carolyn Ellis (1999) hope to shed light on
the lives and experiences of others.
60 CHAPTER 4 Observation: Participant and Otherwise
Although ethnographers work in a variety of settings and see themselves
as having somewhat different purposes, at heart researchers who do
this kind of research all do the following:
1. Immerse themselves in a field setting, usually for an extended
period of time
2. Participate in a variety of ways
3. Observe while they are participating
4. Take notes about what they are observing
5. Conduct informal (and sometimes formal) interviews
6. Take more notes (and more notes and more notes and more notes)
7. Analyze their notes
8. Write up their analysis, often in the form of a story or extended
narrative
PARTICIPATING AND OBSERVING
When I discuss participant observation with my students, they often focus
more on the observation side and less on the participation side. That is, they
think they have to spend all their time watching and taking notes, and not
much time joining in. They often don’t understand what I mean by participating
in the life of the group. One research group in my class, for example,
studied the parking problem at our university. They spent many hours watching
people drive in and out of the parking lots. They took lots of notes while
they were observing, but they didn’t really talk to anyone while they were
doing their observations. No one knew that they were observing the parking
lots, and—because parking lots are a public place—no one seemed to care.
In this case, the students took primarily an observational role. That is,
they didn’t interact much with others in the setting, and no one changed
their behavior as a result of their observation. But were they really pure
observers? That is, were they not participating in the setting at all? Actually,
they were participating, for they were all students at the university, and they
all had experiences of their own trying to park their cars on campus. Even
though they had little contact with others while they were observing the
lots, they still brought their own experiences as students and as drivers to
their observations. These experiences clearly shaped how they thought
about parking on campus, what they noticed while they were observing, and
how they interpreted what they saw.
The Self as Instrument 61
Some researchers study groups that they are already involved in. For
example, Patricia and Peter Adler decided to study after-school groups
because of their experiences as parents (Adler and Adler 1994). As parents,
they were already involved with school-aged children in a variety of roles;
they added the role of researcher to study the after-school programs more
systematically. Other researchers enter into field settings specifically to
study them. Once in the setting, they figure out what role to play and how
best to participate. For example, William Foote Whyte spent several years
observing and participating in Boston’s North End during the late 1930s
(Whyte 1943). Prior to his study, he had had no contacts with the community.
He picked the neighborhood he called “Cornerville” for study because
he was interested in what he then called “slum districts.” (In an appendix to
the third edition of his book, Whyte wrote about how he came to study
“Cornerville,”what roles he played, and how he was able to gain access.)
How much observing should you do, and how much participating?
While it is possible for you to participate minimally in a setting and for participants
to be unaware that you’re observing, most researchers participate
at least in some ways. And while it may be ethical to engage in covert observations
in very open and public places, in more private places covert
research may be unethical.
You might think of participation as having multiple dimensions (Atkinson
and Hammersley 1998). The researcher might be completely known to
those being researched, a little known, or completely unknown. Those being
researched might know a little bit or nothing about the research, or they
may be actively involved in setting the agenda for the research, as they
would be in field studies conducted from a critical perspective. While in the
field setting, the researcher might engage in a variety of tasks, from strictly
observing (as the students in my parking group did) to being completely
engaged in the scene. How much observing and how much participating
you do depends on your own inclinations and on the research setting. The
balance between observation and participation can also change over the
course of a research project, as you become more and more familiar with
the setting and the people in it.
THE SELF AS INSTRUMENT
In observational research, you are the research instrument. What’s important
is what you observe, what you see and hear. Clearly, you cannot observe
everything at one time; you have to decide what to focus your attention on.
However, unlike in survey research, you do not have an interview guide or
62 CHAPTER 4 Observation: Participant and Otherwise
schedule to fall back on. There’s no list of things that you have to focus on.
And humans are moving targets! They don’t simply stand still and wait for
you to record their behavior or jot down what they just said. By the time
you’ve noted a behavior, the people in the setting have moved on.
Sometimes, students think that if they could just record everything—
either by hand or with a tape recorder—they would somehow have a complete
and objective record of “what happened.” As beginning researchers
soon discover, however, they miss much of what people say or do. There’s
simply no way that they can record everything that is going on in the setting.
But even if they could somehow magically record everything, they
would still have to figure out which of the things they saw or heard were
important. In qualitative research, you have to use your judgment to figure
out what to focus on. You have to decide what is important in the setting
and what you should focus on.
At the same time, your own personal qualities—how well you get along
with other people, whether you’re outgoing or more reserved, whether you
have a sense of humor, and so forth—will dramatically shape how people
react to you in the field and, thus, what kind of evidence you collect. Your
own qualities shape what you can see in the field setting. As we’ll discuss
shortly, developing personal relationships is one of the crucial tasks of fieldwork.
In this sense, ethnographic research is very personal research. Who
you are and what qualities you bring to your work matter.
THINKING ABOUT SETTINGS AND SELECTING A SITE
One of the first tasks in an observational study is to pick a research setting.
Where are you going to observe? What do you hope to see? You also need to
consider the physical place in which you plan to conduct your research. As
you are considering potential settings, you need to ask these questions:
Is this an appropriate place to study what you want to study?
How can you define the boundaries of your field setting?
Who are you in relation to this site? What kinds of connections do
you already have to it?
♦ How can you gain access to this site?
# What kinds of ethical dilemmas will you need to consider in using
this site?
What kinds of risk are inherent in this setting?
Thinking about Settings and Selecting a Site 63
Is This an Appropriate Place to Study
What You Want to Study?
One of the first things to think about is the kind of setting that will be
appropriate for your topic. Some kinds of topics are more amenable to
observational study than others. For example, if you want to know how the
media depicts urban teenagers, you probably shouldn't do an observational
study. You’d be much better off doing a systematic study of the media, such
as newspapers and TV programs. But if you want to know how teens themselves
think about their lives, then you might do participant observation
with a group of urban teenagers—at school, in their after-school hangouts,
on their jobs, and at home.
Suppose you want to know what women who receive public assistance
think about their experiences. It wouldn’t make sense to observe the social
workers who administer benefits. While that may end up being a part of
your study, you would be much better offbeginning with the women themselves.
But if you are interested in how social workers think about their
clients, you will want to find a location where social workers interact.
In general, good sites for participant observation tend to be relatively
small-scale. You couldn't do a good job observing an entire country, for
example, or even a state. But you could observe a small town, a relatively
self-contained neighborhood within a city, or a workplace. At the same time,
good settings should also include some kind of face-to-face interaction.
Although it is increasingly possible to observe virtual communities on the
Internet, these studies can be problematic (Rutter and Smith 1999). Settings
without any people in them do not make good sites for observing
social behavior!*
What Are the Boundaries of This Site?
Once you’ve established a general setting, you need to consider the boundaries
of that setting. Where, exactly, do you intend to observe and participate?
Will all your observations be made in one single location, or will you
participate in a number of places? Some topics seem to suggest settings
with relatively clear boundaries. For example, one group of students I
worked with was interested in the question of how (and what) people ate
in public. They wanted to see if people ate differently when they were with
*Of course, a great deal of information about social behavior can be gleaned from physical
traces or archival materials even when living people aren’t present. But these kinds of materials
are studied using somewhat different strategies.
64 CHAPTER 4 Observation: Participant and Otherwise
people than when they were alone, and they wanted to see how different
groups of people negotiated dining halls. Their field setting was relatively
straightforward: They observed in the school cafeterias, a relatively wellbounded
place.
Other settings seem more amorphous. For example, if you are interested
in how social workers think about their clients, you might want to
spend some time observing in social workers’ offices. Yet much of the work
that social workers do is carried out in the field. Therefore, you might also
ride along with the workers as they go about their daily business. In addition,
you might attend any gatherings outside of work, such as informal
social get-togethers or special events, that the social workers engage in. In
this case, your field setting may include many different physical sites.
As you begin your fieldwork, you should try to define as clearly as you
can where you will be observing and what you will be doing. Although the
boundaries of your setting may very well change, as will your level of participation,
it is best to begin with at least a general idea of what you hope to
be doing.
Who Are You in Relation to This Site?
You also need to consider what personal connections you have to the setting.
What do you already know about this place? What kinds of stereotypes
might you have about the place and the people in it? Do you already know
people in the setting? Do they know you? What do you think they think
about you? Does the setting have any personal meanings for you? Does it
evoke any particular emotions or feelings?
Some people suggest that you shouldn't study a place you are too familiar
with. They argue that your familiarity with the setting will make it hard
for you to see anything new. This can certainly be a danger. For example, one
of the students in my parking lot group had difficulty seeing that there was
anything to study in her setting. She didn’t really believe that there was anything
new to see, and so her first field notes were very thin. A bunch of cars
were parked, she noted; some came in, and some went out. She wrote that
she didn’t expect to see anything, and indeed she didn’t.
Being familiar with a setting can give you some hints about where to
begin. For example, if you already volunteer at a homeless shelter, you may
have an idea of what’s important to the people who stay in it. The shelter
residents may also feel more comfortable about your presence in the shelter
and your research role. You may have access that you wouldn't be able to
get otherwise. However, the shelter residents may have some preconceived
notions about your role. They may have a hard time thinking of you as a
Thinking about Settings and Selecting a Site 65
researcher, and not as a volunteer. If you decide to do your research in a setting
where others already know you, you need to think about how they may
see you, for that will certainly affect your research.
Janet Theophano and Karen Curtis wrote about their experiences
doing fieldwork in an Italian American community (1996). In studying the
relationship between food and ethnicity, they shared family meals in their
field site over an extended period of time. One of them, Theophano, was
married and had a child; the other, Curtis, was single. They found that they
were treated differently in the field because of their different statuses.
Because she was a mother, Theophano was “expected to eat the leftover
foods that mothers eat; in contrast, [Curtis] was seen as a daughter and
provided with newly prepared foods at each meal” (Theophano and Curtis
1996, p. 159).
You should also consider whether the setting has any personal meanings
that may influence your study. For example, if you have been homeless
yourself, you may find that studying a homeless shelter evokes powerful
emotions. The existence of these feelings isn’t necessarily a signal that you
shouldn’t do your research in the setting. Sometimes, these emotional cues
can help you uncover profound truths about your setting—and yourself. But
you should at least consider whether you want to put yourself in a position
to have those experiences. If you do decide to proceed, you should be careful
to distinguish your own feelings about the setting from those that the
participants themselves may have. Although they may be similar to yours,
they may also not be.
How Can You Gain Access to This Site?
Especially for students, who may only have a semester or two to complete
a project, the question of access is paramount. You need to think about
whether you can gain access to the setting. Whom might you need to ask for
formal permission? Do you have connections that can help you gain access?
Who are the gatekeepers, the people who can make your entry easier or stop
your research completely?
In public places where you don’t intend to announce that you are
observing, such as shopping malls or parking lots, you may be able to
observe without asking formal permission. Access in these cases is easy: You
simply enter like any other member of the public. Thus, the students in my
parking lot group merely sat in their cars or at the edges of the lot and
observed. Similarly, in her research on public spaces such as airport waiting
areas, Lyn Lofland simply sat down in the waiting rooms like any other passenger
(Lofland 1985).
6 6 CHAPTER 4 Observation: Participant and Otherwise
Although it is possible to do covert research in more private spaces, you
need to consider whether it is ethical to do so. (Chapter 3 discusses some of
the ethical concerns.) You should also be aware of the stress that doing
covert research can place on the researcher—and the likelihood that a
covert researcher can actually “pass”in the setting.
Richard Mitchell discussed his experience as a covert researcher among
right-wing survivalists (1991). He recounts: “We had come as covert researchers,
hoping to blend in. We arrived driving a late-model diesel-powered
Peugeot station wagon, ‘disguised’ for the occasion in freshly pressed discount-store
duck-hunting outfits over preppy L.L. Bean pants, Patagonia
jackets, and Nike trainers.”Rather than blend in, he found that “our disguises
were taken as signs of naive enthusiasm. (Who else would wear such ludicrous
costumes?) We were accepted, treated with gentle respect, even
praised. But we were never overlooked”(Mitchell 1991, pp. 105-106).
Yet clothes were not the least of it. One evening, Mitchell found himself
in a small group doing guard duty at a Christian Patriots Survival Conference.
As the group began swapping violent racist and homophobic
stories, Mitchell found himself in the difficult position of having to tell one
himself in order to be accepted. He closed his account of the event in this
way: “If there are researchers who can participate in such business without
feeling, I am not one of them nor do I ever hope to be. What I do hope is
someday to forget, forget those unmistakable sounds, my own voice, my
own words, telling that Nine O’clock story”(Mitchell 1991, p. 107).
In most cases, you need to ask formal permission before you can do
research in more private places. And even in some public places, if you are
going to observe over an extended period of time, you would do well to ask
permission. (Your professor or the institutional review board at your school
can help you determine what is appropriate for your own research.) Before
entering the field, you need to determine who can grant you permission to
study a particular site. You may find that you need to go up several levels in
the hierarchy. Suppose you want to observe a classroom in a school. Perhaps
you know the teacher and feel you have a reasonable chance of getting her
permission. She may refer you to the principal, who might, in turn, refer
you to the superintendent of schools. The superintendent may decide that
you need to ask permission from the parents before you can begin. At each
level, it may take weeks or even months to gain approval to do the
research—and you may ultimately be turned down.
Sometimes, the person who can formally grant you permission may not
be the same person who can actually gain you access to people within the
setting. Often, people act as gatekeepers. Because of either their formal position
or their personal characteristics, they can influence others in the set­
Thinking about Settings and Selecting a Site 67
ting to either accept you or not. In many offices, for example, secretaries and
other clerical workers are the ones who can ensure that you actually get in
to see executives. In an informal setting, such as a group of friends, one person
may be central, an informal leader. In an unfamiliar setting, it may take
you a while to figure out who the informal gatekeepers are.
You may also find that choices you make early in your fieldwork affect
the kinds of relationships you can develop later on. For example, imagine
that you are studying worker relations in a factory. If you are introduced to
workers by a boss or manager, they may not trust you and think you are
there to spy on them. If you are introduced by a union steward, they may
think you are a part of the union, and those who are distrustful of the union
may not trust you. Although it is possible to overcome these early impressions
over a long period of observation, you should carefully consider how
early choices may shape later access.
You also need to think about your own personal characteristics and their
potential effect on your access to the site. An African American or Asian
American researcher, for example, will have enormous difficulty gaining access
to racist groups like the Christian Identity movement or the Ku Klux
Klan. Women might find that they have very different kinds of access than
men to college football players or fraternities. Similarly, men may not have
the same kind of access to feminist action groups, sororities, or women’s athletic
teams as women do. Does this mean that you can never study groups of
people who are different from you? Certainly not. But it does mean that you
need to think about how your personal characteristics might shape how
those in a field setting view you and what kinds of access you might (or
might not) be able to get.
What Kinds of Ethical Dilemmas
Might Arise in This Site?
When evaluating your field setting, you need to consider whether there are
any special ethical issues. We’ve already talked about the ethical considerations
involved in choosing to do covert research, but there may be other
issues as well. If there is any possibility that participants could be harmed by
your work, you need to make sure that you minimize it. For example, if the
researcher who studied radical environmentalists (discussed in Chapter 3)
had released the names of his research participants to the federal grand jury,
they might have faced criminal charges (Scarce 1995). Sometimes, simply
bringing attention to a group might change how it functions, perhaps in
negative ways. If the harm to participants is great, you may need to abandon
the research project.
68 CHAPTER 4 Observation: Participant and Otherwise
Some field researchers have chosen to do their research among people
who are breaking the law, like Daniel Wolf, who rode with “outlaw” bikers
(Wolf 1991], and Patricia and Peter Adler, who studied drug traffickers
(Adler 1985; Adler and Adler 1991). In such cases, you need to think about
your own limits in terms of the types of activities you feel comfortable observing.
If you observe an illegal activity as part of your research, what
should you do? Are you obligated to tell someone? Under what circumstances?
While you might think that this kind of ethical dilemma is farfetched
or confined only to professional researchers, student researchers
encounter it, too. For example, my students are often interested in studying
student drinking on campus. What should they do if they encounter, in the
course of their research, underage students drinking? Should they write
down what they saw in their field notes? What if they see someone drinking
and driving or someone who seems to have a serious problem with alcohol?
Although you cannot predict in advance all of the ethical problems you may
encounter, you do need to think through the kinds of issues that may arise
in a given setting.
What Kinds of Risks Are Inherent in This Setting?
Finally, you need to evaluate the risks inherent in the setting you have chosen.
In most settings, the potential risks are relatively minimal. But in some
field settings, the risks are substantial. Again, Adler and Adler’s study of drug
traffickers and Wolf’s study of motorcycle gangs come to mind. Before you
enter into a setting, think carefully about whether there are any personal
risks and whether you are willing to take them.
GETTING IN AND GAINING ACCESS
Once you’ve settled on a field site and obtained formal permission to begin
your research, what do you do next? Every field site is unique, and so a textbook
like this one can only give you general advice. You might find it useful
to read stories that other researchers have written about their early days in
the field. (See, for example, the accounts published in Journeys Through
Ethnography or Experiencing Fieldwork; the full citations are given at the end
of this chapter.) “Hanging out" is typical behavior of ethnographers. But in
any given setting, what does hanging out entail?
The early days in an observational research project are often puzzling
and can be overwhelming—even if you are studying a site with which you
Getting In and Gaining Access 69
are familiar. It’s not necessarily clear what you should be focusing on or
what you should be doing. Even if you have already selected a general
topic, it can be difficult to figure out exactly what you should be observing.
For example, let’s say you’re interested in how kindergarten-age children
develop social relationships. You’ve received permission to observe in a
classroom setting. When you first go to the classroom to observe, where do
you situate yourself? What vantage point should you take? Do you sit still
or move around? If there is a lot of activity going on in the classroom (as is
typical in such settings), where should you direct your attention first? What
kind of role should you play? How do you explain what you’re doing to the
children?
Developing Relationships
Gaining trust and developing relationships with the people in your setting is
your main task. Especially in the early days, people may not trust you or pay
much attention to you. And if they do notice you, they may wonder what
you are doing there and not let you “in”to observe at all. Hanging out, after
all, is rather unusual—and even suspicious—behavior in many settings.
Again, a textbook can give you only a very general idea about how to
develop relationships. Certainly, in general, it’s better to be courteous and
polite than rude. It’s better to act interested than bored. It’s better to listen
to others than to talk about yourself. It's better to be unobtrusive than
splashy. But in specific field settings, you still need to figure out what role
you should play.
Some ethnographers play the "naïve incompetent” role. That is, they
adopt the persona of someone who is nice but doesn’t really know very
much about the people in the setting and is willing to ask what might seem
like dumb questions. The goal here is for people to take pity on the researcher
as someone who needs instruction.
In any human relationship (research-related or not), there is usually
give-and-take. As a researcher, you are taking up people’s time. You are asking
them to give you information and to help you out in your research. Why
should anyone take the time to talk with you or let you follow along? Sometimes,
people appreciate the opportunity to talk about their lives; they feel
that they have an important story to tell and that the researcher can help
them do that. Other times, ethnographers can do small favors: giving rides,
buying meals, and so forth. Patricia and Peter Adler talk specifically about
reciprocity and exchange (1991, pp. 175-176). They note that researchers
"can turn the norms of reciprocity to their advantage, offering assistance to
70 CHAPTER 4 Observation: Participant and Otherwise
subjects (or potential subjects), thereby hoping to build feelings of trust and
indebtedness” (Adler and Adler 1991, p. 176). In their study of drug traffickers,
they offered small loans, babysitting, and dinners.
Whatever role you play, it’s helpful to remember that the people in the
setting are the true experts on their own lives. As' an ethnographer, you are
trying to learn from them. You can learn more by showing an interest and by
being open to what they have to say and to show you.
Cultivating Informants
As you spend time in your field setting, you may find yourself developing
special relationships with certain individuals. Some individuals may seem
more knowledgeable about the scene and be more willing to share their
insights with you. Others may take you “under their wing,”so to speak, and
help you gain access. These individuals are sometimes called informants (or
key informants, for those who play a particularly special role). In his study of
Boston’s North End, William F. Whyte (1993) described the relationship he
had with a key informant named Doc. Until he met Doc, he was unable to
get any insight into “Cornerville.” Once Doc introduced him around as his
“friend” and was able to vouch that he wasn’t a government official, he was
able to enter places that had formerly been closed to him.
It is important to remember that each informant will have her or his
own perspective on the scene and access to somewhat different groups of
people. They may, of course, even lie to a researcher. Thus, it’s usually a good
idea to try to develop relationships with more than one key informant.
Developing a Cover Story
It’s important to create a relatively brief description of your research so that
you can tell people what it is you’re doing and why you’re hanging out.
Most people will simply be curious about why you’re there and what you’re
doing, but they don’t usually want an extended response. (Think about it:
When you ask someone, “How are you?”do you really want a long, detailed
response? Probably not.) It’s important that your description be appropriate
for your audience. For example, a teacher may want a more extended version
than kindergarten students will.
Should you tell people exactly what it is you're studying? It depends.
Usually, people in the field won’t want to know all the details of your
research, although sometimes they may. There are also instances in which
telling people exactly what you're studying might negatively affect the
research. For example, let’s say you’re interested in gender relations in the
Getting In and Gaining Access 71
classroom—specifically, in whether the teacher treats male and female students
differently. If you tell the teacher exactly what you’re interested in,
she may change her behaviors. In that case, you may want to provide a
more general description of your work (“I’m interested in student-teacher
relationships”).
Should you ever tell an outright lie about the purpose of your research?
Probably not. In doing fieldwork, your aim is to develop relationships. Ifyou
have lied to the people in your setting, how can you expect them to tell you
the truth? Nevertheless, researchers sometimes find themselves telling
“polite”lies or lying by omission—for example, not telling details about the
purposes of the research or not disclosing details about their personal lives.
This can be a source of tension. As a researcher, how much should you disclose
about yourself? After all, your research participants might disapprove
of some aspect of your identity or social life that you think is not relevant to
the research. Sometimes, researchers know that they will be critical of the
group in their write-up. This, too, can be a source of tension. In fact, it is just
this kind of tension that led William Shaffir and Robert Stebbins to describe
fieldwork as one of the “more disagreeable activities that humanity has fashioned
for itself” (1991, p. 1).
Becoming Invisible
Won’t people change their behavior if they know that a researcher is watching
them? Most of us don’t like outsiders to see us doing something socially
unacceptable. If we knew that someone were watching us, we would probably
behave much better than we would otherwise. In a classroom, for example,
a teacher might pay special attention to her lesson plans if she knows
she is being observed. The children might act differently as well—perhaps
more or less well behaved.
Because people will change their behavior, my students often argue that
covert research is better. If people don’t know you’re observing them, they
won’t change. But this isn’t necessarily the case. In ethnographic research,
the researcher typically stays in the field for an extended period of time.
Over time, those in the setting become habituated to her or his presence.
People often forget that the researcher is actually gathering data while hanging
out. The researcher may be of so little importance to those in the field
that they simply don’t attend to his or her presence. Or the researcher poses
no threat to their everyday activities, so they pay her or him no mind.
While those in the setting may never accept the researcher as one of
them, they can come to accept the role that she or he plays in that setting.
Besides, it’s difficult for people to be on their best behavior for very long
72 CHAPTER 4 Observation: Participant and Otherwise
periods of time. If you spend enough time in the held, it’s likely that people
will eventually come to behave as they ordinarily would, or at least approximately
so.
Dealing with Emotions
Emotions are part of all life experiences, including held research. As you go
about your heldwork, you’ll likely experience various emotions, including
boredom, disgust, anger, and pleasure. You may feel anxious about being
accepted by your informants or about hguring out your role in the held. You
may become bored, as my students who observed the school cafeterias
eventually did. You may become angry at or feel manipulated by your informants,
as Patricia and Peter Adler sometimes did in their study of drug traffickers
(1991, p. 170).
Researchers in the positivist tradition typically have argued that emotions
are too subjective and have little place in social research because they
affect researchers' objectivity. But other researchers argue the opposite: that
it is crucial to pay attention to your emotions when you are conducting
qualitative research. Sherryl Kleinman (1991, pp. 184-185) suggests that if
you don’t pay attention to your emotions they will still shape the research—
you just won’t know exactly how. Emotions provide important clues to
what is actually happening in the field. For example, in doing field research
with a support group of at-home mothers, I consistently felt anxious or
guilty about my own parenting in the presence of one of my informants. A
careful analysis of my field notes led me to an important insight into insideroutsider
dynamics within the group.
WRITING FIELD NOTES
Developing Observational Skills
How do you learn to observe? How do you learn to remember what you
have seen? And how do you learn to make sense of what you are observing?
Like all skills, observation can be learned. You get better at it by practicing.
As a first step, I recommend that you work through some of the exercises at
the end of this chapter. You might also be interested in a 1998 book by
Valerie Janesick, "Stretching" Exercises for Qualitative Researchers, that provides
a number of activities to help beginning researchers become better
observers (see the “Suggestions for Further Reading"). Finally, the practice of
writing field notes can help you develop your observational skills.
Writing Field Notes 73
In fact, one of the most important tasks you will engage in during field
research is writing field notes. Why write field notes? For one thing, writing
things down helps you to remember them. Because field research usually
takes place over many months, if not years, you simply cannot remember
everything you see without writing it down. Many field researchers argue
that if you don’t write something down it’s almost as if you didn’t observe
it. The field notes become your written record of what you observed.
In addition, writing is a way of making meaning. You begin to organize
your thoughts and make sense of what you are observing by writing about
it. Thus, as Robert Emerson, Rachel Fretz, and Linda Shaw argue, writing
field notes “is not so much a matter of passively copying down ‘facts’ about
‘what happened.’ Rather, such writing involves active processes of interpretation
and sense-making: noting and writing down some things as ‘significant,’
noting but ignoring others as ‘not significant,' and even missing other
possibly significant things altogether” (1995, p. 8). As you write, you make
judgments about what is important in your setting.
When to Write?
Should you write in the field or should you wait until you are out of people’s
presence? Some researchers find it awkward to take notes in front of
those whom they are researching; they feel that taking notes in the field
interrupts the flow of action. Sometimes, note taking is clearly inappropriate.
For example, if you are observing a very emotionally charged event
(such as a funeral or a wedding), it might seem rude or disrespectful to take
notes. At other times, and in other settings, it seems perfectly natural. For
example, if you are observing in a school cafeteria or a shopping mall, it may
feel perfectly appropriate to take notes. Some researchers who take notes
openly in the field argue that it gives them more freedom to ask questions.
It may also reinforce, in the minds of participants, their role as researcher.
Whether you take notes openly or not, I recommend that you carry a
small notebook with you and try to jot down key words or phrases while in
the field. If you’re in a setting in which you feel it is inappropriate to take
notes, you can sometimes leave the scene briefly or take a quick break to jot
key words. What should you jot down? You can use mnemonics (words that
will help you to remember), memorable quotes, and a few details about the
interaction. Some researchers carry a tape recorder with them. Then, on
their drive back from the field setting, they record as much as they can
remember.
Immediately upon leaving the field, whether you have recorded notes
afterward or jotted down notes in the field, I recommend that you write up
74 CHAPTER 4 Observation: Participant and Otherwise
full field notes. These are your fullest, most complete descriptions of what
occurred during your period of observation, including the events, the setting,
and the participants. They may also include your initial sense of what is
happening in the setting or what the events mean to the participants. Even
if you use a tape recorder or are able to write fairly complete notes in the
field, I still recommend that you write up full field notes as soon as possible
after leaving the field.
What to Write?
Your notes should reflect your growing understanding of the social scene
you are studying. You should take notes about the physical setting and the
people within it, as well as the behaviors you observe. When you first enter
a field setting, you should take notes about your initial impressions. You
might want to draw a map of the site as well. Then jot down notes about
what the place looks like, what kinds of things immediately stand out, what
the people look like, how they are dressed, and how they interact with each
other. Although your impressions are likely to change as you gain experience
in the field, these initial impressions are crucial. After you have been in
the setting for a while, you will become habituated. That is, you won’t see
certain things that you take for granted, just as you don't really see the color
of the walls and floor of your classroom.
The following is an early field note on the “Parker Gardens” Section 8
Housing Complex, on which Kazuyo Masuda based her master’s thesis
(1998). (This study was described in Chapter 2.) Notice how this excerpt
helps set the scene. It describes the housing complex in which much of the
action takes place but does not provide details about any action.*
Parker Gardens is a complex of two-storied apartments, covering two
by two square blocks, or four blocks in total. There are no through
streets cutting through the complex, but parking lots in the middle
and on the west side. The complex starts at V St. on the east, and
climbs the street, up 23rd and 24th, to the next north-south street,
the one with Jefferson High School on it. The main floor of the buildings
is brick, and the second floor is wood siding, with the kind of
early 1960s window trim that is a three-sided curb around the win*A
number of researchers were involved with this research in the early stages of the project.
Anthropologist Ken Erickson, Kazuyo Masuda, and I all contributed field notes. This excerpt
was contributed by Ken Erickson.
Writing Field Notes 75
dows. The buildings are in need of paint; some have screen doors and
some do not. The management office and the “community room”next
to them are in one of the buildings, apparently with an occupied
apartment above them. (We could hear footsteps this morning, Ms. R.
and I, and she mentioned the four-bedroom apartment above us.)
Sometimes, you’ll want to describe people as well, as Masuda did here:
Mr. M. wears expensive socks and expensive loafers and expensive silk
shirts and he drives a Mercedes. He wears a gold bracelet and a rather
big gold ring, too, and he has round, wire-rim glasses.
In your ongoing field notes, you should note what people say and do
and what the things they say and do seem to mean to them. When possible,
you should provide direct quotations or paraphrases of what people say.
Sometimes, you'll write scenes or stories. (For an excellent discussion of the
kinds of things you might include in your field notes, see Writing Ethnographic
Fieldnotes.) The hardest thing for most beginning researchers is providing
enough detail. You probably cannot have enough description in your
field notes.
The following excerpt, also from the “Parker Gardens”project, tells the
story of a tutoring session for children from the housing complex that never
really got off the ground. Masuda wrote the following notes after her first
day as a volunteer tutor. It is a Monday, shortly after school has begun in the
fall. Most of the action occurs between herself and “T.,”the service coordinator
for the building.
As I was walking up to the office, I saw children running around.
When I walked in the office, Mr. M, T., and another man were there.
They were discussing the adult education program. T. told me since
this was the first day of the after school program, no kids would
show.... When we walked into the meeting room together, a man
and a woman with a child were working with another man. They
appeared to be in an adult education program.
There were two loaves of bread, peanut butter, jelly, juice, muffins,
cups and napkins laid out on the table. However, T. began to put
them back in the refrigerator as soon as we were there. He said, “It’s
the first day, you know.”He and I chatted about school. . . .After the
conversation, he said to me, "You can help them [the kids at the complex].”I
offered to stay until 5 p.m. He said, “Well you don’t need to.
We will see what happens between now and 4 p.m.”
76 CHAPTER 4 Observation: Participant and Otherwise
T. left for somewhere. I sat down and began to read my book.
A middle-school-age boy came in and opened the refrigerator and
looked in. He left, then another boy came in and did the same. After
this one left, a school-age girl came in and did the same. T. came back
and the two boys came with him. Two girls (one elementary school
age) wandered in. “Get the cups out,”said T. The kids got the juice
out and drank. One boy said, “This is good!"
T. began asking the kids questions about their homework. First girl
said, “We get homework twice a week in creative writing class. Other
classes, it depends.”Another girl mumbled something I could not
hear. T. told the children to bring their homework next time. "And if
you don’t have homework, bring something else.”Then he realized
the kids were drinking up all the juice and told them, "It will be there
tomorrow.”He put the cups back in the cabinet.
The boys were talking all the meanwhile. T. asked them, “Then
Tuesdays and Wednesdays are not good days [for the after-school program]?
Did you go to school today?”First boy answered, “Yeah.”The
kids began discussing which school they go to. Second boy said he
was kicked out from one school and did not get to go to the school
he wanted to. . . .
T. said he would have a program for them on Tuesdays and
Wednesdays. Second girl argued: “Tuesdays and Thursdays, that’s what
on the flyer.”T. said, “NO! I wrote it. I know. . . .”She ran to the office
bulletin board and said, “Look at this.”T. and the kids went over. I
heard paper being ripped from the bulletin board and tossed in the
trash can.
After the kids left, T. came back and said to me, “I will have something
lined up for you next week. You can go if you want to.”He left.
I thought about staying longer. I decided not to stay and walked out
shortly after. I sawT. driving off as I was leaving the office. There were
several children playing around the apartment building.
Arguably, not much is happening here. But after observing in the field for an
extended period of time, Masuda noticed that many of the programs and
initiatives begun by the service coordinator ended in this way: in little actually
happening and few children becoming involved. The observation that
children were playing outside as Masuda both entered and left the scene,
while a small detail, is important. It's not for a lack of children that the afterschool
program falters.
What should you not write down in field notes? Even though it's often
difficult to avoid, you should try to avoid generalizations (Emerson, Fretz,
and Shaw 1995). For example, let’s say you are observing people eating in
Writing Field Notes 77
a cafeteria. You shouldn’t say that a research participant “always” gets a
tray. You can only report what you observed today: that in this instance,
someone (let's call him “X”) took a tray. You should also try to avoid judgmental
statements, such as "X eats a lot” or “X is a glutton.” Rather than
interpreting his or her behavior, write about what X is doing: “X took four
sandwiches, a bowl of soup, and a large bag of chips; he then returned for
two cups of milk, an ice cream, and a package of cookies.” Finally, try to
keep your opinions out of your jotted notes. “X ate very quickly, using both
hands. Crumbs dropped on the floor and down his shirt” is better than “X
ate like a pig.”
Avoiding generalization is difficult—even for experienced researchers.
For example, go back to the field note describing Mr. M. on page 75. What
does “expensive" mean? To one person, an expensive pair of shoes might be
bought at Walmart. To another, expensive shoes might mean a designer label
pair bought in a department store like Bloomingdale’s or Macy’s.
How to Write?
You should date each field note and note the time and location in which the
observation took place. It’s often helpful, too, to list the participants. (Of
course, sometimes there are too many to list or the participants change; you
will need to decide what is helpful to you.) You may want to use pseudonyms,
initials, or code names for your study participants. I always recommend
writing full field notes using a word processor and placing them in a
three-ring binder. This may help you in your subsequent analysis.
Use quotation marks for direct quotes—things you heard people say
and were able to write down exactly (or almost exactly) as they said them.
Use paraphrases when you can’t remember exactly how someone said
something but do recall the gist of it.
In addition to recording what happened, I also encourage my students
to write about their own feelings and initial hunches about the data. But
I recommend that you separate your own feelings and impressions from
more direct observations. When I write field notes, I usually use brackets to
separate my own feelings and thoughts from my actual observations. Some
people like to write in two columns—one column for their thoughts and
feelings, the other for their observations. Others prefer to use different typefaces
or colored type to distinguish the two.
People use a variety of styles for their field notes. I generally try to use
complete sentences, and I usually start chronologically (what happened
first) but then shift around as my writing sparks new memories. Sometimes,
78 CHAPTER 4 Observation: Participant and Otherwise
writers will begin with a big event and then move on to smaller, less important
ones. You’ll develop your own style as you write. What’s most important
is that you keep on writing.
LEAVING THE FIELD
At some point, you need to stop observing and leave the field. When should
you leave? Ideally, you should leave when you feel you have little more to
gain by observing longer. Perhaps your field notes seem to be saying the
same things over and over, or additional informants seem to be telling you
the same kind of things. Perhaps you feel stale or bored in the setting. Or
perhaps you feel that you have learned all you can, at least for the time
being. If this is the case, it’s probably a good time to leave. In most cases,
however, external factors will play a major role in determining when you
leave the field. The summer ends, and you need to go back to the classroom.
Or the semester is over, and the final paper is due. Or the funding has run
out. Ideally, you should stay in the setting until you feel it’s time to go. More
practically, you will find that you often leave prematurely.
As you prepare to leave the field, you need to consider your future relationships
with those whom you have been researching. Will you want to
return to the setting later for additional study or clarification? If so, you
should be sure to leave on good terms. A general rule is that ethnographers
shouldn’t “spoil” the field—make it impossible for future researchers to
return.
Some people believe that researchers should share their findings with
their informants or solicit their comments on the final analysis and write-up.
Judith Stacey (1991) allowed her informants to have—literally—the last
word. As the last chapter in her ethnography of postmodern family life, she
printed an interview with one of her informants on her reactions to the text.
You also need to consider the obligations you may have incurred during
the course of your study. Have your informants come to rely on you in any
key ways? If so, can you continue to provide the kind of support they have
been getting from you? Or can you find alternative ways for them to get it?
The relationships that ethnographers develop with their informants often
are in many respects like friendships. Some researchers see themselves as
friends with those they are studying (and vice versa). But there’s a peculiar
imbalance of power in these relationships, for the researcher can leave
whenever she or he wants to. The informant, in contrast, typically cannot
leave her or his own life. Judith Stacey (1996) argues that, because of the
greater intimacy possible in ethnographic research, much greater exploita­
FocusingYour Observations 79
tion is possible than in more distant kinds of research, such as brief surveys.
In exiting the field, you need to think carefully about the kinds of expectations
your informants may have of you—and you of them.
FOCUSING YOUR OBSERVATIONS
How do you begin to figure out what is important in your setting? How do
you begin to narrow your observations and make sense of the relationships
you are documenting in your field notes? As in any other kind of research,
your data will not “speak for themselves." You have to interpret—figure
out—what the evidence means. Researchers often leave this as a last step.
They focus for an extended period on gathering data and observing in the
field. Then, on returning “home”from their fieldwork, they begin to analyze
their materials and develop a final, written report of their research. Because
ethnographers typically generate hundreds, or even thousands, of pages of
written data (field notes, interview transcripts, documents, and so forth),
analysis can seem a daunting task.
It’s best not to wait until you have finished your observations before
beginning to make sense of them. If you begin your analyses while you are
still in the field, you can focus your observations on the questions that arise
during your analysis. Chapters 8 and 9 deal specifically with data analysis.
For now, however, I’ll discuss some ways that you can begin to make sense
of the materials you have collected.
Making Meaning
I like to think of data analysis as answering the question “So what?”Why is
your research interesting or important? Why should people care about it?
What is the larger sociological significance of your study? Even something as
mundane as parking cars can have sociological significance. My parking lot
research group, for example, came to argue that at least part of the parking
conflict on campus was about social status. Students complained about not
being able to find convenient parking spaces. As customers—people who
were paying for their education—they felt that they deserved access to good
parking spots as part of their tuition and fees. They argued that their tuition,
in effect, pays faculty wages; thus, they felt entitled to better parking spaces
than the faculty. Faculty members, in contrast, felt that they deserved better
parking spots because they had higher status than students.
This kind of analysis is called interpretation. Not only do you have to
write good descriptions in field research, you also have to interpret what the
80 CHAPTER 4 Observation: Participant and Otherwise
evidence means. How do you begin? I recommend that, after you have been
observing for a while, you read and reread your field notes and write memos
or notes to yourself. (We’ll discuss memos in greater detail in Chapter 8.)
Try to read with a questioning mind. Then, jot down your thoughts,
hunches, and feelings about the ongoing research. Sometimes, these memos
will help you to make sense of what you’re observing. Other times, they
will help you explore how you’re feeling about your research. Sometimes,
they may point you in a new direction. Don’t worry if at early stages you
seem to be bouncing around among many different ways to think about
your material. What these early explorations do is help you tease out different
possibilities.
Coming to See Multiple Realities
At heart, observational research is about looking—and seeing—from multiple
perspectives. No two individuals have exactly the same understanding
of social reality. Anthropologist Harry Wolcott gives a good example (1999,
p. 66). He invites us to consider how a real estate developer, a hunter, and a
biologist might appraise a prime piece of rural property. The developer
might focus on the possibilities for construction and development, the
hunter would mainly be interested in the possibilities for hunting and
recreation, and the biologist would be more interested in the flora and
fauna. In all three cases, the piece of land remains the same. But how people
think about it—what they see in it—differs. As social observers, your
task is to try to understand the multiple ways in which individuals perceive
reality.
QUESTIONS FOR THOUGHT
1. Imagine that someone (maybe a teacher?) has been covertly studying
you. This person has been taking notes about how you dress, what you
say, how you interact with others. The notes are fairly detailed and sometimes
embarrassing, because you didn’t know you were being observed.
How would you feel about this? Would you feel any differently if you
found out that the research was going to be published? Would you want
to be able to have a say in what was said about you?
2. Some people argue that ethnography should be more objective, like the
natural sciences. Others think it should be more subjective, like the
humanities. What do you think? Why?
Exercises 81
EXERCISES
1. Consider the following field settings. What strategies might you use to
gain access to the site? What difficulties might you encounter?
a. Recruits in the police academy
b. A community of recent immigrants
c. A disability rights group
d. A student organization
e. A women’s soccer team
2. Now imagine that you are a member of another racial/ethnic group. (If
you are White, imagine that you are Asian American or African American,
for example. If you are Asian, imagine that you are African American
or Latino/a, for example.) How might your strategies for accessing
the groups in Exercise 1 change? Would access be harder or easier? In
what ways?
3. Now imagine that you are a member of the other gender. Again, how
might your strategies for accessing the groups in Exercise 1 change?
Would access be harder or easier? In what ways?
4. Practice describing yourself to (a) a teacher, (b) a parent, and (c) a
friend. How do your self-descriptions change for each audience? What
do these self-descriptions say about how you “really”are?
5. Have a teacher or friend place a few inanimate objects in the middle of a
table or desk. Sitting in one place, spend 5 minutes observing and writing
down what you see. After the 5 minutes is up, move to another location,
and again spend 5 minutes observing and writing down what you see.*
What did you see from each perspective?
6. Go to a public place where you can observe without disturbing the
scene (for example, a waiting room, cafeteria, or mall). Spend about 15
minutes observing and taking notes. Then go home and write up full field
notes. Try observing again in the same place at least one or two additional
times, each time writing up full field notes. How do your observations
change over time?
7. Find a setting where there is a lot of social interaction (for example, a
party, a ball game, or a public park). Try to observe intensively without
taking notes. Remain in the setting for at least 30 minutes. When you
return home, write up full field notes. What are you able to remember?
*This exercise is adapted from one in Janesick 1998.
82 CHAPTER 4 Observation: Participant and Otherwise
SUGGESTIONS FOR FURTHER READING
Burawoy, Michael, et al. Ethnography Unbound. Berkeley: University of California
Press, 1991.
Emerson, Robert; Rachel Fretz; and Linda Shaw. Writing Ethnographic Fieldnotes.
Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995.
Janesick, Valerie. "Stretching" Exercises for Qualitative Researchers. Thousand Oaks,
CA: Sage, 1998.
Lareau, Annette, and Jeffrey Shultz (eds.). Journeys Through Ethnography: Realistic
Accounts of Fieldwork. Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1996.
Lofland, John, and Lyn Lofland. Analyzing Social Settings, 3rd ed. Belmont, CA:
Wadsworth, 1995.
Shaffir, William, and Robert Stebbins. Experiencing Fieldwork: An Inside View of Qualitative
Research. Newbury Park, CA: Sage, 1991.
5
Interviews
Interviewing is rather like marriage: everybody knows what it is, an
awful lot ofpeople do it, and yet behind each closed front door there
is a world of secrets.
— A n n O a k l e y (1981, p. 30)
JnLave you ever been interviewed? If you have a phone in your name or
have spent much time in a shopping mall, chances are, somebody has tried
to interview you to get your opinion about some product or service. Maybe
you were interviewed as part of the process of getting into college or obtaining
a job, or maybe you have been interviewed by a local newspaper or television
program about an accomplishment.
Valerie Janesick defines an interview as “a meeting of two persons to
exchange information and ideas through questions and responses, resulting
in communication and joint construction of meaning about a particular
topic”(1998, p. 30). There are many different kinds of interviews, each with
somewhat different techniques and purposes. Journalists conduct interviews
to get information for a news story. Market researchers conduct interviews
to figure out what products are likely to sell. Businesses conduct job interviews
to try to find employees. Social scientists conduct interviews for their
own somewhat different purposes. But what all these approaches have in
common is the attempt to gain information from individuals on some topic.
Interviewing is at the heart of social research. If you look through almost
any sociological journal, you will find that much social research is
based on interviews, either standardized or more in-depth. In fact, some
argue that it is the most popular form of data collection in sociology (Denzin
1989). Examples of interview research abound. William Finlay and
83
84 CHAPTER 5 Interviews
James Coverdill (1999), for example, used interviews with corporate headhunters
to determine who benefits most from the use of such recruiters:
the managers who use them or others in the firm, including human resource
departments. They found that the managers who used headhunters
tended to benefit the most, not only because headhunters are able to find
prospective employees who are happy in their current jobs (and thus not
likely to be looking for work) but also because the managers are able to
exercise greater control over the process. In a very different setting, Dana
Britton (1999) interviewed correctional officers who worked in men’s and
women’s state prisons to determine why prison guards prefer to work in
men’s prisons and what that might say about sex segregation in the labor
market.
Many researchers combine participant observation with in-depth interviews.
(In fact, many textbooks treat the two together.) During the process
of observing, researchers naturally ask questions about the ongoing action.
Sometimes, these interviews may be informal, as when a researcher spontaneously
asks questions of an informant. Other times, they may be more formal,
as when a researcher prepares a list of questions. Some researchers use
both. Finlay and Coverdill, for example, conducted formal interviews with
the headhunters, which they tape-recorded and transcribed. They also did
over 300 hours of fieldwork, during which they asked questions more informally
(Finlay and Coverdill 1999, p. 14).
INTERVIEWING AS A RELATIONSHIP
Most methods textbooks treat interviewing as a conversation between two
people—the interviewer and the interviewee. The interviewer asks questions,
and the interviewee responds to them. But if you think about it, this
is a peculiar kind of conversation. In an interview, one person—the interviewee—reveals
information about him- or herself; the other does not. One
person—the interviewer—directs the conversation, often with expectations
for what should happen during that conversation and for what constitutes a
“correct”answer; the other does not. One person—the interviewer—decides
when the questions have been satisfactorily answered and closes the conversation;
the other does not. In this sense, an interview is an odd type of conversation
indeed. In what other kind of conversation is there such a lopsided
exchange?
I prefer to view interviewing as a form of relationship between two
individuals (or, in the case of focus groups and group interviews, more than
Types of Interviews 85
two individuals). The individuals may be close or, perhaps more typically,
distant. The interview may be prolonged, repeated over time, or very brief.
In each case, however, two individuals come together to try to create meaning
about a particular topic. While participating in this relationship, they
also draw on established social conventions. For example, questions and
answers usually follow one another, with individuals taking turns speaking
and observing rules for finishing conversations (Schegloff and Sacks 1974).
In most interviews, one person does most of the questioning, with the focus
on the person being interviewed. (As we'll see, however, some interviews
are far less structured and more like a "real”conversation.) The other characteristic
of the interview is that it is focused around the production of talk
(DeVault 1999). Thus, while interviews may be a peculiar form of conversation,
they still focus on language and its social organization.
TYPES OF INTERVIEWS
There are several types of interviews, including structured, semistructured,
and unstructured. Interviews vary according to the amount of control exerted
by the researcher during the interview and to the degree of structure.
Structured Interviews
At one end of the spectrum are structured interviews, the most formal and
the most rigidly controlled type. Structured interviews are more likely to be
used in survey research, in telephone interviews, and in market research and
political polling. In structured interviews, the sequence of questions and the
pace of the interview tend to be preestablished. Although at least some of
the questions may be open-ended, allowing interviewees to respond in their
own words, they may also be closed-ended, forcing interviewees to choose
between fixed responses. In structured interviews, the interviewer usually is
not allowed to deviate from a rigid protocol (or interview schedule). The
questions must be asked exactly as written, and follow-up questions (also
called probes), if they are allowed, are standardized. And if a respondent
doesn’t understand the question, the interviewer typically does not rephrase
it in the respondent’s own words. Instead, he or she simply repeats the question,
perhaps with minor changes in phrasing.
The following extract gives an example of a segment of a structured
interview. Notice that the instructions for what the interviewer should say
to the respondent are written out.
8 6 CHAPTER 5 Interviews
First, I’d like to ask you some questions about your household. Then
I’m going to ask you some questions about your daily activities.
1. Besides yourself, how many people usually live in this household?
2. Are there any children under the age of 18? [If yes] How many?
3. Of all the people living in your home, how many are full-time
students?
4. How many people work outside the home, for pay?
I’d like to get a sense of what a normal weekday in your household
looks like.
5. What time do you typically get up in the morning?
In structured interviewing, interviewers typically do not reveal any personal
information about themselves, even if asked directly. Rather, they seek
to remain as neutral as possible in how they present themselves. Personal
revelations on the part of the interviewer are said to produce bias, because
interviewees will tend to give the responses that they think the interviewer
wants to hear. This is sometimes called social desirability bias. That is, respondents
will want to give the response that they think is socially acceptable. So,
for example, respondents may underestimate how often they engage in
behaviors seen as socially undesirable, such as drinking alcohol or using illegal
drugs, or they may overestimate how often they engage in socially desirable
behaviors, such as exercising or eating healthy foods or attending
church (Presser and Stinson 1998). Researchers who study stigmatized
groups or topics that are typically considered private—such as sexual behavior—face
additional constraints. If respondents believe the interviewer disapproves
of a behavior, they are much less likely to respond honestly.
Researchers use structured interviews far more often in quantitative
than in qualitative research. While some qualitative researchers may incorporate
elements of the structured interview in their research, many reject
this type of interviewing for philosophical reasons. Structured interviewing
allows the researcher to retain a great deal of control over the interview process.
Yet many qualitative scholars believe that structured interviews grant
too much control to the interviewer. Because the interviewer controls what
questions are asked and how they are worded, he or she can overlook issues
that may be more important to the interviewee. In addition, respondents
may misunderstand what is being asked, and they may lack opportunities
for clarification. The researcher assumes that all interviewees will understand
the questions in the same way and that the questions address the
interviewees' reality. But the questions may have different meanings for different
interviewees, and if the questions are not meaningful to the research
Types of Interviews 87
participants, the interview data will not be useful. Structured interviews can
thus risk missing what’s most important to the interviewees.
Imagine, for example, that you are asked in a structured interview what
your favorite flavor of ice cream is. The interviewer gives you a series of
choices: chocolate, vanilla, peppermint, coffee, or chocolate chip. If your
favorite flavor happens to be mango, how will you respond? What if you
don’t like ice cream at all? What if you really want to talk about sorbet or
sherbet or gelatti? If these choices aren’t offered, then the interview won’t
reflect how you really feel. Of course, survey researchers have a number of
strategies for avoiding these problems. (If you’re interested in finding out
more about survey research, see Babbie 1990.) Still, most qualitative researchers
choose semistructured or unstructured interviews for the greater
depth of insight they give into the lives of their research participants.
Semistructured Interviews
Semistructured interviews (sometimes called in-depth interviews) are much
less rigid than structured interviews. In semistructured interviews, the goal
is to explore a topic more openly and to allow interviewees to express their
opinions and ideas in their own words. As Michael Quinn Patton (1990)
reminds us, we can’t observe everything we might want to know. Thus, we
interview people to understand what life is like from perspectives other
than our own. We try to move beyond our own experiences and ideas and
to really understand the other person’s point of view. Although the researcher
typically begins with some basic ideas about what the interview
will cover, the interviewee’s responses shape the order and structure of the
interview. Each interview is tailored to the research participant. Semistructured
interviews thus allow for a much freer exchange between interviewer
and interviewee.
In semistructured or in-depth interviewing, the researcher needs to listen
carefully to the participant’s responses and to follow his or her lead. The
process resembles a dance, in which one partner (the interviewer) must be
carefully attuned to the other’s movements. Because the interviews are not
prescripted, they can sometimes take surprising turns. Thus, in-depth interviews
are particularly useful for exploring a topic in detail or in constructing
theory. A number of feminist scholars have argued that these interviews are
a particularly good way to study women and other marginalized groups
(DeVault 1999; Reinharz 1992). Because women historically have been
silenced, they have not always had the opportunity to tell their own stories.
In-depth interviews allow them to do so.
8 8 CHAPTER 5 Interviews
As I’ll discuss in greater detail shortly, researchers have different opinions
about how much of themselves they should reveal in an interview.
Some believe that the exchange should be more like a “real”conversation,
with interviewer and interviewee both participating in the dialogue (see
Reinharz 1992, pp. 32-35). From this perspective, the goal of the interview
is to jointly construct meaning on some topic. These researchers, who are
more likely to share a postmodernist or critical approach to social research,
may not hesitate to present their own opinions and beliefs. They tend to call
those whom they are studying their research participants;to emphasize their
greater role in shaping the research process.
Other researchers, however, feel that the emphasis should remain firmly
on the research subjects, with the interviewer playing a much more neutral
role. These researchers suggest that the interviewer should tailor his or her
presentation of self to the research situation. The interviewer should dress
neutrally, so as to “blend in”as much as possible. If an interviewee asks a personal
question about the interviewer, the interviewer might politely deflect
the question or try to answer it after the respondent has presented his or her
own point of view. The question of how much of the self to present in an
interview hinges in part on the nature of the research. If the researcher is
logging many hours in the field, with interviews a secondary component to
observation, the participants are likely to have much greater knowledge of
and a more personal relationship with the interviewer. If the interview is a
one-time encounter, then the relationship between interviewer and interviewee
is likely to be much more impersonal. The researcher’s personality
also influences the level of self-disclosure. Some researchers are much more
reserved, and others are outgoing. These personal qualities have an impact
on the kinds of relationships the researcher develops.
The following excerpt is from an in-depth interview conducted with an
at-home mother. In this interview, notice that the interviewer begins with a
general question and follows the respondent’s lead.
INTERVIEWER: Can you talk a little about what it was like for you
when you were both working and a new mom? What was that like?
RESPONDENT: First of all, finding day care was very, very difficult for
me. I interviewed a dozen people. Um. Most of them were young,
young ladies with new babies themselves. And it was very stressful
to think about leaving my son, leaving him to be raised with somebody
else. I ended up finding a day care person who was in her mid-
50s. She was really a nice woman, and I felt very comfortable with
her. And the whole surrounding ... And my husband would drop
him off in the morning so I didn’t have to deal with that separation
thing, which was kind of nice. And then I would pick him up at
Types of Interviews 89
night, so I got that opportunity. The day care woman was really
nice; she very rarely called me for any trivial things. I kind of wish
she would have—you know, you hear now about the day care people
keeping logs, you know, about what they ate or how many times
their diaper was changed or whatever. So I don’t really have a history
from, you know, I went back to work when he was 3 months
and I quit when he was 9 months. So there’s a whole 6-month gap
there. It was hard there, it really was.
INTERVIEWER: What was th e h a rd est th in g for you ?
RESPONDENT. Just the fact that, you know, he would b e smiling for the
first time without me seeing it. And just the fact that, you know, she
would be giving him his first cereal. I don’t know. I don’t know. It
was hard.
INTERVIEWER: Hard. And how d id you m ak e th e d e c isio n to quit your
work? Your paid work.
RESPONDENT: Well, both my husband and I are in finance, so we kind
of did it financially. You know, that was our way to make it seem
okay. We sat down and put everything to paper. Where we were,
what we could afford to do. And then the decision after that was
easy. You know. That’s us, though. We do everything with paper and
pencil. Okay, how are we going to do this, let’s figure this out. But it
was more an emotional thing because every day it was so hard to
get up. I mean, I was getting up at 5 o’clock in the morning, I would
work out, then I would take my shower, get him up, and I was nursing.
And I was also expressing milk at work. It was really hard. So it
was an emotional thing. And that’s kind of what set us to putting it
down on paper. Like, how could we do this? What could we do to
make this happen? So, you know, we just cut down on a few things,
we paid off both our cars, we cut back on all kinds of things.
Unstructured Interviews
As the label implies, unstructured interviews are the least structured of all.
Unlike structured interviews, which tend to be preplanned and may be taperecorded,
unstructured interviews are often conducted in a field setting, in
conjunction with an observational study. They tend to be more spontaneous
and free-flowing, with topics arising from the situation or behavior at hand.
The interviewer typically does not have a set of questions prepared in advance.
Instead, questions arise more naturally. For example, if you are conducting
a participant observation study in a fast-food restaurant, you might
ask questions about the work itself or about the workers’feelings about the
job during the course of your observation. Of all interview types, unstructured
interviews tend to be the most like “real”conversations.
90 CHAPTER 5 Interviews
CLOSENESS AND DISTANCE
IN INTERVIEW SITUATIONS
Survey researchers and authors of structured interview texts suggest that
there should be distance between interviewer and interviewee. From this
perspective, the interviewer is akin to a mechanical recorder, trained to
extract information in an efficient, detached, yet pleasant manner. To avoid
bias, the interviewer needs to reveal as little about him- or herself as possible.
Interviewers are (within some constraints) seen as more or less interchangeable.
The implication is that any interviewer, if adequately trained,
can extract the same information from the interviewee. It’s as if there are
nuggets of “truth” embedded in the interviewee, and all the interviewer has
to do is pick them up using a set of mechanical tools.
Yet interviewers—and interviewees—are not interchangeable. They each
bring different qualities to the interview, based on who they are and the
experiences they’ve had. Because interviewing is essentially a personal relationship,
who the participants are matters. Thus, many feminist researchers
have stressed that being similar in crucial ways to their interviewees was
important in gaining access to them. For example, Patricia Zavella writes
about how she informally made her interviewees—Mexican American
women workers—aware of similarities between them and herself (1996, p.
146). By disclosing her own ethnic identity and her status as a working
mother with a young child, she hoped that her informants would open up to
her as well. Similarly, in her study ofAppalachian women and domestic violence,
Patricia Gagne emphasized her similarities to the women she was
studying by sharing information about her own experiences in an abusive
relationship (Tewksbury and Gagne 1997).
Presenting the appearance of similarity can also aid in developing rapport.
For example, Lauraine Leblanc (2000) studied punk girls in North
America. She had been involved with the punk scene prior to becoming a
graduate student, and she still retained elements of her past involvement,
such as tattoos, hairstyle and hair color, and wardrobe. Her appearance as a
punk and her familiarity with the scene (she notes that she was sometimes
seen as an “old punk”) was crucial to her acceptance by the girls.
Must researchers always be similar to their research participants? If this
were the case, then we could never know about people different from
ourselves, and most research would be about White, professional-class academics.
Clearly, then, not all researchers study those who are like themselves—nor
should they. But the skills involved in developing relationships
across social boundaries are complex. Thus, Carol Stack, a middle-class
Closeness and Distance in Interview Situations 91
White academic, writes about how she came to do research among both
urban and rural African American women, often poor, who were very different
from herself (Stack 1974, 1996). At one point, she describes a group
discussion about her research on men and women who were migrating back
to the South. Finally giving her support to Stack’s project, one woman
declared, “You see here a white woman capable of learning” (Stack 1996,
p. 103). A standardized survey, in which all the questions were prearranged
and selected, would clearly not have served Stack well in her attempt to
transcend boundaries of race and class.
From a feminist standpoint, Ann Oakley (1981) argues that interviewers
must be willing to risk disclosing personal information and developing
real relationships with their research participants. In her research on the
transition to motherhood, she found that she simply could not follow the
advice of traditionalists in response to her interviewees’ questions. In this
research project, Oakley interviewed women many times, both before and
after giving birth. She was also present at a number of the births—certainly
one of the more personal and intimate times in a woman’s life. Because of
the intimacy that developed over time, she found it artificial, and even
impossible, to maintain emotional distance. Traditionalists argue that researchers
should try to laugh off requests for personal information in interviews
or state that they have never really thought about the question. But,
Oakley wondered, how could she laugh off or not respond to questions like
“Why is it dangerous to leave a small baby alone in the house?” (Oakley
1981, p. 48) Her interviewees wanted to know if she, herself, was a mother,
and she saw no reason to withhold that information. Furthermore, Oakley
argues, her own experiences of mothering gave her special insights into her
participants’ lives and helped shrink the distance between herself and her
subjects. As a mother herself, she had experienced many of the same things
as her interviewees. And these shared experiences were critical for her
research.
Because interviews are relationships between people—however artificial
they may sometimes feel—interpersonal skills are crucial to being a
good interviewer. If the person you are interviewing doesn’t trust you or feel
comfortable in your presence, then the interview is unlikely to go well. After
all, why should someone take the time or effort to interview with you?
What’s in it for them? Even if participants do agree to an interview, they
may not be willing to talk honestly or discuss intimate details about their
personal lives if they do not feel some level of trust. This is especially true in
attempts to research those who are different from you or those from stigmatized
groups.
92 CHAPTER 5 Interviews
The development of trust between interviewer and interviewee is often
called developing “rapport.” Traditional interview texts suggest that you
should develop enough rapport to get people to talk to you, but not so
much that you actually develop friendships with your participants or disclose
too much about yourself. The image is almost one of “tricking” research
participants into talking to you.
More recently, many scholars, especially feminists, have argued that this
image of the interview tends to ignore issues of power in the interview situation
(Acker, Barry, and Esseveld 1996; Reinharz 1992; Stacey 1996). Ann
Oakley suggests that the traditional focus on extracting information from
passive research subjects is “morally indefensible” because it treats those
being researched as objects. In the traditional view of interviewing,
researchers define the boundaries of the relationship; thus, they do not necessarily
keep interviewees’ best interests in mind. In fact, the researchers’
desire to get research participants to reveal intimate details may directly
conflict with the participants’ desire to keep information private. Oakley
argues that the traditional way of thinking about interviews rationalizes
inequality: “What is good for interviewers is not necessarily good for interviewees”(1981,
p. 40). In addition, she suggests that the preservation of distance
and hierarchy between interviewer and interviewee makes for poor
interviews. How can researchers expect intimacy when they are not willing
to reciprocate?
PREPARING FOR THE INTERVIEW
Before beginning an interview, you need to make choices about the interview
process. Specifically, you need to address questions like these:
What kind of relationships do you hope to develop with those you
are studying?
* How intimate a relationship is desirable?
❖ How will you gain access to potential interviewees?
i What kinds of information are appropriate to disclose about
yourself?
v Will you conduct relatively structured or unstructured interviews?
t Is the interview process a method for gaining information from
research subjects or a process ofjointly sharing information and creating
meanings?
Preparing for the Interview 93
Your decisions about these questions will shape how you prepare for and
conduct your interviews.
Deciding Whom to Interview
Methodologists tend to worry a lot about whom to interview, and their concern
makes sense. If you don’t choose appropriate people to interview, you
won’t get the information you are looking for. Survey researchers and quantitative
social scientists tend to use techniques that will ensure what they
call a random sample of the population. These techniques allow them to
generalize the results of the study to a larger population. But these kinds of
sampling methods are not as useful for qualitative research. In qualitative
research, we are more often interested in understanding a particular case in
great detail. We want to know a lot about a relatively small number of people.
Thus, we tend to sacrifice breadth for depth. We typically don’t interview
thousands or even hundreds of respondents, as quantitative scholars
do. Instead, we might interview only twenty-five or fifty people for our
research. Some studies are conducted with even fewer participants. Judith
Stacey, for example, studied two kinship networks very intensively over an
extended period of time (Stacey 1991).
Qualitative researchers usually choose research participants for the specific
qualities they can bring to the study. In general, you should choose
those interviewees who can give you the greatest possible insight into your
topic. Sometimes, after an extended period of field observation, you will recognize
that there are several different groups within your field setting. In a
fast-food restaurant, for example, the distinction between part-time and
full-time workers may be important. If so, you will want to interview people
from both groups. Sometimes, you know in advance that you want several
different perspectives on a topic. For example, you may want to explore the
perspectives of old women and young women on domestic violence, or
those of Asian Americans and Latinas. This is sometimes called a purposive
strategy, in which you intentionally sample research participants for the specific
perspectives they may have.
At other times, especially in the beginning stages of a research project,
it’s helpful to use what is sometimes called snowball sampling or chain referral
sampling (Biernacki and Waldorf 1981). In this technique, you begin
with an initial interviewee—often, a key informant. Then you ask that person
to refer you to friends or acquaintances or others who might be appropriate
to interview. In this way, your sample “snowballs." In fact, for “hidden”
populations or groups of people who engage in stigmatized behavior, this
may be the only way to recruit interviewees. For example, suppose you want
94 CHAPTER 5 Interviews
to investigate people who use illegal drugs. Chances are, if you advertise in a
newspaper or bulletin board, you will get few (if any) responses. Potential
interviewees need to know that you are trustworthy. Thus, having a friend
or acquaintance vouch for you may be crucial in gaining access. For certain
kinds of research, snowball sampling may be the'only way to gain access.
If you do use snowball sampling, it is often helpful to begin your recruitment
efforts in somewhat different social locations. For example, if you
are studying men who have tested positive for HIV, you might want to gain
initial contacts with men from different clinics and social service agencies, in
addition to seeking out men who are not affiliated with these agencies at all.
One of the risks of snowball sampling is that the participants may be too
similar to one another to give you the diverse perspectives you want.
Lisa Groger, Pamela Mayberry and Jane Straker (1999) caution that as
researchers you need to consider those who refuse to participate in an interview
or those to whom you can’t gain access. What might you not learn, they
ask, because of who would not talk to you? In their research on African
American elders and their caregivers, they experienced numerous problems
gaining interviewees. There were numerous gatekeepers, some of whom may
have had a vested interest in not providing access. Some of the elders may
have had particular reasons not to be interviewed. They suggest that qualitative
researchers need to think carefully about how the choices they make in
soliciting research participants may shape the conclusions they come to.
Preparing an Interview Guide
In in-depth interviewing, the researcher typically prepares an interview
guide to help focus the interview. Unlike a questionnaire or a precoded survey
instrument, which provides a rigid order and specific wording for the
questions that the interviewer must follow, an interview guide helps the
interviewer focus the interview. The interview guide lists the main topics
and, typically, the wording of questions that the researcher wants to ask. It
also usually includes some ideas about follow-up questions (or probes). But
the researcher does not follow the guide rigidly in conducting the interview.
Rather, she or he adapts the questions during the course of the interview,
changing both the phrasing and the order of the questions. The interviewer
might ask additional questions based on the participant’s responses. Some
researchers like to create two interview guides: a relatively long one that
includes many detailed questions and a short schematic that summarizes
the main topics. The detailed guide serves primarily to help the researcher
prepare for the interview; the summary helps him or her remember the key
topics during the actual interview.
Preparing for the Interview 95
Deciding What Kinds of Questions to Ask
Not all topics are amenable to interviews. It doesn’t make sense to ask interviewees
about things they can’t answer, and some kinds of questions will
make for more productive interviews than others. For example, it doesn’t
really make sense to ask native English speakers when they first learned to
speak English, because they probably don’t remember. If you want to know
about what people actually do, rather than what they say they do, you
should probably use observation. But you can legitimately ask people questions
about the following (Patton 1990, pp. 290-293):
Their experiences or behaviors
Their opinions or values
Their feelings
Their factual knowledge
Their sensory experiences
Their personal background
Let’s say that you are researching workers in a fast-food restaurant, and
you want to ask them about their daily routines. You might ask, “What do
you normally do when you begin a shift?”Or you might inquire about a particular
experience: “Have you ever been stiffed by a customer? Can you tell
me about it?”These questions point to events or experiences that research
participants have had.
You might also be curious about research participants’ opinions or values.
In the case of fast-food workers, you might ask them how they think
customers (or the workers themselves) should be treated. For example, you
might ask, “Some people use the saying The customer is always right.’What
do you think about that?" or “What do you think about how workers are
treated in this restaurant?”
Sometimes, you will want to explore the interviewees’feelings or emotions
about a particular xopic or event. In this case, you might ask, “How did
you feel when you were yelled at by a customer?” or “What do you like
about your work?”
Other times, you may be interested in factual information—what the
interviewees know. Thus, you might ask, “Have you heard about proposed
legislation to raise the minimum wage?” Be aware that factual questions
may not lead to an in-depth discussion. But they can sometimes be used to
figure out whether to continue a line of questioning. For example, if you
only want to find out what employees have heard about the proposed
96 CHAPTER 5 Interviews
legislation, you won’t want to continue that line of questioning if they
haven’t heard of it.
You can also ask questions about the senses—what the interviewees see,
hear, touch, smell, and taste. An appropriate question here might be, “What
does the kitchen smell like at the end of the shift?”These kinds of questions
can be especially useful in setting the scene and trying to figure out what the
interviewees’daily reality is.
Finally, you can ask background questions—questions about, say, family
background or social class or income. You might ask, “How many children
do you have? How old are they?”Some background questions are especially
tricky—for example, questions about income. Sometimes, interviewers will
include a short questionnaire for these kinds of information to avoid having
to ask about them face-to-face.
Structuring and Ordering Questions
In developing the interview guide, it’s often useful to brainstorm a list of
questions and topics that you think might be useful to include. Then you
can put them in some kind of logical order. For example, for your research
in the fast-food restaurant, you might put questions about how the work is
actually done in one section and questions about relations with coworkers in
another. Keep in mind, though, that the precise order will depend in large
part on the interview itself—it’s best to follow the interviewee’s lead. But
it's also a good idea to at least think in advance about the kinds of questions
that seem to go well with other questions and to consider some potential
follow-up questions. As a general rule, you should place easier, less threatening
questions at the beginning and save more controversial or sensitive questions
for the middle or end, once you have developed some rapport and
established some trust.
When I’m preparing an interview guide, I usually brainstorm a fairly
long list of topics and questions. Then I circle all the topics and questions
that seem related, make sure the questions and topics don’t overlap, and
delete redundant questions. Finally, I work on the phrasing of the questions,
trying to craft open-ended questions that will help spark discussion, rather
than close it down. I often find it helpful to work with a key informant or
another researcher at this stage, someone who can help me sort through
potential redundancies. I usually try to gather feedback early on and pretest
the questions before using them on a larger scale.
Box 5.1 shows an excerpt from a brainstorming list for my research on
stay-at-home mothers. Notice how the items in Box 5.1 are expanded into
an interview guide in Box 5.2. In the actual interviews, I didn’t necessarily
Preparing for the Interview 97
box 5.1 Brainstorming Topics for an Interview Guide
forAt-Home Mothers
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box 5.2 Excerpt from an Interview Guide
forAt-Home Mothers ____ . . ^
A, Typical Day
1. What does a typical day look like for you?
2. What are the greatest stresses in your day?
3. What are the greatest pleasures in your day?
B. Household Work
4. Tell me about the household work in your family. Who does it?
[Probes: Different areas of household work: dishes, cooking,
laundry, cleaning, car repair, yard work. Does your partner/spouse
help out?] i
G Transition to Being at Home
5. What kind ofwork aid you do before becoming an at-home mom?
6. What did you like about it?
7. What did you not like about it?
8. What was it like for you to stop working for pay? How did you feel
about it?
9. When you first decided to stay at home, how did others react?
[Probes: Get reactions of partner/spouse, parents, coworkers,
friends.]
10. Did anyone support you in your decision? Who?
98 CHAPTER 5 Interviews
ask the questions in order; nor did I use the exact words listed. As an interviewer,
I wanted to follow the interviewee’s lead. Still, the list provided
guidance for the topics to be covered.
Making Questions Open-Ended
Remember that your purpose in in-depth interviewing is to explore the
research participant’s reality. You need to make sure that the questions
make sense to your research participants and are phrased in language that is
appropriate for them. The questions should open up discussion, not close it
down. Patricia Zavella (1987), for example, conducted her interviews in
whatever mix of Spanish and English was most comfortable for her interviewees.
If you know that the group you are studying uses specific terms for
various things, you should use them. But it also doesn't make sense to take
on another group’s jargon unreflectively. Think how silly I would sound, for
example, if I tried to use teenagers’ expressions.
Beginning researchers often try to use relatively formal language, which
looks good on paper but sounds awkward in speech. In the first draft of an
interview guide, for example, one group of students included a question
about whether their interviewees had ever “engaged in the use of alcoholic
beverages at parties.”While technically correct, this question sounded stilted
when they asked it. It sounded much more natural when they rephrased it to
ask if their respondents “ever drank at parties,”clarifying as needed that they
were referring to alcoholic beverages (“like wine or beer or hard liquor”).
You also need to consider that how you phrase questions will shape
interviewees’ responses to you. Especially in in-depth interviewing, you
need to make sure your questions are open-ended. Try to create questions
that encourage your participants to talk, not shut down. There are a number
of tricks you can use to try to keep your interviewees talking.
Avoid Dichotomies Try to avoid questions that can easily be answered by
a simple “yes”or “no.”These questions, called dichotomous questions because
there are two possible answers to them, can bring a conversation to a halt because
they do not encourage interviewees to continue. Here is an example:
INTERVIEWER: Do you feel college drinking is getting out of hand?
RESPONDENT: No.
Avoid Leading Questions Dichotomous questions can often be leading
questions—that is, questions that lead interviewees to give a particular
response. You should avoid these questions because they don’t encourage
Preparing for the Interview 99
the interviewee to say what she or he actually thinks. Be especially wary
of questions that begin with “Don’t you think . . . ?” or “Wouldn’t you
agree ... ?”Look at this example:
Leading question: “Don’t you think that college drinking is getting out
of hand?”
You can revise dichotomous and leading questions to make them more
open-ended. For example, you can reword the question this way:
Revised question: “What do you think about college drinking?”
Ask Both General and Specific Questions Asking general questions gives
your interviewees the opportunity to reflect on what’s most meaningful to
them. With a general question, you can focus on those aspects of the topic
that are most salient. General questions also allow your interviewees to
move at their own pace and indicate that you are interested in what they
have to say. So, for example, you might want to ask your interviewee questions
like these:
General question: “Can you describe a typical day at work for me?”
General question: “What do you usually like to do after school?”
At the same time, it’s often helpful to ask more specific questions, ones
that require your interviewees to draw on their own experiences. More specific
questions can also serve as good follow-up questions. For example,
compare these two questions below. The first invites respondents to think
more abstractly about college drinking, and the second asks respondents to
reflect on their own campus.
General question: "What do you think about college drinking?”
Specific question: “What do you think about drinking on this campus?”
Whenever possible, try to ask questions that encourage respondents to draw
on specific experiences. For example, if a respondent has trouble imagining
a “typical day,” you might ask her or him to describe a specific day: “What
about the last day you worked? Can you describe what happened that day?”
Take Care unth the Question "Why?" Be cautious about using the question
“Why?” People don't always know why they do things, and they may feel
100 CHAPTER 5 Interviews
defensive when asked to provide an account of their actions. This doesn’t
mean that you should never ask “Why?”in an interview. As a researcher, you
are certainly interested in figuring out why people do things or hearing the
accounts they give. But it does mean that you should think about whether
the wording of the question is useful.
Consider the difference between these two questions:
Potentially threatening: “Why did you get drunk at that party?”
Potentially less threatening: “Can you talk a little about your drinking
at that party?”
The second question might also be followed up with several more specific
questions—for example, “How did you begin?”and “Do you remember how
you made the decision to keep drinking after you felt tipsy?” Sometimes,
simply asking “How come?” instead of “Why?” will make a question less
threatening. In general, if you can normalize the experience you are asking
about and show that you are not being judgmental, you will be less likely to
threaten the interviewee.
Pretesting Your Interview Guide
You should always try to pretest your interview guide, because what may
seem like a good question in the abstract may turn out not to be in practice.
Sometimes, the language is too formal or informal, or the question simply
doesn’t make sense. As a first round of pretesting, you might try the questions
on your classmates. Then you might try the questions on a key informant,
one who can help you make adjustments. In large-scale interview
studies, researchers may do a round of pretesting on a smaller group of subjects
before using the interview questions on a large scale. Whether you do a
formal or informal pretest, be sure that you are familiar with the questions
you want to ask. By the time you interview “real”research participants, you
should have the questions basically memorized. That way, you can focus on
what the interviewee is saying, not on whether you remember the questions.
BEFORE THE INTERVIEW
Once you have completed your interview guide and pretested it, you are
ready to set up the actual interview. It’s best to set up the interview in
advance. You should have some idea of how long the interview should take,
based on your pretest. Make sure you allow more time than you think you
Before the Interview 101
will need for the interview. When you set up the interview, be sure to tell
potential interviewees about what you are researching and why. Give them
an estimate of how much of their time you will need, as well as a phone
number or way to contact you if they need to cancel or change plans. If
you’ve made a date for the interview far in advance (say, several weeks), it’s
a good idea to call the day before to remind them that you’ll be coming.
And if you are conducting the interview at an unfamiliar place, be sure to
get directions!
Establishing a Location
The location of the interview can vary, depending on you and your interviewees’preferences.
Interviews can take place in an office, in an interviewee's
home or workplace, or in a coffee shop or other public place. Ideally,
you should do the interview in a fairly quiet place where you won’t be disturbed.
If you can, try to turn off cell phones and pagers and other potential
sources of interruption. Realistically, however, it’s often difficult for some
people to find a quiet place. For example, when I was interviewing at-home
mothers, I typically came to their homes. Because the women were caring
for their children at home, they tended not to have baby sitters or other
child care. The interviews thus were often interrupted so the women could
attend to children’s needs. While the interviews often felt disjointed and
were difficult to transcribe, they also gave much more insight into the texture
and quality of the women’s lives than an interview in a sterile, artificial
environment would have.
Constructing a Face Sheet
Often, interviewers construct a face sheet that includes demographic information
about the interviewee and information on the set-up of the interview:
the name or code number of the interviewee, contact information, the
place and time of interview, and so forth.
Deciding What to Bring
My “interview packet” includes a face sheet, an interview guide, consent
forms (and pens), and any other material I think I might need, such as
informational handouts for the interviewees. If you are taping the interview,
be sure to bring extra batteries and more tapes than you think you
might need—and make sure your tape recorder is working. Most interviewers
have suffered the unhappy experience of having a tape recorder stop in
102 CHAPTER 5 Interviews
the middle of the interview and thereby losing irreplaceable interviews.
Some interviewers like to record the date, location of interview, and name
(or code number) of the interviewee at the beginning of the tape. That
helps them test the recorder, as well as keep track of their interview tapes
later on.
Dressing Appropriately
At the risk of sounding like an old fuddy-duddy, I strongly advise you to
think about issues of dress and appearance for the interview. What you
wear, how you style your hair, and how you adorn your body send clear
messages about who and what you are. And interviewees are no less susceptible
to these messages than other people. Thus, you need to consider the
kinds of messages you want to send. You’ll clearly make different choices
depending on your interviewees. If you’re interviewing other students, for
example, you can probably keep your body piercings in and dress a little
more informally. But if you’re interviewing residents in a nursing home, you
probably should cover up your tattoo and dress more formally. The key is to
know your audience. What kinds of assumptions will they make about you?
How will they respond to certain kinds of dress or appearance? If you are
interviewing students in a sorority or fraternity, wearing a Greek letter pin
will give them one impression. (If you don’t legitimately have one, though,
I wouldn’t recommend it.) Wearing a heavy metal tee shirt will give them
another. When in doubt, dress a little more conservatively or more neutrally
than you think you might need to.
DURING THE INTERVIEW
Before you actually begin the interview, take time to describe your study
and your interviewee’s role in it. You should make sure your interviewee
knows that she or he can stop the interview at any time or refuse to answer
any question. I always inform my interviewees that I’m interested in their
viewpoints and that there aren't any right or wrong answers. Some interviewees
are not used to structured interviews or are convinced that there's a
“right” answer. During the interview, they may ask things like “Is this what
you’re looking for?” I try to reassure participants that I want to hear about
their experiences in their own words. Also make sure that you answer any
questions the interviewee might have. Sometimes, for example, interviewees
want to know why you have selected them for the interview. If you have a
consent form, make sure the interviewee signs it before beginning.
During the Interview 103
If I am tape-recording interviews, I often find it helpful to move the
tape recorder close to the interviewees while going over the consent forms
and providing preliminary information. I usually reiterate that they can stop
the interview at any time, and I show them the “stop”button on the tape
recorder. I also let them know that they can erase any part of the tape they
like. Essentially, I give them control of the tape recorder.
Warming Up
Interviewees often are nervous about the interview or about being taperecorded.
Many researchers find it helpful to chat for a few minutes before
beginning the interview. For example, I asked mothers about their children
in my interviews with at-home mothers. Some interviewers like to establish
rapport with their interviewees by finding things they have in common.
Keeping the Conversation Rolling
In-depth interviewing is an art as well as a skill. More than any other research
technique, in-depth interviews require active listening skills. Conducting
an in-depth interview entails sending out the message that what
your interviewee has to say is important. It’s not simply a matter of mechanically
asking questions and giving responses. Instead, it involves actively listening
to what your ihterviewee has to say, following up, and keeping the
conversation rolling. Think of it as more like a meandering river and less like
a game of Ping-Pong. '
You can encourage conversation through body language and verbal cues
that indicate active listening and genuine interest in what your respondent
has to say and through follow-up questions and prompts. Some people are
naturally better at interviewing (and, more generally, at conversing) than
others. Still, interviewing is a skill that you can learn through practice.
One way to encourage the flow of conversation is through the careful
use of transitions. How can you move the interview smoothly from one
topic to the next? Suppose you are interviewing a fast-food worker about
her relationships with coworkers, and you want to turn to her relationship
with the manager. You might try a transition like this: “You said you tend to
get along with your coworkers pretty well. Is that the case for your manager,
too?”Sometimes, there won’t be a graceful transition. In those cases, it’s still
a good idea to let your interviewee know where you're heading in the interview—for
example, “We’ve been talking about how you get along with your
coworkers. Now I’d like you to think about how you get along with customers.
Can you talk a little about that?"
104 CHAPTER 5 Interviews
Thinking on Your Feet: Follow-Ups and Probes
In an in-depth interview, you have to “think on your feet.”The interview
guide gives you a place to begin your questioning, but it’s important to
remember that your goal is to follow your interviewee’s lead. This means
that you don’t have to go through your questions in lockstep order. Instead,
if a question leads the interviewee to talk about something that is farther
down on your interview guide (or isn’t on the guide but seems relevant),
don’t hesitate to jump to that topic.
Sometimes, interviewees are reticent or simply don't know how much
information you are looking for. You can use follow-up questions and probes
to clarify responses or to obtain additional information. Some follow-up
questions are planned; others are unplanned. You might want to follow up
when an interviewee uses an unfamiliar term, or when you need more information
to understand a story, or when you simply want more details. The
wording of probes and follow-up questions usually flows from the specific
topic you are investigating. Still, there are a number of general probes that
you might find helpful, including these:
What happened?
When did something happen?
♦ Who else was there?
5 Where were you?
> How were you involved?
How did that happen?
c Where did it happen?
< What was that like for you?
One follow-up question I use frequently when I want to know more is simply
“Can you tell me a little more about it?”
As a final question, I usually like to ask respondents if there is anything
they want to add or any aspect of their experience that the questions didn’t
cover. I usually also ask if they would like to ask me anything before I go.
Speaking and Keeping Quiet
One of the hardest things for many beginning interviewers to do is to deal
with periods of silence in the interview. But some people think faster than
others. Sometimes, people need time to gather their thoughts and sort
through what they want to say or simply to remember something. If you
rush in to “fill the gap,”you may stop their thought process or cut them off.
During the Interview 105
They may feel that you’re not really interested in what they have to say or
that they’re going into too much detail. If long silences in conversation make
you uncomfortable, you need to find some way to stop yourself from rushing
in. Sit on your hands. Count silently to yourself. If someone really doesn’t
understand the question, he or she usually will say something or look confused
or otherwise indicate a need for clarification. However, don’t jump in
with a clarification until you’re absolutely certain that it’s necessary.
Look for subtle cues that the person is really finished speaking before
moving on to the next question. Sometimes, for example, interviewees
might repeat the answer or give a verbal cue that they’re done, such as saying
“That’s all” or “Is that what you mean?”They might look away while
they’re thinking and then make eye contact when they’re ready to speak (or
done speaking). If you’re not sure if someone has finished speaking, you can
always ask if she or he wants to add anything else. Whatever you do, make
sure you allow the interviewee lots of time to think. A slower-paced interview
will usually give you much richer information than a fast one.
In a similar vein, don’t rush in to tell your own stories. Sometimes, an
interviewee’s story will remind you of some of your own experiences, and
you may be tempted to jump in. But I strongly recommend that you do not.
Instead, keep the focus on the interviewee.
Communicating Nonverbally
Not all meaning is communicated verbally. A skilled interviewer also
watches for body language, which can provide important clues to the respondent’s
meaning. For example, a fast-food worker might say, “I
1-o-o-o-v-e my boss,” and then roll his eyes, indicating the opposite. You
need to pay attention to how people say things, as well as to what they say.
You also need to monitor your own nonverbal communication. Your
body language can send the message that you’re interested in what your
interviewee has to say—or bored by it. Be an active listener. That is, lean in
toward your interviewee, nod your head, and say, “Uh huh.”These “minimal
prompters”communicate that you are listening intently to what your interviewee
has to say. Sometimes, restating what the interviewee has just said is
a good check to make sure that you understand—for example, “You said you
don’t like working the front counter, right?”
Keeping on Track
What if your interviewee goes “off track”? How much control should you
try to exert during the interview with a very talkative interviewee? Most
first-time interviewees are too concerned with asking all their preplanned
106 CHAPTER 5 Interviews
questions in order and keeping interviewees “on track.” But some of the
most important insights come from the spontaneous parts of interviews. For
this reason, I recommend that you allow your interviewees a fair amount of
leeway. The most important thing is to let participants speak, not to keep
them rigidly on track. That said, there are times when an interviewee wanders
very far afield from the topics at hand. When that occurs, it’s best to
gently guide the conversation back on track.
Taping and Taking Notes
Should you tape-record the interviews? Take notes? Do both? Some interviewers
feel very strongly that you should tape-record all interviews; others
feel equally strongly that you should not. In informal, unstructured interviews,
such as may occur during participant observation, it may actually be
impossible to record the responses. In these cases, taking notes (written or
mental) may suffice. In more structured interviews, I recommend taperecording
unless the interviewee seems so unnerved by the process that the
interview does not get off the ground. Some interviewees are afraid that
they will seem ignorant or say something they’ll regret having on tape. Others
become painfully self-conscious. Still others—such as those involved in
illegal activities—may be concerned that the tape will fall into someone
else’s hands and be used against them.
My experience is that most interviewees eventually forget about the
tape recorder. Taping enables you to listen more fully to what the individual
is saying. If you are frantically trying to take notes, you cannot make eye
contact or give the interviewee full attention. Taping also enables you to go
back and listen again and again to the interview'—a big help in conducting
the analysis. Taping also lets you pay attention to small details or to particular
ways of phrasing things that you might otherwise miss. Marjorie DeVault
(1999) reminds us that how someone says things may be as important as
what they say. The tape recording provides a record of this.
Should you take notes during the interview as well? Many interviewers
do. Notes can help you remember details about nonverbal gestures or questions
of emphasis. They can help you remember where the interview has
gone and avoid repeating topics. You can also jot notes about follow-up
questions that you want to ask. If you take good notes, then you can reconstruct
the interview if the taping fails. I generally do not take many notes
during the interview itself, though I keep pen and paper handy. Despite my
best intentions to take notes during the interview, I find it hard to concentrate
on what people are saying if I’m writing. But others have the opposite
After the Interview 107
experience: The act of writing keeps them focused on what is being said.
You should use your own judgment about what works for you.
AFTER THE INTERVIEW
Writing Field Notes
As mentioned previously, I recommend writing detailed field notes immediately
after an interview. I often end up taking notes in the car a few blocks
away. In those notes, I try to recall as much as I can about the small details of
the interview. I try to recall the setting and the appearance of the interviewee,
as well as any details about the interaction that strike me. I also try to record
my impressions about how the interview went. The following is an excerpt
from field notes that I wrote after an interview with an at-home mother:
Ijust came from interviewing 009, who lives in a rented town house
in Mill City. She strikes me as depressed. At least more than a little
unhappy and isolated. It seems to me that given how much she has
moved around and how she hasn’t been able to finish her schooling,
no wonder she is unhappy.... I was struck by how she talked about
her unhappiness in mothering right in front of her daughter.
When I got to her house, her daughter was watching television.
The house is small, worn, definitely not new. They’re saving up for a
down payment for a home of their own, which she hopes they’ll be
able to buy next spring. We sat at her dining room table near sliding
doors. She apologized for the view (the next door neighbor’sback
yard, which had a lot ofjunk in it). She’s definitely not happy with
the house—no yard for her daughter to play in, not enough room. . ..
At the end of the interview (and I could see she was nervous about
the tape recorder), we talked a little. She said something like "now
let’s turn the tables. I’ll interview you. Tell me about your childhood!”
She’s uneasy about her mothering, and I felt like I needed to reassure
her. I think she thinks that all other mothers are perfectly happy, that
other mothers have perfect children, etc. I gave her some info about
some of the hard times other mothers have described.
Transcribing and Making Sense
If you do tape-record the interviews, you should transcribe the tapes as
soon as possible after the interview. Don’t wait until you have many tapes
piled up, or the job of transcribing (and subsequent analysis) will become
108 CHAPTER 5 Interviews
overwhelming. If you’re lucky and have a research grant to hire a transcriptionist,
you can delegate that work. But chances are, you’ll have to do the
transcribing yourself. Transcribing interview tapes is hard work. Even if you
are an excellent typist, it still can take many hours to transcribe one interview
tape. A tape player with foot pedals and variable speeds is an enormous
help. Still, according to one estimate, it takes a fast typist about
4 hours to transcribe each hour of interview tape (Morse 1998). A 1-hour
interview can yield twenty-five pages of typed transcript or more.
What should you transcribe? How much detail should you go into?
How should you record the stuttering, repetitions, silences, laughs, and awkwardness
of spoken language? In general, you should transcribe in as much
detail as you can muster. Be sure to include both the questions and the
responses—what you say, as interviewer, is a crucial part of the conversation.
But you need to make a decision about how much detail to go into. Some
researchers, called conversation analysts, pay attention to how things are said
(Schegloff and Sacks 1974). They are interested in the rules that structure
conversation, and they have developed very complicated methods for transcribing
tapes, including symbols to indicate pauses between turns, intonation,
and overlapping speech. For your purposes, you probably won’t need
to go into that much detail. Still, it’s useful to reproduce the speech as faithfully
as you can. I don’t recommend “cleaning up”the speech too much (for
example, don’t correct grammar or transform spoken language into standard
written English). Spoken language, after all, is much less formal than written
language, and it’s important to preserve the flavor of what was said.
Some interviewers give a copy of the tape or transcript to the interviewees
afterwards to let the interviewees make any corrections or additions.
For example, Sharon Thompson interviewed over 400 teenage girls
over a 9-year period on the subject of romance and sex (Thompson 1995).
After each interview, the participant could decide whether to allow Thompson
to include the tape in her research. The girls were encouraged to call her
later if they changed their mind.
GROUP INTERVIEWS
The Role of the Focus Group
Not all interviews are conducted with only one person at a time. Some
researchers conduct interviews with small groups, typically with fewer than
ten people. Sometimes called focus groups, small-group interviews are used
extensively by market researchers and political pollsters. Although the tech­
Group Interviews 109
niques for focus groups were originally developed in the1940s and 1950s;
they subsequently fell out of favor among most social researchers (Morgan
1988). In the past two decades, however, the use of focus groups by social
researchers has become much more commonplace.
Social scientists often use focus groups to evaluate programs (such as
job training programs or drug and alcohol treatment programs). Public
health researchers, and individuals interested in “social marketing,”or trying
to introduce desired behaviors such as sexual practices that decrease the risk
of HIV, also use focus groups (Morgan 1996). Sometimes, focus groups are
used alone; but more often, they are used in conjunction with other methods,
such as individual interviews or surveys. Social scientists have used
focus groups to explore a variety of topics, including fear of crime among
Latinas (Madriz 1998), people’s experiences with natural disasters such as
Hurricane Andrew (Belgrave and Smith 1995), the coping strategies of
HIV-positive mothers (Marcenko and Samost 1999), and women’s feelings
about sexuality (Montell 1999).
Group interviews, like individual interviews, can be relatively structured
or unstructured. They are useful when you want to know about people’s
opinions or attitudes, rather than people's actual behavior. They are
also useful when you want to understand group processes—how people
arrive at decisions. When they work well, focus groups can be an extraordinarily
rich source of data, as focus group members build on one another’s
ideas and opinions.
One of the advantages of small-group interviews is that they allow for
the collection of a fairly large amount of data in a relatively short period of
time. With group interviews, you can typically sample a larger variety of
opinions in a shorter period than in individual interviews. Overall, they can
be less time-consuming (and thus cheaper) than individual interviews.
In addition, some researchers find that focus groups are especially helpful for
studying transient populations. For example, if you want to conduct interviews
with migrant farmworkers, who move from place to place picking
crops, it will take you a long time to conduct individual interviews. By the
time you are partway through, the workers likely will have moved on. Focus
groups provide you with a way to gather interview data more quickly.
Some feminist researchers argue that focus groups are especially helpful
in reducing the imbalances of power between the researcher and those
being researched (Montell 1999). By enabling women to speak with others
who have had similar experiences, focus groups help empower women.
Esther Madriz sees focus groups as a form of “collective testimony,” a way
for women to break their silence and confirm their experiences with other
women (Madriz 1998, 2000).
110 CHAPTER 5 Interviews
A focus group typically consists of a small number of participants—usually
less than 10. Often, the focus group is relatively homogeneous with
regard to age, ethnicity, gender, or some other characteristic important to
the study. What’s most important in forming a focus group is finding a
group of people who will feel comfortable interacting with one another and
who will express their opinions freely. Sometimes, groups are composed of
people who are already familiar with one another, such as parents in a particular
school or workers from the same workplace. Other times, the participants
are unfamiliar with one another.
Recruitment can be a difficult problem for focus group researchers
(Morgan 1995). Unless the topic is of great intrinsic interest to potential
participants, they may not be motivated to participate. And once they have
agreed to participate, there is still the possibility that they will not show up.
Yet, unless at least a minimal number show up, the focus group won’t be
as productive and may even have to be canceled. Thus, experienced users
of focus groups often use extensive follow-up procedures (written and
telephoned reminders, for example), offer incentives (food or money), and
typically over-recruit. One rule of thumb is to invite at least two more participants
than you think you will need (Morgan 1995).
The Role of Moderator
Focus groups can be more or less structured. Morgan (1996) argues that it’s
helpful for moderators to control the session in terms of two dimensions.
First, moderators may play a more or less directive role in regard to the
questions asked. In a more structured focus group, the questions are relatively
specific, and the moderator controls what topics are brought up. In
this group, the moderator may move group discussion away from topics that
are not of interest to the researcher. In a less structured group, the questions
can be very general, and the moderator allows topics to emerge according to
the group’s interests.
The second dimension of structure involves group dynamics. In a relatively
structured group, the moderator plays a more directive role in terms
of group dynamics. The moderator can intervene to encourage quiet or shy
participants and at the same time tactfully discourage more forceful individuals
from dominating the group. Some experts suggest that it’s helpful to
have two moderators: one to focus on group processes and keep the conversation
moving and the other to observe and take notes.
Because each group member must be allowed time to participate, a
group interview will typically deal with fewer topics than an individual
interview. Most focus groups last between 1 and 2 hours. In that period,
Group Interviews 111
only a relatively small number of topics can be introduced. Sustaining discussion
is easier if the participants are legitimately interested in the topic.
Some experts argue that it can be helpful to begin with questions that are
likely to be of most interest to participants, even when those topics aren’t
the most important to the researcher (Morgan 1995).
Stimulating free and open discussion is one of the greatest challenges of
the moderator. One risk of focus groups—especially when they include individuals
of differing power and status or when they focus on controversial
topics—is that participants might censor themselves and defer to group
opinion so as not to “rock the boat” or make others feel uneasy. This phenomenon,
called groupthink by Irving Janis (1982), can be avoided. One way
is through the use of “devil’s advocates”—individuals whose specific role is
to question the group’s ideas and decisions and thus to spark free discussion
(MacDougall and Baum 1997). Another possibility is to include only those
who are of similar status in the group, thereby avoiding the problem of
lower-status group members censoring themselves. Esther Madriz argues
that it may be important for the moderator to be of the same racial/ethnic
background as the participants (1998). Sharing important similarities, she
suggests, leads to rapport, which enhances the likelihood of a successful
focus group session.
Ethical Issues in Conducting Focus Groups
Focus groups have some specific ethical issues. Unlike in individual interviews,
the researcher is not the only one who needs to respect confidentiality.
In the case of group interviews, all the other group participants need to
maintain confidentiality as well. Participants won’t speak freely if they believe
that what they say will not be held in confidence. This is especially
important in focus groups that deal with sensitive issues, such as sexuality.
Bruce Berg (2001) suggests that all participants in a focus group sign a confidentiality
statement in which they promise not to reveal information outside
of the group. Others suggest beginning the focus group with a statement of
the ground rules for participation, including the confidentiality pledge.
Recording the Focus Group
How should you keep a record of the conversation? Group conversations are
complex: People sometimes interrupt or talk over one another, and the conversation
may move rapidly from one side of the room to the other. Audiotapes
are useful, but they do not indicate who the speaker is—something
that can cause problems in the analysis. Written notes are usually necessary
112 CHAPTER 5 Interviews
to augment audiotaped focus groups. Some focus group facilitators videotape
the session. (Market researchers, who are typically far better funded
than academic researchers, may have access to plush video conference rooms
with one-way mirrors so that researchers can view the session. If you have
access to resources like these, of course you should use them!) Whatever
method of recording you use, it’s useful to keep written notes as well, and
tapes (just like individual interview tapes) should be transcribed as soon as
possible.
MAKING MEANING
What do you do when you’re finished transcribing the tapes? How do you
begin to make sense of the data you are collecting? We will deal with strategies
for analysis in detail later in the book, especially in Chapter 8. In the
meantime, you should listen to the tapes and read over your transcripts several
times. Try to listen closely to what your research participants have been
saying. It is only through immersing yourself in their words that you will
begin to make sense of the conversation you have been a part of.
QUESTIONS FOR THOUGHT
1. How much of your own opinions do you think you should share in an
interview situation? What might be some of the consequences of sharing
personal information with an interviewee? What might be some of the
consequences of not sharing?
2. What kinds of topics might be better suited to an individual interview
than to a group interview? What kinds of topics might be better suited
to a group interview? Why?
3. How do you see yourself? Are you extroverted and relatively outgoing?
Or are you shy and introspective? What personal challenges do you
think you will face in trying to conduct interviews? What strengths do
you think you have?
EXERCISES
1. The purpose of this exercise is to develop your listening skills. You’ll
need to do this one with a friend. Have your friend talk for 3 minutes
Suggestions for Further Reading 113
(use a timer) on any topic that interests her or him. Your job is to listen
as carefully as you can without interrupting. When the time is up, try to
recall as much detail as possible about what your friend said.
2. Observe someone who is actively listening to another person. Pay attention
to the body language that they use: leaning in, shaking their head,
and so forth. What kinds of nonverbal cues tell you that someone is listening?
What kinds of nonverbal cues tell you that someone is not paying
attention?
3. Develop an interview guide on a topic you are interested in. When you
have completed an initial draft, go through the questions looking for
dichotomous questions and leading questions. If you find any, rewrite
them.
4. Try out your interview guide on a friend or fellow student. As you’re
interviewing, pay attention to which questions seem to stimulate discussion
and which seem to shut it down. When you have finished, revise
your interview guide based on your experiences. It’s often helpful to
have a third person act as an observer and give you specific feedback on
what went well and what could be improved.
5. Develop a set of questions for a focus group that you could conduct with
a group of fellow students. Campus life is full of potential topics. After
you have developed the questions, try conducting a focus group with
your classmates as participants.
6. Imagine that you are interested in studying youth violence. Develop a
strategy for recruiting participants for either a focus group or an individual
interview. (Alternatively, develop recruitment strategies for studies of
police harassment, worker safety in small businesses, or parents who
homeschool their children.) \
SUGGESTIONS FOR FURTHER READING
Fontana, Andrea, and James H. Frey. "Interviewing: The Art of Science." Pp. 47-78 in
Norman K. Denzin and Yvonna Lincoln (eds.), Collecting and Interpreting Qualitative
Materials. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 1998.
Holstein, James A., and Jaber F. Gubrium. The Active Interview. Thousand Oaks, CA:
Sage, 1995.
Madriz, Esther. “Focus Groups in Feminist Research.” Pp. 835-850 in Handbook of
Qualitative Research, 2nd ed., edited by Norman K. Denzin and Yvonna S. Lincoln.
Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 2000.
114 CHAPTER 5 Interviews
Morgan, David L. Focus Groups as Qualitative Research. Newbury Park, CA: Sage,
1988.
Oakley, Ann. “Interviewing Women: A Contradiction in Terms.” Pp. 30-61 in Doing
Feminist Research, edited by Helen Roberts. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul,
1981.
Seidman, Irving. Interviewing as Qualitative Research: A Guide for Researchers in Education
and the Social Sciences, 2nd ed. N ew York: Teachers College Press, 1998.
6
Unobtrusive Measures
Analyzing Texts and Material Artifacts
I he average person throws away 2.1 pounds of garbage a day, much of it
paper and plastic (Rathje and Murphy 1992). What would people find if
they systematically rooted through your garbage? No doubt lots of paper,
some food wrappings, some leftover food, and maybe some worn-out
clothes or empty printer cartridges. How much evidence of fast-food consumption
would they find? What about fresh vegetables, or milk, or soda?
What might they be able to tell about your study habits? Your work habits?
Your choices in recreation? \
That’s exactly what William Rathje, an archaeologist and director of the
Garbage Project at the University of Arizona, does. Project researchers systematically
identify and analyze what households in Tucson, Arizona, throw
away. They also examine landfills, sometimes digging down deep to analyze
trash from earlier decades. By systematically analyzing household garbage,
they have learned a great deal about people’s habits and behaviors—especially
those that people don't necessarily want to talk about, like drinking
alcohol or eating processed foods (Rathje 1992, 1993). They have even
devised ways to estimate the size and composition of the population based
on garbage. For example, they can fairly reliably tell how many babies live in
a given neighborhood by the number of diapers they find in the trash.
The work of the Garbage Project is a good example of using unobtrusive
measures to study human behavior. Unobtrusive measures involve
any form of studying human behavior that does not rely on asking people
directly (such as interviewing) or on observing people (such as doing
115
116 CHAPTER 6 Unobtrusive Measures
participant observation). These may include studying human physical traces,
as the Garbage Project does, or analyzing written records and documents,
the media (like television or radio), or the Internet.
PHYSICAL TRACES
One way in which you can study people without interacting directly is
through the study of physical traces (Webb, Campbell, Schwartz, Sechrest,
and Grove 1981). Humans leave physical traces of their various activities
behind as they go about their daily lives, and you can use this evidence to
make inferences about them. In my neighborhood, for example, you can
buy a Chinese-language newspaper from a box on the street alongside the
local English-language paper; you can also buy national newspapers in
English, like USA Today and The New York Times. This fact tells us that
there is a large enough population of Chinese-speaking people in the community
to support a Chinese newspaper. In the same neighborhood, you can
see many Italian groceries and bakeries alongside Vietnamese noodle shops.
Again, this gives us some information about the neighborhood and the ethnic
groups living there. A cemetery in a neighboring town shows a similar
pattern. Most of the tombstones in the oldest part of the cemetery, dating
from the late 1700s, contain English names. In a somewhat newer part of
the cemetery, you can read Irish and Italian names on the gravestones. In the
newest part of the cemetery are a few Asian, Armenian, and Portuguese
names, along with large numbers of Italian and Irish names. A careful social
observer can learn something about the migration patterns of ethnic groups
by looking at the environment.
Generally, physical traces are either measures of accretion or measures
of erosion. Measures of accretion entail the accumulation of layers. The
Garbage Project is a good example of this. Garbage builds up in layers as
people throw things out. By studying the layers, you can get information
about how a society or group of people within it change over time. In the
top layers, for example, you might see computer monitors and other parts of
discarded personal computers in landfills. You certainly wouldn’t find evidence
of these if you dug down a little deeper; instead, you might find construction
debris, bottles, and cans (as you would still find today). If you
looked carefully, you might find pull-top tabs from beer and soda cans from
the 1960s or eight-track tape players from the 1970s.
Another good example of accretion is graffiti (Lee 2000), which can
include “official” signs and notices such as stop signs or no-parking signs.
These signs, some argue, serve as a continual reminder of the state’s regula­
Material Artifacts 117
tion of social life. Sometimes, graffiti can be more political in nature or
express pressing social concerns. For example, stop signs have been spraypainted
to read “Stop Rape”or “Stop War.”Recently, concerns about globalization
have also been expressed in the form of graffiti. Graffiti can also
serve to demarcate social boundaries, as in gang graffiti. Public art, including
murals, can also be considered a kind of graffiti. And all of these physical
traces can be analyzed.
Measures of erosion entail studying how people gradually wear down
facets of their environment through daily use. By studying patterns of wear,
you can gain information about people’s activities. For example, a landscape
architect might place a walkway in an area where people don't habitually
walk, but the paths worn in the lawn indicate where people actually walk. In
a library, the most frequently used periodicals might be heavily thumbed
and worn looking. In a museum, footprints might be worn into the floor of
the most visited exhibits, whereas the floors near little-viewed sites might
be clean and shiny. /
Your imagination is the only limit in devising ways to study people’s
physical traces. In general, this evidence can help you figure out what people
actually do, rather than what they say they do. Because this method does not
entail interacting directly with people, it also enables greater anonymity for
the researcher (Webb et al. 1981). In addition, the biases of this research
method are likely to be very different from those of other methods, such as
participant observation and interviewing. For this reason, studying physical
traces can be a very useful addition to more traditional sociological methods.
But this method has drawbacks. Most important, we need to ask, What
is the likelihood that any given object will actually survive? For example,
vegetables decompose far more quickly than bones. Thus, unless you sift
through garbage quickly, you will have more difficulty gaining evidence of
vegetable eating than of meat eating. In addition, some physical accretion
and erosion may be so small as to be unmeasurable. Walking on a soft surface,
like a lawn, will yield more traces than walking on a hard surface, like
concrete. You might not be able to measure the erosion of concrete in a
short span of time. Finally, because these methods tend not be very systematic,
they often are paired with other, more systematic methods.
MATERIAL ARTIFACTS
One form of studying physical traces is the study of material artifacts, the
objects that people produce, like pots and pans and cars and computers.
Archaeologists and historians may be more accustomed to studying material
118 CHAPTER 6 Unobtrusive Measures
artifacts, but sociologists can use them as well to help make sense of the
social world. Social scientists have studied tattoos (Sanders 1989), graffiti
(Cole 1991), and Zippo cigarette lighters collected in Vietnam (Walters
1997) , among many others.
Analyzing material artifacts can be far more complicated than analyzing
written texts. First, material artifacts are less logical than formal language, in
the sense that they don’t have a formal grammar. You can’t make a comprehensive
dictionary of all the meanings that an artifact might possess. Furthermore,
the meanings of material objects often remain implicit (Hodder
1998, p. 117). Thus, we need to understand the social contexts in which
material artifacts are made, used, discarded, and reused (Hodder 1989,
1998) . This means that the act of interpreting material culture has to be
tentative. It expresses as much about the analyst—about who you are—as
the material culture itself.
Second, the meanings of material artifacts may change over time, as
may the contexts in which they are produced. When automobiles were first
produced, for example, only the wealthy could afford them. Car ownership
takes on very different meanings when most people can afford to own one.
Third, material artifacts are harder to “read”than a written text because
they are not linear. In reading a set of field notes or a transcript of an interview
or any other written document, you know to read from left to right
and from top to bottom. (Of course, the conventions for reading vary from
one language or culture to another. If you were reading a document in Japanese
or Hebrew, you would move from right to left, from what feels to an
English speaker like the back to the front.) With material artifacts, there is
no necessary order to your analysis. Imagine that you are interested in contemporary
fashion and want to understand the meanings of a pile of clothes.
There is no necessary order in which you should “read”those clothes. From
top to bottom? Left to right? Back to front? Analyzing material artifacts is
not a linear process.
In addition, in analyzing material artifacts, you have to figure out what
things mean without having access to the person (or people) who produced
them or used them. This is especially true if you are working with historical
artifacts. Thus, you may not have an “insider’s”perspective on the meanings
of things and have to interpret them using contextual clues. Even if you do
have an insider's perspective, people are often not articulate about why they
do things. Think about it: Why is an exam book usually blue, and why do we
still call it a “blue book”even if it is not blue? Why do we usually use a mug
for hot drinks like coffee or tea, and a cup or glass for cold drinks? Why not
use the same container for both? Having the advice of an insider—one who
uses blue books or coffee mugs or glasses—probably won't help you much.
Material Artifacts 119
Interpreting material artifacts thus involves a hermeneutical process, a
process of making meaning. You need to try to situate the artifact both in the
context in which it was made and produced and in the context in which you
(as analyst) are situated. You need to try to understand not only how the
item was produced but also how it came to your attention for analysis. Why
was this particular artifact (or type of artifact) preserved, and not others? At
one level, this is a physical process. Some kinds of things (like vegetable matter)
decompose relatively quickly; others (like ceramic or bone or stone) do
not. Yet the preservation of things is also a social process, one that involves
human choices about what should be preserved and what should not. What
things are seen as worth keeping? For example, you probably don’t think
twice about throwing out or recycling a Coke can or a bottle that water
came in. In another culture, in which material goods are less plentiful, these
items would be carefully preserved and reused for a different purpose.
How do you go about-analyzing material artifacts? It is certainly not
easy, nor are there any general guidelines. Analyzing these artifacts always
involves the study of local, particular cultures. One analyst states, “There is
nothing easy in our work, but its basic strategy is not hard to state. We hunt
for patterns” (Glassie 1991, p. 255). Archaeologist Ian Hodder suggests that
the analyst of material artifacts must work “between past and present or
between different examples of material culture, making analogies between
them” (1998, p. 121). To do this, you need to immerse yourself in the specific
historical context (Tuchman 1998), and you need to know enough
about the cultural context in which something has meaning. Specifically,
you need to address these issues:
♦ Where and when was this item (or group of items) produced?
What do you know about the society in which it was produced?
What kinds of people made the object you are analyzing? How?
Who used it?
How was it sold or distributed?
Did different people use the object in different kinds of ways? How?
How was the meaning of the object transformed in different
contexts?
What kinds of personal meanings might the objects have had, as
well as larger social meanings?
♦ What kinds of things were used in similar ways?
♦ What are the economic and political systems in which the items
were produced?
120 CHAPTER 6 Unobtrusive Measures
These are just some of the questions you might ask to get you started.
You also need to consider what historical theories might help you understand
the material artifacts you are trying to analyze (Hodder 1998).
How have different theorists thought about the time period or the type of
material culture you are interested in analyzing? It's important to immerse
yourself in what others have said about the historical period (whether it is
an earlier period or today) and the social context.
Finally, you should try to confirm the account you have made. That is,
you should ensure that your account is internally coherent, logical, and
plausible. You also need to consider any potential alternative arguments.
And you need to ask whether your account leads you to understand similar
objects and opens up new lines of questioning.
Ian Walters’ research into Zippo cigarette lighters provides a good example
of the analysis of material culture (1997). Zippo lighters were issued
to American and Australian military personnel during the Vietnam War (or,
as the Vietnamese call it, the American War in Vietnam). Many service personnel
engraved the lighters with their date of tour, location of service, or
the year. Others engraved them with short sayings or quips. Many thousands
of these lighters survived. Today, there is a thriving market in Zippo lighters
in Vietnam’s tourist markets, and people buy them as war memorabilia.
Interestingly, most of the lighters available in Vietnam are fakes—not the
actual Zippo lighters from the war era. Yet the sayings engraved on them
replicate the engravings of the service personnel.
Thus, these lighters have retained meanings far broader than their simple
function: to light cigarettes. These lighters can be interpreted in multiple
lights. As Walters argues, “As personalized icons, signifiers, they still speak to
us long after their original owners have ceased to be fighters in the war
zone” (1997, p. 64). In fact, the “life history”of the Zippo, Walters suggests,
contains several stages. The lighter began life as a commodity—something to
be bought or sold. It was sold to the army, issued or sold to individual soldiers,
and used as a lighter (and as a war weapon). With the engraving, the
lighter became a sign of unit identity or a personal statement. When it
passed out of the owner’s possession, it became either junk or someone
else's souvenir (or perhaps someone’s functioning cigarette lighter). In contemporary
Vietnam, it reentered the commodity market as something else
to be bought and sold. But it also became a memento (perhaps for soldiers
who had served in the war and who returned decades later to buy the souvenir,
or perhaps for other tourists), a museum piece (for those Zippos
shown to be “actual”war-era items rather than fakes), an item for research,
and even an object for discussion in a research methods textbook.
Documents and Records 121
Walters argues, “Vietnam Zippos tell us stories. They become speech,
for they mean something. Vietnam Zippos give us insights into the soldiers
who annotated them and used them, loved them, laughed at them, and lost
them” (Walters 1997, p. 73). But the lighters also tell stories about modern
Vietnam and the world economy. To understand the meanings of the Zippo
lighter, we need to immerse ourselves in the context of both the American
War in Vietnam and contemporary Vietnamese life.
Analyzing material artifacts is clearly difficult—especially for those of
us who are used to working with written texts. Because the analysis is so
contextual, there are no simple rules that you can apply. You need to learn
about the culture and history of the objects you want to analyze. But it is
very worthwhile work, for it can lead you to understand human behavior in
greater depth than can studying words alone.
like private letters and diaries, corporate records, and government documents.
These might also include media accounts, such as television programs,
newspapers, and magazines. In more recent years, they might also
include electronic texts, such as e-mail lists and Web sites. Although the different
kinds of texts might involve somewhat different technologies, we can
study them using similar methods. This chapter focuses especially on methods
for obtaining written documents and records and on some of the associated
problems in doing so. Chapter 8 examines methods for analyzing texts
and making sense of documents and records. (The procedures for analyzing
texts are typically called content analysis.)
Public Records
Many researchers distinguish between two kinds ofwritten texts: documents
and public records (Lincoln and Guba 1985; Macdonald and Tipton 1993).
Public records include those materials produced for “official purposes” by
social institutions like governments, schools, and hospitals. They document
official transactions, like births or marriages or sales of houses. While many
public records are numeric (a good example of this is U.S. Census Bureau
materials) and are often used by economists and other quantitative social
DOCUMENTS AND RECORDS
Another way you can study human behavior unobtrusively is through written
texts in the form of documents and records. Documents and records are
any written materials that people leave behind. These might include things
122 CHAPTER 6 Unobtrusive Measures
scientists, many others are text-based, including things like court transcripts
and congressional debates.
For example, Linda Gordon (1988) used welfare records to try to understand
family violence. As a historian, she was interested in how social
conceptions of family violence had changed over time. She used case records
from social work agencies to investigate this trend. Using these records
from social welfare agencies, Gordon was able to document family violence
among poor women, who typically did not leave private letters or diaries or
other materials that would give insight into their experiences of violence.
Without them, she probably would not have been able to document their
experiences at all. But because she relied on social work records, she had
only the perspective of the welfare workers who managed their cases. She
lacked direct access to the women’s own thoughts and feelings.
The federal government is one of the largest sources of official documents.
But state, county, and city governments also generate records that
can be used in qualitative analysis. Many of these documents are a matter of
public record. And with the growth of the Internet, many records are now
available on-line. You might want to explore, for example, Census Bureau
materials (www.census.gov) or a general jumping-off point for federal government
resources (www.info.gov). Remember, though, that Internet addresses
tend to change rapidly. You may want to check with your librarian
for other suggestions. Many libraries will bookmark helpful sites for searching
government documents and other public records.
You might also want to examine public records in combination with
participant observation. Schensul, Schensul, and LeCompte (1999) argue
that archival data (which they define as records originally collected for
bureaucratic purposes but used for research purposes) can be a very useful
source of demographic information. Records such as voting lists, municipal
listings of births and deaths or marriages, real estate transactions, and area
maps can help field workers gain insight into the community they are studying.
They argue that field workers should always attempt to gain access to
these kinds of data to help describe the population and the way it has
changed over time, as well as features of the physical environment.
Documents and Private Papers
Documents and private papers include things like letters, diaries, and personal
papers. These may be personal in nature, such as the kinds of papers
an individual gathers and generates over a lifetime—credit information, pay
stubs, letters and other correspondence, news clippings, fliers, photographs,
Documents and Records 123
diaries, and so forth. Organizations, too, generate papers, including office
memos, mission statements, and correspondence. While these kinds of private
papers may be more difficult to obtain and interpret than publicly
available government documents, they can provide invaluable insight into
individuals’ lives. Diaries and letters, for example, can provide important
information about what individuals think and feel and about the texture of
daily life. Financial records give clues about the economy and people’s standard
of living. Organizational records may give clues about how organizations
function.
Personal papers and documents are sometimes seen as the province of
historians. Still, sociologists have put them to good use as well. For example,
Theresa Montini (1996) collected a variety of archival materials in her research
on breast cancer informed-consent laws. In addition to transcripts of
testimony at legislative hearings, copies oDbreast cancer informed-consent
laws, and editorials and letters to the editor\pf medical journals, she collected
documents from activists and former breast cancer patients, including
letters, videotapes, and other personal papers. She combined her documentary
research with participant observation and interviews.
Sociologist Nancy Whittier (1995) also drew on archival materials in
her study of women’s movement organizations in Columbus, Ohio. Along
with in-depth interviews with activists, she analyzed the papers of a feminist
organization, the personal files and correspondence of activists, and
media reports of women’s movement activity.
Primary and Secondary Sources
Most social researchers who do documentary analysis distinguish between
primary sources and secondary sources. Primary sources are the original
sources, like letters or eyewitness accounts of an event. Secondary sources
are one step removed from primary sources (hence the name) and include
things like historians’ or sociologists’ analyses, as well as the accounts of
people who were not eyewitnesses and are not scholars. As Shulamit Reinharz
puts it, primary sources are the “‘raw’ materials of history”while secondary
sources are the “‘cooked’analyses of those materials”(1992, p. 155).
The distinction between primary and secondary sources can be a little
tricky. Historians will usually include things like magazines and newspapers
as secondary sources, because they rely on the accounts of journalists and
writers. But social scientists will sometimes use those sources as the primary
source of data, as when a researcher studies the representation of domestic
violence in women’s magazines (Berns 1999).
124 CHAPTER 6 Unobtrusive Measures
Media Accounts
Media accounts include things like newspapers, magazines, books, films, and
television programs. Qualitative social researchers have long used media
accounts to investigate social life. These accounts are useful for understanding
how groups of people are represented in public discourse or what norms
and ideals for behavior exist in a particular time and place. They can tell us
about changes (or stability) in social mores. Using media accounts, researchers
have studied such varied topics as race and sex stereotyping in
children’s books (Clark, Lennon, and Morris 1993), gender in advertisements
(Barthel 1988, Goffman 1976), fear of crime in the news (Altheide
and Michalowski 1999), portrayals of animals in television advertisements
(Lerner and Kalof 1999), and sexual nonconformity in television talk shows
(Gamson 1998).
A strength of media accounts is that they are easily accessible and often
cheap or free. Many media sources have existed for a long period of time—
often decades, as in the case of major newspapers and mass market magazines.
This makes them especially useful for looking at changes over time.
Their easy accessibility can be a boon to beginning researchers (especially
for projects like senior theses). One of my students, for example, compared
how girls and women were portrayed in Sports Illustrated and Sports Illustratedfor
Kids (Elsinger 1998). She found that women and girls were much
more frequently featured (and more likely to be shown as athletes rather
than spectators) in the children’s version of the magazine.
With media accounts—as with all written documents—you need to be
careful about sources of bias. First, factual errors might creep into media
accounts. For example, a newspaper might make a mistake about people’s
age, the spelling of names, or places (Macdonald and Tipton 1993). Although
newspapers often print retractions, the original version of the story
tends to stand. (Who reads retraction notices, after all?) More important,
you always need to consider who published a particular account, for what
purpose, and for what intended audience. A media source might be biased
in a particular direction; for example, an editor might have a conservative or
liberal slant and publish news that fits with his or her preconceived biases.
You also need to consider the audience for whom the account is published.
The New York Times, for example, is written for a wholly different audience
than the National Enquirer.
Some suggest that analyses of texts—like TV shows, magazines, or
newspapers—should be combined with studies of the producers and the
audiences. Thus, Joshua Gamson combined interviews with TV talk show
producers, interviews with show guests, participant observation at tapings,
Electronic Texts 125
and analysis of transcripts of the shows (1998). The combination of methods
made his research, published in a book called Freaks Talk Back, far
richer and subtler than it would have been otherwise.
ELECTRONIC TEXTS
As the Internet and electronic texts have become more widely available,
social researchers have begun to rely on them as sources of data as well. For
example, researchers use the Internet to recruit research participants for
both electronic interviews and more standard phone or face-to-face interviews.
Documents posted on the Internet on listservs and electronic bulletin
boards may be treated in ways similar to other documents and material artifacts.
The Internet is also a site for participant observation. A researcher
need not even be physically copresent to conduct participatory research in
interactive sites (Kendall 2000). '
For example, Joan Fleitas (1998) conducted research with children who
had chronic illness or disabilities. She recruited participants via a Web site
that she created specifically for her project, medical listservs, and listservs
for parents of children with disabilities, as well as through more traditional
techniques (including snowball sampling). Although she also conducted
face-to-face focus groups, she collected most of her data through e-mail and
on-line focus groups convened in chat groups established specifically for
that purpose.
In a very different way, Lori Kendall conducted participant observation
in an on-line format known as a MUD (multiuser dungeon) (Kendall 2000).
A MUD is much like an on-line chat room. Instead of storing messages that
were posted at an earlier time (as in an electronic message board or an email
listserv), a MUD involves real-time conversation, albeit in written
form. Kendall was interested in how participants created raced and gendered
identities on-line. She participated in the on-line chats, interviewed some of
the participants, and read other on-line materials related to the MUD.
In another example of Internet-based research, Emily Noelle Ignacio
(2000) examined messages posted on a newsgroup to understand how
Filipina women created and negotiated identities in a newsgroup dedicated
to Filipino culture and issues. Among other things, Ignacio was interested
in seeing how the women might challenge stereotyped thinking about
Filipinas.
As a research tool, the Internet has both strengths and weaknesses. One
advantage is that the Internet can encourage open expression of thoughts
126 CHAPTER 6 Unobtrusive Measures
and feelings because it does not involve face-to-face communication. In
Fleitas's research, for example, children with physical disabilities were able
to communicate without worrying about how their bodies would be perceived.
In addition, because the Internet is global, researchers can recruit
participants from a much larger geographical area than they might otherwise
(Binik, Mah, and Kiesler 1999; Fleitas 1998).
However, not everybody has access to computers and the Internet.
Internet users tend to be younger, wealthier, more technologically savvy,
and better educated than nonusers. Males are more likely than females to
be Internet users, as are individuals in wealthier nations with a betterdeveloped
infrastructure (Binik, Mah, and Kiesler 1999). Thus, research
conducted with participants drawn from the Internet is likely to involve a
more privileged sector of the population. Kendall (2000) found, for example,
that most of her research participants were young, white, and male,
with a few women and a few Asian Americans.
In addition, in conducting research on-line, researchers cannot pick up
on nonverbal cues. Although people can insert graphics and pictures into
text files to allow for both visual and text-based responses, researchers do
not have access to the full range of nonverbal cues, such as shrugs and winks
and yawns. Internet users sometimes attempt to re-create many of these
nonverbal cues, with symbols like :) to indicate a smile or ;) to indicate a
wink. Still, much is missed. Indeed, researchers typically can’t even verify
who the research participants are. For example, Fleitas (1998) couldn’t verify
that the e-mails actually were sent by disabled children. Because individuals
may be more anonymous on the Internet, they may be more inclined to
“play” with identities, presenting themselves as holding different genders,
races/ethnicities, or other identities than they may in fact possess.
Researchers also use the Web for more traditional content analyses—
for example, of electronic bulletin boards, Web sites, or e-mail listservs.
Using the Internet in this way poses particular challenges. For example,
Nalini Kotamraju (1999) suggests that, because the Internet has developed
so recently and changes so rapidly, it is subject to “time compression.”
Change on the Internet comes about far more rapidly than in other spheres
of life. This causes problems for researchers. Archival data may disappear as
newer technologies and newer sites update “old”ones. Kotamraju argues, for
example, that a researcher can't even find out what kind ofjobs were available
on-line a mere 3 months ago. Thus, sociologists who wish to use the
Internet for research purposes must adapt the strategies historians have
developed for dealing with the issue of time. For example, unlike sociologists,
historians tend to expect that much of their data may be missing or
Electronic Texts 127
b o x 6.! Some Useful Web Sites
General Sociology Research Sites
www.socsciresearch.com
www.sociolog.com
www.wcsu.ctstateu.edu/socialsci/socres.html
Government Sites
www.info.gov (a general jumping-offsite for government agencies)
www.census.gov (U.S. Bureau of the Census)
www.cdc.gov (U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention)
www.ed.gov (Department of Education)
www.fbi.gov (Federal Bureau of Investigation)
Qualitative Research Methods
vyAAW.uàlbertâ.câ/~jrnorris/qual.html (QualPage: Resources for
Qualitative Research) J
www.nova.edu/ssss/QR/web.html 1
Associations
www.asanet.org (American Sociological Association) |
www.latrobe.edu.au/www/aqr/index.html (Association for Qualitative
Research) x
www.coe.uga.edu/quig (Qualitative Interest Group) \ |
impossible to find. They have thus developed strategies for gathering diverse
forms of evidence.
At the same time, others argue that the Internet provides a wealth of
materials for historians and other researchers (Donnelly and Ross 1997). In
an article published in the Historical Journal of Film, Radio &d Television,
Donnelly and Ross provide a number of sources that researchers interested
in the history of the media might access, including the Media History
Project (www.mediahistory.com), Vanderbilt University's Television Archives
(http://tvnews.vanderbilt.edu), and the University of Maryland's
Broadcast Pioneers Library (www.itd.umd.edu). Box 6.1 lists some other
sites that may provide useful starting points for research on the Internet.
The Internet can be a wonderful source for research projects, with literally
hundreds of potentially useful Web sites. However, the Internet can also
128 CHAPTER 6 Unobtrusive Measures
lead you astray. You need to assess whether the information on any given
site is valid or whether the site simply wants to sell you something or
express someone’s personal feelings. Certainly you might sometimes want
to analyze how individuals express their feelings on a personal Web site. But
you shouldn’t mistake that subjective impression for anything else. You thus
need to evaluate Web sites very carefully when relying on them in your
research. You may find the guidelines set forth in Chapter 2 useful in evaluating
potential sites for research.
Using the Internet for research also raises some novel ethical issues,
with privacy and confidentiality issues paramount (Binik, Mah, and Kiesler
1999). For example, what parts of the Internet might reasonably be considered
private? Is an on-line chat room public or private? What about a moderated
e-mail list? An unmoderated one, which anyone can join? When do
you need to gain informed consent? When simply viewing Web sites? When
participating in an on-line chat or e-mail list? Whom should you ask permission
from? In an e-mail listserv that changes membership frequently,
how often do you need to remind participants that you are researching
them? Ignacio (2000) notes, for example, that she posted a letter on the
newsgroup she was studying every few weeks to inform participants. Not all
newsgroups and e-mail lists allow researchers, however. Many moderated
e-mail lists specifically request that participants not circulate or use the
e-mail for any purpose other than personal use.
The nature of Internet participation also causes problems with consent
issues. It’s difficult to verify that the person giving consent is actually able
to do so or that he or she is actually an adult. What kinds of assurances of
confidentiality and anonymity can researchers reasonably give to their research
participants? For example, while research participants might believe
that their e-mail responses will be held in confidentiality, someone else
(through either legitimate means or illegitimate ones) may gain access to
information sent on-line. Flow can researchers minimize the chances that
their participants’ privacy will not be breached? This is especially an issue
with sexuality research or research on other sensitive topics (Binik, Mah,
and Kiesler 1999).
HISTORICAL RESEARCH
What is history? Sociologist Gaye Tuchman (1998) invites us to consider
that question, arguing that history is more than merely a series of easily
memorized dates and facts. In trying to incorporate historical perspectives in
Historical Research 129
our research, we need to ask what it means to live in a particular time
period. We need to identify what assumptions we can make about how people
live, what are the meanings of things in particular times and places, and
how the past impinges on the present.
In many respects, historical analysis is very much like the analysis of material
artifacts and documents. Historical research involves the analysis of
secondary and, especially, primary sources. Sociological researchers may do
so as well, but they also tend to rely on the work of historians (and secondary
sources created by them) because historians tend to have much better
access to and training in the use of archival materials. In addition, sociologists
tend to ask somewhat different kinds of questions, often less specific or
more theoretical ones.
In general, we may want to use historical methods to understand “big
picture” types of questions. How did major social changes take place?
When? Why are social arrangements different in various places and times?
We might want to know, for example, how the women’s movement
emerged in various times and places. How is it different in, say, the United
States and Mexico? To answer this question, we would need to know a little
bit about the histories of both countries. It isn’t enough merely to understand
the present moment; we need to know how the movement developed
over time.
Doing Historical-Comparative Research
Some researchers do what they call historical-comparative research—research
that focuses either on one or more cases over time (the historical part) or on
more than one nation or society at one point in time (the comparative part).
Comparative researchers tend to compare a relatively small number of cases
(Ragin 1994). They want to understand the cases in depth, as well as compare
their similarities and differences.
One example of historical-comparative research is Nader Sohrabi’s
study of revolutions (1995). Sohrabi compared the Young Turk Revolution
of 1908, the Iranian Constitutional Revolution of 1906, and the Russian
Revolution of 1905 to try to understand their similarities and differences.
Another example of historical-comparative research is Marshall Ganz’s
study of farm workers’ organizations (2000). Specifically, Ganz was interested
in why one organization, the United Farm Workers (UFW), succeeded
while another one, the Agricultural Workers Organizing Committee of the
AFL-CIO (AWOC), failed during the period 1959-1966. He focused on
how differences in leadership, organizational influences, and creative strategies
affected movement success.
130 CHAPTER 6 Unobtrusive Measures
In both of these examples, the researchers systematically compared the
cases across a variety of dimensions. They used a variety of primary and secondary
materials in their research, including newspaper articles, copies of
legislation, published memoirs, proceedings of meetings, and historians’
accounts.
In beginning to do comparative research, you first need to distinguish
the cases by asking what these are cases of. Cases should be, in some sense,
members of the same class or category. It wouldn’t make much sense, for
example, to compare the city of Boston with the nation-states of Honduras
or India. But it might make sense to compare social movements in different
nations—for example, the labor movement in Sweden, the United States,
and Poland. Then, you need to consider the important facets of the cases
you might compare. For example, are you interested in characteristics of the
leadership? Political strategies? You might want to compare state support
for the labor movement. Is it high in one place and low in another? As with
all historical research, the knowledge of what to compare will only come
from an in-depth understanding of the particulars of the cases and the theories
advanced to explain them.
Gaining Access to Historical Materials
How do sociologists gain access to these kinds of materials? Where might
social researchers find the kinds of archival materials that historical researchers
use? GayeTuchman (1998) offers some useful advice to beginning
qualitative historical researchers. You should begin by reading the secondary
literature—what other historians and social scientists have said about the
topic. This helps you to conceptualize your study and figure out what the
main controversies are. Chapter 2 gave you some suggestions for conducting
secondary research. You should follow those leads before turning to the primary
sources.
Locating primary sources is much more difficult. As Tuchman (1998)
argues, locating good primary sources requires a great deal of detective work.
It is, essentially, specialized labor. In finding appropriate primary sources, you
will need to figure out what kinds of archives may hold particular types of
materials. For example, Cornell University’s archives are a marvelous source
for historical information on sexuality. The Lesbian Herstory Archives in
New York are an extraordinarily rich source of primary material on lesbian
life. Those who are doing research in the field you are interested in usually
know of potential sources, as do good reference librarians. You would be well
advised to begin there. You can also search the holdings of many libraries online.
If you are restricted in your ability to travel, you may be able to find
Historical Research 131
good archival material close to home. Often, primary source material is
available on CD-ROM (sometimes for a fee) or over the Internet.
Evaluating Sources
One of the main challenges in using historical materials is evaluating them.
Perhaps more than any other type of data, you need to evaluate historical
materials carefully. When you are using secondary sources, you need to be
alert to historians’implicit theories and paradigms. History is never simply a
recitation of “just the facts.” Rather, historians decide what to report, what
details to emphasize, and how to interpret events. In the course of their
research, historians typically gather thousands of pages of documents. Obviously,
they don’t simply print these documents verbatim and let the reader
decide for her- or himself what they mean. Rather, they compress the huge
volume of pages into a more manageable form. How do historians accomplish
this? How do they decide what to focus on and what to ignore? They
don’t usually specify this process in their published works. As a careful
reader, you need to try to figure out what the biases and predilections of the
historian are. You also need to figure out if the author’s viewpoint is well
established. Do other historians say similar things? What kinds of evidence
do they use? Does their evidence seem credible?
Primary sources require extra care. You need to determine first if the
source is authentic. That is, was it actually written by the person said to have
written it? When was it written? Where? Again, is the document authentic,
or merely a clever fake? /
You also need to determine if the primary source is representative. As
we discussed in the section on material artifacts, not all documents survive.
In evaluating primary source documents, it's important to consider which
people are more likely to have left primary source documents behind. Literate
people, for example, obviously are mor^likely to leave diaries and correspondence
than those who cannot write or read. Thus, because African
American slaves were forbidden to learn to read and write, they left few
letters and other written materials that would document their daily lives.
Much of what we know about African American life during slavery comes
from oral histories and the testimonies of former slaves collected after the
Civil War.
In general, ordinary people tend not to think that their lives are particularly
interesting or worth documenting. Ordinary working-class people
don’t usually donate their private papers to archives or otherwise make
their papers accessible to historical researchers. For example, have you
donated your papers and personal effects to an archive? This fact leads to an
132 CHAPTER 6 Unobtrusive Measures
inevitable bias in the kinds of personal materials available. Because people
such as presidents or famous actors tend to assume that their lives are worth
documenting, they are much more likely to preserve their papers. Yet most
of us don’t live like presidents or movie stars. The kinds of historical materials
available tend to make it easier to gain knowledge of famous people’s
lives than ordinary people’s.
In evaluating primary source materials, you need to ask whose perspective
they reflect and what kinds of interests the writer had. For example, was
the author of a slavery-era document a slaveholder? Someone active in the
movement for the abolition of slavery? Each position carries with it a perspective
and set of vested interests. A slaveholder who emphasized the good
living conditions of slaves would probably not be believable. But if an abolitionist
remarked on the quality of slave housing in a particular location, that
person might be more credible. Historical records often reflect the interests
of those in power. Thus, you need to evaluate materials carefully for bias.
You also need to consider how the document was preserved and how it
made its way to an archive (or to your hands through some other means).
Do you have access to the whole document, or only a fragment? What
didn’t survive? Did anyone have an interest in suppressing certain parts of
the material? For example, the niece of poet Emily Dickinson censored passionate
letters that Dickinson wrote to her sister-in-law, Sue Miller (Miller
1995). Censorship like this has made the study of lesbian and gay history
(and, in general, the historical study of sexuality) difficult.
But not all gaps (or “missing data”) result from censorship. Sometimes,
materials are simply lost or discarded. Other times, despite people’s best
efforts to save them, materials may be destroyed. This means that historical
researchers are inevitably working with fragmentary evidence. Because the
“complete”record never survives, the conclusions you make based on such
evidence must also be tentative.
Creating Meaning
When evaluating historical materials, you also should pay careful attention
to meanings, at both a literal (or surface) level and a deeper one. At the surface
level, you need to ask what the document means and what language
was used. Sometimes, words change from one period to the next, so you
need to be certain that you can understand the literal meaning.
At a deeper level, you need to know something about the conditions
under which the document was produced. Again, this involves knowledge
of the specific context and time period. Thus, you need to determine what
kind of language was common for the time and place and person who ere-
Exercises 133
ated the document. And you need to determine whether other documents
support the perspective or whether the document seems to be at odds with
what others tend to say.
Doing historical and documentary research can be hard work. Perhaps
more than any other type of research, it demands knowledge of the particular,
local contexts in which various materials (written and otherwise) are
produced, consumed, kept, and discarded. It demands a critical eye and an
ability to scrutinize sources carefully. Yet, because of their very specificity,
historical methods can provide a richer and more finely nuanced study than
many other methods.
QUESTION FOR TH O U G H T
What are some of the differences involved in analyzing material artifacts
and written documents? What different kinds of information might they
give you? Which would you prefer to study? Why?
EXERCISES
1. Look around your own neighborhood. What physical traces might help
you figure out what kinds of people live there? (If you’re having trouble
getting started, try checking cemeteries, names on mailboxes, types of
stores and restaurants, and so forth.)
2. How might you study the following things without either interviewing
or directly observing people?
a. Which toys are most popular among children
b. Whether college students in a particular school exercise frequently
c. Whether people in a particular neighborhood eat healthy foods
3. Locate some material artifacts that you can analyze. (If you’re having
trouble thinking of something, remember that material culture is all
around you. It can be, literally, just about anything.) The items can be
contemporary or historical. Try to find out as much as you can about
how the things were produced and for whom. See if you can find out
some of the meanings these items may have.
4. Choose a magazine that interests you. Try to step back and look at the
magazine as a social analyst, not as a consumer. Then see what you can
determine about the audience for the magazine. What does the magazine
seem to assume are the interests and preoccupations of its readers?
134 CHAPTER 6 Unobtrusive Measures
What can you tell about the biases and interests of those who publish
the magazine? (Alternatively, try this exercise using a newspaper, a TV
show, or a radio program. If you are choosing a TV show or radio program,
you will probably need to watch/listen a number of times.)
5. Investigate what historical materials are available, either in your school
library, in a public library near you, in a local historical society, or on the
Internet.
6. Choose a Web site of interest to you, and analyze its potential uses for
research, using the guidelines for evaluating Web sites in Chapter 2.
SUGGESTIONS FOR FURTHER READING
Hodder, Ian. “The Interpretation of Documents and Material Culture.”In Norman K.
Denzin and Yvonna S. Lincoln (eds.), Collecting and Interpreting Qualitative
Materials. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 1998.
Lee, Raymond M. Unobtrusive Methods in Social Research. Buckingham, England:
Open University Press, 2000.
Neuman, W. Lawrence. Social Research Methods: Qualitative and Quantitative
Approaches, 2nd ed. Boston: Allyn & Bacon, 1994. Devotes a full chapter (16) to
historical-comparative research.
Ragin, Charles C. Constructing Social Research. Thousand Oaks, CA: Pine Forge
Press, 1994. Gives more on comparative research.
Tuchman, Gaye. “Historical Social Science: Methodologies, Methods, and Meanings."
In Norman K. Denzin and Yvonna S. Lincoln (eds.), Strategies of Qualitative
Inquiry. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 1998.
Walters, Ian. “Vietnam Zippos.” Journal of Material Culture 2(1): 61-75. 1997. A
good example of analysis of material culture.
Webb, Eugene T.; Donald T. Campbell; Richard D. Swartz; and Lee Sechrest. Unobtrusive
Measures. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 1999.
Action Research
Organizingis the active unearthingofpeople's individual stories,
the collective examination ofthe meaningof those stories in light of
our shared story, and the opportunity to write new endings to both
our individual and collectivestories.
— Larry M c N eil (1995)
Who can conduct research? Can only people with Ph.D.’s or other specialists
conduct research? Or can ordinary people do it themselves? What
should be the relationship between the researcher and those being researched?
And what is the purpose of research? To enlighten? To entertain?
To create “basic” knowledge that has no particular application (at least not
yet)? Or should research end with some form of action or improvement in
the lives of people?
THE PURPOSE OF ACTION RESEARCH
Action researchers argue that research should not be aimed solely at creating
esoteric knowledge, nor should it be conducted only by people with
advanced degrees. The outcome of research should be useful, aimed at
improving the lives of those who are the subject of research. Research, says
Ernest Stringer, should be “organized and conducted in ways that are conducive
to the formation of community—the ‘common unity’ of all participants—and
that strengthen the democratic, equitable, liberating, and
life-enhancing qualities of sociahlife” (1996, p. 25). Because individuals are
the experts on their own lives, action research should involve community
135
136 CHAPTER 7 Action Research
members at all levels, including the development of the problem and strategies
for researching it.
M. Brinton Lykes (1997), for example, engaged in participatory action
research over an extended period in Guatemala, a nation plagued by war for
decades. She was invited by a community-based women’s association to
work with members to respond to and ameliorate the effects of war. One of
the projects the women planned was to distribute cameras and film so that
women in the community could tell one another their stories of survival. By
documenting their lives on film and meeting to discuss the common themes,
the women could begin to research the strengths that they had developed
and use the information to improve their ongoing programs for children.
Brinton’s research is just one example of action research. Others have
studied many different settings, including business organizations like Xerox
Corporation (Greenwood, Whyte, and Harkavy 1993), Asian nongovernmental
organizations (Brown 1993), worker cooperatives in Spain (Greenwood,
Whyte, and Harkavy 1993), and older Aboriginal women in Canada
(Dickson 2000).
Unlike other forms of data collection discussed in this book, action
research doesn’t involve a particular strategy. Rather, action researchers may
use many different strategies to gather data, both qualitative and quantitative,
depending on the problem at hand and their personal preferences. In
fact, action researchers are likely to use novel and eclectic approaches to
gathering and interpreting data. Action research can be thought of as an
approach to doing research, one with a very specific aim—the creation of
social change—and one that involves creating particular kinds of relationships
among all of those involved in the research process. In these respects,
action research turns traditional ways of doing research on its head.
Action researchers believe that the process of research must be open
and democratic. Thus, they reject the clear separation between researcher
and researched that the positivist tradition mandates. (Remember from
Chapter 1?) Instead of viewing the researcher as the only one who can contribute
to knowledge, they argue that ordinary people can as well. And
instead of treating research participants as passive objects, like bugs under a
microscope, they argue that research participants can become active in all
phases of the research project, including formulating the problem and collecting
and analyzing data. If individuals are the best sources of knowledge
about their own lives, then they should become full and equal participants
in the research process. Thus, participants are often called coresearchers, to
reflect their more active role.
Action researchers focus on both the process of conducting research and
its outcome. Unlike traditional forms of research, in which researchers spec­
Varieties of Action Research 137
ify in advance exactly what types of questions they will ask (and the exact
procedures for raising them), action research is typically fluid, allowing for
changes as coresearchers together define what the problem is and how best
to investigate it. The process of conducting research is liberating, as individuals
gain knowledge about their own situations. Action researchers see
knowledge as power. As individuals gain knowledge about the conditions
affecting their own lives, they gain the power to change them.
The outcome of action research is also important. Action research typically
begins with an interest in a specific problem of a community or group
(Stringer 1996, p. 9). Action research thus tends to be local, specific, and oriented
to a particular case (Small 1995). Its aim is always practical: to lead to
some kind of change or practical application. For example, one potential
outcome of the project that Lykes (1997) described was a photographic
exhibit for the community. In this sense, action research is often applied
research—research with real-world applications.
VARIETIES OF ACTION RESEARCH
An enormous variety of activities can be included under the umbrella term
“action research.” Action research is often multidisciplinary, bringing together
people from diverse social locations and with diverse skills and abilities.
While different people involved in action research may bring something
different to the project, they all tend to agree that action—some kind of
outcome—should come about as a result of their work. Research results
shouldn’t gather dust in the library, to be used only by people with advanced
degrees. Research must be relevant to, and thus created by, those
who are affected by it. At heart, all action researchers are concerned that
research not simply contribute to our knowledge but also lead to positive
changes in people’s lives.
Participatory Action Research (PAR)
Within action research, there are several different traditions. One tradition,
known as participatory action research (PAR), emphasizes the active participation
of those being researched» One version of PAR was developed in
Third World movements for human liberation, drawing on the adult education
movement created by Paulo Freire (1970). This version of PAR is
explicitly political; it emphasizes the political nature of knowledge production
and sees the ultimate aim of research as human liberation. PAR practitioners
in this tradition argue that knowledge production has typically been
138 CHAPTER 7 Action Research
viewed as the province of elites, who use knowledge to control and oppress
common people. One objective of PAR, then, is to create knowledge rooted
in the lives and perspectives and experiences of ordinary people and
directed toward progressive social change. Thus, PAR emphasizes investigation,
education, and political action.
The differences between this and other forms of action research are
perhaps more of degree than of kind. PAR practitioners see themselves as
breaking down the walls between researcher and researched and creating
genuinely equal participation. Perhaps more than other action researchers,
their goals tend to be overtly political. So, for example, Noel Keough,
Emman Carmona, and Linda Grandinetti (1995) describe a collaboration
between Canadian and Filipino popular theater and environmental organizations,
published in Convergence, a journal that focuses explicitly on PAR.
Their goal was to improve the organizations’popular theater skills, to create
public awareness of environmental issues, and to spur individuals to make
changes in the size of their ecological “footprint.”They worked collaboratively
to disseminate information on sustainable development through theater
performances and creation of a video and training manual.
Other practitioners of PAR do not see themselves as having quite so
overtly political a purpose. They emphasize the advancement of both basic
science and practical knowledge through the common participation of
researchers and local communities (Small 1995; Whyte 1991, 1999). To
make effective changes, they argue, some basic research is needed, and the
results of action research conducted in this tradition are often published in
academic journals and disseminated in other ways to reach a more general
audience. These researchers often focus on organizations and may include
decision makers in their research. For these reasons, the more radical PAR
practitioners discussed earlier tend to distance themselves from them.
Some action researchers in this tradition have worked with private
industry and organizations (Small 1995). William Foote Whyte (1991) discusses
several industry-based action research projects, including a project
with Xerox Corporation and the Amalgamated Clothing and Textile Workers
Union aimed at finding ways to cut costs without eliminating jobs or
sacrificing workers’ pay. With David Greenwood, Whyte was also involved
in a study of organizational culture at the worker-owned Mondragon Cooperatives
in Basque, Spain (Greenwood, Whyte, and Harkavy 1993; Whyte
1995, 1999).
The Mondragon Cooperatives, which have made stoves, refrigerators,
and washing machines since the 1950s, are one of the world’s largest cooperative
economic enterprises. Workers own the industrial plants, a coopera­
Varieties of Action Research 139
tive bank, and other services including research and development and educational
services. Whyte and other researchers were interested in how
worker-owned cooperatives could succeed in the long run, for conventional
wisdom had argued that worker-owned cooperatives would inevitably fail
or remain small-scale. They began their PAR at the request of one of the
cooperatives, which asked for assistance in solving some organizational
problems. The academic researchers were initially asked to teach the cooperative
members research skills; the research eventually developed into a
large-scale project on organizational culture (Greenwood, Whyte, and
Harkavy 1993).
Feminist Action Research
Feminist researchers also have a long history of doing action research. In
fact, some people argue that feminist research is inherently action-oriented,
because it is aimed at social change. Feminist action researchers date back to
the early twentieth century,*when the social sciences were in a state of rapid
development at the University of Chicago (Reinharz 1992). Shulamit Reinharz
describes several examples of feminist action research, including the
work of sociologist Crystal Eastman, who, after receiving graduate degrees
in sociology and law in 1907, studied industrial accidents with the goal of
improving work conditions.
Despite their long history of applied and activist research, relatively
few feminist researchers have thought of themselves specifically as action
researchers (Cancian 1996). Although there are similarities between feminist
research and action research, including an emphasis on political action
and a critique of models of research that emphasize a hierarchical relationship
between the researcher and those being researched, the two approaches
have tended to stay distinct (Cancian 1996). More recently,
however, some feminist researchers have begun to incorporate community
participation as an important component of their research (Small 1995).
Nancy A. Naples, for example, describes her experiences in a PAR project
with childhood sexual assault survivors (Naples with Clark 1996). Herself a
survivor of childhood sexual abuse, she had been active in a collective that
tried to create alternative methods for healing. In her PAR, she wanted to
fully involve other survivors and to merge her separate roles of political
activist and researcher. J. K. Gibson-Graham (1994) also provides a recent
example of feministaction research in her work with women in Australian
mining towns. She recruited miners’ wives to develop questionnaires and
conduct interviews with other women in mining towns to collect stories
140 CHAPTER 7 Action Research
about the women’s activism in the Miners’Women's Auxiliaries and other
organizations.
Evaluation Research
Sometimes, researchers are invited to evaluate a program or policy. For example,
drug counselors might want to see if their treatment program actually
helps addicts stop using drugs. Or a group of educators and school
administrators might want to find out if their experimental school helps students
learn. Or social workers might want to see if their programs are serving
those for whom they are designed. Or a legislator might want to know if
an agency is providing services in the most efficient way possible. In each
case, to do so, they need to conduct an evaluation. Sometimes, the practitioners
may decide to conduct the research by themselves; other times, they
may decide to bring in the services of an evaluation researcher.
Evaluation researchers can use the same kinds of tools as other qualitative
researchers (see Patton 1990 for a classic textbook on qualitative evaluation
research; see also Posavac and Carey 1997). They may decide to do
interviews or field observations; they may analyze documents or do quantitative
analyses. Often, evaluation researchers draw on the same collaborative
techniques as other action researchers. They may, for example, work
with practitioners to identify the focus and design of their research. When
they work more collaboratively in this way, their work can be seen as having
much in common with action research.
RESEARCH FOR WHOM?
Action researchers invite us to ask, Who owns the research process? In traditional
research, specialized researchers, often connected with a university
or educational institution, develop research agendas based on their own interests.
They develop the problem statement, figure out what methods to
use, conduct the research by themselves or with the help (often purchased)
of others, and write up the results. The research participants are typically
seen as “subjects,” whose sole role is to provide the information the researcher
is seeking. Although the research may be either basic (intended to
contribute to general knowledge) or applied (intended to serve some practical
application), those being researched don’t typically have a voice in how
the research is done or even how the results are to be used. In this traditional
form of research, it might be said that the researcher “owns” the
research process.
Empowerment 141
Action research sets out to democratize the process. How can a strategy
for change be effective if it isn’t the creation of those who are expected to
do the changing? From an action research perspective, knowledge “belongs"
to those who create it. If only a specialized researcher is involved in creating
that knowledge, then it will not belong to the larger group. The research will
not necessarily reflect the aims and priorities of those being researched, and
the research participants may have little motivation to effect the kinds of
change suggested by the researcher. And the results may not be written in a
language that the participants can understand.
You can easily verify this claim. As a college student, you have reading
and literacy skills far above those of most of the population. But go to the
library and scan just about any academic journal. How much of that journal
can you understand? How much do you think a less-educated audience
might understand? This is not to imply that technical language is never
important or that academics should always write in ways that are accessible
to the general public. Much of the writing that academics do is really
intended for other academics. But that makes it difficult for practitioners
and community activists to use it. Action researchers are committed to
making the process and the results more widely available. Ernest Stringer
(1996) calls action research “user friendly." Even discussions of the approach
are more likely to be presented in terms that laypeople can understand, and
the specific methods and techniques for researching and solving problems
tend to be ones that ordifiary people can learn to use.
In large part, action research involves relinquishing at least some control
over the research process. In this respect, it draws on the skills and techniques
of both community organizers and social researchers. Because all of
those who are affected by the problem should be participants in the process,
the researcher is not the only one making decisions. As Stringer (1996)
points out, it’s a little unsatisfactory to distinguish between “the researcher”
and the participants because they are all coresearchers together. But it’s
often the case that a professional researcher or academic will be the one to
facilitate the process. Thus, it makes more sense to think of the researcher
as a facilitator or a catalyst. Randy Stoecker (1999) calls this the role of
“animator.”
EMPOWERMENT
Action researchers believe that the process of conducting research should
be empowering for research participants. Through the process of defining
the problem and seeking solutions, all participants gain a sense of mastery of
142 CHAPTER 7 Action Research
their environment. This is empowering—especially for those who are at the
bottom of the social hierarchy. Creation of knowledge is powerful, especially
for those who are used to having knowledge used against them. For
example, Geraldine Dickson (2000) describes some of the effects of participating
in an action research project with Aboriginal grandmothers in
Canada. The women held weekly get-togethers, sat on community committees
(such as police advisory committees), and joined in an array of special
events and community activities. By participating in the project, which was
focused on health promotion, the women expressed greater pride in their
cultural and spiritual identities, acquired the information and skills to obtain
needed resources, and expressed a greater willingness to influence the system,
among other things.
THE PROCESS OF ACTION RESEARCH:
LOOK, THINK, ACT
Ernest Stringer (1996) divides the process of doing action research into
three phases: look, think, and act. In the first phase, the goal is to look carefully
at the situation and define the problem. The research facilitator must
figure out who the stakeholders are and work with them to define the problem.
The group must gather the data that will help them to craft a solution.
In the second phase, the group needs to think about what they are finding
out. They need to interpret and explain what is going on, and why. In the
final phase, the group develops a plan for action and puts it into place. Of
course, the process is not so neat and linear in practice. For example, the
process of thinking about the data might lead a group to redefine the problem
and invite new stakeholders to the table. The plan for action might lead
the group to reexamine the problem and start anew. The process is more of
a spiral (or a-Slinky) than a straight line.
Look: Identifying Stakeholders
and Formulating a Collective Problem
Identifying the Stakeholders One of the first things a research facilitator
must do is to identify the stakeholders. Who are the people most affected by
the problem? Who must be brought to the table to figure out what the
parameters of the problem might be and how to research them? Sometimes,
a group or community will already be organized and will have brought the
researcher in for a specific purpose. Other times, the researcher might join
The Process ofAction Research: Look, Think, Act 143
at an earlier stage. At the very beginning of the process, the research facilitator(s)
should do what Stringer (1996) calls a “social analysis” of the setting
to ensure that all the necessary stakeholders are present.
Let’s say that you are interested in facilitating an action research project
on the parking problem at school. You know that there is a problem, because
you have heard many people complain about not being able to find a
parking place, and you yourselfhave had that experience. The campus paper
has published articles on the shortage as well. In this example, who might
be the stakeholders? Certainly, anyone who has to park on campus might be
a stakeholder. This includes commuter students most obviously, but it may
include residential students as well. Faculty also park on campus, as do staff)
which includes not only clerical and maintenance workers, cooks, and security
guards but also administrators such as deans and provosts and chancellors.
People who live nearby may also be stakeholders, as they find it difficult
to park on the streets in their own neighborhood.
Which of these groups would you need to invite to the table? Participatory
action researchers might argue that you need to invite those who are
disadvantaged by the current arrangements. Perhaps faculty and administrators
have reserved parking spaces and don’t have difficulty finding a spot. If
that is the case, then you might want to focus on bringing to the table those
who are more severely affected by the problem. (From this perspective, the
goal would be to organize the disenfranchised.) Other action researchers
might argue that you need to invite all to the table; otherwise, a mutually
acceptable solution to the problem won't be found. L. David Brown (1993)
describes this as the difference between northern and southern approaches.
The southern tradition encourages participation by the poor and dispossessed
and excludes participation by elites. The northern tradition may include
a more diverse^roup of participants, including those who have
organizational or societal power.
In bringing together the stakeholders, you need to consider if there are
any barriers to participation. For example, if you hold meetings at night,
commuter students who have children or night jobs may not be able to
attend. If you hold meetings during certain parts of the day, perhaps students
will be in class and people in the neighborhood will be at work. Are
there any language barriers? For example, the stakeholders may not all speak
the same language. Are there any barriers of disability? For example, holding
a meeting in a building without ramps or elevators will make it difficult for
many disabled people to attend. What about social barriers? For example, if
you are interested in working with a community group, holding the meeting
on campus might be intimidating to members.
144 CHAPTER 7 Action Research
You also need to consider whether any particular stakeholders are key
(Stringer 1996). Some individuals may be especially influential in a particular
setting (just like a gatekeeper in participant observation). It may be that,
once one or two key individuals decide to participate, the rest of the community
will follow. Without those key individuals, you may not be able to
proceed.
Formulating a Collective Problem Action research is by definition collaborative
research. Thus, the research facilitator cannot single-handedly define
the research problem. The definition of the problem must arise from the
group. Randy Stoeker (1999) argues that community groups need to decide
which decisions (such as how to define the question, design the research,
and gather the data) to let the researcher make by him- or herself and
which to reserve for the group. This can entail a number of challenges. Most
importantly, each stakeholder might have a very different understanding of
the problem and potential solutions.
To illustrate, let’s return to our parking problem example. Students may
see the problem as one of distribution. That is, there are plenty of spaces for
staff and faculty, but not enough for students. Because they are paying
tuition, they may feel that they have a right to a parking space. Administrators
may see the problem as a financial one. They’d love to build more parking
spaces, but there simply isn’t room or money. Or they may see the
problem as rooted in students' behavior, arguing that if students took the
shuttle bus or if residential students didn’t park on campus there wouldn’t
be a problem. Faculty may view their reserved parking spaces as an employee
benefit. Finally, neighborhood groups may see the university as
encroaching on their space and taking up valuable neighborhood resources
without giving anything in return.
To find out how the different groups see a given problem, the research
group needs to gather data. Here, the research facilitator may play a key role
in sharing information about specific ways to gather information, but the
action group must decide how to gather the information and how to interpret
it. At this stage, the group might use any one (or more) of the techniques
discussed in this book, such as participant observation, interviews, or
documentary research, as well as more novel forms. Sometimes, action research
groups use quantitative methods as well, such as surveys. In our parking
example, the group may decide to conduct interviews with students,
faculty, and staff. It may also decide to observe in parking lots and to conduct
documentary ^research—for example, tracing campus newspaper stories
on parking or conducting an analysis of parking tickets issued.
The Process of Action Research: Look, Think, Act 145
Think: Exploring the Problem
In this phase, the research group works collaboratively to try to figure out
what the data it has gathered mean. It’s often a good idea to develop a descriptive
account first, which defines how the various stakeholders see the
process. At this stage, it may be helpful to convene a meeting (or a series of
meetings) with groups of stakeholders, so that all have the opportunity to
voice their opinions and contribute to the emerging analysis of the data. The
research facilitator’s role might be to help bring the stakeholders together
and create a setting in which they can develop various interpretive accounts.
Again, the stakeholders will have to determine which of the tasks they want
to retain for themselves and which to leave for the researcher.
In our parking example, perhaps the group convenes a meeting of students,
faculty, staff’ and community members who are all committed to
working on the problem. They might break up into a number of small
groups, each consisting of two students, two staff people, two faculty members,
and two community representatives. Each small group might be given
the task of defining the parking problem in a way that reflects all viewpoints.
When the large group reconvenes, each group’s work might be displayed.
Then the large group might sift through the definitions, looking for
commonalities and differences. In general, the process of sorting through the
data will require several meetings so that all involved can have input.
Groups may adapt any of the analytic strategies we discuss in Chapter 8 for
this phase of the project.
Act: Defining an Agenda for Action
Finally, the time comes to craft a solution or an action step that speaks to
the problem the group has defined. Clearly, some social problems are much
more complex than others. Solving the problem of parking at a small college
might be relatively easy compared with, say, solving the problem of access
to health care or radism or environmental pollution. Still, at this stage, the
group must try to define some action steps that will address the situation.
They need to set priorities and figure out a plan of action. As with the other
steps, this process should be done in a collaborative way. (This typically
means more meetings1.) The people who are affected by the problem must
be the ones to craft the solution.
The kinds of action steps depend entirely on the nature of the problem
and the groups involved in the process. Some action steps are educational—
for example, working to inform others about the problem. Often, action
146 CHAPTER 7 Action Research
research groups devise novel ways of educating those who are affected, such
as putting on plays, making videos, or writing comic books. For example, as
part of her work with Latina domestic workers, Pierrette Hondagneu-Sotelo
helped produce novelas (comic-strip-like booklets) that helped educate
domestic workers about their rights (Hondagneu-Sotelo 1996). Some action
steps are short-term; others may be long-term. What’s most important
is that the steps address the problem and implement the solutions articulated
by those most affected by the problem.
SHARING THE RESULTS
In traditional research, researchers usually publish their results in an academic
journal or book, and they may present them at a conference of academics
as well. Typically, however, research results do not make it into the
popular press (at least in the social sciences). Often, those who are the subjects
of research do not find out what the researcher has said about them.
This isn’t because researchers don’t want to share their results. Rather, it has
to do with the structure of academic training and rewards. There aren’t
many rewards in academe for publishing in popular books or magazines or
for presenting one’s work on television or radio or via photo exhibitions in
indigenous communities. Action researchers usually make a commitment to
distribute the results of their work more widely. If they do publish in an academic
journal, it is usually as an adjunct to other forms of distribution.
Action researchers want to be sure that their work has an impact on the
people who are most affected.
SOME PROBLEMS AND OPPORTUNITIES
IN ACTION RESEARCH
For those social scientists who were attracted to the field because they want
to effect social change, action research may seem to be a perfect solution. It
allows them to use their specialized training in the service of social change.
It brings with it the possibility of more equal and collaborative relationships
than traditional ways of doing research. It allows researchers to develop
community organizing skills even while developing research skills. Yet researchers
typically aren’t trained in those kinds of community organizing
and educational skills. If you are interested in conducting participatory
Some Problems and Opportunities in Action Research 147
action research, you may want to find out more about community organizing.
You might want to learn more about the Highlander Center in Tennessee,
which has long been involved in education for community change
(Gaventa 1991; Greer 1991) or about Saul Alinsky’s mode of community
organizing (Alinsky 1971; McNeil 1995).
Sharing Power
Action research may also present other difficulties. One of those difficulties
centers around the issue of sharing power. To what extent can social researchers,
who are often middle class, with highly specialized degrees, really
share power with their collaborators, especially when they are from marginalized
social groups (Chataway 1997; Lykes 1997)? And it’s not clear to
what extent marginalized groups are necessarily interested in such a sharing.
As Cynthia Chataway (1997) notes, more powerful social groups often offer
a role in decision making to less powerful groups as a way to co-opt or
manipulate them. How can participants be sure that information won’t be
used against them? Establishing a coequal relationship can take extraordinary
time and commitment, and even then it is not assured.
On a practical level, difficulties can arise when a researcher analyzes a
problem very differently from participants who are more directly affected
by the problem or thinks that a very different solution might be needed.
Should the researcher defer to the group? Or the group may express sentiments
that seem contrary to the facilitator’s values, as M. Brinton Lykes
(1997) describes in her research in Guatemala. In one of her projects, she
found that being accepted by the mostly male staff meant also being privy
to language and jokes that were demeaning to women. She recounts, “I
struggled with the unanticipated experience that in order to sustain my status
as an ‘insider’I was forced to violate my sense of self as a woman” (Lykes
1997, p. 734).
In bringing together groups of stakeholders, a facilitator may have to
deal with differences in power. For instance, in our parking example, how
can the relative power held by faculty, students, neighborhood residents, and
staff be dealt with? Students may see themselves as relatively powerless in
relation to faculty. They may not feel free to speak openly in front of those
who have the power to grade them. An action research session I was invited
to had a similar problem. The goal of the two-day session was to find ways
that the community could more effectively meet the needs of youths. Many
small groups were established, each containing a few youths, a few community
activists, and a few parents and educators. In a brainstorming session,
148 CHAPTER 7 Action Research
the youths’ voices were quashed as the adults became more and more
excited with their own vision.
Leading Groups
Action research is hard work. Because it is collaborative in nature, it involves
group leadership skills that are typically not taught as part of research
methods. Successful action research involves a sensitivity to group
dynamics and an ability to work in a respectful way with diverse groups
of people (McNicoll 1999). Thus, action researchers need to learn empathy
and listening skills. They need to figure out how to balance competing
perspectives and to negotiate potential conflicts among the participants
(Chataway 1997).
Acting Ethically
Action research also involves several unique ethical issues. As activists,
action researchers are especially concerned with creating mutually rewarding,
democratic relationships with their participants. Yet action researchers
often stand to benefit from the work they do. They can gain status and earn
promotions through their publications and grants. One of the issues that
action researchers deal with, then, is the potential for exploitation of research
subjects (Small 1995). Is it fair for researchers to reap career benefits
from the research? Is research that does not seem to benefit those being
researched ethical?
In addition, because action research tends to be open-ended, changing
in response to the needs and input of the community of researchers, it is difficult
to know when (and how) to present action research proposals to institutional
review boards (IRBs) (McNicoll 1999). If you make an IRB
proposal before contacting community stakeholders, you will have trouble
providing a general guide for what you will be studying, given that the problem
definition will come from that very contact. But if you wait until after
the problem has been defined, you may find yourself holding community
members up while the proposal wends its way through IRB channels. As a
rule, IRBs are not well set up to deal with open-ended research agendas. If
you are planning an action research project at your school, you should consult
with your professor or adviser to get additional information about how
your IRB will treat such a proposal.
Despite the difficulties involved, action research can be an exciting way
to combine an interest in social research with a desire to effect social
change. It can be heartening to see your research have a real impact—and to
Suggestions for Further Reading 149
see yourself affected by the research process as well. By working through
the research problem as a coequal with others, by listening to their experiences
and developing a shared commitment to action, you can be transformed
by action research.
QUESTIONS FOR THOUGHT
1. Consider some of the differences between activist research and more traditional
forms of researcher-directed research. Which form is more
appealing to you? Why?
2. What are some of the difficulties you might encounter in trying to do an
action research project? What strategies can you think of to overcome
those difficulties?
3. What kind of a role do you think researchers should play in creating
political change? Do you think creating political change should be a goal
of research? Why or why not?
EXERCISES
1. Consider a group that you might like to conduct activist research with.
Outline a strategy that you might use to begin your research. How might
you identify stakeholders? How might you get the process started while
still allowing participation by the coresearchers? What strategies can you
think of to ensure full participation?
2. Interview a community organizer. Find out what kinds of skills are
needed for that work. What does she or he do on a daily basis? Then consider:
How is that work different from and similar to action research?
SUGGESTIONS FOR FURTHER READING
For descriptions of participatory action research projects, see the journal
Convergence, which is published by the International Council for Adult
Education.
Cancian, Francesca M. "Participatory Research and Alternative Strategies for Activist
Sociology.” In Feminism and Social Change: Bridging Theory and Practice, edited
by Heidi Gottfried. Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1996.
150 CHAPTER 7 Action Research
Patton, Michael Quinn. Qualitative Evaluation and Research Methods, 2nd ed. N ew bury
Park, CA: Sage, 1990.
Posavac, Emil J., and Raymond G. Carey. Program Evaluation: Methods and Case
Studies, 5th ed. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall, 1997.
Reinharz, Shulamit. Feminist Methods in Social Research, N ew York: Oxford University
Press, 1992. Focuses on feminist action research in Chapter 10.
Small, Stephen A. “Action-Oriented Research: Models and Methods.”Journal of Marriage
and the Family 57:941-956.
Stringer, Ernest T. Action Research: A Handbook for Practitioners. Thousand Oaks, CA:
Sage, 1996.
8
Making Sense of Data
The ultimate goal is to produce a coherent, focused analysis of
some aspect of the social life that has been observed and recorded,
an analysis that is comprehensible to readers who are not directly
acquainted with the social world at issue.
— Em er so n , Fretz, a n d Sh a w ( 1995, p. 142)
H e lp ! You’ve collected pages and pages of field notes and interview transcripts.
You have gathered a number of documents. You seem to be swimming
in a pool of paper. What do you do? How can you begin to make sense
of this mass of materials you have collected? How can you begin to transform
it into something coherent? How can you develop some kind of an
analysis?
In previous chapters, we focused on the process of collecting data. Now
it’s time to consider what to do with the data once you've gathered them.
For many researchers, beginning data analysis can be difficult. The process of
gathering data has its own rhythms, and it may seem hard to begin analyzing
at the same time. Still, ideally, you should begin data analysis in the field or
in the process of gathering data. If you wait until you have finished the last
interview or left the field completely, you won’t be able to go back and ask
clarifying questions. You won’t be able to tailor your observations or your interviews
as you make discoveries. Waiting until the papers pile up may also
make the process of analysis more daunting. If you have been putting off
trying to make sense of your data until everything has been collected—and
in a qualitative research project “everything”can run to hundreds of pages—
the process will be harder than necessary.
Analyzing qualitative data generally involves several stages. First, you
have to find some way to physically manage or organize the data: Put it into
151
152 CHAPTER 8 Making Sense of Data
three-ring binders or files, enter it into the computer, or develop some other
technique. Then you need to immerse yourself in the data and become
familiar with what you have gathered. As you become increasingly intimate
with the data, you will begin to generate themes or categories or identify
patterns in the data. Finally, you will need to find 'ways to present the analysis
to others.
MAKING MEANING OUT OF QUALITATIVE DATA
In qualitative research, data analysis is a process of making meaning. It is a
creative process, not a mechanical one (Denzin 1989). It’s not as if all the
meanings are embedded in your field notes or interview transcripts or documents,
and your job, as researcher, is to “uncover”them. Rather, your job is
to actively create meaning out of your raw materials. Two researchers,
encountering the same data, may analyze them very differently. This is to be
expected, given that you bring to the process different skills, emphases, and
theoretical orientations.
At the same time, the different ways of analyzing the data should at
least be plausible. Consider the process of creating something out of a set
of raw materials. For example, given a bolt of fabric and some notions
(thread, zippers, buttons, and so forth), different people might end up making
very different kinds of creations. One person might make a dress, another
a Halloween costume, and a third a tent. But what they come up
with must at least be plausibly created from the raw materials. It would be
awfully difficult to make a working motorcycle or an edible meal out of a
bolt of fabric.
Here’s another example: My office is a terrible mess right now. There
are books and journals scattered all over—in piles on the floor; on bookshelves,
and so on. There are several filing cabinets of different colors. On
one of the two desks are a few coffee cups and a plate. There are pens, pencils,
reams of paper, and a box of Kleenex. Running clothes hang on a hook
on a wall, and a shirt is draped over one of the chairs. There is a computer, a
printer, and lots of standard office supplies, like rulers, scissors, tape, and
computer disks.
Suppose I ask you to organize my office. You might do so in any number
of ways. You might lump all the books and journals together as “things to
read.”You might place the desks and chairs in the category of furniture. You
might place the pens, pencils, and computer together as things to write
with. But clearly this is only one way to organize my mess. You could also
categorize things by color: all the beige things (computer, printer, one of the
Managing Data 153
filing cabinets), all the black things (tape dispenser, calculator, the other filing
cabinet, some books), all the colorful printed things (running shorts,
plate, Kleenex box, some books), and so on. Or you could divide them into
two categories: things to throw out and things to keep. How you decide to
organize the objects depends very much on your purpose in categorizing
them. If you are planning a yard sale, arranging them by color won’t do you
much good. You’ll want to know what should be kept and what should be
gotten rid of. But if you are trying to make sense of how I use this office and
the things in it, arranging the things by function (things to write with, things
to read, things to use for running) might be helpful. Or, if you want to distinguish
among things that I use often and things that I don’t use, you might
want to arrange things spatially. Items on the tops of piles or near my computer
are things that I use often. Books on shelves are less often used than
books on the floor. Pencils left on top of the desk are favored over those that
are in a drawer. Again, your purpose in analyzing the materials will suggest a
strategy.
One of the difficulties in analyzing qualitative data is that there is no
single method for making sense of what you have found. Just as there is no
single “right” way to organize my messy office, so there is no single “right”
way to organize and analyze qualitative data.
MANAGING DATA
As you begin the process of analyzing qualitative data, your first task is to
arrange or organize your data so that you can begin to make sense of it. Margaret
LeCompte and Jean Schensul (1999b) call this process "tidying up.”
That is, you have to do some “serious housekeeping”before you can begin
the analysis. You need to make sure that all of your taped interviews are
transcribed and that your field notes are together and complete. You need to
label the computer disks or the audiotapes so that you know what is contained
on each. You need to make a comprehensive list of all the materials
you have gathered. At one level, this is a fairly mechanical process of gathering
all your materials and devising a filing system or other way of organizing
them so that you can easily access them. Yet even at this level you can go
in various directions.
Separating Different Types of Data
You may want to keep different types of data separate. For example, you
may choose to separate transcripts of interviews from your field notes. I
154 CHAPTER 8 Making Sense of Data
usually assign each interview a code number as I conduct the interview.
Then, as interviews are transcribed, I put a copy of each transcript in a file
folder along with a copy of the face sheet and any field notes relating to the
interview. I also store any correspondence or other materials relating to
that interviewee in that file. And I usually keep these files separate from my
field notes, which are organized chronologically, and other documents.
Keeping Data in Chronological Order
Some materials, like field notes, should be kept in chronological order. I usually
type up full field notes on my computer and print out copies during the
course of my observations. In a three-ring binder, I place all my field notes
chronologically. I also sometimes put into this binder copies of any documents
I have collected during the course of my research. (It's best to do this
while you are in the field; on the day you collect a document, write the date
on it and put it into the binder.) If I am collecting a series of documents,
such as a set of newsletters, I'll usually keep these in a separate file, organized
chronologically or, for undated materials, alphabetically.
If you are keeping a personal journal for the research, you may want to
place copies of the dated entries in the same binder as your field notes, again
organized chronologically. Some people like to keep these separate; the
choice is yours. As you are generating these materials, be sure to label them
clearly. For example, write “FIELD NOTES”or “PERSONAL JOURNAL”at
the top of the page. I often keep original documents (including handwritten
scratch notes) in a separate file. You don’t need to use a binder (or multiple
binders for a big research project) if you don’t find it helpful. A file box will
work, too. Whatever system you use, make sure you devise a system for
keeping the papers together and in order.
Organizing by Topic or Document Type
You may want to organize some of your materials according to a specific
topic. For example, if you have collected a number of written documents,
you can organize them by topic rather than by chronological order. Suppose
you are studying a mothers’ organization. During the course of your field
research, you collect a number of miscellaneous documents. You might have
a number of handouts and magazine or newspaper articles about different
topics: methods of discipline, arts and crafts activities, and stories about
mothering. You could organize these according to topic. Or you might have
several types of materials: meeting agendas, newsletters published by the
Managing Data 155
group, newspaper clippings, and flyers advertising the group. You could arrange
these according to type of document.
Making a List or Logbook
However you decide to arrange your materials, it’s a good idea to make a
comprehensive list of everything you have gathered. For interviews, you
might want to include the dates that the interviews were conducted and
transcribed, as shown here:
Interview Date Conducted Date Transcribed
001 2/15/99 3/1/99
002 2/15/99 3/4/99
003 2/19/99 3/5/99
For documents, you might want to include the title of the document, its
date, and a short description of it, as shown here:
List of Documents
1. Working Mother Forum (photocopied newsletter)
April 1999
May 1999
July 1999
August 1999
September 1999
October 1999
January 1999
February 2000
March 2000
April 2000
May 2000
June 2000
2. Meeting agendas and minutes
April 1999 through April 2000. December 1999 missing notes
and agenda because meeting was canceled.
3. Miscellaneous documents
a. Mission statement and bylaws of group
b. Handout on birth order given out at April 1999 meeting
156 CHAPTER 8 Making Sense of Data
c. Mother's Lament—poem e-mailed to me by “Roz”May 1999
d. Handout on finding day care given out at June 1999 meeting
Some researchers like to keep track of their materials in a computer database;
others like to use index cards. You should use whatever system is most
comfortable for you.
Choosing Between Computer and Hard Copy
If you use a software program for qualitative data analysis, you need to
enter your data in a form that the program can use (we'll discuss qualitative
analysis programs later in this chapter). Many qualitative researchers
find that a basic word processing program works fine. Even if you are going
to be doing most of your analysis directly on the computer, it’s still a good
idea to print out a hard copy (and often two or three copies) of all your
materials.
Keeping Multiple Copies
Make sure you keep multiple backup copies of all your materials. Hard
drives can fail, computer viruses can erase files, and accidents can happen. I
usually make several backup disks of the interview transcripts and keep one
at my home office and the other at my school office. I know one researcher
who had just returned from the field and hadn't yet had a chance to make
copies of much of the material. During a routine fire drill, he carried all of
his data outside with him “just in case.”Most researchers have heard horror
stories (whether true or not) about researchers who lost all of their data to
a catastrophic fire or a stolen car or a flooded office. The moral of the story?
Make multiple copies of your field notes, interview tapes, transcripts, and
other data, and keep them in different places. You should keep one copy as
a “master” file and two or three other copies for different kinds of analyses
(Patton 1990).
Some people—those who are organized—have an easier time with this
stage of the research process than others. If you are good at keeping things
filed and in order, this stage will be much more pleasant than if you tend to
be disorganized and hate to put things away.* Still, the process of gathering
your materials together and organizing them is important. You can’t analyze
*If you are a compulsive organizer, you may enjoy reading Werner and Schoepfle’s 1987 book
S y s te m a tic F ie ld w o rk , Volume 2. If you are considerably less organized, you may want to stay
away from it!
Coding 157
data that you can’t find. Whatever method you choose, be sure that you
assemble all of your data and can find what you need, when you need it.
And be sure to keep multiple copies of everything.
GETTING INTIMATE WITH YOUR DATA
The next stage involves getting intimate with your data. Maybe some time
has elapsed between when you gathered your data and when you’re ready
to begin the analysis. Even if you have been keeping up, some time has
probably passed since you began the research project, and interviews and
observations from the beginning of the project may have faded from your
memory. The goal at this stage is to immerse yourself in the data. Read over
your field notes from beginning to end—several times. Do the same with
interview transcripts and any documents you have collected. If you learn
better by hearing than by reading, you might find it helpful to listen to the
interview tapes—several times if necessary. Some people like to listen to
their interview tapes in the car. As you review your materials, take notes if
you find it helpful. But don’t worry at this stage if it feels as if you will never
be able to make sense of all of your materials. Your main object is to try to
load up your memory with all your data. You should think about it while
you’re driving and while you’re eating and while you’re running and whenever
you have a spare moment.
CODING
Once you begin to immerse yourself in the data, how do you make sense of
them? How do you identify what is most important? How do you figure out
what to leave alone? How can you develop a sense of which themes are
recurrent? How can you reduce the sheer volume of material to a more
manageable quantity?
The first step in making sense of your data is coding. You might already
have some ideas about coding based on quantitative methods. In quantitative
methods, the goal is to come up with a small number of categories so
that you can manipulate the data on the computer. You begin with a set of
categories and assign numbers to cases. For example, if you asked interviewees
how much education they had, you might get a variety of responses
worded in various ways. One person might say that she had a college education;
another might say that he graduated from high school; another might
158 CHAPTER 8 Making Sense of Data
say that she had an associate’s degree. In quantitative coding, you would
assign each one a number—for example, a “1” for less than a high school
education, a “2”for a high school diploma, a “3”for some college education,
and so forth. The process is mainly a procedure for counting how many people
had each level of education (Coffey and Atkinson 1996).
In qualitative analysis, the goal is not to assign numbers to cases. Rather,
the goal is to begin to focus on the potential meanings of your data. Amanda
Coffey and Paul Atkinson suggest that qualitative coding entails three basic
procedures: “(a) noticing relevant phenomena, (b) collecting examples of
those phenomena, and (c) analyzing those phenomena in order to find commonalities,
differences, patterns, and structures” (1996, p. 29).
Especially at the beginning of the process, you don’t want to limit
potential insights by rigidly applying preestablished codes to your data. Instead,
you want to use the process of coding to begin to reveal potential
meanings. My students often find that initial bouts of coding add more complexity
rather than simplify things. They sometimes despair that they’ll
never figure out what their data mean. This is to be expected. What you
want to do at this first stage is to begin to develop hunches and ideas about
what is going on in your data. Later, as you refine your codes and develop
basic themes, the meanings will become clearer.
Open Coding
Many researchers use some version of grounded theory to work with their
data and develop meanings (Strauss and Corbin 1990). Essentially, this
method involves a two-stage process of coding. In the initial stage, called
open coding, you work intensively with your data, line by line, identifying
themes and categories that seem of interest. In this early stage, you should
remain open to whatever you see in the data. Thus, you shouldn't hesitate
to note categories or themes that may not seem relevant to your original
research problem.
In open coding, you don't use someone else’s preestablished codes, or
even your own. Rather, your goal is to see what is going on in your data. If
you develop codes in advance, you will impose your own sense of what
ought to be there in the data and may very well miss what is there. In developing
open codes, it’s important to make sure that you understand the particular
themes and categories you see in the data. As you work through your
data intensively, don't worry if you see somewhat different things and use
different labels for your themes. As you become more familiar with your
data, you will naturally begin to see patterns and commonalities and
develop a focus.
Coding 159
You can do open coding in a number of ways. For example, you can simply
write your codes in the margins. If you like working directly on the computer,
you can use the comment function of a word processing program to
insert codes. Some people like to use multicolored highlighters or pens to
note key phrases in conjunction with marginal notes; others like to use colored
Post-it notes. You should try a few different strategies to see what
works best for you.
Figure 8.1 shows an example of open coding based on a short segment
of an interview conducted with a mother who was juggling paid work and
household work. In this segment, she talks about what that juggling was like
for her. A number of themes seem prominent: finding day care providers,
assessing the quality of day care providers, leaving her son, and so forth.
Development of Themes
After you have done open coding for a while, some recurring themes should
begin to emerge. Maybe some categories show up in case after case (in interviews)
or over an extended period (in field notes). Maybe some themes
seem especially interesting or relevant. At this time, you need to work more
intensively with your codes to see what kinds of themes you might develop.
Out of all the various codes you have created, which ones might be most
helpful in shaping your analysis?
How will you know when to do this? There’s no single “right”time, and
you can repeat this process as often as you like. It’s usually helpful to have
done open coding on more than one case (for example, if you are coding
interview transcripts, it’s helpful to have gone through several different
interviews) or a number of days’ worth of field notes. When you begin seeing
the same codes over and over and don’t seem to be seeing quite as many
new themes or creating many new codes, this should suggest potential
themes.
There are any number of “tricks” you might use to develop themes.
Which ones you use will depend in part on what kind of learner you are.
Some people like to see things visually; others like to physically manipulate
things. Some people work best on a computer; others do best on the floor
surrounded by their materials. You should probably try several different
approaches until you figure out what works best for you.
Some analysts like to physically sort through the categories they are
developing. As they are doing their open coding, they create a series of
index cards. Each index card contains the relevant line or portion from the
interview or field note on one side and the code on the other. They make
sure to note exactly where each piece of the data is from (for example, the
160 CHAPTER 8 Making Sense of Data
rJw
48*
\iM
O?«*'
"'ip
!
MtW
K: Can you calk a little about what it was like for you when you
were both working, and with your son, when you were trying to
balance that. What was that like?
R: First of all, finding day care was very very difficult for me. I „ „¡0^
------- Jay^ r d'interviewed a dozen people. Um. Most of them were young, 9 1
young ladies with new babies themselves. And it was very
stressful to think about leaving my son, whom I wanted to have a
child, leaving him to be raised with somebody else. I ended up
finding a day care person who was in her mid 50s. She was really ¡M1
l P f
a nice woman and I felt very comfortable with her. And the whole J4/ (•„g*
surrounding. And my husband would drop him off in the morning ^ j^p
so I didn't have to deal with that separation thing, which was kind
of nice. And then I would pick him up at night, so I got that
opportunity. The day care woman was really nice, she very rarely
called me for any trivial things. I kind o fwish she would have—
you know, you hear now about day care people keeping logs,
you know, about what they ate or how many times their diaper was
changed or whatever. So I don't really have a history from, you
know, I went back to work when he was 3 months and I quit when
he was 9 months. So there's a whole 6 month gap there. It was
hard there, it really was.
pi^P
,(0Vl£)
j«r
Vlff*
j«r
FIGURE 8.1 Open Coding
interview number and page number). Then, when they have done a significant
amount of open coding and have a number of cards, they sort them
into piles to see which codes emerge most frequently. They might sort them
a number of different ways to see if the same kinds of themes seem to
emerge. Each time they sort the cards, they keep track of which categories
they created. (There are also computer programs for creating and sorting
index cards that can be very helpful.)
Coding 161
Instead of making index cards, some researchers literally cut up a copy
of the interview transcript or their field notes into pieces, each with a relevant
line or segment marked with a code. Again, they carefully note where
each slip comes from so that they can refer back to it. Then, they sort the
slips into piles, often multiple times, to see what themes seem to emerge.
And, again, they keep track of the outcome of each sorting.
Focused Coding
Once you begin to identify several key recurring themes, you can do focused
coding (Coffey and Atkinson 1996). Like open coding,focused coding entails
going through your data line by line, but this time you focus on those key
themes you identified during open coding. So, for example, in the open coding
segment in Figure 8.1,1might decide to focus on two themes: day care
providers and separations. I would then go through a copy of each of the
transcripts and field notes, line by line, noting those categories. Of course, if
you were doing open coding on a longer section of data (as you should), you
would probably develop more and perhaps different themes.
As with open coding, you can use any technique you like for focused
coding. Again, some people like to write directly on the text; others like to
work on the computer. There are a number of software programs for qualitative
analysis that can help you store and retrieve codes; you may also
choose to use an ordinary word processing program. If you are working with
word processing software, it’s often helpful to do a computerized search for
key words or phrases. You may need to check your searches carefully, however.
Sometimes, people use somewhat different words to describe similar
things, and unless you search for all the possibilities, you may miss important
sections of the text. For example, if I were looking for passages relating
to day care providers, I would probably need to search a number of different
words: “day care provider," “child care provider," “baby-sitter,” the name of
the specific provider mentioned by the respondent, and so on.
If it’s available, some people like to work with a clean copy of the data
in this stage. I sometimes find it helpful to create a long word processing
document with all the quotes I’ve identified for each code, as in this example
(with all my transcripts and notes already on the computer it’s a fairly
easy process):
D ay Care Providers—Feelings About
“She was a really nice woman and I felt very comfortable with her.”
(001, p. 4)
162 CHAPTER 8 Making Sense of Data
“The day care woman was really nice, she very rarely called me for any
trivial thing." (006, p. 4)
“I was so angry with [my day care provider]. When my daughter got
bit by her cat, I was out of there. I couldn’t believe that she wouldn’t
just lock the cats up.”(009, p. 6)
“I really like how [my day care provider] is so calm and patient with
Zoe. She’s terrific with her. I always lose patience.” (010, p. 15]
Thus, if one of my codes is “feelings about day care providers," I might create
a word processing document that contains each quote that relates to the
code. (I’d be sure to indicate the interview number and page number so
I could find it easily.) I might then break that down into further categories:
positive feelings, neutral feelings, and negative feelings, or perhaps strong
feelings and weak feelings. When I was ready to write up the analysis, I
would already have the quotes in one place. Other researchers might make
index cards or use other techniques.
You are probably getting the impression that coding is a laborious, timeconsuming
process. It is. But in qualitative analysis, there really are no shortcuts
in analyzing your data. While the computer programs available for data
analysis can help you manage data and reduce the amount of time you
spend retyping and rewriting things (such as making index cards), they can’t
do the analysis for you. You still have to develop the codes and themes yourself.
You still have to make the decisions about what is important and what
is not. At the same time, there are many different techniques you can use;
there is no one single way to analyze qualitative data. This leaves you free to
develop the methods that make the most sense for your particular situation.
Maps and Diagrams
Many researchers like to use visual techniques in working with their data.
For example, you might look at the themes you have developed and create
a map or diagram that shows how the themes seem to relate to one another.
There are any number of ways you can create diagrams or maps. You might,
for example, map how individuals or groups relate to one another. This
means identifying the various groups in a social setting and determining
whether members of one group are also members of another. For example,
can you be both a student and an employee at the same time? Do some
individuals serve to “connect”groups or bring them together?
You may want to diagram the structure of events in a sequence of
action. For example, consider children’s birthday parties. What are the vari-
Coding 163
tfm &hfyenfa- ¿IHJren ¿Tartlet at -il&me
dildren arrive atparty
pivepretenfa fa fa tt Cput away a&at, efa.?
y>in activity
Corajjfa, &penplay?
Car-tivity ¿ant rely &nall kid# ¿ffwinp-at tame tine?
Orpanipedplay- pamet, eta-.
Cl?a'd till all okldren present?
CammOnpome# Unfa, ¡rurtioal ¿kairt, pin tke tail
Tripet tmetiwet piven fa winners
Peyetfaenfa- always inaiades take andusually ¡¿e ¿team
\
Mareplay/aativitiet C&pti&nal?
\
Tretenfa Cn&t &penedat &neparty, teemed &dd?
\
¿rivep&vdie hapt
\
¿lildren p# fame
FIGURE 8.2 Map of Events at a Children's Birthday Party
ous events in a birthday party? What are the things that must be present in
order for one to consider it a birthday party? There are usually games, things
to eat, birthday cake, “goodie” bags, and presents, among other things. But
would it still be a birthday party without a cake? What about a party without
the guest of honor—the child who is having the birthday? Is there a
specific order in which events happen? Or are there several possible orderings
of events? Figure 8.2 shows a map of events at a typical children’s
164 CHAPTER 8 Making Sense of Data
-parenf4 &[ birftdûy ttild - birfUay ttild
¿rueth
tiltdren
[riendt [r&m 4th&l
¡relatives
after adutf t
- [amity[riendt
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âunft/unîtes, eft.7
-perenf t &[pu etft
Pnferflinert
— tl&tMnt, munition, [Citeptinfer
FIGURE 8.3 Map of the Relationships Among Attendees at Birthday Party
birthday party; Figure 8.3 shows a map of the relationships among party
attendees. Creating a diagram of the flow of events can help you figure out
if you have included all the steps in an event or process and if you understand
the process fully.
MEMOS
At each step of the way it’s helpful to write up memos. Writing is a process
of making meaning. Writing memos helps you shape your thoughts about
the emerging analysis and provides a record of your progress. Thus, through
the process of writing about your findings, you develop your analysis a bit
further. Think of memos as letters or notes to yourself to help you understand
your data. They are written for you, not for a teacher or an outside
Memos 165
reader. Thus, you can use whatever format you like and feel most comfortable
with. Whatever format you use, however, it’s important to date your
memos so you know when you created them.
Procedural Memos
You can use memos in a number of ways. First, you can write up procedural
memos to help you remember how you did your coding, what kinds of categories
you created, and so forth. (Strauss and Corbin [1990] call these
code memos.) Procedural memos focus on the nuts and bolts of your
research. They summarize exactly what you did—what codes and categories
you created, what they included, what codes you rejected and why,
and so on. These memos are important for they help you keep track of
what you have done. (They are also useful for creating a description of how
you analyzed your data, which you will need to include in your write-up.)
Some people like to keep a separate logbook of their memos, which helps
them keep a running record of all the steps they took. Others prefer to
keep their memos with their field notes. I find it helpful to give each memo
a title so that I can keep track of it. The following memo distinguishes between
two codes:
Procedural Memo: Feelings About D ay Care Providers
and Pick-ups and Drop-offs
The code “feelings about day care providers”includes any kind of
emotion word or evaluation that interviewees use to refer to their day
care providers. These include things like the provider was “nice" or
that the respondent “liked”her, and so forth. It applies to feelings
about the provider as a person (or as a provider). It does not include
feelings the interviewee might have about placing her child in day
care or feelings about pick-ups and drop-offs.
The code "pick-ups and drop-offs”includes anything the respondent
says about picking up or dropping off her child at day care. Ex:
"I was always glad to let my partner do the drop-off”or “I liked to go
in a few minutes early to see how my daughter was playing with the
other kids.”
Analytic Memos
You can also write analytic memos that help you think about the categories
and themes you are developing. In these memos, you focus on what’s
166 CHAPTER 8 Making Sense of Data
important in your data and make connections between cases. If you’re
following the advice I gave in Chapter 4, you’ve already been writing this
kind of memo while doing field work. These memos contain your hunches
and ideas and best guesses about what you should be thinking about. As
you develop your coding further, these memos should get more and more
detailed. Ideally, you should be able to draw on these memos in your final
write-up. Here’s an example of an analytic memo:
Analytic Memo: Drop-offs
It seems like the drop-offs are very charged for some of the mothers
I’ve been interviewing. Some of the parents seem to have a hard time
with it—I think they feel guilty about leaving their kids in day care
(maybe they feel like bad mothers?) and the drop-off then becomes
difficult. This was definitely the case with Roz and Lee (“I can’t stand
it when she cries ‘Mommy stay, Mommy stay.’Every morning I wonder
if I’m doing the right thing”). Not all the mothers find it hard,
though. Leah said: “I love to see Zoe [her daughter] throw herself in
Callie’s [the day care provider] arms. She really loves it there.”
Does it have to do with the quality of the day care provider? The
parents' own feelings about their mothering? The parents’feelings
about their work? Maybe mothers who enjoy their work more or
need the money more feel less ambivalent about the drop-off. [I’ll
need to check this out in field notes too. Do I notice the same kinds
of difficulties?]
ASKING QUESTIONS
Coding is not the end of your analysis, however. It’s more like a beginning.
In the initial stages, the coding opens you up to the possibilities of your
data; it makes it more complex. Coding thus serves the purpose of what
Amanda Coffey and Paul Atkinson (1996) call “data complication.”At the
same time, focused coding helps you to reduce the data—to bring it down
to size and make it more manageable. Yet this data reduction, by itself’is not
the finished analysis. You still have to answer what I think of as the “so what”
question: So what? What do these data mean? You still have to figure out
what the themes and categories, that you are identifying might mean in conjunction
with one another.
At this stage, as you are working intensively with your data, it’s helpful
to ask a number of questions (Emerson, Fretz, and Shaw 1995; Patton
1990). And you can focus your questions in a number of directions:
Asking Questions 167
Questions about events:
What happened?
Who was involved?
How did the event begin?
How did it end?
Questions about chronology:
What happened first? Next? Then?
Questions about the setting:
What is this place like?
What does it look like?
Questions about people:
Who are the people involved?
What are they like?
Questions about processes:
What are people trying to accomplish?
How do they do this?
Questions about issues:
What are the key issues for these people?
What is important to them?
How do they describe what is important?
What language do they use?
Answering these kinds of questions can alert you to different facets of
the analysis and help you describe an event or a group of people. For example,
if you have been observing at mothers’ play groups, you might want to
describe what happens at a typical group meeting. This kind of descriptive
writing is important, as we’ll discuss further in Chapter 10, for it helps you
to set the scene. Part of a good qualitative analysis entails describing to others
what you have observed.
Answering these questions can also lead you to make interpretations
about the meanings of things. For example, you may want to interpret what
the play groups mean to the women involved in organizing them. Perhaps
they serve as a way for the mothers to provide friends and playmates for
their children or as a source of support for the women. Perhaps they help
solidify the women’s identities as “good” mothers. These are all interpretations—arguments
about what the play groups mean. These kinds of interpretations
must be grounded in the data—hence the laborious process of
working intensively, line by line, with the data.
168 CHAPTER 8 Making Sense of Data
Some scholars argue that all writing is interpretive. That is, even when
you are describing something, you can only present your interpretation of
what you saw. Regardless of where you come down on this issue, you should
always think about how you can orient yourself in terms of two modes of
inquiry: (1) how to describe events or people or cases to others and (2) how
to interpret (or make your best argument about) what those things might
mean.
DEVELOPING AN ANALYSIS
Developing a qualitative analysis may seem like a mystical process. As I keep
emphasizing, the activities you engage in throughout data analysis are not
mechanical ones. But there are several methods of analyzing data that may
be of use to you. These activities generally include looking for patterns in
the data (similarities and differences), comparing cases, building typologies,
and conducting a content analysis. In Chapter 9, we will consider the process
of constructing narrative accounts or stories.
Looking for Patterns
One of the first things you can do in your coding is to look for patterns in
the data. Different interviewees might deal with the same kinds of issues or
handle different issues in similar ways. The same kinds of events might
occur over and over, or similar patterns might occur among different events.
The coding that you do should help alert you to these kinds of patterns. For
example, in the analysis of working mothers, a researcher might find that
women give similar accounts of leaving their children with the day care provider.
Perhaps all of the women describe a process of dropping their children
off in the morning and picking them up at the end of the day.
Comparing Cases
Once you have identified a few patterns, you may want to compare cases
more systematically. What is a case? It all depends on your research. If you
have primarily conducted interviews, you might want to compare individual
interviewees. Each person you interviewed might be a case. You might also
compare events, like birthday parties. Each birthday party might be a case.
Or you might consider cases on a larger scale: organizations (like universities
or colleges), neighborhoods, and so forth.
Developing an Analysis 169
Pick-up Drop-off
Selfdoes 001, 002, 007, 008,
012, 013, 014
001,002,005,006,
008,011,015
Partner does 003,005,006,011 003,007,012,013,
014
No partner
(interviewee does both)
004, 009,010 004, 009, 010
FIGURE 8.4 Chart for Comparing Cases
For example, let’s say you have interviewed fifteen mothers who work
outside the home. You may want to systematically compare them on a variety
of dimensions: whether they tell pick-up/drop-off stories, whether their
spouse or partner shares the work of picking up and dropping off, and so
forth. You could create a grid or chart like the one in Figure 8.4 to help you
compare. Here, you’re simply comparing the cases in terms of who picks up
and drops off children at day care. For example, your first interviewee (001)
does both the pick-up and drop-off. Interviewee 3 does neither—her partner
does both. Interviewee 7 does the pick-ups and her partner does the
drop-offs. The single parents in the sample (004, 009, 010) naturally do
both because they don’t have a partner to share the work with. Comparing
the cases in this way may help you think about other ways that you can
compare the cases. For example, some of the women who have partners are
like the single parents—they do all the work of picking up and dropping off.
Are they similar in other ways as well? Different?
Building Typologies
One relatively simple analysis involves the construction of a typology, which
is simply a system for categorizing types of things. So, in our day care example,
you might notice while coding that some of the women seem to share
picking up and dropping off their kids at daycare with a partner and others
do not. Maybe you notice that some of the women seem to share the work
of child care more generally with their partners and others do not. You
might want to create a typology: equal sharers and unequal sharers. If you
look at the grid in Figure 8.4, you can see that in three cases the woman
does both pick-up and drop-off (001, 002, 008) and in one of the cases her
partner does both (003). You can call this group the unequal sharers. In
170 CHAPTER 8 Making Sense of Data
seven of the cases, the woman and her partner split up the picking up and
dropping off equally (005, 006, 007, Oil, 012, 013, 014). These are the
equal sharers. In three of the cases, the woman doesn’t have a partner, so
you might make them either a third category (single parents) or leave them
out of the typology.
Obviously, this is a very simple typology. Sharing pick-up and drop-off
might not say much about whether the women’s partners share in other
activities, such as staying home with a sick child, supervising homework,
feeding and bathing the children, and putting them to bed. But it might help
you think about ways to make sense of the data. If some partners share this
task equally, do they share other tasks as well? You might go back through
your interview transcripts and field notes to find out. And how do people
feel about the tasks that they share—or, perhaps more tellingly, don’t share?*
Getting Stuck and Unstuck
It can be very easy to feel “stuck” while you are attempting to analyze the
data. Maybe you have been coding for a while and haven’t “come up for air”
to look at the general patterns. Then, when you do, it’s hard to get ahold of
them. Maybe you’re having trouble telling others what you think you are
finding. If you do feel stuck, here are a few tricks that may help you become
“unstuck.”
First, you might try making analogies of the form “this phenomenon I am
studying is like X, and unlike Y.”For our birthday party example, you might
say, “Children's birthday parties are like adult birthday parties in that the
person whose birthday it is usually gets presents and friends are invited to
come celebrate. Children’s birthdays are unlike adult birthdays in that children
are often happy to get a year older; but adults often are not.”If you are
really stuck, you might try coming up with analogies that seem ridiculous.
Second, you might try choosing different words for your key concepts
or codes (Lofland and Lofland 1995). Sometimes, the way things are
phrased obscures meaning. For example, if you have been studying peer
pressure, try saying “pressuring peers,” “influence,” “force,” “fads," “crazes,”
“role modeling,”or “following the crowd.” Each way of wording gives you a
slightly different spin on the concept.
Third, try talking about your developing analysis with friends and fellow
students. They can often help you clarify what you are seeing or stimulate
new ways of thinking about your topic. Listening to others talk about how
*If you’re interested in “equal sharers,” you might enjoy Francine Deutsch’s 1999 interview
study of parents who share the work equally, called H a lv in g I t A ll.
Content Analysis 171
they are dealing with a particular data analysis problem might give you
some ideas as well. It's often helpful to think about how you might explain
your developing analysis to someone who knows nothing about your topic. I
sometimes suggest that students think about how they would describe their
study to a 12-year-old child, an older relative, or a being who has just arrived
from outer space and knows nothing about their topic or the culture.
CONTENT ANALYSIS
One technique that can be used to analyze any kind of text is content analysis,
which generally involves a systematic analysis of texts. Texts include any
kind of written material, such as books, magazines, diaries, letters, minutes
of meetings, transcripts of TV programs, interview transcripts, and field
notes. Often in content analysis, quantitative scholars count the frequency
with which specific words or themes appear in the texts and then conduct
statistical analyses on those frequencies.
Qualitative scholars may use content analysis as well. Sometimes, simple
counting is useful. For example, if you want to know how often men and
women appear in textbooks, you might simply count how many photos
there are of each. This strategy is sometimes used by people who want to
document discrimination against particular groups or by those who want to
see if stereotyped images are improving over time (see, for example, Clark,
Lennon, and Morris 1991). You may want to use this kind of simple counting
in your field notes or interview transcripts. For example, it might be
helpful to count how often a particular theme is mentioned by your interviewees.
Suppose you want to gain more understanding of pick-ups and
drop-offs at day care. You might count how often each interviewee mentions
a pick-up or drop-off and, for each case, decide whether the event
is negative, positive, or emotionally neutral. You can then get a sense of
whether, overall, the interviewee sees each event as positive or negative.
At other times, you may want to focus more on the meanings of texts.
For example, Ralph LaRossa and his colleagues wanted to understand how
fathers have been portrayed in the media and whether the cultural meanings
of fatherhood have changed over time (LaRossa, Jaret, Gadgil, and
Wynn 2000). Thus, they decided to conduct a content analysis of Father’s
Day and Mother’s Day cartoon strips published between 1940 and 1999.
They found that the cultural meanings of fatherhood had changed over
time, but not in a straightforward way. Depictions of nurturing fathers, for
example, were more likely to appear in the late 1940s and early 1950s, as
well as in the 1990s.
172 CHAPTER 8 Making Sense of Data
What should you count? It all depends on your research topic. (See
Carley 1993 for a discussion of some of the choices you must make in content
analysis.) Some content analysts count specific words (Ryan and Weisner
1996). Others might count every time a theme—for example, feeling
positive about one’s work—appears in a phrase or a sentence or, more rarely,
a paragraph (Berg 2001). Still others count individuals—for example,
whether an article is authored by a male or female or whether photos include
Asian Americans or African Americans or European Americans. Still
others might count concepts, things that can’t be observed directly, such as
“guilt”or “deviance.”
Researchers who use content analysis may focus on several different
levels. At the simplest level, researchers stick to relatively straightforward
content—words that appear in the text directly or pictures or objects that
can be counted directly. This is sometimes referred to as manifest content.
Others try to conduct a more interpretive analysis, focusing more on the
underlying meanings in the text. This is known as latent content. Still others
focus on the linguistic or semantic properties of the text itself (Franzosi
1990a, 1990b).They argue that the way in which things are expressed also
gives insight into the meanings of texts.
SEMIOTIC ANALYSIS
Researchers sometimes use semiotic analysis, the study of signs (Manning
and Cullum-Swan 1998). A sign is simply something that stands for something
else. So, for example, a rainbow flag might symbolize the lesbian/gay/
bisexual movement, the ® symbol peace, and the Star of David ($ ) Judaism.
A sign consists of two parts: (1) the sign itself (such as the flag or the
star or the peace sign) and (2) the content with which it is associated. Semiotics
is based on language, but there are other semiotic systems as well.
Thus, mathematics is a semiotic system, as are highway signs and systems of
etiquette, which might include things like shaking hands or bowing to greet
someone (Manning and Cullum-Swan 1998, p. 252).
By themselves, signs don’t mean anything. They only take on meaning
within a particular social context and when interpreted by someone within
that context. Signs thus can take on many different meanings and may be
connected in a number of different semiotic systems. In semiotics, the analyst
tries to “unpack” the meanings of the signs. These meanings may be
multiple and layered.
You “read” signs all the time even though you may not be aware of it.
For example, I dropped my daughter off at kindergarten this morning. All
Grounding the Analysis 173
the children were wearing uniforms: white blouses and shirts, blue plaid
skirts and navy slacks. The youngest children were in matching navy blue
sweat suits with the school logo printed on the front. The school logo itself
is a sign that symbolizes the school. The uniform symbolizes order and
uniformity, as well as perhaps a desire to level class differences in the
school. Uniforms may be associated with parochial schools or with public
charter schools that emphasize the qualities of discipline and order of a
parochial school. In a public charter school, then, the uniform might be a
sign of a sign.
In addition, all the children in my daughter’s school wore backpacks or
carried bags with logos indicating particular brand names (signs of social
class) or characters like Winnie the Pooh, Tigger, Barbie, and the Powerpuff
Girls. Each of these characters can also be analyzed: Winnie the Pooh stands
for childhood and innocence, Barbie can be analyzed in terms of race and
class, the Powerpuff Girls symbolize girl power, and so on.
Parochial schools themselves can take on many different meanings.
They may signify religious faith and the desire to inculcate certain religious
values in children. They may signify educational quality. In neighborhoods
with inferior public schools, parochial schools may signify a neighborhoodbased
alternative. They may also signify class distinctions between those
who can afford private schools and those who cannot.
There are many different ways to conduct a semiotic analysis and a
number of different theoretical traditions that shape the kind of analysis
you might do. Readings in semiotics are often very difficult. Many who do
this kind of work have been trained in literary criticism or cultural studies. If
you are interested in finding out more about semiotics, you may want to see
the article by Peter Manning and Betsy Cullum-Swan listed at the end of
this chapter for a relatively accessible introduction.
GROUNDING THE ANALYSIS
Let’s say you’ve gone through several stages of coding and writing memos
and analyzing. You have worked to try to see how the various codes you
developed might relate to one another. You have drawn maps and diagrams
and feel you have developed what seems to be a sound analysis of your data.
Perhaps you have conducted a semiotic analysis as well. What next? How do
you verify that your interpretation of the data is actually a good one? Before
you finish your analysis, you will need to examine your work carefully
against the data you have gathered. You want to make sure that the analysis
you’ve developed is actually supported by the data.
174 CHAPTER 8 Making Sense of Data
Shortcomings in the Research
Michael Huberman and Matthew Miles list a number of “shortcomings" in
qualitative research (1998, pp. 198-199]. First, researchers may gather too
much data, or too much of a certain kind of data, so that they fail to see patterns
or “skew”the analysis in one direction or another. You need to consider
carefully whether you’ve collected the right kinds of data or whether you’re
missing crucial information.
Second, first impressions tend to be more intense than later ones. You
may weigh initial impressions more heavily than you should. The same is
true for more recent impressions. Often, you tend to remember the most
recent events, not the overall pattern. In conducting your analysis, you need
to pay attention to events taken from the whole time span. After you have
completed an initial analysis, you need to check to make sure you have
done so.
Third, people tend to see things that occur at the same time as related
when it may simply be coincidence. For example, suppose that every morning
when you get up you see your neighbor leave in her car, presumably to
go to work. Does your getting up have anything to do with your neighbor?
Of course not. Sometimes, qualitative researchers see related patterns when
none, in fact, exist.
Fourth, the information may not be reliable. Perhaps an interviewee
didn’t tell the truth or exaggerated. Perhaps you didn’t take good field notes
and don’t have a good record of what you saw. Perhaps you didn’t interview
the right people. You need to think about what kinds of shortcomings you
have in your data.
Some of these shortcomings are fixable. If you are still in the field, you
can gather more data. Ifyou have field notes spanning a long period, you can
try to focus especially carefully on the middle events. Sometimes, simply
knowing that people have a tendency to make unrelated events seem related
can cause you to scrutinize your interpretations more carefully. Sometimes,
however, shortcomings in the data or the analysis aren’t fixable. If you’ve
already left the field and cannot go back, you cannot patch the holes in your
field notes or interview more informants. In these cases, it is better to be
honest in your write-up about the problems you have discovered.
Negative Cases
One of the first things you can do to ground your analysis more carefully in
the data is look for negative cases. In creating your argument, you probably
amassed positive examples (evidence] that support your case. For example,
Grounding the Analysis 175
if I believe that women’s identities as mothers is implicated in the difficulty
or ease with which they drop their children off at day care, I need to look
for positive cases in which mothers express both difficulty with drop-off
and guilt about their mothering role. Having found those cases, however, I
also need to look for evidence that disconfirms my interpretation. For example,
if I find a series of cases in which the mothers express great difficulty
with drop-offs but also express satisfaction with their mothering role in general,
I probably need to think again about the analysis I created. If you are
still collecting data while you are conducting your analysis, you can specifically
seek out negative cases. Regardless, you should always search through
your data for negative cases after you complete the initial analysis.
The Null Hypothesis Trick
Howard Becker (1998) suggests that you should initially assume that there
is no pattern or relationship in the data. Then, you need to tease out the
conditions under which the pattern you observed might develop. He calls
this the “null hypothesis trick’’because in quantitative research researchers
are always trying to support the null hypothesis, the hypothesis that two
events or variables are not related. In a qualitative analysis, you might want
to do something similar by assuming initially that there is no pattern in the
data. You then have to amass the evidence, based on examples, to show that
there is a pattern. So, for example, the null hypothesis in our child care
research might be that there’s no relationship between dropping off one’s
child at day care and how one feels about oneself as a mother. In order to
feel reasonably secure in the interpretation that there is such a relationship,
you would need to come up with clear evidence, based on examples from
the data, that there is one. In doing so, we would need to sort through the
selection processes that lead people to end up in various social groups.
(Becker’s book, Tricks of the Trade, offers many useful examples of how you
can work with your data.)
Here’s a simple example. Let’s say you want to understand the process
of how some parents come to be full-time parents after the birth of a child
while others return to the workplace relatively quickly. The null hypothesis
assumes that there really aren't any differences between the two groups.
Looking over your data carefully, however, you notice that men are more
likely than women to return to the workplace quickly, though many women
do as well. You might focus your attention, then, on the question of why?
You might notice that women are more likely to have access to paid maternity
leaves than men, who have very little access to paid parenting leaves.
You might notice that men often get paid more than women, so that it costs
176 CHAPTER 8 Making Sense of Data
a family more to lose the man’s income. You might notice that some women
and men enjoy their jobs very much, and others don’t. You might also look
at the kinds of social messages about parenting and work that men and
women receive. By paying attention to the social processes that treat men
and women as very different sorts of parents, you can begin to understand
some of the differences you observed between the two groups.
Triangulation
Triangulation is often used to mean bringing different kinds of evidence to
bear on a problem (Denzin 1989). Thus, if you have access to interview
data, observational data, and historical documents, your analysis is likely to
be much sounder than if you rely on only one source of evidence. This is
because each kind of evidence has its own strengths and weaknesses. With
observation, you can actually see how people behave; it allows you to see a
whole process unfold over time. With interviews, you can gain insight into
their feelings or reasons for behaving in a certain way. Using multiple kinds
of data allows you to balance the strengths and weaknesses of each. So, for
example, if you want to know about the social messages that male and
female parents receive, you might want to analyze the media. Yet this kind
of analysis will tell you relatively little about how individual women and
men feel about those messages or whether they take them into account
when making decisions about their own lives. Triangulation—using different
types of evidence—will help.
Some researchers also use the term to refer to the findings of different
researchers (Huberman and Miles 1998). Thus, if you come to a similar conclusion
as other researchers, you can feel more confident of your findings. If
you come to a very different conclusion, it doesn’t mean that your analysis
is wrong. It may mean that you used different kinds of evidence, perhaps
from different historical periods. Maybe you emphasized very different
themes or were informed by very different theoretical traditions. You may
want to examine the methods others used in conducting their research to
give you insight into any differences you find.
COMPUTER-ASSISTED DATA ANALYSIS
Just about all qualitative researchers use computers for at least some aspect
of their field research. While there still may be a few who use typewriters to
write up field notes and transcribe interview tapes (or who write up all their
Computer-Assisted Data Analysis 177
notes by hand), these are surely a distinct (and dwindling) minority. Most
researchers at least use word processing software to transcribe interview
tapes and write up full field notes. Many will use simple search capabilities
or sorting procedures. In that sense, computers are used widely throughout
qualitative research. Yet relatively few qualitative researchers use software
that is specifically designed for qualitative data analysis (Richards and
Richards 1998). But that situation may be slowly changing, as a growing
number of computer programs have been developed especially to assist in
qualitative data analysis.
Why haven’t qualitative researchers been faster to incorporate the
computer into their procedures for analyzing data? Probably most importantly,
the computer can't solve easily the kinds of problems that qualitative
researchers confront. Qualitative researchers work with texts (words), not
numbers, and computers can’t “crunch”texts as easily as they can numbers.
Qualitative analysts rely on their own judgment, which can't be wholly
mechanized. Thus, you already have to know what you want to do with
your data before using a qualitative data analysis program. Dedicated programs
for qualitative data analysis can also be expensive and difficult to
learn. For these reasons, I often recommend that beginning researchers
work with their texts by hand or on word processors before attempting to
use a qualitative data analysis program. That way, you can develop a feel for
what it is that you want automated and whether a data analysis program
might help.
That said, computers (and qualitative data analysis programs) can be
extremely useful. They can do the kinds of mechanical storage and retrieval
tasks that we often do by hand. Computers have far better memories than
humans do, as well as greater capacities for storing texts. Used well, computers
can offset some of the shortcomings involved in qualitative data
analysis, such as relying more heavily on later field notes than on earlier ones
(Dohan and Sanchez-Jankowski 1998).
Qualitative data analysis typically involves (1) recognizing patterns (or
categories) in the data, (2) generating ideas about what these patterns
might mean, and (3) exploring potential meanings in the data. Computer
software programs can help in this process in several ways (see Dohan and
Sanchez-Jankowski 1998; and Richards and Richards 1998 for useful
overviews). There are numerous software programs available (Dohan and
Sanchez-Jankowski count over twenty). None, however, is dominant, and
the availability of programs changes rapidly. To figure out which program
you might want to use, you need to identify your purpose and try out a
variety of programs.
178 CHAPTER 8 Making Sense of Data
BOX 8.1 Web Sites for Computer-Assisted
Qualitative Data Analysis_______________
C A Q D A S Network (ageneral site for computer-assisted qualitative
data analysis)
http://caqdas.soc.surrey.ac.uk/
A TLA S, ti
www.atlasti.de/
The Ethnograph
www.qualisresearch.com
j H yperR ESEA R CH
www.researchware.com
NVivo and N U D * 1ST
www.qsrcom.auorwww.scolari.com
First, qualitative data analysis programs can help researchers search and
retrieve chunks of text. Basic word processing programs like WordPerfect
and Microsoft Word can facilitate this task. A number of other programs are
also designed to help in searching and retrieving chunks of text; they go
beyond word processing programs by storing the number of “hits” or conducting
a quantitative content analysis.
Other software programs help you organize your data, code and retrieve
text, create a structure for manipulating the data, and annotate the data.
Popular programs that accomplish these tasks include The Ethnograph and
QUALPRO. Some software programs go further in helping you develop theory.
These kinds of programs, like NUD*IST or HyperRESEARCH, allow
you to look at relationships among codes or to create hierarchical relationships
between codes. They can also aid you in making maps of relationships.
Finally, some programs, such as ATLAS.ti and NVivo, enable researchers to
incorporate sound, graphics, and audio data in their analyses.
If you are interested in learning more about a specific qualitative data
analysis program, you can find out more by searching on the Internet or by
reading a recent review of the program. Some useful sites are listed in Box
8.1. Many software developers will let you try out the program (or at least
portions of it) at those sites. As with any computer software, however,
Exercises 179
changes come rapidly. By the time this book is published, any general review
of software programs will be out of date.
Whether you choose to use a qualitative data analysis program or analyze
your data by hand, try to “play” with your data. Be creative. Experiment.
Explore your data from numerous perspectives. This is, after all, the
purpose behind all the work you have gone through to collect the data: to
see what kinds of meanings you can create.
QUESTION FOR THOUGHT
Think about what kind of a learner you are. Do you learn best when things
are presented visually? Orally? Or do you learn best when you can manipulate
things? Consider which strategies for data analysis will best suit your
learning style.
EXERCISES
1. The purpose of this exercise is to give you practice in categorizing things.
Select an assortment of 10-20 things (or, better yet, ask a friend to do it
for you). Simply select the first 10 or 20 things you come across. Don't
try to pick the things with any order in mind. Then classify what you
have found into a smaller number of categories in as many different ways
as you can (say, three to five categories each time you sort). Each time
you sort the items, you must find a category for each item, leaving at
most only one item uncategorized.
2. If you conducted one or more interviews or did participant observation
as part of this class, try analyzing the interview transcripts or your field
notes using the methods outlined in this chapter. If you do not have
access to these materials, you can search the Internet for copies of oral
histories or other materials that you might want to analyze.
3. Choose a popular magazine or newspaper and conduct a content analysis
to help you determine the most frequent themes. What unit should
you count? Then obtain a series of at least five to ten issues of the same
magazine or newspaper and conduct another content analysis.
4. Take that same magazine or newspaper and conduct a semiotic analysis.
You may want to pay special attention to the advertisements. What signs
do you identify?
180 CHAPTER 8 Making Sense of Data
5. Locate at least one of the qualitative data analysis sites on the Internet.
See what you can find out about at least one of the programs. Try it out
if you are able.
SUGGESTIONS FOR FURTHER READING
Becker, Howard, S. Tricks of the Trade: How to Think About Your Research While You're
Doing It. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1998.
Coffey, Amanda, and Paul Atkinson. Making Sense of Qualitative Data. Thousand
Oaks, CA: Sage, 1996.
Dohan, Daniel, and Martin Sanchez-Jankowski. “Using Computers to Analyze
Ethnographic Field Data: Theoretical and Practical Considerations.” Annual
Review of Sociology 24:477-498.
Manning, Peter, K., and Betsy Cullum-Swan. “Narrative, Content, and Semiotic
Analysis.”Pp. 246-273 in Collecting and Interpreting Qualitative Materials, edited
by Norman K. Denzin and Yvonna S. Lincoln. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 1998.
See especially their semiotic analysis of MacDonald’s.
Miles, Matthew B., and A. Michael Huberman. Qualitative Data Analysis: An
Expanded Sourcebook. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 1994.
Strauss, Anselm, and Juliet Corbin. Basics of Qualitative Research: Grounded Theory
Procedures and Techniques. Newbury Park, CA: Sage, 1990.
Narrative Analysis
Íeopíe tell and retell stories: stories about the first day of classes, stories
about how they dealt with adversity stories about how they came to see
themselves in a particular light. People tell coming-out stories and growingup
stories and stories about how they dealt with oppression. People tell stories
to describe or make sense of their experiences. Stories are one of the
ways in which we produce and reproduce social knowledge—and try to
make sense of our place in the social world.
Qualitative data are typically full of narratives and stories. Sometimes,
data collection efforts are explicitly aimed at gathering life stories, as when
interviewers collect oral histories or conduct biographical interviews
(Anderson, Armitage, Jack, and Wittner 1990; Denzin 1989; Smith 1998).
Other times, stories can be recorded in ethnographic field notes or in the
process of conducting semistructured or unstructured interviews. Texts and
documents, like diaries and first-person accounts, may contain stories.
Robert Franzosi (1998) reminds us that even advertisements may contain
stories that can be analyzed.
The method for analyzing these kinds of stories is called narrative analysis.
Drawing on the same kinds of techniques for interpretation and analysis
of texts that literary scholars use, narrative analysis encourages social researchers
to pay attention to the language used to describe experiences and
to focus on the structure of stories. Rather than viewing the language that
people use as unimportant, narrative analysis assumes that language conveys
181
182 CHAPTER 9 Narrative Analysis
meaning and that how a story is told is as important as what is said. This
type of analysis is relatively new within sociology; it is more firmly established
in anthropology and education.
Unlike the methods for analyzing data discussed in Chapter 8, narrative
analysis provides techniques for looking at stories as a whole. Chapter 8
focused on breaking down materials (including stories) into smaller pieces,
or themes, for analysis. Sometimes, however, we might want to understand
the various elements of the story and how it is told. We might want to analyze
the audiences for a particular story, the kinds of cultural resources that
are available for telling stories, or the kinds of social contexts that surround
particular types of stories.
WHAT IS A NARRATIVE?
Scholars in a variety of fields, ranging from literary criticism to folklore to
nursing to law to business, use narrative analysis in a number of ways. (See
Riessman 1993 for a good discussion of the varieties of narrative analysis.)
There is also disagreement about what a narrative is. Some people argue
that narratives and stories are distinct. The story is what happened, according
to Franzosi (1998), and the narrative is the telling of it. For our purposes
(and following Coffey and Atkinson 1996), we won’t worry too much about
the distinctions between stories and narratives. Nor will we worry about
some of the more complex methods of literary analysis. Instead, we’ll use a
relatively simple version.
We can think of a narrative as a kind of story told by someone (a “narrator”)
with a beginning, a middle, and an end. Usually, a story has some kind
of plot, or action. In Western traditions, stories are often told chronologically,
but this isn't the only way that stories may be structured (Riessman
1993). Nor can all kinds of talk be considered a story. For example, in a typical
semistructured interview, you might move back and forth between relatively
brief questions and answers, asking interviewees how they feel or
what they think. But people can discuss their feelings or describe something
without necessarily telling a story.
Let’s return to our campus parking example. Perhaps you’re interested
in how students think about the parking problem at your university, so you
interview students about their experiences trying to park their cars and their
feelings about it. In the following extract, notice that the student is talking
about how she feels. She is not telling a story, although we could imagine
this extract appearing within a narrative.
The Structure of Stories 183
in t e r v ie w e r : Do you ever park your car on campus?
STUDENT Yes.
INTERVIEWER: What do you think about the parking problem on this
campus?
STUDENT I hate trying to park on this campus, I really do. It seems like
there are lots of parking spaces for faculty and staff, and none for
students.
In the preceding extract, notice that there is no action—and hence, no story.
Yet interviews can also encourage people to tell stories. By asking openended
questions about people’s experiences, you can often elicit a story in
response. In the next extract, notice how the interviewee tells a story about
parking on campus with a beginning, a middle, and an end.
in t e r v ie w e r : Tell me about your experiences parking on campus.
STUDENT. The last time—I was so mad. I was late to class, and I drove
to the A lot where there are sometimes a few spaces. I circled
around. Nothing. So I went to the B lot. There was a space—not
really a space, not a regular space with a line—but a little bit of
space where I could squeeze in. I didn’t want to miss class, so Ijust
parked. When I came back, my car had been towed. It cost me 50
bucks to get the car back. I was so pissed off.
Notice how in this extract something happened: She went to park her car,
there weren’t any legal spaces, she parked anyway, and her car was towed.
THE STRUCTURE OF STORIES
Stories have a kind of structure or logic to them. One of the most widely
used models for understanding the structure of stories comes from the sociolinguist
William Labov (1978; see Coffey and Atkinson 1996, pp. 57-58,
for a good summary). Labov argues that all stories have a similar structure.
There are six basic elements to a story, which Labov says occur in sequence:
abstract, orientation, complication, evaluation, results, and coda (or finish
narrative). All stories do not have every single element, but a story must at
least have some action. Something must happen in order for a story to occur.
The first element, the abstract, provides an introduction to the story. It
signals that a story is about to begin. People might introduce the beginning
of a story in a variety of ways. “Once upon a time”is a classic way of opening
184 CHAPTER 9 Narrative Analysis
a fairy tale, for example. You know when you hear or read that opener that a
particular kind of story is about to follow. Conversation analysts (sociologists
who study the structure of conversation) like Harvey Sacks (1974)
note that there are some standard ways to “properly” begin a story. Storytellers
have to establish, first, that they have the floor, or the right to speak.
Small children often begin stories by prefacing them with “You know what?"
The typical response, “What?”gives them permission to begin. If you think
about it, you can probably come up with a number of ways in which people
signal a story. (For starters, how about “You’ll never guess what happened to
me”or “You won’t believe what just happened.”)
The second element, the orientation, provides basic information: Who
was involved? What happened? When? Where? The orientation provides
enough information for the listener to figure out the setting and the main
actors in the story. Then comes the complication: What happened next?
How did events become complicated? The complication is a necessary part
of stories; without it, there is no way for the story line to advance.
The evaluation answers the “so what”question: Why is this important?
It helps the listener establish why she or he should hear the storyteller out.
Perhaps the story is a cautionary tale or a success story. Or perhaps it is a
tale of conversion: I used to be an active drunk, but now I am sober.
The results tell what happened at the end—the punch line. Usually, stories
resolve in one way or another. A common element of stories is a surprise
ending or a twist in the plot, but not all stories have this kind of resolution.
Finally, the coda, or conclusion, wraps up and lets the listener (or reader)
know that the story has ended.
In our parking story, notice the following elements: The abstract is provided
in part by the interviewer, who asks the student to tell about her experiences
parking on campus. The student signals that she is ready to begin the
story by stating, “The last time—I was so mad." The next few lines provide
the orientation, in which the student tells how she was late to class and
couldn’t find a parking space. Then, in the complication, she discusses how
she drove to another lot, still couldn’t find a legal space, and parked anyway.
In the evaluation, she notes that she didn't want to be late to class, implying
that looking for a legal space would cause her to be even later. In the results,
we find that her car was towed. And in the coda, she lets the interviewee
know that her story is finished by closing with, “I was so pissed off.”
Abstract: [Interviewer: Tell me about your experiences parking on campus.]
The last time—I was so mad.
Orientation: I was late to class, and I drove to the A lot where there are
sometimes a few spaces. I circled around. Nothing.
Other Structures of Stories 185
Complication: So I went to the B lot. There was a space—not really a
space, not a regular space with a line—but a little bit of space where I
could squeeze in.
Evaluation: I didn’t want to miss class, so I just parked.
Results: When I came back, my car had been towed. It cost me 50
bucks to get the car back.
Coda: I was so pissed off.
Sometimes, storytellers will move back and forth among the various
elements before closing. Other times, storytellers will edit their stories
(Gubrium and Holstein 1998), changing their perspective and their position
within the story. For example, in our parking narrative, the storyteller might
draw out the narrative.
STUDENT: The last time—I was so mad. I was late to class, and I drove
to the A lot where there are sometimes a few spaces. I circled
around. Nothing. So I went to the B lot. There was a space—not
really a space, not a regular space with a line—but a little bit of
space where I could squeeze in. I didn’t want to miss class, so I just
parked. When I came back, my car had been towed. It cost me 50
bucks to get the car back. I was so pissed off. Now; I know I shouldn't
park in spaces like that. Usually, I don’t. When people block othersfrom
getting in, they really should get towed. But I didn't really think I was
in the way.
In this telling of the story, notice in the italicized sentences how the storyteller
shifts perspective. On the one hand, she’s angry that she was towed.
She didn’t want to be late for class, so she squeezed into an illegal space. She
invokes a sense of herself as a good student—one who is not late for class—
even as she admits to shady parking practices. But as the story continues,
notice that she doesn’t justify all illegal parking. In fact, she admits that
maybe she shouldn’t have parked where she did, but she didn’t see herself
as being “really in the way.”Those who are “really in the way”deserve to be
towed. In this way, the storyteller shifts her perspective and invites the listener
to pay attention to multiple aspects of the parking problem.
OTHER STRUCTURES OF STORIES
Some narrative analysts find the chronological ordering of Labov’s model
too restrictive (Becker 1999; Gee 1991; Riessman 1993). Rather than simply
locating the abstract, orientation, and so forth, they suggest that analysts
186 CHAPTER 9 Narrative Analysis
try to organize the narratives into stanzas, like poems, or try alternative ways
for presenting and analyzing the story line.
For example, Bettina Becker (1999) wanted to understand the experiences
of older people with chronic pain. She found that the attempt to
force some of the narratives of research participants into a strict chronological
order made the stories seem less coherent. One research participant in
particular, Mrs. Green, seemed to talk in circles and repeat herself. Becker
found that transcribing the narrative into stanzas, like a poem, enabled her
to capture more clearly the circularity and repetition of the narrative. She
also found that the form, because it was unusual (at least within sociology
and the social sciences), encouraged a critical reading (Becker 1999), a point
that others have argued as well (Richardson 1992; Riessman 1993). It
enabled readers to identify with the narrator, Mrs. Green, in a way that more
traditional analyses would not. Becker called her transcription of Mrs.
Green’s story “PAIN STORY: ‘Nothing Much’.”In the story, Mrs. Green talks
about having had arthritis since her thirties. Now in her eighties, she needs a
walker (which she calls a “frame”) to walk around. She connects her arthritis
with her childhood experiences of repeatedly getting wet with her father.
“Oh no, oh I can’t tell you much but,
I had it since I was about, well thirty I suppose,
being better getting worse and worse.
“But I mean before that,
I used to go out and on the rounds with my father
and get wet, and dry and wet and dry,
and that’s how I think I got it.
“You know all this arthritis and that,
before I used to get myselfwet,
and then it would dry on me,
day after day probably,
when I was out with my father.
“And, it’s not until this last year or so,
that I’ve been like I am now,
I could move about more you know,
and it didn’t ache so much.
"But now, it takes me a long time to get around
and you know, I use this frame now,
so that’s about, you know, all there is really,
nothing much.”(Becker 1999, pp. 77-78)
Notice how placing the story into poetic form creates a very different feel
than the more structured narrative of student parking. Mrs. Green’s story
Structure, Story, and Social Context 187
doesn’t lend itself to a chronological analysis. The stanzas seem to contain
relatively complete thoughts that give readers insight into Mrs. Green’s
experience of pain.
Some analysts, such as Laurel Richardson (1992) and Susan Krieger
(1991), argue that using fictional devices or poetry may provide greater insight
into respondents’life stories than more traditional methods of analysis.
Phil Smith (1999) also has explored poetry as an analytic form. He wanted
to explore alternative ways of talking about disability, ones that included the
voices of disabled people themselves and that broke stereotyped ways of
discussing disability. How, he wondered, could he tell people in a more
authentic way about the men with developmental disabilities whom he had
come to know? He searched for a variety of forms, including fiction, poetry,
and songs. Eventually, he came to a story about one of the men, who calls
himself Food Truck, which he presented in an article called “Food Truck’s
Party Hat” (Smith 1999). Smith presents the story in this way: “So here’s a
story I got from Food Truck. I couldn’t help writing it; it wouldn’t let me go.
It’s his story, his words. It’s my story, my words. None of it is fiction. It’s all
fiction” (Smith 1999, p. 248).
The story begins:
“He looks me square in the face, square as a man can whose head
doesn’t ever stop bobbing and weaving, swooping and diving.
His head is a butterfly looking for nectar in a field of flowers,
a swallow in the darkening sky searching out mosquitoes,
a surfer climbing up and down green waves under a setting sun.
Food Truck’s blue eyes look for mine
while his smile and almost-white hair slide and weave and float in the
air in front of me.
Boy usejug
he says, and grins, and puts the frayed corner of his jacket collar
into his mouth.”(Smith 1999, pp. 248-249)
In this analysis, the line between fact and fiction, and between researcher
and researched, is blurred. The resulting story provides far more powerful
insight into Food Truck's—and Smith’s—reality than could be achieved
using other means.
STRUCTURE, STORY, AND SOCIAL CONTEXT
Narrative analysts pay attention to the structure of stories: the way an individual’s
story is constructed (chronologically or otherwise), the language
used, even the pauses and false starts in the narrative. Narrative analysts also
188 CHAPTER 9 Narrative Analysis
pay attention to the story itself—to what is said—and to the social contexts
in which the story occurs. Jaber Gubrium and James Holstein (1998) argue
that it is difficult to pay attention to all aspects at once. Thus, they outline a
technique they call “analytic bracketing” that enables us to focus on one
thing at a time. Sometimes, they suggest, we should stop thinking about the
story itself (what is being said) and focus on the structure of the story.
Other times, we may want to focus more directly on the social contexts in
which the story is told.
A Focus on Structure
Again, suppose you’re interested in exploring students’ stories about parking
on campus. Perhaps you have collected a small number of narratives
from students. At one level, you might want to focus on the structure of the
stories, as we did earlier in this chapter. You might want to identify how the
stories begin and how the plot moves forward. In analyzing the stories, you
might want to see if the stories unfold in similar ways. Do the students
structure their stories similarly? Do they open their stories or end them in a
small number of ways? Do they tend to use the same devices for telling the
stories? Do they use similar language?
Perhaps there are a relatively few types of stories. For example, you may
identify a series of narratives about being towed. The stories all center
around making a decision to park illegally in a particular place and then
returning to the parking lot to find the car towed. Maybe each narrator ends
with a variation of“I won’t park there again.’’You might read these accounts
as cautionary tales, stories that warn potential parkers about the consequences
of particular courses of action. They may not necessarily serve to
warn parkers about all illegal parking, but only certain kinds of illegal parking,
such as parking in handicapped spots or in the dean’s reserved parking
space. You might also identify a series of success stories, stories in which students
find a parking spot or avoid getting a ticket. By paying attention to the
structure of the stories, you might see that they serve similar purposes.
The Social Contexts of Stories
You might also temporarily bracket, or set aside, concerns with the structure
of the stories to focus on the social context. Let’s consider again students’
stories of parking on campus. Suppose the stories are all collected at a large,
geographically dispersed state university campus in which many of the students
commute to school. Many students also work at jobs off campus and
have families to care for. Thus, their schedules are extremely tight. In this
Structure, Story, and Social Context 189
social context, stories about parking take on a different meaning than they
might in a small, residential campus in which few students work off campus
or have family responsibilities.
In this case, paying attention to the social context will lead you to think
about the economy and the students’ places within it. The students have to
work; otherwise, they can’t afford to go to school. Nor can they afford to
live on campus. Perhaps there isn’t much family housing on campus. Thus,
these students need to worry about transportation in ways that residential
students might not. Again shifting to the social context, you might focus on
the public transportation system in and the layout of the community. What
kinds of public transportation are available? Does public transportation run
where students need to get? What kind of neighborhood is the university
situated in? Where do most of the students live in relation to the school?
How does that affect their reliance on the parking lots?
Paying attention to the social contexts in which stories are told can help
you frame the stories differently. Two students in different situations might
tell exactly the same story of getting towed, but the social contexts in which
they tell the stories might differ. For example, one student's parking difficulties
might be placed in the context ofbalancing work and school and family.
The story of getting towed reads very differently for this student than for
the student who lives on campus and has few other responsibilities. In addition,
male and female students might respond differently to the experience
of parking in a deserted lot at night. The fear of rape or sexual violence provides
a different framing for the women’s stories. Again, you have to understand
the different social contexts in which narrators construct their
particular stories.
You might also think of narrators as drawing on particular cultural resources
in telling their stories. For example, in my research on lesbian and
bisexual women’s identity accounts, I found that women told very similar
coming-out stories, or stories about how they came to think of themselves
as lesbian or bisexual (Esterberg 1997; see also Plummer 1995). In telling
their stories, they drew on the culturally available language of“the closet.”In
modern Western cultures, coming out of the closet has become the predominant
way of thinking about developing a lesbian or gay identity. In the
particular community I studied, a number of cultural resources were available
for organizing lesbian experiences, including coming-out support
groups, political action and social groups, and books and newspapers.
Women drew on these cultural resources in telling their own stories of
becoming lesbian or bisexual.
Another cultural resource that narrators may draw on is a particular
form of storytelling. One particularly compelling narrative form in modern
190 CHAPTER 9 Narrative Analysis
Western culture is the conversion narrative, which tells how an individual
changes or how one became something else. Marjorie Garber (1995) argues
that conversion narratives are particularly appealing because they are so
very clear: “I was this, but now I’m that. I was blind, but now I see” (p. 345).
Conversion narratives are frequently invoked in evangelical contexts (especially
with the context of being “born again”), but they are also invoked in
circumstances such as becoming sober or coming out as lesbian or gay.
When analyzing stories, you may need to consider whether they fall into a
particular form: conversion, success, caution, and so forth.
The Story Itself
Sometimes, you need to pay attention to the stories themselves. This means
you bracket thinking about structure and context and focus on the individual’s
narrative. What is the narrator saying? What is his or her particular
story? Even though individuals may use similar narrative structures for
telling their stories and may be embedded in similar social contexts, their
stories are still, ultimately, their own. Individuals may draw on particular
cultural resources for telling stories, yet they do not do so unreflectively. At
some level, the stories are personal and individual.
Back to our parking example. Imagine two students, Melody and J. T.,
who both tell tales of getting towed. Each tale is a cautionary tale; that is,
each tale is structured as a kind of warning about parking in a certain kind of
place. But the two students choose to emphasize very different aspects of
their experience. They use different language and ultimately tell their own
individual accounts.
Let’s look at Melody’s narrative:
"Umm . .. This is so embarrassing, you know? I mean, I don’t usually
do this kind of thing. I mean, I was in the National Honor Society,
Miss Goody-Two-Shoes, and all that. I don’t even jaywalk! But. ..
I was driving to school and I had my friend Karen with me, and we
were both going to East Campus. I don’t usually park there, you
know? S-o-o-o I don’t know the rules over there . .. that much. She
told me that it was okay to park in the 15-minute spots—you know,
the spots, um, for dropping people off and picking them up in front
of the library. She said she never gets tickets there. I knew we were
going to be gone a couple of hours, but she said it was okay. So when
I came back, I was shocked. My car wasn’t there. I thought it, it was
stolen. But it had been towed. I could have killed her. It cost me a ton
Structure, Story, and Social Context 191
of money to get the car back, and then 1was late for work. I’m never
going to listen to her again. Not when she tells me to park in a loading
zone.”
Notice that Melody opens by stressing how she doesn’t usually break the
law. Even though she is telling a cautionary tale about parking illegally and
getting towed, she stresses how doing “this kind of thing”is out of character
for her. She emphasizes that her main mistake was listening to her friend
and not paying attention to her own instincts, which would normally lead
her to park legally. It’s simply not the kind of person she is.
In the next narrative, notice that J. T. sees himself as a consumer, and
one who is badly served. In his cautionary tale, the main problem is parking
in a handicapped spot and “pushing his luck.”Getting towed doesn’t reflect
on the kind of person he is at all.
“Well, if it looks like a spot I’ll just park in it. You know, sometimes
there are spots that you can fit your car in. There aren't painted lines
or anything like that. But you can just kind of squeeze in. Or sometimes,
like, I’ll park on the grass. Like today, I’m on the grass beside
Lot Z. I figure I’m, I’m paying for this, you know? Ipay for my school,
so why shouldn’t l have a place to park? If there were legal spaces, I’d
park there. But... you know, it’s like they, they don’t want you to
come to class or something. You can, you can never find a space when
you need one.
"One day I was in a bighurry. I had a, a test, and I didn’t want to
be, like, late. So I parked in a handicapped spot. Big mistake. I knew
that a handicapped spot was kinda pushing it, pushing my luck.
They—they towed me. And it took me like two days to get the car
back. Next time I guess—hmm, I guess I’ll just miss the test.”
This narrative only serves to warn drivers not to park in a handicapped spot;
it says nothing about not parking in other illegal spots (like on the grass)
that, presumably, would entail less risk of getting towed.
In both cases, the students draw on similar cultural resources for storytelling.
The contexts in which they need to find a place to park are very similar.
But they tell their stories in their own, individual ways. They draw on
these resources differently. Melody sees parking as reflecting on the kind of
person she is—a “goody-two-shoes,”someone who obeys the law and doesn’t
get into trouble. Getting towed is an embarrassment, an indication that she
is not the kind of person she maintains she is. It violates her sense of identity
as a law-abiding person. J. T., in contrast, views parking more pragmatically.
192 CHAPTER 9 Narrative Analysis
Getting towed does not reflect on his conception of himself Rather, it is an
inconvenience, at most an affront to his status as a consumer.
Telling the Story in Other Ways
Of course, stories can be told in a number of different ways. In different
contexts, with different audiences, perhaps these students would tell very
different parking stories. For example, ifJ. T. were telling his story to campus
police with the hopes that they would forgive his ticket, he might stress
how he is normally a law-abiding student. Maybe he would emphasize how
sorry he is. If he were telling the story to a group of friends, all of whom
shared similar stories, he might emphasize his daring in parking illegally.
Thus, the kind of story you tell and the way you tell it depends, in part, on
your audience. In that sense, stories are not wholly individual—the property
of the story teller (Gubrium and Holstein 1998; Schegloff 1997}. They are
the products of social interaction.
SOME PRACTICAL ADVICE
To this point, the chapter has offered very little advice on how, practically
speaking, you might conduct a narrative analysis. What do you actually do
that might be different from, say, the kinds of methods described in Chapter
8? First, you need to identify the beginning and end of the story. This
may seem a relatively simple task, but it can be tricky. Sometimes, a story is
spread throughout a long interview transcript or is told over a series of interviews
held on different days. Choosing different beginnings and endings
might lead you to make very different kinds of analyses. For example, go
back to J. T.’s parking story. If you see the story as beginning at “One day I
was in a big hurry,”instead of at “Well, if it looks like a spot I’ll just park in
it,”you will miss important information about how J.T. interprets parking. Is
either interpretation necessarily wrong? No. But each will lead you to think
in somewhat different ways about J. T.’s parking story.
If you are working with interview transcripts, how you transcribe the
tapes is important (Mishler 1991). Catherine Riessman (1993) describes a
process of retranscribing narratives for analysis. After going through interview
transcripts, she picks out the boundaries of the segments she wants to
analyze. She retranscribes those portions of the tape in a special, detailed
way. First, she numbers the lines and makes sure that short pauses, utter­
ances of the interviewer (for example, saying "uh huh”), and word repetitions
are included in the transcript. Then she works through each clause to
see what function it plays—for example to orient the listener to the story or
to complicate the events (tell what happened next). This helps her to see
the structure of the narrative more clearly.
In the following excerpt, pauses are noted by ellipses (...). Each clause
begins a new line, and each element has been labeled: “a”for abstract, “o”for
orientation, “ca”for complication, “e”for evaluation, “r”for results, and “co”
for coda. Notice that there are subtle differences between the earlier excerpt
and this one. This one, for example, includes the pauses, repetitions,
and interviewer’s comments.
1 Melody: Umm ... This is so embarrassing, you know? [a]
2 Interviewer: Um hmm.
3 Melody: I mean, I don’t usually do this kind of thing, [o]
4 Umm. I mean, I was in the National Honor Society, [o]
5 Miss Goody-Two-Shoes, and all that, [o]
6 I don’t even jaywalkl [o]
7 But... I was driving to school [ca]
8 and I had my friend Karen with me, [ca]
9 and we were both going to East Campus, [ca]
10 I don’t usually park there, you know? [o]
11 S-o-o-o ... I don’t know the rules over there .. . that much, [o]
12 She told me that it was okay to park in the 15-minute
spots— [ca]
13 you know, the spots, um, for dropping people off and picking
them up [o]
14 in front of the library, [o]
15 Interviewer: Yes.
16 Melody: She said she never gets tickets there, [ca]
17 I knew we were going to be gone a couple of hours, [ca]
18 but she said it was okay, [ca]
19 So when I came back, I was shocked, [e]
20 My car wasn’t there, [r]
21 I thought it, it was, it was stolen, [r]
22 But... it had been towed, [r]
23 I could have killed her. [e]
24 It cost me a ton of money to get the car back, [r]
Some Practical Advice 193
25 and then I was late for work, [r]
26 I'm never going to listen to her again, [co]
27 Not when she tells me to park in a loading zone, [co]
In conducting an analysis of the transcript, you might want to ask yourself
a series of questions (Riessman 1993, pp. 60-61):
How is this story told? What is the structure of this story?
What is the story being told? What is the plot? What happened?
Who are the listeners of the story? Why did the storyteller choose
to tell the story in this particular way to this particular audience?
How might the story be told differently?
Whose perspectives are privileged in the story? Whose perspectives
are left out?
What is the social context in which this story is told? What kinds of
social and cultural resources might the storyteller have access to?
What are the potential meanings of this story?
After examining the structure of the narrative, you might also compare
a few narratives. In general, narrative analysis is very detail-oriented,
painstaking work. Thus, narrative analysts tend to focus on a relatively small
number of narratives (rather than, say, hundreds or thousands). Some analysts
work with only one or a very few storytellers (see, for example, Lempert
1994; Rosie 1993). Still, you may want to compare across narratives.
Do all the storytellers tell a similar type of story? For example, are many of
the stories about student parking framed as cautionary tales? Are they success
stories? You can ask what kind of function these stories might serve
within the particular group.
You should pay particular attention to the power dynamics involved in
particular storytelling contexts. For example, Jaber Gubrium and James
Holstein (1998) demonstrate how particular social arrangements constrain
the kinds of stories that can be told. Job interviews, therapy sessions, and
court proceedings are just three of the settings they cite. In court proceedings,
for example, court officials have the power to determine what is an
appropriate story. They can determine whether a speaker is off the subject
or can continue speaking, and they can stop a speaker from continuing in a
particular direction. In these kinds of situations, a narrative analyst would
need to pay attention to the power issues involved.
194 CHAPTER 9 Narrative Analysis
Evaluating N arratives 195
EVALUATING NARRATIVES
How can you tell whether a particular narrative analysis is a “good”one? On
what grounds might you decide whether an analysis is useful? Should narratives
establish some overarching “truth"? Or do you simply hope that a particular
narrative is logical or coherent or plausible? What if subjects lie? In
the telling of stories, which are often intended to amuse or entertain, what
constitutes a lie, anyway? Is exaggerating the size of a fish in a fishing story
lying? And, even if exaggerated, how might the stories tell you something
useful about the social world?
First, stories always presuppose a point of view, or perspective. Because
stories are the products of an interaction between storyteller and audience
(even if that audience is an interviewer), they always involve a selection or
sifting of the facts as the storyteller sees them. With other audiences, at
other times, the storyteller might emphasize very different events. Clearly,
other storytellers will tell somewhat different stories, based on their different
experiences. You can never hope, then, that any particular story or narrative
(or any analysis of it) will tell “the” one truth. In conducting a
narrative analysis, your goal is to try to interpret the possible meanings of
the narrative. Thus, you hope that the analysis is plausible.
Catherine Riessman (1993) suggests that we evaluate narrative analyses
in terms of (1) whether they are persuasive, (2) whether they correspond to
research participants’understandings of events, (3) whether they are coherent,
and (4) whether they are useful. In terms of the first dimension, you
might ask whether the narrative analysis seems plausible or convincing or
reasonable (Riessman 1993, p. 65). A more plausible analysis would be
grounded, for example, in the storyteller’s own words. If you are making a
case that a narrative has a particular meaning, you might want to show how
you considered (and rejected) other interpretations. You might provide a
documentation of how you conducted the analysis so that others can determine
whether your analysis is reasonable. For Riessman, this involves making
the transcripts available to other researchers. (Some scholars might
include the transcripts, or at least portions of them, as an appendix to the
analysis.)
Second, you might evaluate narrative analyses in terms of whether they
correspond to the storytellers’ understandings of events. You might want to
present your analyses to your research participants to see if they, too, find
your interpretations plausible. These kinds of “member checks”are increasingly
common. Still, Riessman (1993) cautions that sometimes participants
won’t agree with your interpretations. Maybe the context shifts; maybe
196 CHAPTER 9 Narrative Analysis
their understandings change. If participants disagree with your analyses, it
may not signal that the interpretation is necessarily a bad one. But it should
at least spark a reconsideration.
Third, you might ask if an analysis is logical or coherent. Does it seem
internally consistent? Does it seem consistent with the storyteller’s aims?
What did the storyteller hope to accomplish by telling the story?
Finally, you might ask if the analysis is useful. Does it help you understand
social life in a particular way? Might the research help others understand
a particular social process? What does this story help you see about
the individual and the social world?
QUESTIONS FOR THOUGHT
1. Think of something that has happened to you recently. Imagine how you
would go about telling the story of what happened to a friend of yours.
Now imagine telling the story to a parent, to a teacher, to a police officer,
and to a small child. How would the story change for these different
audiences?
2. Think of some experiences that you share in common with other students
(living on campus, eating in the cafeterias, going to class, and so
forth).How might the social context in which you do this activity be different
from that of other students? In what ways are you similar? How
might your stories be different, based on your different life situations?
EXERCISES
1. Select an interview that you have conducted or a portion of your field
notes. (If you don’t have access to either, interview a fellow student and
transcribe the interview.) Find the beginning and end of a story. Retranscribe
the selected portion, making sure that all pauses, repetitions, and
so forth are included. Try to identify the structure of the story using the
elements on pages 183-184.
2. Look through one or more magazines or newspapers. See if you can
identify a cautionary tale and a success story.
3. Go back to the narrative you analyzed in Exercise 1. Analyze the social
context surrounding the story. What kinds of cultural resources does the
storyteller bring to the telling?
Suggestions for Further Reading 197
4. Again use the narrative you analyzed in Exercise l.Try presenting it in
different forms—for example, in stanzas. Do you have a different interpretation
or see different things in the story when it is presented in this
way?
SUGGESTIONS FOR FURTHER READING
Becker, Bettina. "Narratives of Pain in Later Life and Conventions of Storytelling.’’
Journal ofAging Studies 13[l):73-87.
Coffey, Amanda, and Paul Atkinson. “Narratives and Stories.”Chapter 3 in Making
Sense of Qualitative Data: Complementary Research Strategies. Thousand Oaks,
CA: Sage, 1996.
McAdams, Dan. P. The Stories We Live By: Personal Myths and the Making of the Self.
NewYork: Guilford Press, 1993.
Riessman, Catherine Kohler. Narrative Analysis. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 1993.
Smith, Phil. “FoodTruck’s Party Hat.”Qualitative Inquiry 5(2):244-261.
Writing About Research
f \ s I sit upstairs in my office, thinking about how to begin a chapter on
writing research reports, my daughter Katie Ren sits downstairs learning to
write. She painstakingly forms the letters in her 5-year-old’s handwriting.
After a while, she proudly brings her work up to me. “Read it,”she says. “It’s
a shopping list.” Much of it is unintelligible (ELMY, CILUGH), but other
words are apparent: BOY, KEY, ROSE, DOG, CAT. Some of it I think I can
read if I stretch my imagination: TOOFFU is probably TOFU. Other words
she probably got help with or copied from somewhere: FIRE CHIEF. A
shopping list. We should go to a store and buy these things.
Of course, her list is not really intelligible as a shopping list, a list of
things that one could really buy from a store. She laughs at the absurdity of
buying a boy at the store, although she also thinks that buying a rose (with a
vase) is an excellent idea. She loves the idea of slipping in a dog (preferably
a poodle) with the rest of the groceries. But what does her list have to do
with “real”shopping lists, which include things like milk and tofu and eggs
and rice and green beans on them? Simply, making a list is one of the things
that you do with words. Calling a bunch of seemingly unrelated words a
shopping list gives them some kind of meaning in relation to one another.
In a similar way, you have probably learned a formula for writing up
research reports—another way of giving words meaning. Somewhere in
your schooling, you learned how to write an essay with an introduction
and a conclusion. Using a variety of techniques, you learned more or less
199
200 CHAPTER 10 Writing About Research
successfully how to research an idea and present it in a way acceptable to a
teacher. But writing isn’t merely a way of presenting what you already
know. It is also way of creating meaning. It’s a way of developing—figuring
out—what you think.
This chapter focuses on some ways to think about your writing and
present your qualitative research. But it won't provide a formula, a format
that you can “pour”the contents into. There are some standard conventions
for writing about qualitative research, which we will discuss in this chapter,
but there is also much greater flexibility than in many other kinds of social
science writing.
WRITING AS A PROCESS
By now, you have probably done a great deal of work on a research project.
You have collected data and written field notes and interviewed individuals
and examined texts. Ifyou’ve been following my suggestions, you have done
a fair amount of writing already, including notes and memos and beginning
drafts of an analysis. Writing up a final report isn’t a wholly new and separate
activity, then; it’s more a matter of sifting through and extending the
writing you’ve already done.
It’s helpful to think of writing as a process. (This is nothing new—most
composition texts present it in this way, too.) Despite what you may think,
even experienced writers don’t write perfect drafts the first time. Writers
typically go through many drafts. They may begin with scratched notes or a
rough idea of what they want to say and then create a series of increasingly
polished drafts. For example, by the time you read this chapter, it will have
gone through at least four drafts. Every writer's process is different. One of
the things I’ll do in this chapter is describe how I go about writing. My aim
is not for you to emulate my own way of writing, but for you to think about
your own habits and how you can develop your own writing process.
One of the hardest things about writing a qualitative research report for
many of my students is that they can’t do it in one night, in one draft. My
guess is that many of you became accustomed during high school (and
maybe even college) to beginning a draft of a paper the night before it was
due. Once finished, you simply turned the draft in. Some of you may have
done a quick proofread or edit, but others may not have bothered to read
the complete draft before handing it in. This simply won’t work for a longer
paper. I remember vividly the first time I had to write a longer paper—
something like ten or twelve pages—and I realized that a single all-night session
wasn’t going to be enough. When you write a long paper like a research
Writing as a Process 201
report, you need to begin much earlier than you may think. The Sociology
Writing Group at UCLA (1991) suggests that about 50 percent of your
time in a qualitative field project will be spent in writing up analyses, and
that about 30 percent of your time will be spent writing up the final report.
The rest of your time is spent collecting data. Think about how much time
that may be in a semester or quarter. And you will need to go through multiple
drafts before you have a draft that is polished and ready to turn in.
Sitting Down to Writes Just Do It
Most people think that professional writers write effortlessly, and maybe
some do. I remember hearing that romance novelist Barbara Cartland used
to dictate her stories to a secretary while she was lying in bed. The secretary
would type up the final—and only—draft. But even if that’s an accurate
description of her writing style (which at least some observers doubt), most
of us have to work through a much more labored process. Most of us have
to slog through bad days in which writing a paragraph, let alone a whole
essay, is a chore. Most of us have to work through multiple drafts before we
can come up with something that feels finished. Even published writers
think about how to make their work happen—how to set aside the time and
space to write.
You may find it helpful to think about physical routines you can
develop to help you get started and to create a more productive work environment.
Also, consider the different places where and times when you have
tried to write papers. Where do you seem best able to write—at the kitchen
table, or in the library, or in your dormitory room? What is the best time for
you to write—late at night, after everyone else has gone to sleep, or early in
the morning? What do you need to do to begin—clean off your desk, or organize
your sock drawers, or simply plunge right in? If you can figure out
when your best time and place for writing is, try to consistently block out
that time for your writing.
I usually write best in my office at home. My desk faces the window,
which I like to look out of when I'm stuck. My desk is a kitchen countertop
plopped on top of two file cabinets. The best thing about it, though, is that
it’s the right height. I have a “real” desk, but I can’t write at it because it’s
too high. Although I can, if I have to, write in a library, libraries tend to be
too self-consciously quiet for me to write well in them. Also, I often like to
move around and read what I’ve written out loud. (You might want to try
this; it helps you hear the rhythm of your writing.) Doing that at the library
might bother other people, though, or make them think that I’m peculiar. I
don’t like to write at my office at school. I can’t look out the window there,
202 CHAPTER 10 Writing About Research
and I’m more likely to be interrupted by the phone or by visitors, which
makes it harder for me to concentrate.
Why should you care about how I write? You shouldn’t. My routines
aren’t very interesting. (Now, if I had to stand on my head and eat four red
M&Ms, that might be interesting1.) My goal in writing about them is to help
you to think about how you can structure your own environment so that it
facilitates your writing. Do you need bright lights? Dim lighting? A stash of
Skittles or a good cup of coffee? Can you turn your pager or cell phone off?
For most writers, finding places where other people won’t distract them is
important. For many of us, this means getting up early or staying up late or
finding odd places to write in.
Also think about the things you do to avoid writing. Do you compulsively
check your e-mail, or run a virus scan on your hard drive, or turn on
the television merely to see what you’re missing? Do you clean out the cat
box or wash the kitchen floor? Try to be aware of what stops you from getting
your work done. As much as you physically can, pamper yourself while
you’re writing. Try to give yourself whatever you need to make your environment
facilitate your writing.
Beginning Writing
For many writers, the hardest thing is simply beginning to write—actually
sitting down and putting the first few words on the page or on the screen.
This difficulty might be compounded by the feeling that you don’t know
what to say, that you can’t begin writing until you know exactly what you
want to say. If you think of writing as a process of discovery—a way of making
meaning—it may take some of the pressure off. You don’t need to know
exactly what you want to say before you begin. You’ll discover it as you go
along.
Jotting Notes
I often find it useful to begin by jotting down some notes about my topic. I
might jot down some key ideas or merely write about how I don’t want to
be writing about what I’m supposed to be writing about. If I’m stuck, I
might write, “This section is about . . .” and try to go from there. My only
goal is to get myself started thinking and writing about the topic. At that
stage, I am not looking to write something polished. I don’t pay any attention
to spelling or even paragraphing, and I sometimes write in incomplete
sentences. After I’ve written a bunch of notes, I step back and try to create a
kind of rough outline for the section.
Writing as a Process 203
Finding Direction: Making a Writing Plan
At this stage, I like to develop a rough sense of where the report is going.
Usually, I make a plan for my writing. I estimate how many sections I’ll
need, and I give them titles. I also estimate how many pages I’ll need for
each section. Of course, I can always ditch the plan if it isn't working, and I
often change things as I go along. A writing plan isn’t the same thing as a
formal outline, with numbered and lettered headings and subheadings. That
kind of outline feels too restrictive for me. Still, I find it helpful to establish
some direction for my writing. Especially if I’m working on a long report,
having a plan helps me break it down into more manageable sections. The
thought of writing a whole report (never mind a book!) might feel intimidating.
Writing a brief section of a page or two may seem more doable.
(Other writers find any kind of outline too restricting; you should experiment
and see what works for you.)
Writing a First Draft
After I have a rough sense of where the report is going, I try to write relatively
complete (though not polished) paragraphs. Sometimes, I start at the
beginning; other times, I start in the middle or with whichever section
seems least daunting. At this stage, everything is still changeable. My main
goal is to get a more or less complete (though rough) draft done. I try not to
focus too much on the niceties of language. When I get stuck, I read over
what I’ve already written from the start, adding more as I go along. In this
way, my drafts grow incrementally. When my first draft is complete, the
beginning of it is usually pretty polished. (It should be—I’ve usually gone
over it a number of times.) But the end is generally much rougher.
Revising and Editing
Revising doesn’t mean simply fixing punctuation and spelling errors and
typos. It means, literally, reseeing what you’ve written. Revising entails reading
what you've written looking for the logic of your argument. It may mean
adding sections, taking sections out, and reorganizing. I usually go through
two or more revisions before deciding I’m done.
After you have completed an initial draft, you may find it helpful to put
it down for a little while. Leave it overnight if you can, or go for a cup of
coffee or a run or whatever helps to clear your head. Then read it carefully
(I often find it helpful to read it out loud). It may also help to have someone
else read it and give you feedback. First, check the logic or structure of your
paper. Does the overall organization make sense? Is it logical? Are all the
204 CHAPTER 10 Writing About Research
parts in order? You might find it helpful to write an “after the fact”outline.
That is, outline what you wrote. Make a heading for each major section and
for each paragraph in the section. This can help you make sure that the
organization of the paragraphs makes sense.
Only after you’ve worked on the overall organization does it make
sense to. look at the level of the paragraph and then at the sentence. At the
paragraph level, check to make sure that you’ve provided adequate support
for your argument. If you make a claim, you need to provide evidence to
back it up. Also check that you have the right amount of information in
each paragraph. Sometimes, people try to pack too many topics in one paragraph.
If that’s the case, you may need to take some out or to break the
paragraph up into two shorter paragraphs.
Finally, work at the sentence level. Check to make sure the grammar
and mechanics are correct. Check spelling, usage, and your citations. Especially
if you know you have a problem (for example, with spelling), have a
friend or tutor read your work and help you edit. Many schools provide
writing tutors. But even if your school doesn’t, you can find a friend or family
member to serve as an editor. An editor can help you spot problems with
spelling and grammar and logic. More importantly, an editor can help ensure
that what you meant to say is what you actually said. Be sure to pick an editor
who will give you helpful feedback. Sometimes, friends or family members
are afraid to be critical. It’s not very helpful to have a friend read over
your work quickly and tell you it’s fine if it really needs some work.
One of the biggest problems my students have is wordiness—using too
many words (or too many unnecessary big words) so that the writing seems
bloated. One exercise you may find useful is to take a pen and see how
many words you can delete. You’d be surprised at how many words you can
get rid of without changing your meaning.
As a final step in this stage, I recommend that you read the report out
loud. How does it sound? Does it have a rhythm? Does it sound wordy or
awkward? Does one section seem to flow smoothly into the next? Do you
find yourself tripping over your words? Do you need to revise to make it
sound better?
Proofreading
After revising and editing, I do a final check for typos, spelling and grammar
errors, and so forth. How many drafts should you work through? It depends
on your own writing process. I strongly recommend you work through at
least two drafts: an initial rough draft and a revised and more polished one.
Box 10.1 gives a revision checklist.
Audiences and Venues 205
BOX 10.1 Revision Checklist
I. The Big Picture
1. Is the structure ofyour argument logical?
2. Is your paper well organized?
3. Have you provided enough evidence? Is your argument believable?
4. Is your paper interesting?
5. Isyour paper written at the appropriate level for your audience?
6. Do you include all the necessary sections?
7. Have you included all appendixes?
II. Some Writing Issues
1. Do you use a consistent voice throughout the paper? If there are
different voices in the paper, do they work with each other or
against each other?
2. Is the paragraphing appropriate (usually one topic per paragraph)?
3. Are there appropriate transitions between and within paragraphs?
Do you use transition words and phrases to help readers follow
your argument?
III. Grammar, Mechanics, Spelling, and Punctuation
1. Have you proofread the paper for grammar and mechanics—
for things like complete sentences, subject-verb agreement, and
comma usage?
2. Have you spell-checked the paper?
3. Are your citations in appropriate form? Are all paraphrases
and direct quotations appropriately credited? Have you doublechecked
to make sure that all necessary references are included?
4. Ifyou included appendixes, have you mentioned them in the body
of the paper?
AUDIENCES AND VENUES
Writing is not only a process of discovering (or developing) what you think
but also a means of communication. Although some writing is personal,
intended only for your own use, a qualitative research report usually will be
read by others. After all, you have done all that work of collecting and analyzing
qualitative data. You now have to think about how to share your
work with others. In doing so, you need to think about who your audience
or your intended readers are.
206 CHAPTER 10 Writing About Research
There are many different audiences you might consider. Often, academics
are a major audience for qualitative research. A great deal of qualitative
research is written with them in mind. But practitioners (such as social
workers or educators] and the general public are also potential audiences.
For example, if you have been studying workers in a homeless shelter, the
shelter staff may be very interested in what you found. Perhaps you have
been studying personal networks among international students (Sia 2000).
If so, the international student office at your school might be interested in
the results. Perhaps you have been conducting an evaluation of a program or
doing participatory action research with a group of activists. If you have received
sponsorship from a particular group or organization, they will probably
expect a report. In all of these cases, you need to consider how to frame
your results in ways that are useful to those audiences.
If you are writing for other academics, there are a number of venues in
which you may present your work. Academics present their research at professional
conferences (like the annual meetings of the American Sociological
Association and the Midwest Sociological Society), in scholarly journals, and
in books. As a rule (though there are exceptions), academic writing tends to
be more formal than writing for a general audience. In academic writing,
you usually need to include information about the methods and theories
you used. In writing aimed at a general audience, you generally write more
informally and include less information about your methodology. (You
might notice, for example, that some books based on ethnographic or interview
data include a section on methods in the appendix; that way, the more
academically inclined reader can find out more and the general reader can
ignore it.) If you are writing for practitioners or a business audience, you
may find that you need to write more concisely. Practitioners tend to be
very busy people, without a lot of time to waste. Thus, your main findings
should be condensed.
This chapter focuses primarily on writing for an academic audience.
If you are writing a paper for a class, it may help to imagine an audience
that consists of other beginning social science researchers, like yourself.
Assume that your audience doesn’t know very much about your particular
topic but does know a little bit about the process of conducting social
research. Thus, your audience will want information about the specific
methods and procedures you used but will not need to be told, for example,
specifically what a focus group or an interview or a participant observation
is.
You should also assume that your reader is a bit skeptical. Your reader
doesn’t believe anything on faith, but instead wants to see enough of your
data and methodology to come to her own conclusions about your findings.
Useful Ways to Structure Qualitative Research 207
Thus, you will need to document your assertions with evidence and ground
your research in the larger body of social research.
USEFUL WAYS TO STRUCTURE
QUALITATIVE RESEARCH
Qualitative research reports traditionally have been more flexible than
reports of quantitative research. This is, in part, a product of necessity.
Because qualitative researchers cannot fall back on tables or numbers
or charts to present their data, their words have to convey the analysis.
Thus, qualitative researchers have to think more carefully about how they
say things than quantitative researchers do. They have to pay attention to
language.
In recent years qualitative researchers have begun to present their work
in more creative formats (Richardson 2000). Some qualitative researchers
have begun to experiment with fiction and poetry (for example, Denzin
2000; Krieger 1991). Others have experimented with dialogue and personal
narratives (Denzin 1998; Ellis 1998; Ellis and Bochner 2000; Ronai 1992).
These innovative ways of presenting research are often depicted as an alternative
to the traditional research report. And they are. But it still helps to
have a sense of what a traditional research report looks like.
A traditional research report typically has these parts: title (don't forget
to make a title page), abstract, introduction, review of the literature, data
and methods section, findings, and conclusion. References are usually included
in a separate list of works cited. Sometimes, appendixes will present
additional information at the end of the paper.
Title and Abstract
The title should give a good sense of what the paper is about. Ideally, it
should be catchy as well, inviting the reader to pick up the report and jump
in. You might want to scan the titles in the references of this book. Which
ones seem to give you a good idea of what the article or book is about?
Which ones are more obscure?
The abstract is a brief description (less than 250 words) of the main
points of the paper. It should include a summary of the most important
things you found, the evidence you cite, and an indication of how you analyzed
the data. Essentially, an abstract should give a potential reader just
enough information to decide whether to read the paper.
208 CHAPTER 10 Writing About Research
In very traditional academic writing, authors are counseled not to use
personal pronouns (like “I”or “we") in abstracts (or, indeed, throughout the
body of the paper). This has led to a tendency to write abstracts in the passive
voice (“It was found that . . ."). The use of the passive voice tends to
imply that no one actually did the research; it somehow merely appeared or
“was found.”But I strongly recommend writing in the active voice. It’s better
to use “we" or “I”to show that a real person did the research.
The following is an abstract of an article that appeared in the journal
Gender SCSociety. Although a little unwieldy, the title describes what the
article is going to talk about: “Gender and Emotion in the Advocacy for
Breast Cancer Informed Consent Legislation." The abstract is short—less
than 150 words—and gives a summary of the full article.
This is a qualitative study of the role of gender and emotion in a
political setting. The data are from interviews of activists and legislators,
as well as from archival accounts of the debates in state legislatures
about breast cancer informed consent legislation. I found that
proponents for and against the legislation shared the belief that
women are more emotional than men. This social belief shaped the
political strategies the activists adopted and initially contributed to
their effectiveness; however, their opponents claimed that the women
activists should be dismissed because their emotionalism made them
irrational. I close by discussingWestern cultural beliefs about emotions,
social stereotypes regarding women, and their consequences for
women activists in political arenas. (Montini 1996, p. 9)
Notice how the author includes a brief description of the approach she has
taken to her topic (the focus on the role of emotions and gender). She
describes her data sources (interviews and archival research) and sketches
out her main finding: that beliefs about women’s greater emotionalism both
helped and hindered the movement for legislation.
Introduction
Just as its name implies, the introduction should introduce readers to your
topic. It should give them a hint about what is to follow and entice them to
continue. You might want to think of an introduction as a slippery banana
peel. You want readers to “slip”on your introduction and “fall into”the next
section.
In qualitative research, you have a number of options for your introduction.
Beginning writers are often counseled to begin with a general statement
and move to the specific. In the introduction, this might take the form
Useful Ways to Structure Qualitative Research 209
of documenting why the topic of your paper is of general interest and then
moving on to the specifics of your study. You can use this kind of standard
opener for a qualitative research report, but you have other, more creative
options available as well. For example, you might begin with a specific case
or a story about a research participant that illustrates the main points you
will be discussing. You might begin with a story about how you entered the
field or encountered the problem. Or you might begin by setting the scene:
describing your field setting.
Notice how Joshua Gamson begins his study of tabloid television talk
shows:
Let’s begin here: talk shows are bad for you, so bad you could catch a
cold. Turn them off, a women’s magazine suggested in 1995, and turn
on Mother Teresa, since watching her ‘caring feelings’radiate from
the screen, according to psychologist Dr. David McClelland of Harvard,
has been shown to raise the level of an antibody that fights
colds. (1998, p. 3)
Notice how this beginning pulls us in. We want to know whether Gamson
really means this. It also sets up a discussion of his aims, which he outlines in
his opening chapter.
Josepha Schiffman uses a slightly different technique in her study of
grassroots peace organizations. She begins with a scene from her field site:
It’s a rainy San Francisco night, and an affinity group of BayArea Peace
Test (BAPT) is meeting to plan an upcoming act of civil disobedience.
One woman volunteers to facilitate, and the group collectively constructs
an agenda. First they deliberate alternative actions, making sure
that everyone has a chance to express an opinion. They also discuss how
they’re going to maintain a sense of community in the Nevada desert,
how they will support each other through the various hardships they’re
likely to encounter: radioactive dust, dehydration, possible police brutality.The
meeting ends with an evaluation of the group’s process, and
finally, holding hands, they sing a freedom song. (1991, p. 58)
This introduction gives us a sense of the group. Schiffman then moves on to
a description of the second organization she is studying, followed by a more
theoretical description of her aims in the article.
Compare these introductions to Theresa Montini’s introduction to her
article on breast cancer informed consent legislation:
This article is a qualitative study of the role of gender and emotion in
a political setting, taking as a case example women’s activism for
210 CHAPTER 10 Writing About Research
breast cancer informed consent laws. I studied former breast cancer
patients who worked for the passage of breast cancer informed consent
legislation in their state legislatures during the decade of the
1980s. A breast cancer informed consent law specifies that after a
woman is diagnosed with cancer, but before she is treated for cancer,
her practitioner will give her information regarding the various treatments
that are available and appropriate to treat her cancer and gain
her specific consent for the administration of the treatment. The procedure
may sound like standard protocol in any practitioner-patient
encounter, but it is not. Public concern prompted legislation to be
introduced in 22 states and passed in 15 during the 1980s. (1996, p. 9)
Which introduction is best? It depends on a number of factors, including
individual preferences in writing style, the audience, and the kinds of data
that follow. If you have been conducting participant observation, for example,
a personal account of how you first encountered the group may be
more fitting. If you have been conducting a textual analysis, that kind of personal
story may not feel appropriate.
Literature Review
At some point in your report, you have to link your work to the broader
research on your topic. In more traditionally organized papers, the literature
review is included as a separate section, usually near the beginning. In this
section, you outline the main controversies in the literature. You note the
main questions other researchers have asked, the theories and methodologies
they used, and the results they obtained. Your goal is to show how your
work fits into the larger body of research. You need to think about how
your work relates to the main controversies and debates in the field. Does it
challenge existing ways of thinking about the topic? Does it extend previous
studies? Does it try out a new methodology? Does it use a new field
setting or source of data? When well done, a literature review section leads
readers to think that your work is a natural and logical step in research
about the topic.
I strongly recommend that you organize your literature review thematically—that
is, according to the main themes or debates within the literature.
For example, you might open with “There are three main controversies in
this field: A, B, and C.”You can then discuss how each of the studies you've
found relates to A, B, and C. You may want to be critical. For example, if
some of the research is badly done, explain the shortcomings. If some studies
Useful Ways to Structure Qualitative Research 211
seem to contradict others, try to resolve the seeming contradiction. Perhaps
a new theory or new technique will solve some of the pressing problems
identified in the literature.
Sometimes, qualitative researchers use the literature review section to
outline a theoretical perspective. Because qualitative research typically
focuses on a small number of cases or on a unique field setting, there may
not be a large body of research on exactly the same topic to draw on. A
researcher might want to explore how a particular theoretical perspective
might help shed light on her or his case. For example, Theresa Montini
(1996) was interested in using a sociology-of-emotions perspective to
understand a particular social movement: the movement to gain informed
consent laws for breast cancer patients.
The literature review should help your readers understand the context
for your research. A badly written literature review can be the most boring
section of the report. No one wants to read through pages and pages of sentences
that all sound something like “Author X found Y; then author Z
found Q. Author A found B, and author C found D.”Here’s a hint: Ifyou are
bored writing this section, then your readers will be bored reading it.
Sources of Data and Methodology
The next section of the paper typically deals with the question of methods.
This section should include a description of the field setting, if you did an
ethnographic study, or whatever other data source you used. Methodologists
sometimes say that this section should provide enough information
that someone else, armed with your report, could replicate your research.
Of course, in qualitative research, this clearly isn’t possible. If you observed
in a field setting during a particular time and place, that time has passed
already. A new researcher entering the field will encounter a changed setting,
even if the only apparent change was the entrance (and exit) of the
former researcher. In addition, observational research depends on the personal
relationships between the researcher and those being researched. In
this sense, qualitative research cannot be replicated. You cannot duplicate
the exact relationships and events that occurred. Still, you should give
enough information in your methods section that another researcher could
try to approximate what you accomplished. In general, you need to discuss
the particular methodological choices you made and the reasons you made
them. If there were particular issues related to confidentiality or protection
of the research participants, you should describe these as well.
212 CHAPTER 10 Writing About Research
Sources o fData First, you need to discuss the source of your data. If you
conducted interviews, you should specify how you located interviewees,
how many interviews you conducted, with whom, and under what circumstances.
You should also specify where the interviews were conducted, how
long they lasted, how structured they were, and whether they were taped
and transcribed. When it’s relevant, you should also include demographic
information about the interviewees: age, sex, race, and so forth.
If you analyzed documents or other material artifacts, you should state
what kinds of documents or artifacts you used and address issues of data
collection. How did you find these artifacts for analysis? Are there any particular
problems with the artifacts? For example, are parts missing? Are
there problems of authenticity? If you are using a series of magazines or
newspapers or other published materials, you should include information on
the issues selected. Why did you select the particular issues you did? Are
there missing issues? Why?
If you conducted observational research, you should include a description
of your setting and how you gained access to it. You should specify for
how long a period you observed and during what specific times. You should
include basic information about what you did during the period of observation.
For example, if you observed in a public place, did you openly take
notes?
Methods o f Analysis You should also describe the procedures you used
for analyzing the data. Did you conduct a content analysis, or analyze your
interviews for the main themes, or use a grounded theory approach? In
comparison to quantitative researchers, qualitative researchers tend to give
much less information about how they analyzed their data. Still, you should
at least mention any specific procedures you used. If you used a software
program for qualitative data analysis, you should mention the name of the
program and any related details that seem helpful. Again, keep in mind that
your main goal is to help other researchers understand what you did.
How much detail is enough? How much is too much? You might find it
helpful to imagine potential readers for your research. In general, you can
assume that your readers are much like yourself They have a basic understanding
of qualitative methods, just as you do. They don’t need to be told,
then, exactly what participant observation is or what an interview is. You
can assume that they know. But because there are different kinds of interviews,
they need to know what kind you used. They don’t need to be told
what observation is; they need to know how you accomplished it within a
particular context.
Useful Ways to Structure Qualitative Research 213
The Main Body: Findings
The main body of your report should focus on your findings. This section
should be the heart of your paper. It’s what you’ve spent most of your time
trying to figure out, after all.
The main body can be structured in a variety of ways, depending on
your research. Sometimes, researchers organize this section according to the
main themes they found in their analysis. Let’s say, for example, that you
found two distinct styles of leadership in your observation of a student organization.
You might want to organize your findings around the two different
styles you found. Or suppose that, in your analysis of the image of teenagers
in the news media, you found four main ways that teenagers are portrayed.
You might want to organize your findings around those four ways.
Another way you might organize your findings is as a narrative, especially
if you have been conducting participant observation. In this case, your
main goal is to tell an ethnographic story. You might choose, for example, to
tell the story of one of your research participants, or you might tell the story
of a specific event. The story serves to highlight something important you
discovered in the field. If you choose this strategy, ask yourself: What is the
most important story I want to tell? How can I tell it in a way that will be
believable? If you organize your results as a narrative, you may find yourself
weaving your analysis of it into the story. (Remember, the analysis is the “so
what” part; it tells why this story is important.) Or you might decide to
place your analysis in a separate section, following the story itself.
However you organize this section, remember to include support for
your analysis. This support should be in the form of examples from your
research, including quotations from your interviews or field notes and
excerpts from your documents. How many examples is enough? How many
are too much? There are no magic numbers. You need to include enough
examples so that your analysis is believable. But you don’t want to include
so many that readers will get bored or lose the thread of your story.
As you're writing this section, you need to think about levels of generality.
At the broadest level, you can make universal statements, statements
that are meant to be about “human nature.” As a rule, most qualitative
researchers hesitate to make these kinds of claims—and for good reason. We
simply don’t have the kind of data (or maybe the chutzpah) to make such
claims. At the other end of the spectrum, you can make very specific statements
about a particular incident or a particular person. In qualitative writing,
you typically have to move back and forth between different levels of
generality. You can use specific statements about incidents or persons to try
to back up broader theoretical claims. And you can use the insights from the
214 CHAPTER 10 Writing About Research
data you collected to reflect on (or at least generate ideas about) larger
groups of people.
Because the main body is usually the longest section of your report, you
may want to create headings to divide the different parts within it. Headings
help readers figure out where your argument is going. They're like street
signs: although you may be able to figure out where you are without them,
it’s much easier if you have them.
Summary and Conclusion
The summary and conclusion should, just as the name implies, briefly summarize
your most important points. You don’t need to discuss everythingyou
found, just the most important points. In this section, you might also discuss
the implications of your research. Are there any policy implications? Is further
research indicated? What next steps might researchers want to take?
List of References and Appendixes
At the end of your report, you should include a list of references, providing
publication information for all works cited in the text. Different academic
disciplines have different styles for referencing others’ work. Most journals
and publishers have specific guidelines for the format of citations. In general,
sociologists tend to use parenthetical style rather than footnotes. That
is, they include the author and the year (and page number, if they are quoting
directly or paraphrasing) within the body of the text and provide the full
citation in a separate section at the end of the report. I strongly recommend
that you consult a writing handbook or style guide to make sure you use the
correct format. Sociology students may want to obtain a copy of the Style
Guide of the American Sociological Association, which is available from the
American Sociological Association (www.asanet.org).
What should you reference in the text? In general, you need to provide
citations to acknowledge the work of other authors. Ifyou use someone else's
written ideas in your own report without acknowledging the source, that is
plagiarism—whether you intended to plagiarize or not. You should always include
a citation when you make a direct quotation from someone else’s
work. You should also include a citation when you paraphrase another author
(that is, restate their idea in your own words). Consider these examples:
Direct quote: “Careful citation is important because plagiarism is burglary—cheating
which presents another writer’s words or ideas as if
they were your own” (Sociology Writing Group 1991, p. 45).
Making Writing Vivid 215
Paraphrase: According to the Sociology Writing Group (1991, p. 45),
plagiarism can be considered a form of burglary or theft because it
involves passing someone else’s words off as your own. To avoid plagiarism,
writers should be careful in their citations.
When in doubt, it’s a good idea to err on the side of inclusion. That is, it’s
better to provide a citation that you may not really need than to omit one
that you do.
After the list of references, you may want to provide various appendixes
to your report. These may include, for example, a map of your field site, a
list of questions or topics covered in interviews, photographs from a magazine
or other text you have been analyzing, or any other supplemental information
that might be of use to your readers. You don't want to include too
much, however. For example, you probably shouldn’t provide complete
transcripts of all your interviews, although you might want to include portions.
(If you are doing a narrative analysis, you should probably include portions
of the transcripts.)
MAKING WRITING VIVID
The best qualitative writing is vivid. It tells a gripping story; it provides an
insightful analysis; it tells us something vital. The best qualitative writing is
like a good story, a page turner you have to stay up all night to finish. Why,
then, as Laurel Richardson (2000) asks, is so much qualitative writing so
boring? Partly, she answers, because we have not “put ourselves in our own
texts” (p. 925). We have not developed our own voices but have, instead,
relied on formulaic and scientized ways of writing.
One of the challenges of qualitative writing is trying to tell the story in
your own words. How can you find an authentic voice of your own in which
to write? This is a tricky proposition, of course, for you may have been
taught over the years not to do this. Thus, many students (and professional
sociologists as well) avoid using “I” or “we.”They use too much jargon and
inaccessible language, thinking that this will make them sound more “educated.”They
“puff up” their writing with extraneous words. Many use the
passive voice (for example, “It was found that . . .") in order to make their
work seem more "objective.”These are all things you should avoid.
The only way you can develop your own voice is to write a lot. (Reading
a lot helps, too.) Practically speaking, you may find that keeping a journal
is one way to get that kind of practice. You should also try to avoid
jargon. If you can use a short word, why use a longer one? If the longer word
216 CHAPTER 10 WritingAbout Research
is more precise, then by all means use it. But if the short word serves just as
well, use it. It will make your writing leaner and help readers move through
it faster. My guess is, as well, that you are more likely to speak and think in
shorter words; they may be closer to your own personal voice. It may also
help to refer to yourself in the first person (“I” or, if appropriate, “we"). It
sounds awkward and a little arrogant to refer to yourself as “this author.”
Another way to make your report more compelling is to tell the story in
your research participants’ own words. Often, a direct quotation or story
will make the point better than you could otherwise. Susan Krieger (1983),
for example, chose to structure her book-length exploration of identity in a
lesbian community using only the voices of her research participants.
Except for the first chapter, her entire book consists of carefully selected
quotations and paraphrases from the interviews she conducted. Although
this is an unusual strategy (most researchers speak in their own voices as
well), it highlights the possibilities for creating an analysis out of the participants’own
words. Whether you attempt a more experimental or more traditional
text, try to weave the voices of your participants into your writing.
See if you can make your research participants visible throughout the text.
OTHER GENRES OF QUALITATIVE RESEARCH
Certainly, there are other ways to write qualitative research. As I have mentioned
at various points, some qualitative scholars have experimented with
fiction, poetry, dialogue, and a variety of other styles. Critics of more conventional
techniques argue that traditional scientific writing is dry and dull
and that it takes the person out of the research (Ellis and Bochner 2000).
These critics argue that the new techniques for presenting qualitative research,
like autoethnography, poetry, and fiction, are a way to “merge art and
science”(Ellis and Bochner 2000, p. 761). Some critics, like Norman Denzin
(2000), maintain that the boundaries between fiction and nonfiction, ethnography
and story, and poetry and performance art are artificial—they are
all social and political constructions (p. 899).
Qualitative scholars still debate the place of fiction, poetry, and autobiography
in qualitative research (see, for example, Gans 1999; Karp 1999;
Plummer 1999; Whyte 1996). In general, those who are more comfortable
with a postmodern perspective have been more open to and willing to
embrace fictional techniques. From their perspective, there is no single
“right” story, but merely a number of different stories that might be told.
Fiction provides a useful adjunct for these scholars. For others, especially
those who are working within a positivist tradition, the use of fiction vio­
Exercises 217
lates the tenet that in studying the empirical world researchers should be
objective and ground their studies in the “real”world. You will have to figure
out for yourself where you stand in this debate. Whatever decisions you
make, remember that writing is a process of discovery. Writing helps you figure
out what you think. It is also a method for communicating what you
think to others.
QUESTIONS FOR THOUGHT
1. Think about your own writing routines. Where and when do you do
your best writing? What kinds of routines do you have for beginning
writing? How can you try to establish good work habits for your writing?
2. What kind of advice have you been given about writing? Have you been
told, for example, to “write from your experience”? Or have you been
encouraged to use “big words” to sound more “academic”? How might
the advice you have been given aid you in or discourage you from developing
your own voice?
EXERCISES
1. Write an introductory paragraph to a qualitative study. Then try rewriting
it using a different technique. For example, if you used a standard
opening (“This paper is about . . for the first version, try using a description
of an important event or key research participant for the second
version. Which version do you like better? Why?
2. Write a paragraph that describes what your research is about. First, try
writing it without using the personal pronoun “I.”Then rewrite the paragraph
in your own voice. Compare the two versions. Which version do
you like better? Why?
3. For one of the paragraphs you wrote in Exercises 1 and 2, count the
number of words you used. Then take a pencil and see how many words
you can delete without changing your meaning. Again, count how many
words you used. What is the smallest number of words you can get by
with?
4. Find a piece of writing that you think is interesting and well written. It
can be fiction or nonfiction. What makes it well written? Can you emulate
some of those qualities in your own writing?
218 CHAPTER 10 Writing About Research
5. This exercise assumes that you have been assigned to write a paper for
your class. Take a first draft of your paper and switch copies with a classmate.
Act as an editor for your classmate, and have your classmate do the
same for you. After you have read the paper, answer these questions:
a. What is the author’s main argument(s)? Your goal here is not to
criticize but to restate the author’s points. (This will help your
classmate evaluate whether his or her argument is effective.)
b. What evidence does the author use to support his or her argument?
(Be specific.)
c. Does the author’s main argument seem well considered and credible?
Why or why not? How might the argument be improved?
d. What are the greatest strengths of the paper?
e. What are the greatest weaknesses of the paper?
f. What suggestions do you have for improvement?
6. After you have received your classmate’s feedback on your paper, make
a revision plan. Try to answer these questions:
a. After you completed the first draft of your paper, what did you
feel you had accomplished well? What did you feel needed more
work?
b. Overall, what did the feedback indicate? What were the major
strengths and weaknesses?
c. What are the most important changes you need to make for the
final draft?
d. How are you going to accomplish those changes?
7. Take an excerpt from your paper that presents an analysis or description.
(This should be part of the findings or main body.) Rewrite the excerpt
in the form of a dialogue between two people. Then, rewrite it in the
form of a poem or fictionalized story. What are some of the differences
among the three forms? Which do you like better? Why?
SUGGESTIONS FOR FURTHER READING
American Sociological Association. Style Guide, 2nd ed. Washington, DC: American
Sociological Association, 1997.
Becker, Howard. Writing for Social Scientists: How to Start and Finish Your Thesis,
Book, orArticle. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1986. One of the standard
guides— and an excellent model for writing.
Janesick, Valerie J. "Stretching" Exercises for Qualitative Researchers. Thousand Oaks,
CA: Sage, 1998. Contains many exercises that help you focus on writing as a
method of analysis.
Suggestions for Further Reading 219
Lamott, Anne. Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life. N ew York: Anchor,
1995. A general (and very well written) self-help book on writing.
Richardson, Laurel. ‘‘Writing: A Method of Inquiry.” Pp. 923-948 in Handbook of
Qualitative Research, 2nd ed., edited by Norman K. Denzin and Yvonna S. Lincoln.
Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 2000. Includes a number of useful suggestions
for making your writing more interesting and provides some exercises to help
you experiment with more novel methods of data presentation.
Sociology Writing Group. A Guide to Writing Sociology Papers. N ew York: St. Martin’s
Press, 1991. A good, basic guide for undergraduate students.
Wolcott, Harry F. Writing Up Qualitative Research. Newbury Park, CA: Sage, 1990. A
short, chatty monograph that provides practical advice for writing up an ethnographic
project.
Appendix A
American Sociological Association Code of Ethics
I he American Sociological Association’s (ASA’s) Code of Ethics sets forth the
principles and ethical standards that underlie sociologists’professional responsibilities
and conduct. These principles and standards should be used as guidelines
when examining everyday professional activities. They constitute normative
statements for sociologists and provide guidance on issues that sociologists may
encounter in their professional work.
ASA’s Code of Ethics consists of an Introduction, a Preamble, five General
Principles, and specific Ethical Standards. This Code is also accompanied by the
Rules and Procedures of the ASA Committee on Professional Ethics which
describe the procedures for filing, investigating, and resolving complaints of
unethical conduct.
The Preamble and General Principles of the Code are aspirational goals to
guide sociologists toward the highest ideals of sociology. Although the Preamble
and General Principles are not enforceable rules, they should be considered by
sociologists in arriving at an ethical course of action and may be considered by
ethics bodies in interpreting the Ethical Standards.
The Ethical Standards set forth enforceable rules for conduct by sociologists.
Most ofthe Ethical Standards are written broadly in order to apply to sociologists
in varied roles, and the application of an Ethical Standard may vary
depending on the context. The Ethical Standards are not exhaustive. Any conduct
that is not specifically addressed by this Code of Ethics is not necessarily
ethical or unethical.
Membership in the ASA commits members to adhere to the ASA Code of
Ethics and to the Policies and Procedures of the ASA Committee on Professional
Ethics. Members are advised of this obligation upon joining the Association
and that violations of the Code may lead to the imposition of sanctions,
including termination of membership. ASA members subject to the Code of
Ethics may be reviewed under these Ethical Standards only ifthe activity is part
2 2 1
222 APPENDIX A American Sociological Association Code of Ethics
of or affects their work-related functions, or if the activity is sociological in
nature. Personal activities having no connection to or effect on sociologists’performance
of their professional roles are not subject to the Code of Ethics.
PREAMBLE
This Code of Ethics articulates a common set of values upon which sociologists
build their professional and scientific work. The Code is intended to provide
both the general principles and the rules to cover professional situations encountered
by sociologists. It has as its primary goal the welfare and protection of
the individuals and groups with whom sociologists work. It is the individual
responsibility of each sociologist to aspire to the highest possible standards of
conduct in research, teaching, practice, and service.
The development of a dynamic set of ethical standards for a sociologist’s
work-related conduct requires a personal commitment to a lifelong effort to act
ethically; to encourage ethical behavior by students, supervisors, supervisees,
employers, employees, and colleagues; and to consult with others as needed concerning
ethical problems. Each sociologist supplements, but does not violate, the
values and rules specified in the Code of Ethics based on guidance drawn from
personal values, culture, and experience.
GENERAL PRINCIPLES
The following General Principles are aspirational and serve as a guide for sociologists
in determining ethical courses of action in various contexts. They exemplify
the highest ideals of professional conduct.
Principle A: Professional Competence
Sociologists strive to maintain the highest levels of competence in their work;
they recognize the limitations of their expertise; and they undertake only those
tasks for which they are qualified by education, training, or experience. They
recognize the need for ongoing education in order to remain professionally
competent; and they utilize the appropriate scientific, professional, technical,
and administrative resources needed to ensure competence in their professional
activities. They consult with other professionals when necessary for the benefit
of their students, research participants, and clients.
Principle B: Integrity
Sociologists are honest, fair, and respectful of others in their professional activities—in
research, teaching, practice, and service. Sociologists do not knowingly
act in ways that jeopardize either their own or others’professional welfare. Sociologists
conduct their affairs in ways that inspire trust and confidence; they do
not knowingly make statements that are false, misleading, or deceptive.
APPENDIX A American Sociological Association Code of Ethics 223
Principle C: Professional and Scientific Responsibility
Sociologists adhere to the highest scientific and professional standards and
accept responsibility for their work. Sociologists understand that they form a
community and show respect for other sociologists even when they disagree on
theoretical, methodological, or personal approaches to professional activities.
Sociologists value the public trust in sociology and are concerned about their
ethical behavior and that of other sociologists that might compromise that trust.
While endeavoring always to be collegial, sociologists must never let the desire
to be collegial outweigh their shared responsibility for ethical behavior. When
appropriate, they consult with colleagues in order to prevent or avoid unethical
conduct.
Principle D: Respect for People’s Rights, Dignity, and Diversity
Sociologists respect the rights, dignity, and worth of all people. They strive to
eliminate bias in their professional activities, and they do not tolerate any forms
of discrimination based on age; gender; race; ethnicity; national origin; religion;
sexual orientation; disability; health conditions; or marital, domestic, or parental
status. They are sensitive to cultural, individual, and role differences in serving,
teaching, and studying groups of people with distinctive characteristics. In all of
their work-related activities, sociologists acknowledge the rights of others to
hold values, attitudes, and opinions that differ from their own.
Principle E: Social Responsibility
Sociologists are aware of their professional and scientific responsibility to the
communities and societies in which they live and work. They apply and make
public their knowledge in order to contribute to the public good. When undertaking
research, they strive to advance the science of sociology and to serve the
public good.
ETHICAL STANDARDS
1. Professional and Scientific Standards
Sociologists adhere to the highest possible technical standards that are reasonable
and responsible in their research, teaching, practice, and service activities.
They rely on scientifically and professionally derived knowledge; act with honesty
and integrity; and avoid untrue, deceptive, or undocumented statements in
undertaking work-related functions or activities.
2. Competence
(a) Sociologists conduct research, teach, practice, and provide service only
within the boundaries of their competence, based on their education, training,
supervised experience, or appropriate professional experience.
224 APPENDIX A American Sociological Association Code of Ethics
(b) Sociologists conduct research, teach, practice, and provide service in new
areas or involving new techniques only after they have taken reasonable steps to
ensure the com petence o f their work in these areas.
(c) Sociologists w ho engage in research, teaching, practice, or service maintain
awareness o f current scientific and professional information in their fields o f
activity, and undertake continuing efforts to maintain com petence in the skills
they use.
(d) Sociologists refrain from undertaking an activity w hen their personal circum
stances may interfere with their professional work or lead to harm for a student,
supervisee, human subject, client, colleague, or other person to w hom they
have a scientific, teaching, consulting, or other professional obligation.
3. Representation and Misuse of Expertise
(a) In research, teaching, practice, service, or other situations where sociologists
render professional judgm ents or present their expertise, they accurately and
fairly represent their areas and degrees o f expertise.
(b) Sociologists do not accept grants, contracts, consultation, or work assignm
ents from individual or organizational clients or sponsors that appear likely to
require violation o f the standards in this C ode o f Ethics. Sociologists dissociate
them selves from such activities w hen they discover a violation and are unable to
achieve its correction.
(c) Because sociologists’ scientific and professional judgm ents and actions may
affect the lives o f others, they are alert to and guard against personal, financial,
social, organizational, or political factors that m ight lead to m isuse o f their
knowledge, expertise, or influence.
(d) If sociologists learn o f m isuse or misrepresentation o f their work, they take
reasonable steps to correct or m inim ize the misuse or misrepresentation.
4. Delegation and Supervision
(a) Sociologists provide proper training and supervision to their students, supervisees,
or em ployees and take reasonable steps to see that such persons perform
services responsibly, com petently, and ethically.
(b) Sociologists delegate to their students, supervisees, or em ployees only those
responsibilities that such persons, based on their education, training, or experience,
can reasonably be expected to perform either independently or w ith the
level o f supervision provided.
5. Nondiscrimination
Sociologists do not engage in discrimination in their work based on age; gender;
race; ethnicity; national origin; religion; sexual orientation; disability; health conditions;
marital, dom estic, or parental status; or any other applicable basis proscribed
by law.
APPENDIX A American Sociological Association Code of Ethics 225
6. Non-exploitation
(a) Whether for personal, economic, or professional advantage, sociologists do
not exploit persons over whom they have direct or indirect supervisory, evaluative,
or other authority such as students, supervisees, employees, or research
participants.
(b) Sociologists do not directly supervise or exercise evaluative authority over
any person with whom they have a sexual relationship, including students,
supervisees, employees, or research participants.
7. Harassment
Sociologists do not engage in harassment of any person, including students,
supervisees, employees, or research participants. Harassment consists of a single
intense and severe act or of multiple persistent or pervasive acts which are demeaning,
abusive, offensive, or create a hostile professional or workplace environment.
Sexual harassment may include sexual solicitation, physical advance,
or verbal or non-verbal conduct that is sexual in nature. Racial harassment may
include unnecessary, exaggerated, or unwarranted attention or attack, whether
verbal or non-verbal, because of a person’s race or ethnicity.
11. Confidentiality
Sociologists have an obligation to ensure that confidential information is protected.
They do so to ensure the integrity of research and the open communication
with research participants and to protect sensitive information obtained in
research, teaching, practice, and service. When gathering confidential information,
sociologists should take into account the long-term uses of the information,
including its potential placement in public archives or the examination of
the information by other researchers or practitioners.
11.01 Maintaining Confidentiality
(a) Sociologists take reasonable precautions to protect the confidentiality rights
of research participants, students, employees, clients, or others.
(b) Confidential information provided by research participants, students, employees,
clients, or others is treated as such by sociologists even if there is no
legal protection or privilege to do so. Sociologists have an obligation to protect
confidential information, and not allow information gained in confidence from
being used in ways that would unfairly compromise research participants, students,
employees, clients, or others.
(c) Information provided under an understanding of confidentiality is treated as
such even after the death of those providing that information.
(d) Sociologists maintain the integrity of confidential deliberations, activities,
or roles, including, where applicable, that of professional committees, review
panels, or advisory groups (e.g., the ASA Committee on Professional Ethics).
226 APPENDIX A American Sociological Association Code of Ethics
(e) Sociologists, to the extent possible, protect the confidentiality of student
records, performance data, and personal information, whether verbal or written,
given in the context of academic consultation, supervision, or advising.
(f) The obligation to maintain confidentiality extends to members of research
or training teams and collaborating organizations who have access to thé information.
To ensure that access to confidential information is restricted, it is the
responsibility of researchers, administrators, and principal investigators to instruct
staff to take the steps necessary to protect confidentiality.
(g) When using private information about individuals collected by other persons
or institutions, sociologists protect the confidentiality of individually identifiable
information. Information is private when an individual can reasonably
expect that the information will not be made public with personal identifiers
(e.g., medical or employment records).
11.02 Limits of Confidentiality
(a) Sociologists inform themselves fully about all laws and rules which may
limit or alter guarantees of confidentiality. They determine their ability to guarantee
absolute confidentiality and, as appropriate, inform research participants,
students, employees, clients, or others of any limitations to this guarantee at the
outset consistent with ethical standards set forth in 11.02(h).
(b) Sociologists may confront unanticipated circumstances where they become
aware of information that is clearly health- or life-threatening to research participants,
students, employees, clients, or others. In these cases, sociologists balance
the importance of guarantees of confidentiality with other principles in
this Code of Ethics, standards of conduct, and applicable law.
(c) Confidentiality is not required with respect to observations in public places,
activities conducted in public, or other settings where no rules of privacy are
provided by law or custom. Similarly, confidentiality is not required in the case
of information available from public records.
11.03 Discussing Confidentiality and Its Limits
(a) When sociologists establish a scientific or professional relationship with persons,
they discuss (1) the relevant limitations on confidentiality, and (2) the
foreseeable uses of the information generated through their professional work.
(b) Unless it is not feasible or is counter-productive, the discussion of confidentiality
occurs at the outset of the relationship and thereafter as new circumstances
may warrant.
11.04 Anticipation of Possible Uses of Information
(a) When research requires maintaining personal identifiers in data bases or systems
of records, sociologists delete such identifiers before the information is
made publicly available.
APPENDIX A American Sociological Association Code of Ethics 227
(b) When confidential information concerning research participants, clients, or
other recipients of service is entered into databases or systems of records available
to persons without the prior consent of the relevant parties, sociologists
protect anonymity by not including personal identifiers or by employing other
techniques that mask or control disclosure of individual identities.
(c) When deletion of personal identifiers is not feasible, sociologists take reasonable
steps to determine that appropriate consent of personally-identifiable
individuals has been obtained before they transfer such data to others or review
such data collected by others.
11.05 Electronic Transmission of Confidential Information
Sociologists use extreme care in delivering or transferring any confidential data,
information, or communication over public computer networks. Sociologists are
attentive to the problems of maintaining confidentiality and control over sensitive
material and data when use of technological innovations, such as public
computer networks, may open their professional and scientific communication
to unauthorized persons.
11.06 Anonymity of Sources
(a) Sociologists do not disclose in their writings, lectures, or other public media
confidential, personally identifiable information concerning their research participants,
students, individual or organizational clients, or other recipients of
their service which is obtained during the course of their work, unless consent
from individuals or their legal representatives has been obtained.
(b) When confidential information is used in scientific and professional presentations,
sociologists disguise the identity of research participants, students, individual
or organizational clients, or other recipients of their service.
11.07 Minimizing Intrusions on Privacy
(a) To minimize intrusions on privacy, sociologists include in written and oral
reports, consultations, and public communications only information germane to
the purpose for which the communication is made.
(b) Sociologists discuss confidential information or evaluative data concerning
research participants, students, supervisees, employees, and individual or organizational
clients only for appropriate scientific or professional purposes and only
with persons clearly concerned with such matters.
11.08 Preservation of Confidential Information
(a) Sociologists take reasonable steps to ensure that records, data, or information
are preserved in a confidential manner consistent with the requirements of
this Code of Ethics, recognizing that ownership of records, data, or information
may also be governed by law or institutional principles.
228 APPENDIX A American Sociological Association Code of Ethics
(b) Sociologists plan so that confidentiality of records, data, or information is
protected in the event of the sociologist’s death, incapacity, or withdrawal from
the position or practice.
(c) When sociologists transfer confidential records, data, or information to other
persons or organizations, they obtain assurances that the recipients of the records,
data, or information will employ measures to protect confidentiality at
least equal to those originally pledged.
12. Informed Consent
Informed consent is a basic ethical tenet of scientific research on human populations.
Sociologists do not involve a human being as a subject in research without
the informed consent of the subject or the subject’s legally authorized
representative, except as otherwise specified in this Code. Sociologists recognize
the possibility of undue influence or subtle pressures on subjects that may
derive from researchers’expertise or authority, and they take this into account
in designing informed consent procedures.
12.01 Scope of Informed Consent
(a) Sociologists conducting research obtain consent from research participants
or their legally authorized representatives (1) when data are collected from
research participants through any form of communication, interaction, or intervention;
or (2) when behavior of research participants occurs in a private context
where an individual can reasonably expect that no observation or reporting
is taking place.
(b) Despite the paramount importance of consent, sociologists may seek
waivers of this standard when (1) the research involves no more than minimal
risk for research participants, and (2) the research could not practicably be carried
out were informed consent to be required. Sociologists recognize that
waivers of consent require approval from institutional review boards or, in the
absence of such boards, from another authoritative body with expertise on the
ethics of research. Under such circumstances, the confidentiality of any personally
identifiable information must be maintained unless otherwise set forth in
11.02(b).
(c) Sociologists may conduct research in public places or use publicly available
information about individuals (e.g., naturalistic observations in public places,
analysis of public records, or archival research) without obtaining consent. If,
under such circumstances, sociologists have any doubt whatsoever about the
need for informed consent, they consult with institutional review boards or, in
the absence of such boards, with another authoritative body with expertise on
the ethics of research before proceeding with such research.
(d) In undertaking research with vulnerable populations (e.g., youth, recent
immigrant populations, the mentally ill), sociologists take special care to ensure
APPENDIX A American Sociological Association Code of Ethics 229
that the voluntary nature of the research is understood and that consent is not
coerced. In all other respects, sociologists adhere to the principles set forth in
12.01(a)-(c).
(e) Sociologists are familiar with and conform to applicable state and federal
regulations and, where applicable, institutional review board requirements for
obtaining informed consent for research.
12.02 Informed Consent Process
(a) When informed consent is required, sociologists enter into an agreement
with research participants or their legal representatives that clarifies the nature
of the research and the responsibilities of the investigator prior to conducting
the research.
(b) When informed consent is required, sociologists use language that is understandable
to and respectful of research participants or their legal representatives.
(c) When informed consent is required, sociologists provide research participants
or their legal representatives with the opportunity to ask questions about
any aspect of the research, at any time during or after their participation in the
research.
(d) When informed consent is required, sociologists inform research participants
or their legal representatives of the nature of the research; they indicate to
participants that their participation or continued participation is voluntary; they
inform participants ofsignificant factors that may be expected to influence their
willingness to participate (e.g., possible risks and benefits of their participation);
and they explain other aspects of the research and respond to questions from
prospective participants. Also, if relevant, sociologists explain that refusal to participate
or withdrawal from participation in the research involves no penalty,
and they explain any foreseeable consequences of declining or withdrawing.
Sociologists explicitly discuss confidentiality and, if applicable, the extent to
which confidentiality may be limited as set forth in 11.02(b).
(e) When informed consent is required, sociologists keep records regarding said
consent. They recognize that consent is a process that involves oral and/or written
consent.
(f) Sociologists honor all commitments they have made to research participants
as part of the informed consent process except where unanticipated circumstances
demand otherwise as set forth in 11.02(b).
12.03 Informed Consent of Students and Subordinates
When undertaking research at their own institutions or organizations with research
participants who are students or subordinates, sociologists take special
care to protect the prospective subjects from adverse consequences of declining
or withdrawing from participation.
230 APPENDIX A American Sociological Association Code of Ethics
12.04 Informed Consent with Children
(a) In undertaking research with children, sociologists obtain the consent of
children to participate, to the extent that they are capable of providing such
consent, except under circumstances where consent may not be required as set
forth in 12.01(b).
(b) In undertaking research with children, sociologists obtain the consent of a
parent or a legally authorized guardian. Sociologists may seek waivers of parental
or guardian consent when (1) the research involves no more than minimal
risk for the research participants, and (2) the research could not practicably
be carried out were consent to be required, or (3) the consent of a parent or
guardian is not a reasonable requirement to protect the child (e.g., neglected or
abused children).
(c) Sociologists recognize that waivers of consent from a child and a parent
or guardian require approval from institutional review boards or, in the absence
of such boards, from another authoritative body with expertise on the
ethics of research. Under such circumstances, the confidentiality of any personally
identifiable information must be maintained unless otherwise set forth
in 11.02(b).
12.05 Use of Deception in Research
(a) Sociologists do not use deceptive techniques (1) unless they have determined
that their use will not be harmful to research participants; is justified by
the study’s prospective scientific, educational, or applied value; and that equally
effective alternative procedures that do not use deception are not feasible, and
(2) unless they have obtained the approval of institutional review boards or, in
the absence of such boards, with another authoritative body with expertise on
the ethics of research.
(b) Sociologists never deceive research participants about significant aspects of
the research that would affect their willingness to participate, such as physical
risks, discomfort, or unpleasant emotional experiences.
(c) When deception is an integral feature ofthe design and conduct of research,
sociologists attempt to correct any misconception that research participants
may have no later than at the conclusion of the research.
(d) On rare occasions, sociologists may need to conceal their identity in order
to undertake research that could not practicably be carried out were they to
be known as researchers. Under such circumstances, sociologists undertake the
research if it involves no more than minimal risk for the research participants
and if they have obtained approval to proceed in this manner from an institutional
review board or, in the absence of such boards, from another authoritative
body with expertise on the ethics of research. Under such circumstances,
confidentiality must be maintained unless otherwise set forth in 11.02(b).
APPENDIX A American Sociological Association Code of Ethics 2 3 1
12.06 Use of Recording Technology
Sociologists obtain informed consent from research participants, students, employees,
clients, or others prior to videotaping, filming, or recording them in any
form, unless these activities involve simply naturalistic observations in public
places and it is not anticipated that the recording will be used in a manner that
could cause personal identification or harm.
13. Research Planning, Implementation, and Dissemination
Sociologists have an obligation to promote the integrity of research and to
ensure that they comply with the ethical tenets of science in the planning, implementation,
and dissemination of research. They do so in order to advance
knowledge, to minimize the possibility that results will be misleading, and to
protect the rights of research participants.
13.01 Planning and Implementation
(a) In planning and implementing research, sociologists minimize the possibility
that results will be misleading.
(b) Sociologists take steps to implement protections for the rights and welfare
of research participants and other persons affected by the research.
(c) In their research, sociologists do not encourage activities or themselves
behave in ways that are health- or life-threatening to research participants or
others.
(d) In planning and implementing research, sociologists consult those with
expertise concerning any special population under investigation or likely to be
affected.
(e) In planning and implementing research, sociologists consider its ethical
acceptability as set forth in the Code of Ethics. If the best ethical practice is
unclear, sociologists consult with institutional review boards or, in the absence
of such review processes, with another authoritative body with expertise on the
ethics of research.
(f) Sociologists are responsible for the ethical conduct of research conducted by
them or by others under their supervision or authority.
13.02 Unanticipated Research Opportunities
If during the course of teaching, practice, service, or non-professional activities,
sociologists determine that they wish to undertake research that was not previously
anticipated, they make known their intentions and take steps to ensure
that the research can be undertaken consonant with ethical principles, especially
those relating to confidentiality and informed consent. Under such circumstances,
sociologists seek the approval of institutional review boards or, in the
absence of such review processes, another authoritative body with expertise on
the ethics of research.
232 APPENDIX A American Sociological Association Code of Ethics
13.03 Offering Inducements for Research Participants
Sociologists do not offer excessive or inappropriate financial or other inducements
to obtain the participation of research participants, particularly when it
might coerce participation. Sociologists may provide incentives to the extent
that resources are available and appropriate.
13.04 Reporting on Research
(a) Sociologists disseminate their research findings except where unanticipated
circumstances (e.g., the health of the researcher) or proprietary agreements
with employers, contractors, or clients preclude such dissemination.
(b) Sociologists do not fabricate data or falsify results in their publications or
presentations.
(c) In presenting their work, sociologists report their findings fully and do not
omit relevant data. They report results whether they support or contradict the
expected outcomes.
(d) Sociologists take particular care to state all relevant qualifications on the
findings and interpretation of their research. Sociologists also disclose underlying
assumptions, theories, methods, measures, and research designs that might
bear upon findings and interpretations of their work.
(e) Consistent with the spirit of full disclosure of methods and analyses, once
findings are publicly disseminated, sociologists permit their open assessment
and verification by other responsible researchers with appropriate safeguards,
where applicable, to protect the anonymity of research participants.
(f) If sociologists discover significant errors in their publication or presentation
ofdata, they take reasonable steps to correct such errors in a correction, a retraction,
published errata, or other public fora as appropriate.
(g) Sociologists report sources of financial support in their written papers and
note any special relations to any sponsor. In special circumstances, sociologists
may withhold the names of specific sponsors if they provide an adequate and
full description of the nature and interest of the sponsor.
(h) Sociologists take special care to report accurately the results of others’
scholarship by using correct information and citations when presenting the
work of others in publications, teaching, practice, and service settings.
13.05 Data Sharing
(a) Sociologists share data and pertinent documentation as a regular practice.
Sociologists make their data available after completion of the project or its
major publications, except where proprietary agreements with employers, contractors,
or clients preclude such accessibility or when it is impossible to share
data and protect the confidentiality of the data or the anonymity of research
participants (e.g., raw field notes or detailed information from ethnographic
interviews).
APPENDIX A American Sociological Association Code of Ethics 233
(b) Sociologists anticipate data sharing as an integral part of a research plan
whenever data sharing is feasible.
(c) Sociologists share data in a form that is consonant with research participants’
interests and protect the confidentiality of the information they have
been given. They maintain the confidentiality of data, whether legally required
or not; remove personal identifiers before data are shared; and if necessary use
other disclosure avoidance techniques.
(d) Sociologists who do not otherwise place data in public archives keep data
available and retain documentation relating to the research for a reasonable
period of time after publication or dissemination of results.
(e) Sociologists may ask persons who request their data for further analysis to
bear the associated incremental costs, if necessary.
(f) Sociologists who use data from others for further analyses explicitly acknowledge
the contribution of the initial researchers.
14. Plagiarism
(a) In publications, presentations, teaching, practice, and service, sociologists
explicitly identify, credit, and reference the author when they take data or material
verbatim from another person’s written work, whether it is published,
unpublished, or electronically available.
(b) In their publications, presentations, teaching, practice, and service, sociologists
provide acknowledgment of and reference to the use of others’work, even
if the work is not quoted verbatim or paraphrased, and they do not present others’
work as their own whether it is published, unpublished, or electronically
available. .. .
Appendix B
Sample Informed Consent Form
Kristin G. Esterberg, Ph.D.
Department of Sociology
University of Massachusetts Lowell
A Study of Mothers, Identity, and Social Support
Purpose of study: You are being asked to participate in a study of mothers.
The research seeks to understand how women think about what it means to
be a mother and the kinds of social supports available to mothers.
Procedure and duration: You are being asked to participate in an interview.
The interview will take approximately two hours; it will take place at your
home or at another location convenient for you. You are also asked to fill out
a brief questionnaire.
With your permission, the interview will be audio taped. The tape will be
transcribed; your name or other identifying information will not be included
on the transcript. At the end of the research project, the audio tapes will be
destroyed.
Your participation is completely voluntary. You may stop participating in this
research at any time or choose not to answer any question, without penalty.
Although disclosure of your identity is a possible risk, every precaution will be
taken to protect your privacy and the confidentiality of any records generated
by this research. Only the principal investigator (Kristin Esterberg) and her
research staff will have access to the audio tapes of the interviews and the
transcripts. The audio tapes will be kept in a locked file; at the end of the
research project, the tapes will be destroyed. Your name and any other identifying
information will not appear in any reports or documents that are
published as a result of this research project.
235
236 APPENDIX B Sample Informed Consent Form
Ifyou do not understand any portion of what you are being asked to do, or
the contents of this form, the researchers are available to provide a complete
explanation. Questions are welcome at any time. Please direct them to Kristin
Esterberg at the address at the top of this form.
I have been informed of any and all possible risks or discomforts.
I have read the statements contained herein, have had the opportunity to fully
discuss my concerns and questions, and fully understand the nature and character
of my involvement in this research program as a human subject, and the
attendant risks and consequences.
I give my permission to audio tape this interview. Yes ___ No
Research Participant Date
Researcher Date
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Oaks, CA: Sage.
Tewksbury, Richard, and Patricia Gagne. 1997. "Assumed and Presumed Identities:
Problems of Self-Presentation in Field Research.”Sociological Spectrum
17:127-156.
Theophano, Janet, and Karen Curtis. 1996. "Reflections on a Tale Told Twice.”
Pp. 151-176 in Journeys Through Ethnography: Realistic Accounts of Fieldwork,
edited by Annette Lareau and Jeffrey Schultz. Boulder, CO: Westview
Press.
Thompson, Sharon. 1995. Going A ll the Way: Teenage Girls’ Tales of Sex, Romance,
and Pregnancy. New York: Hill &Wang.
Thorne, Barrie. 1993. Gender Play: Girls and Boys in School. New Brunswick,
NJ: Rutgers University Press.
Tuchman, Gaye. 1998. “Historical Social Science: Methodologies, Methods, and
Meanings.”Pp. 225-260 in Strategies of Qualitative Inquiry, edited by Norman
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Walters, Ian. 1997. “Vietnam Zippos.”Journal of Material Culture 2:61-75.
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Index
Abbott, Edith, 8
abstract
in narrative analysis,
183-184,193
of research report,
207-208
access to field sites, 65-67,
81
accretion, measures of, 116
A c tio n R e se a rc h (Stringer),
150
A c tiv e In te rv ie w , The (Holstein
and Gubrium),
113
action research
defined, 34
barriers to participation
in, 143
defining an agenda for
action in, 145-146
ethical issues in, 148-149
feminist, 139-140
formulating a collective
problem in, 144
in industry, 138
northern and southern
traditions in, 143
political nature of,,
137-138
process of, 142-146
purpose of, 135-137
sharing power in,
147-148
types of, 137
S ee a ls o participatory
action research (PAR)
Addams, Jane, 8, 19
Adler, Patricia, 61,68, 69,
72
Adler, Peter, 61, 68, 69, 72
Alinsky, Saul, 147
A l l O u r K in (Stack), 24
American Psychological
Association, 44
American Sociological Association,
44-45, 206,
218, 221
American Sociological Association
Code of Ethics,
221-233
analytic bracketing, 188
A n a ly z in g S o c ia l S e ttin g s
(Lofland and Lofland),
82
anthropology, 8
archival materials, 130-132
Atkinson, Paul, 158, 166,
180, 197
ATLAS.ti, 178
autoethnography, 59
B a s ic s o f Q u a lita tiv e
R e se a rc h (Strauss and
Corbin), 180
Becker, Bettina, 186, 197
Becker, Howard, 23, 175,
180,218
Berg, Bruce, 111
bias
in research settings, 32
in historical materials,
132
in interviews, 86
in media accounts, 124
in Web sites, 39
social desirability, 86
B ir d b y B ir d (Lamott), 219
Blee, Kathleen, 47
Boas, Franz, 8
body language, 103, 105.
S e e a ls o nonverbal
communication
B o y s in W h ite (Becker et al.),
23
B r a v e N e w F a m ilie s
(Stacey), 24
Breckenridge, Sophonisba, 8
Britton, Dana, 84
Brown, L. David, 143
Burawoy, Michael, 9, 23, 82
Buxtun, Peter, 46
Campbell, Donald, 134
Cancian, Francesca, 149
Carey, Raymond, 150
Carmona, Emman, 138
cases, comparing, 168-169
causation, 10
cautionary tales, 188,
190-191
Census Bureau, U.S., 122
chain referral sampling,
93-94
Chapkis, Wendy, 55
Chataway, Cynthia, 147
Chicago School, 8, 23
coda, 184, 193
code memos. S ee memos,
procedural
codes of ethics, 44-45,
221-233
251
252 INDEX
coding, 157-162
Coffey, Amanda, 158, 166,
180, 197
Cole, Caroline, 36
collaborative research, 49,
144
Collins, Patricia Hill, 12,19
coming-out stories, 189
communication, nonverbal.
S e e nonverbal
communication
complication, in narrative
analysis, 184, 193
computer programs for
qualitative data analysis,
161, 162, 177-179
computers, in qualitative
research, 176-179
Comte, Auguste, 10
confidentiality, 43, 45,
50-54, 111,225-228
C o n s tr u c tin g S o c ia l R e se a rc h
(Ragin), 134
content analysis, 171-172
content
latent, 172
manifest, 172
C o n v e rg e n c e , 149
conversation analysis, 108,
184
conversation, turn taking in,
85
Corbin, Juliet, 180
Cornell University, 130
cover story, developing,
70-71
Coverdill, James, 84
covert research, 66, 71,80,
230
C r a ftin g S e lv e s (Kondo), 24
Creswell, John, 41
Criminal Justice Abstracts,
38
Cullum-Swan, Betsy, 173,
180
culture, 58-59
Curtis, Karen, 65
data analysis
as process of making
meaning, 79-80,
152-153
beginning, 151
computer-assisted,
176-179
grounding, 173-176
stages in, 151-152
data collection
in action research, 136,
144
S ee a b o s p e c ific m e th o d s o f
d a ta co llectio n
data complication, 166
data management, 153-157
data organizing, 154-155
data reduction, 166
data sharing, 232-233
Davidman, Lynn, 26
deception, in social research,
47-48, 52, 230
deductive reasoning, 6, 8, 10
Deegan, Mary Jo, 8
definition of the situation,
28
Denzin, Norman K., 24, 216
description, in field notes,
74-75
D e s ig n in g a n d C o n d u c tin g
E th n o g r a p h ic R e se a rc h
(LeCompte and
Schensul), 41
DeVault, Marjorie, 24
devil’s advocate, in focus
groups, 111
diagrams, 162-164
Dickson, Geraldine, 142
documents, 121-122
Dohan, Daniel, 180
Durkheim, Emile, 5
Eastman, Crystal, 139
editing, 203-204
Ellingson, Laura, 12
Emerson, Robert, 73, 82
emotions, in field research,
72. S e e a b o research
topics, feelings about
empowerment, in participatory
action research,
141-142
ERIC, 38
erosion, measures of, 117
ethical codes. S e e codes of
ethics
ethical dilemmas
in qualitative research,
44, 47,51
in covert research, 53
in focus groups, 111
in Internet research, 128
in participant observation,
67-68
in action research,
148-149
ethics, 32, 39, 48-49
The Ethnograph, 178
Ethnographer’s Toolkit, 41
ethnographers, 8
E th n o g r a p h y U n b o u n d (Bura
woy et al.), 23, 82
ethnography, 8, 51, 58-60.
S e e a b o participant
observation
evaluation research, 140
E x p e r ie n c in g F ie ld w o r k
(Shaffir and Stebbins,
eds.), 68, 82
exploitation, of research
participants, 78-79
face sheet, 101
F e m in is t D ile m m a s in F ie ld w
o r k (Wolf), 56
F e m in b t M e th o d s in S o c ia l
R e s e a r c h (Reinharz),
150
Ferrell, Jeff, 36, 55
fiction, in social research, 21
187,216-217
field notes
avoiding generalizations
in, 76
description in, 75
direct quotations in, 77
formats for, 77-78
fall, 74
in interviews, 107
contents of, 74-77
when to take, 73
field research, 58. S e e a b o
ethnography, participant
observation
field researcher, 13. S e e a b o
ethnographers
field settings. S e e field sites
field sites
boundaries of, 63
evaluating, 62, 67-68
familiarity with, 64-65
gaining access to, 65-67,
68-69, 81
leaving, 78-79
selecting, 62-73
field studies, 58. S e e a b o
ethnography, participant
observation
Fine, Michelle, 56
Finlay, William, 83
INDEX 253
Fleitas, Joan, 125
F ocu s G r o u p s a s Q u a lita tiv e
R e se a rc h (Morgan),
114
focus groups
advantages of, 109
ethical issues in, 111
number of participants in,
110
role of, 108-110
tape recording, 111
focused coding, 161-162,
166-167
Fontana, Andrea, 113
F rea k s T a lk B a c k (Gamson),
124
Freedman, Carol, 26
Freire, Paulo, 137
Fretz, Rachel, 73, 82
Frey, James H., 113
friendship, in social research,
51,78
Gagne, Patricia, 90
Gamson, Joshua, 124, 209
Ganz, Marshall, 129
Garbage Project, 115, 116
Garber, Marjorie, 190
gatekeepers, 66-67
Geer, Blanche, 23
Geertz, Clifford, 16
Gergen, Kenneth, 21
Gibson-Graham, J. K., 139
Glassner, Barry, 27, 41
Gordon, Linda, 122
Gottlieb, Alma, 58
graffiti, 36, 55, 116-117
Graham, Philip, 58
Grandinetti, Linda, 138
Groger, Lisa, 94
grounded research, 7, 8
grounded theory, 34
group dynamics, 110, 148
group interviews, 108-112.
S ee a ls o focus groups
groupthink, 111
Guba, Egon, 24
Gubrium, Jaber, 2, 113, 188,
194
G u id e to W r itin g S o c io lo g y
P a p e rs (Sociology Writing
Group), 219
H a n d b o o k o f Q u a lita tiv e
R e se a rc h (Denzin and
Lincoln, eds.), 24
Harding, Sandra, 12
harm, minimizing, 55
Hartsock, Nancy, 12
Hays, Sharon, 36
hermeneutics, 119
Hertz, Rosanna, 27, 41
Highlander Center, 147
historical materials
evaluating, 131-132
gaining access to, 130
historical research, 128-133
historical-comparative
research, 129-130
Hodder, Ian, 134
Holstein, James, 2, 113,188,
194
homosexuality, ethical issues
in researching, 47—48
Hondagneu-Sotelo, Pierrette,
17, 146
Huberman, Michael, 174,
180
Hughes, Everett, 23
Hull-House, 8
Humphreys, Laud, 47, 52
Humphreys’ "tearoom"
study, 47-48
hyperreality, 20
HyperRESEARCH, 178
hypothesis testing, 6, 33-34
ideas, generating, 26-28
Ignacio, Emily Noelle, 125
illegal activities, researching,
43, 48, 54, 68
inductive reasoning, 7, 8
informants, 70
informed consent, 45,
51-53, 128, 228-231
informed consent form,
sample, 235-236
institutional review boards,
31,46, 49-50, 148
interaction, in field sites, 63
Internet, 38, 125-128
interpretation, 3, 15-16,
79-80, 167-168
interview guides
excerpt from, 97
order of questions in, 96
pretesting, 100
preparing, 94-100
types of questions in,
95-96
interview questions, 95-96,
98-100
interview tapes, transcribing,
54
I n te r v ie w in g a s Q u a lita tiv e
R e se a rc h (Seidman),
114
interviews
as conversation, 84, 88,
89
as relationships, 84-85,
91
as research strategy, 36
conducting, 102-107
definition of, 83
ethical issues in, 47
in field research, 89
in-depth, 87-89, 98
interpersonal skills in, 91
personal relationships in,
90
preparing for, 32, 92,
100-102
presentation of self in, 88
semistructured, 87-89
structured, 85-87
tape recording, 106-107
telephone, 85
transcribing, 107-108
types of, 83, 85
unstructured, 89
intimacy, in social research,
50
introduction, to research
report, 208-210
Janesick, Valerie, 72, 82, 83,
218
Janis, Irving, 111
jotted notes, 73, 202
J o u rn a l o f C o n te m p o r a r y
E th n o g r a p h y , 23
J o u rn e y s T h ro u g h E th n o g ra p
h y (Lareau and
Schultz, eds.), 41, 68,
82
Katz, Jack, 4
Kendall, Lori, 125
Keough, Noel, 138
Kleinman, Sherryl, 72
Koester, Steven, 32
Kondo, Dorinne, 24
Kotamraju, Nalini, 126
Krieger, Susan, 187, 216
Labov, William, 183
Lamott, Anne, 219
254 INDEX
Lareau, Annette, 41, 82
LaRossa, Ralph, 171
Leblanc, Lauraine, 90
LeCompte, Margaret, 41,
153
Lee, Raymond, 134
legitimation crisis, 21
Lesbian Herstory Archives,
130
L ib e r a tin g M e th o d
(DeVault), 24
library research, 37-38
Liebow, Elliot, 13, 24, 26, 36
Lincoln, Yvonna, 24
listening skills, 103, 112
literal meaning, 132
literature review, 37-38, 40,
210-211
Lofland, John, 82
Lofland, Lyn, 82
lying, to research participants,
71
Lykes, M. Brinton, 136, 147
Madriz, Esther, 109, 111, 113
M a k in g S e n se o f Q u a lita tiv e
D a ta (Coffey and
Atkinson), 180
Malinowski, Bronislaw, 8
Manning, Peter, 173, 180
maps, 74, 162-164
Marcus, George, 21
Martineau, Harriet, 8, 19
Marx, Karl, 5
Masuda, Kazuyo, 74, 76
material artifacts, 117-121,
133
Mayberry, Pamela, 94
McAdams, Dan, 197
McNeil, Larry, 135
Mead, Margaret, 8
measures of accretion, 116
measures of erosion, 117
media accounts, 124
Media History Project, 127
medical research, ethical
issues in, 45-46
memos, 80, 164-166
“messy texts,” 21
methodology, feminist, 20.
S e e a ls o research,
feminist
methodology, versus
method, 18-19
Midwest Sociological Society,
206
Miles, Matthew, 174, 180
Milgram, Stanley, 46
Milgram obedience study,
46-47
Mills, C. Wright, 4
Mitchell, Richard, 66
moderator, in focus groups,
110
Moen, Phyllis, 6
Montini, Theresa, 123, 209,
211
Morgan, David, 114
Naples, Nancy, 139
N a r r a tiv e A n a ly s is (Riessman),
197
narrative analysis
conducting, 192-194
evaluating, 195. S e e a lso
narratives
narratives
audiences for, 192
conversion, 190
defined, 182-183
identifying, 192
social contexts of,
188-190
structure of, 183-188
National Commission for
the Protection of
Human Subjects of
Biomedical and Behavioral
Research, 46
naturalism, 10, 13-14, 16,
34
Nazi war crimes tribunal, 45
negative cases, 174-175
Neuman, W. Lawrence, 134
Nielson, Joyce, 17
nonverbal communication,
105, 113, 126
note taking, in interviews,
106-107
NUD*IST, 178
null hypothesis trick,
175-176
Nuremberg Code, 45
NVivo, 178
Oakley, Ann, 19, 91, 114
objectivity, 11, 12, 14, 80
observation
covert, 52-53, 61
in public places, 65, 81
versus participation,
60-61
observational skills, developing,
72-73
observational studies, 35,
58
open coding, 158-161
oppression, 17-18
oral history, 181
orientation, in narrative
analysis, 184, 193
papers, private, 122-123
paradigms, 9-10, 31, 33-35,
40
P a ra lle l W o r ld s (Gottlieb and
Graham), 58
paraphrasing, in field notes,
75
“Parker Gardens”Housing
Complex, 74-76
participant observation
data analysis in, 79-80
dimensions of, 60-61
emotions in, 72
ethical dilemmas in, 47,
67-68
history of, 8
relationships in, 69-70
self as instrument in,
61-62
settings for, 62-68
S ee a ls o ethnography, field
research
participatory action research
(PAR), 136, 137-139,
143
passive voice, in academic
writing, 208
patterns, in data analysis,
168
Patton, Michael Quinn, 87,
150
perspective, in narrative
analysis, 195
physical traces, 116-117,
133
plagiarism, 214-215, 233
poetry, in qualitative analysis,
21, 186-187
Posavac, Emil, 150
positivism, 10-12, 14, 31,
33-34, 35, 72
postmodernism, 10, 13,
20-21,35
power
in field research, 78
in interviews, 92
INDEX 2 5 5
in narrative analysis, 194
in social research, 48-49
power sharing, in action
research, 147-148
presentation of self, in interviews,
88
primary sources, 123, 129,
130-132
privacy, 52, 53-54
probes, 85, 94, 99, 104
P ro g ra m E v a lu a tio n (Posavac
and Carey), 150
program evaluation, 109
' proofreading, 204
pseudonyms, 54
Psychological Abstracts, 38
Public Health Service, U.S.,
45-46
Punch, Maurice, 56
purposive sampling, 93
Q u a lita tiv e D a ta A n a ly s is
(Miles and Huberman),
180
Q u a lita tiv e E v a lu a tio n a n d
R e se a rc h M e th o d s
(Patton), 150
Q u a lita tiv e I n q u ir y , 23
Q u a lita tiv e S o c io lo g y a s
E v e r y d a y L ife (Glassner
and Hertz, eds.), 27, 41
QUALPRO, 178
questions
open- and closed-ended,
85
follow-up, 85,94, 99, 104
quotations, direct, in field
notes, 75, 77
Ragin, Charles, 134
rapport, developing, 92
Rathje, William, 115
rational choice theory, 34
reciprocity, 49, 69-70
records, public, 121-122
recruitment, of research participants,
110
references, in research
report, 214
reflexivity, 12, 21
Reinharz, Shulamit, 20, 123,
139, 150
relationships
developing in field
research, 67, 69-71
with interviewees, 88
research, applied, 137
R e s e a r c h D e s ig n (Creswell),
41
research facilitator, 141,
144
research participants, 88,
93-94. S e e a ls o
informants
research process
as social production, 16
stages of, 5-7, 39-40
research project, getting
started on, 25
research questions, 27,
29-30,31
research reports, 207-215
research strategies
developing, 33-37, 40
types of, 35-37
research subjects. S ee
research participants
research topics
developing, 28-31
evaluating, 30-33, 39
feelings about, 28-29, 30
generating, 26-28, 39
refining, 25, 29-30
turning into research
question, 29-30
research traditions, 33-35.
S e e a ls o paradigms
research
basic, 4,138
benefits of, 32-33
covert. S ee covert
research
critical, 10, 13, 17-18,31,
34
developing relationships
in, 90
evaluation, 140
feminist, 10, 13, 17,
18-20,31,51,
139-140
interpretive, 15-17
outcomes of, 135
positivist. S e e positivism
postmodernist, 31, 216.
S ee a ls o postmodernism
quantitative versus qualitative,
2
reasons for conducting,
3-4
social constructionist, 31.
S ee a ls o social
constructionism
resources, for qualitative
research, 32
results, in narrative analysis,
184, 193
revision, 203-204
revision checklist, 205
Richardson, James, 52, 56
Richardson, Laurel, 21, 187,
215,219
Riessman, Catherine Kohler,
192, 195,197
risks, in participant observation,
68
role taking, in field research,
69, 70
Sacks, Harvey, 184
sampling methods
chain referral. S ee
sampling methods,
snowball
purposive, 93
snowball, 93-94
Sanchez-Jankowski, Martin,
180
Scarce, Rik, 43
Schensul, Jean, 41, 153
Schiffinan, Josepha, 209
Schultz, Jeffrey, 41
scientific method, 1, 5
search services, on-line, 37
Sechrest, Lee, 134
secondary sources, 123, 129
Seidman, Irving, 114
self
as research instrument, 61
in relation to field site,
64-65
in social research, 12-13
self-disclosure, in field
research, 71
semiotic analysis, 172-173
settlement movement, 8
Shaffir, William, 58,71,82
Shaw, Linda, 73, 82
Shultz, Jeffrey, 82
Small, Stephen, 150
Smith, Dorothy, 11,19
Smith, Phil, 187, 197
snowball sampling, 93-94
social change, as outcome
in action research,
146-147
social constructionism, 10,
13,15-17,34,35
social desirability bias, 86
256 INDEX
social interaction, 15, 28
social reality, interpretation
of, 16
S o c ia l R e s e a r c h M e th o d s
(Neuman), 134
social research, feminist critiques
of, 20
S o c ie ty in A m e r ic a (Martineau),
8
Sociological Abstracts, 37, 38
sociological imagination, 4
Sociology Writing Group,
201,219
sociology, transformation
of, 19
Sohrabi, Nader, 129
sources
primary, 123, 129,
130-131
secondary, 123, 129
Stacey, Judith, 24, 51, 54,
56, 78, 93
Stack, Carol, 24, 90
stakeholders, identifying,
142-143
Stebbins, Robert, 71, 82
Steinberg, Ronnie, 4
Stoecker, Randy, 141, 144
stories. S e e narratives
S to r ie s W e L iv e B y, T h e
(McAdams), 197
Straker, Jane, 94
Strauss, Anselm, 23, 180
S tr e e t C o r n e r S o c ie ty
(Whyte), 24
" S tretch in g " E x e rc ise s f o r
Q u a lita tiv e R e se a rc h e rs
(Janesick), 72, 82, 218
Stringer, Ernest, 135, 141,
142, 150
S ty le G u id e o f th e A m e r ic a n
S o c io lo g ic a l A s s o c ia tio n ,
214
surface meaning, 132
survey research, 85
Swartz, Richard, 134
S y m b o lic I n te r a c tio n , 23
symbolic interactionism, 15
S y s te m a tic F ie ld w o rk
(Werner and
Scheopfle), 156
T a lly 's C o m e r (Liebow), 13,
24
tape recording, interviews,
106- 107, 111
T ell T h e m W h o I A m
(Liebow), 26
texts
analysis of, 36, 121-128,
171-172
electronic, 125-128
Theophano, Janet, 65
theory reconstruction, 9, 23
theory, in social research, 4
thick description, 50
Thompson, Sharon, 108
transcription of tapes,
107- 108, 192-193
triangulation, 36-37, 176
T rick s o f th e T r a d e (Becker),
175, 180
Tuchman, Gaye, 128, 134
Tuskegee study, 45-46
typologies, 169-170
University of Maryland
Broadcast Pioneers
Library, 127
U n o b tn is iv e M e a s u r e s
(Webb et al.), 134
U n o b tn is iv e M e a s u r e s in
S o c ia l R e se a rc h (Lee),
134
MASAR.YKOVÀ UNiVERZITA
Fakulta sociâlnich studii
joStova 10
602 00 BRNO d P
unobtrusive measures, 36,
115. S ee a ls o physical
traces; texts, analysis of
values, in social research, 18
Vanderbilt University Television
Archives, 127
voice, 215-216
Walters, Ian, 120, 134
Walzer, Susan, 7
Webb, Eugene, 134
Weiss, Lois, 56
Weseen, Susan, 56
Whittier, Nancy, 123
Whyte, William Foote, 24,
54,61, 70
Wolcott, Harry, 80, 219
Wolf, Daniel, 68
Wolf, Diane, 56
women sociologists, 8,19
Wong, Loonmun, 56
W o r k in g P a re n ts (Moen), 7
World Wide Web sites,
38-39,127
worldview. S ee paradigm
W r itin g f o r S o c ia l S c ie n tis ts
(Becker), 218
writing plan, 203
W r itin g u p Q u a lita tiv e
R e se a rc h (Wolcott),
219
writing
as process, 200-201
audiences for, 205
routines for, 201
S ee a b o research reports
Zavella, Patricia, 90, 98
Zippo lighters, analysis of,
120-121