Qualitative methods: what and why use them?

Qualitative methods, as the name indicates, are methods that do not involve measurement or statistics.  Because the natural sciences have had such resounding success with quantitative methods, qualitative methods are sometimes looked down upon as less scientific.  That is, of course, a mistake.  Qualitative methods have been in use in philosophy, sociology, and history for centuries, and many of the famous studies we refer to in psychology classes every day were actually qualitative!

One qualitative method that goes back a long way is the case study.  When physicians like Sigmund Freud became interested in psychological problems, they continued their tradition of writing and publishing descriptions of their most interesting patients, the treatments they attempted to use, and the progress of the disorder.  Much of the content of abnormal psychology, for example, is built upon these case studies.

Another example is the méthode clinique or clinical method.  This method was particularly well used by Jean Piaget and his followers.  The basic idea is to present a person (in Piaget’s case, usually a young child) with a situation or problem for them to deal with.  The researcher observes how they handle the situation and asks them questions to try to understand the thought processes they are using.  Another version of the méthode clinique is called experimental phenomenology.  One study, for example, asked chess masters and novices to think out loud while playing chess, and analyzed the differences in approach.  One more example is the method of introspection used by Wilhelm Wundt — often considered the founder of scientific psychology — and his students.  Researchers paid careful attention to their own perceptions of simple events like colors, and noted changes in their perceptions following changes in the events.

Probably the oldest qualitative method is naturalistic observation.  This has been used by biologists who study animals in the wild (ethologists) for centuries, and by sociologists studying people’s behavior for nearly as long.  The idea of naturalistic observation is to step back from the situation and make every effort not to interfere.  A biologist studying birds, for example, may construct a blind — a small hut covered with natural materials — so as not to disturb the birds.  Child psychologists often observe children in a similar way.  In experimental schools, the children are often so used to being observed that the researchers don’t even have to hide!  Recently, video and audio technology has allowed us to do the same with people.  Unfortunately, the ethics of spying on people is very questionable!

A variation on naturalistic observation used by some sociologists and psychologists is called participant observation.  A sociologist who is interested in studying the lifestyles of people in some subculture (say a motorcycle gang) may actually join the subculture and interact with the people.  Many anthropologists use this technique as well.  In most cases, it is clear to all that the researcher is not really a part of the group, but sometimes the researcher hides his identity as a researcher.

One of the most useful qualitative techniques is interviewing.  It is often a part of all of the preceding methods.  Contrary to what many people believe, interviewing is not easy.  In fact, it is a rare person who is truly skillful at interviewing.  You have to be very careful not to listen to the person you interview through any prejudiced ideas you might have.  You have to make sure you are not leading the person in the direction you would like them to go.  You have to make sure you don’t misinterpret what they say.  In other words, you need to be very aware of your own biases!

Many researchers using qualitative methods adhere to a school of thought called phenomenology, and refer to their methods as phenomenological methods.  Phenomenology is the study of the contents of consciousness — phenomena — and phenomenological methods are ways of describing and analyzing these contents.  Originally, the methods focussed on describing one’s own thought, feelings, and perceptions.  For example, researchers would investigate their own experiences of an emotion such as anger, or cognitive processes like making a decision.  As you can imagine, the problem of biases are even more difficult to handle in these kind of studies.  Many people, if asked about their experiences of anger, might say something like “I could feel the adrenaline flowing through my veins!”  Unfortunately, that is a prejudicial statement based on people’s common knowledge about the presence of adrenaline.  In fact, nobody actually feels adrenaline in their veins!  We may feel muscle tension, or the hair raising in our necks, or a change in our hearing — but not adrenaline in our  veins.

As time went on, other ways of investigating phenomena were added.  For example, the researcher might ask other people to write what are called protocols — naïve descriptions of their experiences — and use them for analysis.  This is done, for example, when the researcher wants to investigate something he or she doesn’t have personal experience with, such as a schizophrenics verbal hallucinations.

There are arguments for and against the use of qualitative methods.  The most common criticisms of qualitative methods revolve around the problem of bias mentioned above:  It is much easier for biases to creep into qualitative studies than into quantitative ones.  The great advantage of measurement is that, once we have agreed upon what constitutes a measure (say, a meter stick), everyone can use it and be fairly confident that what they measure is what anyone else would measure.  If, on the other hand, we say “this looks like navy blue to me,” someone else might say “no, I think it’s purple,” and another person “no, it’s clearly royal blue!”

The arguments for qualitative methods revolve around realism.  Measures do not encompass the whole of an event.  You can ask people to rate their anxiety, but how much will that tell you about what they are actually feeling?  How do you measure something like love or hate?  Or think about the anthropologist looking at a culture:  Does counting the number of artifacts or timing rituals tell you much about their meaning to the people involved?  Or consider a person’s personality:  Do scores on personality tests tell you much about a person’s life or experiences?  Qualitative researchers would say not much!

Although quantitative methods are still preferred in psychology, more and more people are acknowledging that qualitative methods also have an important place.  Not everything about human beings can be understood by measurement, or in laboratories, or by using rats and pigeons.

Numerous specific research methods/instruments are used when conducting qualitative research.

[blog_posts style=”push” col_spacing=”small” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ slider_nav_style=”simple” slider_bullets=”true” auto_slide=”8000″ ids=”8441,8479,8473″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”0″ comments=”false” image_height=”56.25%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom”]

[blog_posts style=”push” col_spacing=”small” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ slider_nav_style=”simple” slider_bullets=”true” auto_slide=”8000″ ids=”8494,8596,8601″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”0″ comments=”false” image_height=”56.25%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom”]

  • Case Studies
  • Conversation Analysis
  • Field Studies
  • Focus Groups
  • Interviews
  • Naturalistic Observation
  • Participant Observation
  • Ethnography
  • Phenomenology
  • Autoethnography- This bibliography is compiled from a section of Heather Forest’s ILA on Autoethnography & Storytelling. It includes citations for several peer review journal articles that describe recent autoethnographic studies.
  • Grounded Theory Methods Folder- This bibliography contains references historical and recent books on grounded theory methodology and symbolic interactionalism.
  • Critical Discourse Analysis- Books, chapters, journal articles, whole journals, & dissertations.

Interviews: Types and Methods in Management Research

An interview is generally a qualitative research technique which involves asking open-ended questions to converse with respondents and collect elicit data about a subject. The interviewer in most cases is the subject matter expert who intends to understand respondent opinions in a well-planned and executed series of questions and answers. Interviews are similar to focus groups and surveys when it comes to garnering information from the target market but are entirely different in their operation – focus groups are restricted to a small group of 6-10 individuals whereas surveys are quantitative in nature. Interviews are conducted with a sample from a population and the key characteristic they exhibit is their conversational tone.

[title text=”Main contents” link_text=”See more from basic to advanced” link=”category/methodology/qualitative-research/qualitative-methods/interviewing/”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”5000″ cat=”244″ posts=”3″ offset=”42″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”6000″ cat=”244″ posts=”3″ offset=”39″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”7000″ cat=”244″ posts=”6″ offset=”33″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”8000″ cat=”244″ posts=”6″ offset=”27″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”5000″ cat=”244″ posts=”6″ offset=”21″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”6000″ cat=”244″ posts=”6″ offset=”15″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”7000″ cat=”244″ posts=”6″ offset=”9″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”8000″ cat=”244″ posts=”9″ offset=”0″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[row style=”small” class=”form-lien-he”]

[col span=”2″ span__sm=”12″]

[/col]
[col span=”4″ span__sm=”12″]

[button text=”Home” color=”secondary” style=”gloss” radius=”5″ depth=”2″ depth_hover=”3″ expand=”true” icon=”icon-star” icon_pos=”left” link=”https://phantran.net/”]

[/col]
[col span=”4″ span__sm=”12″]

[button text=”See basic to advanced” style=”gloss” radius=”5″ depth=”2″ depth_hover=”3″ expand=”true” icon=”icon-checkmark” icon_pos=”left” link=”/category/methodology/qualitative-research/qualitative-methods/interviewing/”]

[/col]
[col span=”2″ span__sm=”12″]

[/col]

[/row]

Fundamental Types of Interviews in Research

A researcher has to conduct interviews with a group of participants at a juncture in the research where information can only be obtained by meeting and personally connecting with a section of their target audience. Interviews offer the researchers with a platform to prompt their participants and obtain inputs in the desired detail. There are three fundamental types of interviews in research:

  • Structured Interviews:

Structured interviews are defined as research tools that are extremely rigid in their operations are allows very little or no scope of prompting the participants to obtain and analyze results. It is thus also known as a standardized interview and is significantly quantitative in its approach. Questions in this interview are pre-decided according to the required detail of information.

Structured interviews are excessively used in survey research with the intention of maintaining uniformity throughout all the interview sessions.

They can be closed-ended as well as open-ended – according to the type of target population. Closed-ended questions can be included to understand user preferences from a collection of answer options whereas open-ended can be included to gain details about a particular section in the interview.

Advantages of structured interviews:

  • Structured interviews focus on the accuracy of different responses due to which extremely organized data can be collected. Different respondents have different type of answers to the same structure of questions – answers obtained can be collectively analyzed.
  • They can be used to get in touch with a large sample of the target population.
  • The interview procedure is made easy due to the standardization offered by structured interviews.
  • Replication across multiple samples becomes easy due to the same structure of interview.
  • As the scope of detail is already considered while designing the interview, better information can be obtained and the researcher can analyze the research problem in a comprehensive manner by asking accurate research questions.
  • Since the structure of the interview is fixed, it often generates reliable results and is quick to execute.
  • The relationship between the researcher and the respondent is not formal due to which the researcher can clearly understand the margin of error in case the respondent either degrees to be a part of the survey or is just not interested in providing the right information.

Disadvantages of structured interviews:

  • Limited scope of assessment of obtained results.
  • The accuracy of information overpowers the detail of information.
  • Respondents are forced to select from the provided answer options.
  • The researcher is expected to always adhere to the list of decided questions irrespective of how interesting the conversation is turning out to be with the participants.
  • A significant amount of time is required for a structured interview.

Learn more: Market Research

  • Semi-Structured Interviews:

Semi-structured interviews offer a considerable amount of leeway to the researcher to probe the respondents along with maintaining basic interview structure. Even if it is a guided conversation between researchers and interviewees – an appreciable flexibility is offered to the researchers. A researcher can be assured that multiple interview rounds will not be required in the presence of structure in this type of research interview.

Keeping the structure in mind, the researcher can follow any idea or take creative advantage of the entire interview. Additional respondent probing is always necessary to garner information for a research study. The best application of semi-structured interview is when the researcher doesn’t have time to conduct research and requires detailed information about the topic.

Advantages of semi-structured interviews:

  • Questions of semi-structured interviews are prepared before the scheduled interview which provides the researcher with time to prepare and analyze the questions.
  • It is flexible to an extent while maintaining the research guidelines.
  • Researchers can express the interview questions in the format they prefer, unlike the structured interview.
  • Reliable qualitative data can be collected via these interviews.
  • Flexible structure of the interview.

Learn more: Quantitative Data

Disadvantages of semi-structured interviews:

    • Participants may question the reliability factor of these interviews due to the flexibility offered.
    • Comparing two different answers becomes difficult as the guideline for conducting interviews is not entirely followed. No two questions will have the exact same structure and the result will be an inability to compare are infer results.
  • Unstructured Interviews:

Also called as in-depth interviews, unstructured interviews are usually described as conversations held with a purpose in mind – to gather data about the research study. These interviews have the least number of questions as they lean more towards a normal conversation but with an underlying subject.

The main objective of most researchers using unstructured interviews is to build a bond with the respondents due to which there are high chances that the respondents will be 100% truthful with their answers. There are no guidelines for the researchers to follow and so, they can approach the participants in any ethical manner to gain as much information as they possibly can for their research topic.

Since there are no guidelines for these interviews, a researcher is expected to keep their approach in check so that the respondents do not sway away from the main research motive. For a researcher to obtain the desired outcome, he/she must keep the following factors in mind:

  • Intent of the interview.
  • The interview should primarily take into consideration the participant’s interest and skills.
  • All the conversations should be conducted within permissible limits of research and the researcher should try and stick by these limits.
  • The skills and knowledge of the researcher should match the purpose of the interview.
  • Researchers should understand the do’s and don’ts of unstructured interviews.

Advantages of Unstructured Interviews:

  • Due to the informal nature of unstructured interviews – it becomes extremely easy for researchers to try and develop a friendly rapport with the participants. This leads to gaining insights in extreme detail without much conscious effort.
  • The participants can clarify all their doubts about the questions and the researcher can take each opportunity to explain his/her intention for better answers.
  • There are no questions which the researcher has to abide by and this usually increases the flexibility of the entire research process.

Disadvantages of Unstructured Interviews:

  • As there is no structure to the interview process, researchers take time to execute these interviews.
  • The absence of a standardized set of questions and guidelines indicates that the reliability of unstructured interviews is questionable.
  • In many cases, the ethics involved in these interviews are considered borderline upsetting.

Learn more: Qualitative Market Research

Methods of Research Interviews:

There are three methods to conduct research interviews, each of which is peculiar in its application and can be used according to the research study requirement.

Personal Interviews:

Personal interviews are one of the most used types of interviews, where the questions are asked personally directly to the respondent. For this, a researcher can have a guide online surveys to take note of the answers. A researcher can design his/her survey in such a way that they take notes of the comments or points of view that stands out from the interviewee.

Advantage:

  • Higher response rate.
  • When the interviewees and respondents are face-to-face, there is a way to adapt the questions if this is not understood.
  • More complete answers can be obtained if there is doubt on both sides or a particular information is detected that is remarkable.
  • The researcher has an opportunity to detect and analyze the interviewee’s body language at the time of asking the questions and taking notes about it.

Disadvantages:

  • They are time-consuming and extremely expensive.
  • They can generate distrust on the part of the interviewee, since they may be self-conscious and not answer truthfully.
  • Contacting the interviewees can be a real headache, either scheduling an appointment in workplaces or going from house to house and not finding anyone.
  • Therefore, many interviews are conducted in public places, such as shopping centers or parks. There are even consumer studies that take advantage of these sites to conduct interviews or surveys and give incentives, gifts, coupons, in short; There are great opportunities for online research in shopping centers.
  • Among the advantages of conducting these types of interviews is that the respondents will have more fresh information if the interview is conducted in the context and with the appropriate stimuli, so that researchers can have data from their experience at the scene of the events, immediately and first hand. The interviewer can use an online survey through a mobile device that will undoubtedly facilitate the entire process.

Telephonic Interviews:

Telephonic interviews are widely used and easy to combine with online surveys to carry out research effectively.

Advantages:

  • To find the interviewees it is enough to have their telephone numbers on hand.
  • They are usually lower cost.
  • The information is collected quickly.
  • Having a personal contact can also clarify doubts, or give more details of the questions.

Disadvantages:

  • Many times researchers observe that people do not answer phone calls because it is an unknown number for the respondent, or simply already changed their place of residence and they cannot locate it, which causes a bias in the interview.
  • Researchers also face that they simply do not want to answer and resort to pretexts such as they are busy to answer, they are sick, they do not have the authority to answer the questions asked, they have no interest in answering or they are afraid of putting their security at risk.
  • One of the aspects that should be taken care of in these types of interviews is the kindness with which the interviewers address the respondents, in order to get them to cooperate more easily with their answers. Good communication is vital for the generation of better answers.

Email or Web Page Interviews:

Online research is growing more and more because consumers are migrating to a more virtual world and it is best for each researcher to adapt to this change.

The increase in people with Internet access has made it popular that interviews via email or web page stand out among the types of interviews most used today. For this nothing better than an online survey.

More and more consumers are turning to online shopping, which is why they are a great niche to be able to carry out an interview that will generate information for the correct decision making.

Advantages of email surveys:

  • Speed in obtaining data
  • The respondents respond according to their time, at the time they want and in the place they decide.
  • Online surveys can be mixed with other research methods or using some of the previous interview models. They are tools that can perfectly complement and pay for the project.
  • A researcher can use a variety of questions, logics, create graphs and reports immediately.

Undoubtedly, the objective of the research will set the pattern of what types of interviews are best for data collection. Based on the research design, a research can plan and test the questions, for instance, if the questions are the correct and if the survey flows in the best way.

In addition there are other types of research that can be used under specific circumstances, for example in the case of no connection or adverse situations to carry out surveyors, in these types of occasions it is necessary to conduct a field research, which can not be considered an interview if not rather a completely different methodology.

To summarize the discussion, an effective interview will be one that provides researchers with the necessary data to know the object of study and that this information is applicable to the decisions researchers make.

Observation Methods – Definition, Types, Examples, Advantages

The observation method is described as a method to observe and describe the behavior of a subject. As the name suggests, it is a way of collecting relevant information and data by observing. It is also referred to as a participatory study because the researcher has to establish a link with the respondent and for this has to immerse himself in the same setting as theirs. Only then can he use the observation method to record and take notes.

Meaning and examples

Observation method is used in cases where you want to avoid an error that can be a result of bias during evaluation and interpretation processes. It is a way to obtain objective data by watching a participant and recording it for analysis at a later stage.

Observation method in data collection can be

  • Structured observation method – This is a systematic observation method where data is collected as per a pre-defined schedule. The specific variable is used in this method for data collection.
  • Unstructured observation method – The unstructured observation method is conducted in a free and open manner without using any pre-determined objectives, schedules or variables.

Sampling methods for Observational Data

The researcher has a vital role to play as he will have to collect, record and classify the data appropriately. The primary sampling methods are

  • Event sampling – In the event sampling observation method the researcher decides beforehand what events or behavior he will record and which ones he is going to ignore
  • Time sampling – In the time sampling observation method, the researcher chooses the time when he will observe. He makes a record of the occurrence only in the specified and pre-determined period
  • Target-time or instantaneous sampling –  In the target-time or instantaneous sampling observation method, the researcher decides beforehand the moments when the observation will happen and will be recorded at that moment. Everything that happens before or after that moment is of no consequence hence is typically ignored

Types of observation method

The different types of observation method are as follows:

1) Controlled observations

The controlled observation is carried out in a closed space. It is the researcher who has the authority to decide the place and the time where and when the observation will take place. He also decides who the participants will be and in what circumstances will he use the standardized process.

The participants are chosen for a variable group randomly. The researcher observes and records a detailed and descriptive data of behavior and divides it into a distinct category. Sometimes the researcher codes the action as per an agreed scale by using a behavior schedule. The coding can include letters or numbers or a range to measure behavior intensity and describe its characteristics.

The collected data is often turned into statistics. In a controlled observation method, the participants are informed by the researcher about the aim of the research. This makes them aware of being observed. The researcher avoids direct contact during the observation method and generally uses a two-way mirror to observe and record details.

Advantages of controlled observation method

  1. The data and information received from a controlled observation method are structured and analytical. It is thus easy to analyze it quickly and is considered less time-consuming than the other observation methods
  2. Other researchers can easily replicate the report that has been created through the controlled observation method. They use a similar observation schedule, and this makes it easy to test for reliability.
  3. As the controlled observation method is several quick observations can be conducted within a short time frame. Thus the researcher can collect large samples which makes it easier for him to generalize a large population

Limitations of controlled observation method 

  1. The controlled observation method lacks validity because when the participants are aware of being observed their behavior will automatically change

2) Naturalistic observations

Social scientists and psychologists generally use the naturalistic observation method. The process involves observing and studying the spontaneous behavior of the participants in open or natural surroundings. The role of the researcher is to find and record whatever he can see and observe in natural habitat.

Advantages of naturalistic observation method 

  1. When a participant is in a natural habitat, his flow of behavior is natural and not forced.
  2. The studies have gained better ecological validity than the controlled observation method
  3. The naturalistic observation method is used by the researchers to create new ideas. The researcher has the chance to observe the total situation and can find avenues that other people have not thought about

Limitations of naturalistic observation methods

  1. The naturalistic observation method facilitates observations on a micro-scale. It often lacks a representative sample and thus cannot help the researcher in making a generalization that relates to a broader society
  2. In this type of observation method, the researcher needs proper training to recognize aspects that are significant and worth attention.
  3. The observations through naturalistic observation method are not as reliable as the researcher wants them to be because it is not possible to control some variables. This is why other researchers cannot similarly repeat the study or research.
  4. Establishing the cause and effect relationship is not possible because the researcher cannot manipulate the variables

3) Participant observations

The participant observation method is often considered a variant of the naturalistic observation method because it has some similarities with it. The point of difference is that the researcher is not a distant observer anymore because he has joined the participants and become a part of their group. He does this to get a more in-depth and greater insight into their lives.

The researcher interacts with other members of the group freely, participates in their activities, studies their behavior and acquires a different way of life. Participant observation can be overt or covert.

  1. Overt –When the researcher asks permission from a group to mingle the observation method is known as overt. He does so by revealing his true purpose and real identity to the group with whom he wants to mingle
  2. Covert– When the researcher does not show either his true identity or real meaning to the group he wants to join then the observation is known as covert. He keeps both concealed and takes on a false role and identity to enter and mingle in the group. He generally acts as if he is a genuine member of that group

Advantages of Participant Observation methods

  1. It is easy to study and observe the natural behavior of the participants in the group by becoming a part of that group. The respondents generally do not know that they are being observed and behavior recorded, so they are not restrained or constrained in their activities and behavior
  2. The researcher becomes understanding by following the events of the respondents from such a close angle.
  3. During the participant observation method, the researcher develops a good and healthy relationship with the respondents. This rapport helps him to participate in all the activities and make observations with a detached mind
  4. The participant observation method helps the research to observe the actual behavior of the respondents and create an inclusive and intensive case study of that group
  5. Actual participation in the activities provides the researcher with an opportunity to converse freely with other members about various events, their meaning and their importance to them. He gains an in-depth knowledge which would not have been possible only by observation.

Limitations of Participant Observation methods

  1. It is challenging to work undercover. For example, the researcher will have only to observe and not record in front of others because he will not want to blow his cover. He relies heavily on his memory which can be faulty at times
  2. Sometimes the researcher becomes too involved in the intricacies of that group. There is a higher chance of losing his objectivity because his reporting will be selective and dependent on his memory
  3. The emotional participation of the researcher can result in bias interpretation. He will be influenced to some degree and a time might come when he would start supporting them unconditionally because their views and behavior will ultimately become his. This will result in a personal viewpoint of the scenario and not an objective or scientific report
  4. In the participant observation method, the researcher’s experience becomes intense because of his proximity to the group members but the range becomes limited
  5. The researcher misses many vital points because of his familiarity
  6. Proximity with the group will involve him in group factionalism, and he will have to take sides. He then loses his objectivity as an impartial observer with whom everyone is ready to cooperate.

Advantages of Observation Method

  • Provides direct access to research phenomena
  • By observing firsthand, the researcher can collect, check and record accurate data
  • Greater flexibility in terms of application
  • Generate a permanent record of phenomena and the researcher or others can refer with it later
  • The organization method is one of the simplest methods of data collection. It does not require too much technical knowledge
  • The observation method is one of the best ways to formulate a hypothesis. The researcher can observe and come to know about the activities, perceptions, likes and dislikes to form a theory on his subject
  • Observation method is one of the most common methods used in all sciences and is very easy to follow and accept
  • In some instances observation is the only available tool to collect essential data and information
  • The observation method does not require the willingness of the participant to record. The researcher can observe from a distance and record his findings

Disadvantages of Observation Method

  • Faces a severe disadvantage because it takes a longer time frame compared to other data collection methods
  • There is a chance of higher observer bias in the observation method
  • Several personal behaviors are not open for observation and this proves a limitation in case of observation method
  • There is a higher chance of the observer influencing the behavior of a sample group elements
  • Uncertainties of the event cannot determine the actual time when the event will take place, and this is why every occurrence that is open to observation cannot be observed
  • Many of the incidents are abstract like love, affection and the researcher can’t gain an exact and correct account of those
  • The social phenomena generalization made by observation are not considered reliable as it cannot be used for lab experiments
  • In some cases, it is seen that two persons observing the same phenomena come at different results and this can lead to faulty perceptions
  • Observation method is considered an expensive affair as it requires hard effort, plenty of time and high cost

Case Study Methodology in Management Research

Case studies are a popular research method in business area. Case studies aim to analyze specific issues within the boundaries of a specific environment, situation or organization.

case study involves an up-close, in-depth, and detailed examination of a particular case or cases, within a real-world context. For example, case studies in medicine may focus on an individual patient or ailment; case studies in business might cover a particular firm’s strategy or a broader market; similarly, case studies in politics can range from a narrow happening over time (e.g., a specific political campaign) to an enormous undertaking (e.g., a World War).

Generally, a case study can highlight nearly any individual, group, organization, event, belief system, or action. A case study does not necessarily have to be one observation (N=1), but may include many observations (one or multiple individuals and entities across multiple time periods, all within the same case study).

Case study research has been extensively practiced in both the social and natural sciences.

[title text=”Main contents” link_text=”See more from basic to advanced” link=”/category/methodology/qualitative-research/qualitative-methods/case-study/”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”5000″ cat=”233″ posts=”3″ offset=”19″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”6000″ cat=”233″ posts=”3″ offset=”16″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”7000″ cat=”233″ posts=”3″ offset=”13″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”8000″ cat=”233″ posts=”3″ offset=”10″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”5000″ cat=”233″ posts=”3″ offset=”7″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”6000″ cat=”233″ posts=”3″ offset=”4″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”7000″ cat=”233″ posts=”4″ offset=”0″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[row style=”small” class=”form-lien-he”]

[col span=”2″ span__sm=”12″]

[/col]
[col span=”4″ span__sm=”12″]

[button text=”Home” color=”secondary” style=”gloss” radius=”5″ depth=”2″ depth_hover=”3″ expand=”true” icon=”icon-star” icon_pos=”left” link=”https://phantran.net/”]

[/col]
[col span=”4″ span__sm=”12″]

[button text=”See basic to advanced” style=”gloss” radius=”5″ depth=”2″ depth_hover=”3″ expand=”true” icon=”icon-checkmark” icon_pos=”left” link=”/category/methodology/qualitative-research/qualitative-methods/case-study/”]

[/col]
[col span=”2″ span__sm=”12″]

[/col]

[/row]

Case Study Research Designs

As with other social science methods, no single research design dominates case study research. Case studies can use at least four types of designs. First, there may be a “no theory first” type of case study design, which is closely connected to Kathleen M. Eisenhardt’s methodological work. A second type of research design highlights the distinction between single- and multiple-case studies, following Robert K. Yin’s guidelines and extensive examples. A third design deals with a “social construction of reality”, represented by the work of Robert E. Stake. Finally, the design rationale for a case study may be to identify “anomalies”. A representative scholar of this design is Michael Burawoy. Each of these four designs may lead to different applications, and understanding their sometimes unique ontological and epistemological assumptions becomes important. However, although the designs can have substantial methodological differences, the designs also can be used in explicitly acknowledged combinations with each other.

While case studies can be intended to provide bounded explanations of single cases or phenomena, they are often intended to theoretical insights about the features of a broader population.

Case Selection and Structure

Case selection in case study research is generally intended to both find cases that are a representative sample and which have variations on the dimensions of theoretical interest. Using that is solely representative, such as an average or typical case is often not the richest in information. In clarifying lines of history and causation it is more useful to select subjects that offer an interesting, unusual or particularly revealing set of circumstances. A case selection that is based on representativeness will seldom be able to produce these kinds of insights.

While random selection of cases is a valid case selection strategy in large-N research, there is a consensus among scholars that it risks generating serious biases in small-N research. Cases should generally be chosen that have a high expected information gain. For example, outlier cases (those which are extreme, deviant or atypical) can reveal more information than the potentially representative case. A case may also be chosen because of the inherent interest of the case or the circumstances surrounding it. Alternatively it may be chosen because of researchers’ in-depth local knowledge; where researchers have this local knowledge they are in a position to “soak and poke” as Richard Fenno put it, and thereby to offer reasoned lines of explanation based on this rich knowledge of setting and circumstances.

Beyond decisions about case selection and the subject and object of the study, decisions need to be made about purpose, approach and process in the case study. Gary Thomas thus proposes a typology for the case study wherein purposes are first identified (evaluative or exploratory), then approaches are delineated (theory-testing, theory-building or illustrative), then processes are decided upon, with a principal choice being between whether the study is to be single or multiple, and choices also about whether the study is to be retrospective, snapshot or diachronic, and whether it is nested, parallel or sequential.

John Gerring and Jason Seawright list seven case selection strategies:

Typical cases are cases that exemplify a stable cross-case relationship. These cases are representative of the larger population of cases, and the purpose of the study is to look within the case rather than compare it with other cases.

  1. Diverse cases are cases that have variation on the relevant X and Y variables. Due to the range of variation on the relevant variables, these cases are representative of the full population of cases.
  2. Extreme cases are cases that have an extreme value on the X or Y variable relative to other cases.
  3. Deviant cases are cases that defy existing theories and common sense. They not only have extreme values on X or Y (like extreme cases), but defy existing knowledge about causal relations.
  4. Influential cases are cases that are central to a model or theory (for example, Nazi Germany in theories of fascism and the far-right).
  5. Most similar cases are cases that are similar on all the independent variables, except the one of interest to the researcher.
  6. Most different cases are cases that are different on all the independent variables, except the one of interest to the researcher.

For theoretical discovery, Jason Seawright recommends using deviant cases or extreme cases that have an extreme value on the X variable.

Arend Lijphart, and Harry Eckstein identified five types of case study research designs (depending on the research objectives), Alexander George and Andrew Bennett added a sixth category:

  1. In atheoretical (or configurative idiographic) case studies the goal is to describe a case very well, but not to contribute to a theory.
  2. In interpretative (or disciplined configurative) case studies the goal is to use established theories to explain a specific case.
  3. In hypothesis-generating (or heuristic) case studies the goal is to inductively identify new variables, hypotheses, causal mechanisms and causal paths.
  4. In theory testing case studies the goal is to assess the validity and scope conditions of existing theories.
  5. In plausibility probes the goal is to assess the plausibility of new hypotheses and theories.
  6. In building block studies of types or subtypes the goal is to identify common patterns across cases.

In terms of case selection, Gary King, Robert Keohane, and Sidney Verba warn against “selecting on the dependent variable”. They argue for example that researchers cannot make valid causal inferences about war outbreak by only looking at instances where war did happen (the researcher should also look at cases where war did not happen). Scholars of qualitative methods have disputed this claim, however. They argue that selecting on the dependent variable can be useful depending on the purposes of the research.

King, Keohane and Verba argue that there is no methodological problem in selecting on the explanatory variable, however. They do warn about multicollinearity (choosing two or more explanatory variables that perfectly correlate with each other).

Engineering students participate in a case study competition.

Uses and Limits

Uses

Case studies have commonly been seen as a fruitful way to come up hypotheses and generate theories. Case studies are also useful for formulating concepts, which are an important aspect of theory construction. The concepts used in qualitative research will tend to have higher conceptual validity than concepts used in quantitative research (due to conceptual stretching: the unintentional comparison of dissimilar cases). Case studies add descriptive richness. Case studies are suited to explain outcomes in individual cases, which is something that quantitative methods are less equipped to do. Through fine-gained knowledge and description, case studies can fully specify the causal mechanisms in a way that may be harder in a large-N study. In terms of identifying “causal mechanisms”, some scholars distinguish between “weak” and “strong chains”. Strong chains actively connect elements of the causal chain to produce an outcome whereas weak chains are just intervening variables.

Case studies of cases that defy existing theoretical expectations may contribute knowledge by delineating why the cases violate theoretical predictions and specifying the scope conditions of the theory Case studies are useful in situations of causal complexity where there is equifinality, complex interaction effects and path dependency Case studies can identify necessary and insufficient conditions, as well as complex combinations of necessary and sufficient conditions. They argue that case studies may also be useful in identifying the scope conditions of a theory: whether variables are sufficient or necessary to bring about an outcome.

Limitations

Designing Social Inquiry, an influential 1994 book written by Gary King, Robert Keohane, and Sidney Verba, primarily applies lessons from regression-oriented analysis to qualitative research, arguing that the same logics of causal inference can be used in both types of research. The authors’ recommendation is to increase the number of observations (a recommendation that Barbara Geddes also makes in Paradigms and Sand Castles), because few observations make it harder to estimate multiple causal effects, as well as increase the risk that there is measurement error, and that an event in a single case was caused by random error or unobservable factors. KKV sees process-tracing and qualitative research as being “unable to yield strong causal inference” due to the fact that qualitative scholars would struggle with determining which of many intervening variables truly links the independent variable with a dependent variable. The primary problem is that qualitative research lacks a sufficient number of observations to properly estimate the effects of an independent variable. They write that the number of observations could be increased through various means, but that would simultaneously lead to another problem: that the number of variables would increase and thus reduce degrees of freedom.

The purported “degrees of freedom” problem that KKV identify is widely considered flawed; while quantitative scholars try to aggregate variables to reduce the number of variables and thus increase the degrees of freedom, qualitative scholars intentionally want their variables to have many different attributes and complexity. For example, James Mahoney writes, “the Bayesian nature of process tracing explains why it is inappropriate to view qualitative research as suffering from a small-N problem and certain standard causal identification problems.” By using Bayesian probability, it may be possible to makes strong causal inferences from a small sliver of data.

A commonly described limit of case studies is that they do not lend themselves to generalizability. Some scholars, such as Bent Flyvbjerg, have pushed back on that notion.

As small-N research should not rely on random sampling, scholars must be careful in avoiding selection bias when picking suitable cases. A common criticism of qualitative scholarship is that cases are chosen because they are consistent with the scholar’s preconceived notions, resulting in biased research.

Alexander George and Andrew Bennett note that a common problem in case study research is that of reconciling conflicting interpretations of the same data.

Overview of Action Research Methodology

What is Action Research?

Definition

Action research is known by many other names, including participatory research, collaborative inquiry, emancipatory research, action learning, and contextual action research, but all are variations on a theme. Put simply, action research is “learning by doing” – a group of people identify a problem, do something to resolve it, see how successful their efforts were, and if not satisfied, try again.  While this is the essence of the approach, there are other key attributes of action research that differentiate it from common problem-solving activities that we all engage in every day.  A more succinct definition is,

“Action research…aims to contribute both to the practical concerns of people in an immediate problematic situation and to further the goals of social science simultaneously.  Thus, there is a dual commitment in action research to study a system and concurrently to collaborate with members of the system in changing it in what is together regarded as a desirable direction.  Accomplishing this twin goal requires the active collaboration of researcher and client, and thus it stresses the importance of co-learning as a primary aspect of the research process.”

What separates this type of research from general professional practices, consulting, or daily problem-solving is the emphasis on scientific study, which is to say the researcher studies the problem systematically and ensures the intervention is informed by theoretical considerations.  Much of the researcher’s time is spent on refining the methodological tools to suit the exigencies of the situation, and on collecting, analyzing, and presenting data on an ongoing, cyclical basis.

Several attributes separate action research from other types of research.  Primary is its focus on turning the people involved into researchers, too – people learn best, and more willingly apply what they have learned, when they do it themselves.  It also has a social dimension – the research takes place in real-world situations, and aims to solve real problems.  Finally, the initiating researcher, unlike in other disciplines, makes no attempt to remain objective, but openly acknowledges their bias to the other participants.

The Action Research Process

Stephen Kemmis has developed a simple model of the cyclical nature of the typical action research process (Figure 1).  Each cycle has four steps: plan, act, observe, reflect.

Figure 1 Simple Action Research Model

(from MacIsaac, 1995)

Gerald Susman (1983) gives a somewhat more elaborate listing.  He distinguishes five phases to be conducted within each research cycle (Figure 2).  Initially, a problem is identified and data is collected for a more detailed diagnosis.  This is followed by a collective postulation of several possible solutions, from which a single plan of action emerges and is implemented.  Data on the results of the intervention are collected and analyzed, and the findings are interpreted in light of how successful the action has been.  At this point, the problem is re-assessed and the process begins another cycle.  This process continues until the problem is resolved.

Figure 2 Detailed Action Research Model

(adapted from Susman 1983)

Principles of Action Research

What gives action research its unique flavour is the set of principles that guide the research.  Winter (1989) provides a comprehensive overview of six key principles.

1) Reflexive critique

An account of a situation, such as notes, transcripts or official documents, will make implicit claims to be authoritative, i.e., it implies that it is factual and true.  Truth in a social setting, however, is relative to the teller.  The principle of reflective critique ensures people reflect on issues and processes and make explicit the interpretations, biases, assumptions and concerns upon which judgments are made.  In this way, practical accounts can give rise to theoretical considerations.

2) Dialectical critique

Reality, particularly social reality, is consensually validated, which is to say it is shared through language.  Phenomena are conceptualized in dialogue, therefore a dialectical critique is required to understand the set of relationships both between the phenomenon and its context, and between the elements constituting the phenomenon.  The key elements to focus attention on are those constituent elements that are unstable, or in opposition to one another.  These are the ones that are most likely to create changes.

3) Collaborative Resource

Participants in an action research project are co-researchers.  The principle of collaborative resource presupposes that each person’s ideas are equally significant as potential resources for creating interpretive categories of analysis, negotiated among the participants.  It strives to avoid the skewing of credibility stemming from the prior status of an idea-holder.  It especially makes possible the insights gleaned from noting the contradictions both between many viewpoints and within a single viewpoint

4) Risk

The change process potentially threatens all previously established ways of doing things, thus creating psychic fears among the practitioners.  One of the more prominent fears comes from the risk to ego stemming from open discussion of one’s interpretations, ideas, and judgments.  Initiators of action research will use this principle to allay others’ fears and invite participation by pointing out that they, too, will be subject to the same process, and that whatever the outcome, learning will take place.

5) Plural Structure

The nature of the research embodies a multiplicity of views, commentaries and critiques, leading to multiple possible actions and interpretations.  This plural structure of inquiry requires a plural text for reporting.  This means that there will be many accounts made explicit, with commentaries on their contradictions, and a range of options for action presented.  A report, therefore, acts as a support for ongoing discussion among collaborators, rather than a final conclusion of fact.

6) Theory, Practice, Transformation

For action researchers, theory informs practice, practice refines theory, in a continuous transformation.  In any setting, people’s actions are based on implicitly held assumptions, theories and hypotheses, and with every observed result, theoretical knowledge is enhanced.  The two are intertwined aspects of a single change process.  It is up to the researchers to make explicit the theoretical justifications for the actions, and to question the bases of those justifications.  The ensuing practical applications that follow are subjected to further analysis, in a transformative cycle that continuously alternates emphasis between theory and practice.

When is Action Research used?

Action research is used in real situations, rather than in contrived, experimental studies, since its primary focus is on solving real problems.  It can, however, be used by social scientists for preliminary or pilot research, especially when the situation is too ambiguous to frame a precise research question.  Mostly, though, in accordance with its principles, it is chosen when circumstances require flexibility, the involvement of the people in the research, or change must take place quickly or holistically.

It is often the case that those who apply this approach are practitioners who wish to improve understanding of their practice, social change activists trying to mount an action campaign, or, more likely, academics who have been invited into an organization (or other domain) by decision-makers aware of a problem requiring action research, but lacking the requisite methodological knowledge to deal with it.

Situating Action Research in a Research Paradigm

Positivist Paradigm

The main research paradigm for the past several centuries has been that of Logical Positivism.  This paradigm is based on a number of principles, including: a belief in an objective reality, knowledge of which is only gained from sense data that can be directly experienced and verified between independent observers.  Phenomena are subject to natural laws that humans discover in a logical manner through empirical testing, using inductive and deductive hypotheses derived from a body of scientific theory. Its methods rely heavily on quantitative measures, with relationships among variables commonly shown by mathematical means.  Positivism, used in scientific and applied research, has been considered by many to be the antithesis of the principles of action research (Susman and Evered 1978, Winter 1989).

Interpretive Paradigm

Over the last half century, a new research paradigm has emerged in the social sciences to break out of the constraints imposed by positivism.  With its emphasis on the relationship between socially-engendered concept formation and language, it can be referred to as the Interpretive paradigm.  Containing such qualitative methodological approaches as phenomenology, ethnography, and hermeneutics, it is characterized by a belief in a socially constructed, subjectively-based reality, one that is influenced by culture and history.  Nonetheless it still retains the ideals of researcher objectivity, and researcher as passive collector and expert interpreter of data.

Paradigm of Praxis

Though sharing a number of perspectives with the interpretive paradigm, and making considerable use of its related qualitative methodologies, there are some researchers who feel that neither it nor the positivist paradigms are sufficient epistemological structures under which to place action research (Lather 1986, Morley 1991).  Rather, a paradigm of Praxis is seen as where the main affinities lie.  Praxis, a term used by Aristotle, is the art of acting upon the conditions one faces in order to change them.  It deals with the disciplines and activities predominant in the ethical and political lives of people. Aristotle contrasted this with Theoria – those sciences and activities that are concerned with knowing for its own sake.  Both are equally needed he thought.  That knowledge is derived from practice, and practice informed by knowledge, in an ongoing process, is a cornerstone of action research.  Action researchers also reject the notion of researcher neutrality, understanding that the most active researcher is often one who has most at stake in resolving a problematic situation.

Evolution of Action Research

Origins in late 1940s

Kurt Lewin is generally considered the ‘father’ of action research.  A German social and experimental psychologist, and one of the founders of the Gestalt school, he was concerned with social problems, and focused on participative group processes for addressing conflict, crises, and change, generally within organizations.  Initially, he was associated with the Center for Group Dynamics at MIT in Boston, but soon went on to establish his own National Training Laboratories.

Lewin first coined the term ‘action research’ in his 1946 paper “Action Research and Minority Problems”,[v] characterizing Action Research as “a comparative research on the conditions and effects of various forms of social action and research leading to social action”, using a process of  “a spiral of steps, each of which is composed of a circle of planning, action, and fact-finding about the result of the action”.

Eric Trist, another major contributor to the field from that immediate post-war era, was a social psychiatrist whose group at the Tavistock Institute of Human Relations in London engaged in applied social research, initially for the civil repatriation of German prisoners of war. He and his colleagues tended to focus more on large-scale, multi-organizational problems.

Both Lewin and Trist applied their research to systemic change in and between organizations.  They emphasized direct professional – client collaboration and affirmed the role of group relations as basis for problem-solving.  Both were avid proponents of the principle that decisions are best implemented by those who help make them.

Current Types of Action Research

By the mid-1970s, the field had evolved, revealing 4 main ‘streams’ that had emerged: traditional, contextural (action learning), radical, and educational action research.

Traditional Action Research

Traditional Action Research stemmed from Lewin’s work within organizations and encompasses the concepts and practices of Field Theory, Group Dynamics, T-Groups, and the Clinical Model.  The growing importance of labour-management relations led to the application of action research in the areas of Organization Development, Quality of Working Life (QWL), Socio-technical systems (e.g., Information Systems), and Organizational Democracy.  This traditional approach tends toward the conservative, generally maintaining the status quo with regards to organizational power structures.

Contextural Action Research (Action Learning)

Contextural Action Research, also sometimes referred to as Action Learning, is an approach derived from Trist’s work on relations between organizations.  It is contextural, insofar as it entails reconstituting the structural relations among actors in a social environment; domain-based, in that it tries to involve all affected parties and stakeholders; holographic, as each participant understands the working of the whole; and it stresses that participants act as project designers and co-researchers.  The concept of organizational ecology, and the use of search conferences come out of contextural action research, which is more of a liberal philosophy, with social transformation occurring by consensus and normative incrementalism.

Radical Action Research

The Radical stream, which has its roots in Marxian ‘dialectical materialism’ and the praxis orientations of Antonio Gramsci, has a strong focus on emancipation and the overcoming of power imbalances.  Participatory Action Research, often found in liberationist movements and international development circles, and Feminist Action Research both strive for social transformation via an advocacy process to strengthen peripheral groups in society.

Educational Action Research

A fourth stream, that of Educational Action Research, has its foundations in the writings of John Dewey, the great American educational philosopher of the 1920s and 30s, who believed that professional educators should become involved in community problem-solving.  Its practitioners, not surprisingly, operate mainly out of educational institutions, and focus on development of curriculum, professional development, and applying learning in a social context.  It is often the case that university-based action researchers work with primary and secondary school teachers and students on community projects.

[title text=”Main contents” link_text=”See more from basic to advanced” link=”/category/methodology/qualitative-research/qualitative-methods/action-research/”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”5000″ cat=”230″ posts=”3″ offset=”67″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”6000″ cat=”230″ posts=”3″ offset=”64″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”7000″ cat=”230″ posts=”6″ offset=”58″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”8000″ cat=”230″ posts=”6″ offset=”52″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”5000″ cat=”230″ posts=”6″ offset=”46″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”6000″ cat=”230″ posts=”6″ offset=”40″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”7000″ cat=”230″ posts=”6″ offset=”34″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”8000″ cat=”230″ posts=”6″ offset=”28″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[row style=”small” class=”form-lien-he”]

[col span=”2″ span__sm=”12″]

[/col]
[col span=”4″ span__sm=”12″]

[button text=”Home” color=”secondary” style=”gloss” radius=”5″ depth=”2″ depth_hover=”3″ expand=”true” icon=”icon-star” icon_pos=”left” link=”https://phantran.net/”]

[/col]
[col span=”4″ span__sm=”12″]

[button text=”See basic to advanced” style=”gloss” radius=”5″ depth=”2″ depth_hover=”3″ expand=”true” icon=”icon-checkmark” icon_pos=”left” link=”/category/methodology/qualitative-research/qualitative-methods/action-research/”]

[/col]
[col span=”2″ span__sm=”12″]

[/col]

[/row]

Source: O’Brien, R. (2001). Um exame da abordagem metodológica da pesquisa ação [An Overview of the Methodological Approach of Action Research]. In  Roberto Richardson (Ed.), Teoria e Prática da Pesquisa Ação [Theory and Practice of Action Research]. João Pessoa, Brazil: Universidade Federal da Paraíba. (English version) Available: http://www.web.ca/~robrien/papers/arfinal.html (Accessed 20/1/2002)

Content Analysis Method and Examples

Content analysis is a research tool used to determine the presence of certain words, themes, or concepts within some given qualitative data (i.e. text). Using content analysis, researchers can quantify and analyze the presence, meanings and relationships of such certain words, themes, or concepts. As an example, researchers can evaluate language used within a news article to search for bias or partiality. Researchers can then make inferences about the messages within the texts, the writer(s), the audience, and even the culture and time of surrounding the text.

Sources of data could be from interviews, open-ended questions, field research notes, conversations, or literally any occurrence of communicative language (such as books, essays, discussions, newspaper headlines, speeches, media, historical documents). A single study may analyze various forms of text in its analysis. To analyze the text using content analysis, the text must be coded, or broken down, into manageable code categories for analysis (i.e. “codes”). Once the text is coded into code categories, the codes can then be further categorized into “code categories” to summarize data even further.

[title text=”Main contents” link_text=”See more from basic to advanced” link=”/category/methodology/qualitative-research/qualitative-methods/qualitative-contents-analysis/”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”5000″ cat=”231″ posts=”3″ offset=”30″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”6000″ cat=”231″ posts=”3″ offset=”27″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”7000″ cat=”231″ posts=”6″ offset=”21″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”8000″ cat=”231″ posts=”6″ offset=”15″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”5000″ cat=”231″ posts=”6″ offset=”9″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”6000″ cat=”231″ posts=”6″ offset=”3″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”7000″ cat=”231″ posts=”3″ offset=”0″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[row style=”small” class=”form-lien-he”]

[col span=”2″ span__sm=”12″]

[/col]
[col span=”4″ span__sm=”12″]

[button text=”Home” color=”secondary” style=”gloss” radius=”5″ depth=”2″ depth_hover=”3″ expand=”true” icon=”icon-star” icon_pos=”left” link=”https://phantran.net/”]

[/col]
[col span=”4″ span__sm=”12″]

[button text=”See basic to advanced” style=”gloss” radius=”5″ depth=”2″ depth_hover=”3″ expand=”true” icon=”icon-checkmark” icon_pos=”left” link=”/category/methodology/qualitative-research/qualitative-methods/qualitative-contents-analysis/”]

[/col]
[col span=”2″ span__sm=”12″]

[/col]

[/row]

Quantitative content analysis highlights frequency counts and objective analysis of these coded frequencies. Additionally, quantitative content analysis begins with a framed hypothesis with coding decided on before the analysis begins. These coding categories are strictly relevant to the researcher’s hypothesis. Quantitative analysis also takes a deductive approach.

Siegfried Kracauer provides a critique of quantitative analysis, asserting that it oversimplifies complex communications in order to be more reliable. On the other hand, qualitative analysis deals with the intricacies of latent interpretations, whereas quantitative has a focus on manifest meanings. He also acknowledges an “overlap” of qualitative and quantitative content analysis. Patterns are looked at more closely in qualitative analysis, and based on the latent meanings that the researcher may find, the course of the research could be changed. It is inductive and begins with open research questions, as opposed to a hypothesis.

Three different definition of content analysis are provided below.

  • Definition 1: “Any technique for making inferences by systematically and objectively identifying special characteristics of messages.” (from Holsti, 1968)
  • Definition 2: “An interpretive and naturalistic approach. It is both observational and narrative in nature and relies less on the experimental elements normally associated with scientific research (reliability, validity and generalizability) (from Ethnography, Observational Research, and Narrative Inquiry, 1994-2012).
  • Definition 3: “A research technique for the objective, systematic and quantitative description of the manifest content of communication.” (from Berelson, 1952)

Uses of Content Analysis

  • Identify the intentions, focus or communication trends of an individual, group or institution
  • Describe attitudinal and behavioral responses to communications
  • Determine psychological or emotional state of persons or groups
  • Reveal international differences in communication content
  • Reveal patterns in communication content
  • Pre-test and improve an intervention or survey prior to launch
  • Analyze focus group interviews and open-ended questions to complement quantitative data

Types of Content Analysis

There are two general types of content analysis: conceptual analysis and relational analysis. Conceptual analysis determines the existence and frequency of concepts in a text. Relational analysis develops the conceptual analysis further by examining the relationships among concepts in a text. Each type of analysis may lead to different results, conclusions, interpretations and meanings.

Conceptual Analysis

Typically people think of conceptual analysis when they think of content analysis. In conceptual analysis, a concept is chosen for examination and the analysis involves quantifying and counting its presence. The main goal is to examine the occurrence of selected terms in the data. Terms may be explicit or implicit. Explicit terms are easy to identify. Coding of implicit terms is more complicated: you need to decide the level of implication and base judgments on subjectivity (issue for reliability and validity). Therefore, coding of implicit terms involves using a dictionary or contextual translation rules or both.

To begin a conceptual content analysis, first identify the research question and choose a sample or samples for analysis. Next, the text must be coded into manageable content categories. This is basically a process of selective reduction. By reducing the text to categories, the researcher can focus on and code for specific words or patterns that inform the research question.

General steps for conducting a conceptual content analysis:

1. Decide the level of analysis: word, word sense, phrase, sentence, themes

2. Decide how many concepts to code for: develop pre-defined or interactive set of categories or concepts. Decide either: A. to allow flexibility to add categories through the coding process, or B. to stick with the pre-defined set of categories.

  • Option A allows for the introduction and analysis of new and important material that could have significant implications to one’s research question.
  • Option B allows the researcher to stay focused and examine the data for specific concepts.

3. Decide whether to code for existence or frequency of a concept. The decision changes the coding process.

  • When coding for the existence of a concept, the researcher would count a concept only once if it appeared at least once in the data and no matter how many times it appeared.
  • When coding for the frequency of a concept, the researcher would count the number of times a concept appears in a text.

4. Decide on how you will distinguish among concepts:

  • Should text be coded exactly as they appear or coded as the same when they appear in different forms? For example, “dangerous” vs. “dangerousness”. The point here is to create coding rules so that these word segments are transparently categorized in a logical fashion. The rules could make all of these word segments fall into the same category, or perhaps the rules can be formulated so that the researcher can distinguish these word segments into separate codes.
  • What level of implication is to be allowed? Words that imply the concept or words that explicitly state the concept? For example, “dangerous” vs. “the person is scary” vs. “that person could cause harm to me”. These word segments may not merit separate categories, due the implicit meaning of “dangerous”.

5. Develop rules for coding your texts. After decisions of steps 1-4 are complete, a researcher can begin developing rules for translation of text into codes. This will keep the coding process organized and consistent. The researcher can code for exactly what he/she wants to code. Validity of the coding process is ensured when the researcher is consistent and coherent in their codes, meaning that they follow their translation rules. In content analysis, obeying by the translation rules is equivalent to validity.

6. Decide what to do with irrelevant information: should this be ignored (e.g. common English words like “the” and “and”), or used to reexamine the coding scheme in the case that it would add to the outcome of coding?

7. Code the text: This can be done by hand or by using software. By using software, researchers can input categories and have coding done automatically, quickly and efficiently, by the software program. When coding is done by hand, a researcher can recognize error far more easily (e.g. typos, misspelling). If using computer coding, text could be cleaned of errors to include all available data. This decision of hand vs. computer coding is most relevant for implicit information where category preparation is essential for accurate coding.

8. Analyze your results: Draw conclusions and generalizations where possible. Determine what to do with irrelevant, unwanted or unused text: reexamine, ignore, or reassess the coding scheme. Interpret results carefully as conceptual content analysis can only quantify the information. Typically, general trends and patterns can be identified.

Relational Analysis

Relational analysis begins like conceptual analysis, where a concept is chosen for examination. However, the analysis involves exploring the relationships between concepts. Individual concepts are viewed as having no inherent meaning and rather the meaning is a product of the relationships among concepts.

To begin a relational content analysis, first identify a research question and choose a sample or samples for analysis. The research question must be focused so the concept types are not open to interpretation and can be summarized. Next, select text for analysis. Select text for analysis carefully by balancing having enough information for a thorough analysis so results are not limited with having information that is too extensive so that the coding process becomes too arduous and heavy to supply meaningful and worthwhile results.

There are three subcategories of relational analysis to choose from prior to going on to the general steps.

  1. Affect extraction: an emotional evaluation of concepts explicit in a text. A challenge to this method is that emotions can vary across time, populations, and space. However, it could be effective at capturing the emotional and psychological state of the speaker or writer of the text.
  2. Proximity analysis: an evaluation of the co-occurrence of explicit concepts in the text. Text is defined as a string of words called a “window” that is scanned for the co-occurrence of concepts. The result is the creation of a “concept matrix”, or a group of interrelated co-occurring concepts that would suggest an overall meaning.
  3. Cognitive mapping: a visualization technique for either affect extraction or proximity analysis. Cognitive mapping attempts to create a model of the overall meaning of the text such as a graphic map that represents the relationships between concepts.

General steps for conducting a relational content analysis:

1. Determine the type of analysis: Once the sample has been selected, the researcher needs to determine what types of relationships to examine and the level of analysis: word, word sense, phrase, sentence, themes.
2. Reduce the text to categories and code for words or patterns. A researcher can code for existence of meanings or words.
3. Explore the relationship between concepts: once the words are coded, the text can be analyzed for the following:

  • Strength of relationship: degree to which two or more concepts are related.
  • Sign of relationship: are concepts positively or negatively related to each other?
  • Direction of relationship: the types of relationship that categories exhibit. For example, “X implies Y” or “X occurs before Y” or “if X then Y” or if X is the primary motivator of Y.

4. Code the relationships: a difference between conceptual and relational analysis is that the statements or relationships between concepts are coded.
5. Perform statistical analyses: explore differences or look for relationships among the identified variables during coding.
6. Map out representations: such as decision mapping and mental models.

Reliability and Validity

Reliability: Because of the human nature of researchers, coding errors can never be eliminated but only minimized. Generally, 80% is an acceptable margin for reliability. Three criteria comprise the reliability of a content analysis:

  1. Stability: the tendency for coders to consistently re-code the same data in the same way over a period of time.
  2. Reproducibility: tendency for a group of coders to classify categories membership in the same way.
  3. Accuracy: extent to which the classification of text corresponds to a standard or norm statistically.

Validity: Three criteria comprise the validity of a content analysis:

  1. Closeness of categories: this can be achieved by utilizing multiple classifiers to arrive at an agreed upon definition of each specific category. Using multiple classifiers, a concept category that may be an explicit variable can be broadened to include synonyms or implicit variables.
  2. Conclusions: What level of implication is allowable? Do conclusions correctly follow the data? Are results explainable by other phenomena? This becomes especially problematic when using computer software for analysis and distinguishing between synonyms. For example, the word “mine,” variously denotes a personal pronoun, an explosive device, and a deep hole in the ground from which ore is extracted. Software can obtain an accurate count of that word’s occurrence and frequency, but not be able to produce an accurate accounting of the meaning inherent in each particular usage. This problem could throw off one’s results and make any conclusion invalid.
  3. Generalizability of the results to a theory: dependent on the clear definitions of concept categories, how they are determined and how reliable they are at measuring the idea one is seeking to measure. Generalizability parallels reliability as much of it depends on the three criteria for reliability.

Advantages of Content Analysis

  • Directly examines communication using text
  • Allows for both qualitative and quantitative analysis
  • Provides valuable historical and cultural insights over time
  • Allows a closeness to data
  • Coded form of the text can be statistically analyzed
  • Unobtrusive means of analyzing interactions
  • Provides insight into complex models of human thought and language use
  • When done well, is considered a relatively “exact” research method
  • Content analysis is a readily-understood and an inexpensive research method
  • A more powerful tool when combined with other research methods such as interviews, observation, and use of archival records. It is very useful for analyzing historical material, especially for documenting trends over time.

Disadvantages of Content Analysis

  • Can be extremely time consuming
  • Is subject to increased error, particularly when relational analysis is used to attain a higher level of interpretation
  • Is often devoid of theoretical base, or attempts too liberally to draw meaningful inferences about the relationships and impacts implied in a study
  • Is inherently reductive, particularly when dealing with complex texts
  • Tends too often to simply consist of word counts
  • Often disregards the context that produced the text, as well as the state of things after the text is produced
  • Can be difficult to automate or computerize

How phenomenology can help us learn from the experiences of others

What is phenomenology?

In simple terms, phenomenology can be defined as an approach to research that seeks to describe the essence of a phenomenon by exploring it from the perspective of those who have experienced it [6]. The goal of phenomenology is to describe the meaning of this experience—both in terms of what was experienced and how it was experienced [6]. There are different kinds of phenomenology, each rooted in different ways of conceiving of the what and how of human experience. In other words, each approach of phenomenology is rooted in a different school of philosophy. To choose a phenomenological research methodology requires the scholar to reflect on the philosophy they embrace. Given that there are many different philosophies that a scientist can embrace, it is not surprising that there is broad set of phenomenological traditions that a researcher can draw from. In this manuscript, we highlight the transcendental and the hermeneutic approaches to phenomenology, but a broader phenomenological landscape exists. For instance, the Encyclopedia of Phenomenology, published in 1997, features articles on seven different types of phenomenology [7]. More contemporary traditions have also been developed that bridge the transcendental/hermeneutic divide. Several of these traditions are detailed in Tab. 1 [8,9,10].

Table 1 Description of three contemporary approaches to phenomenology

Phenomenological approach Description Key figures
Lifeworld research A blended approach that explores how daily experiences manifest in the lifeworld of individuals through consideration of selfhood, sociality, embodiment, temporality, and spatiality [8] Peter Ashworth, Karin Dahlberg
Post-intentional phenomenology A blended approach that treats the phenomenon as the unit of analysis but asserts that phenomena are multiple, partial, contextual, and in flux; being simultaneously produced and producing [9] Mark Vagle
Interpretive phenomenological analysis (IPA) A blended approach that aims to provide detailed examination of the lived experience of a phenomenon through participant’s personal experiences and personal perception of objects and events. In contrast to other approaches, in IPA the researcher performs an active role in the interpretive process [10] Jonathan Smith

To understand any of these approaches to phenomenology, it is useful to remember that most approaches hold a similar definition of phenomenology’s object of study. Phenomenology is commonly described as the study of phenomena as they manifest in our experience, of the way we perceive and understand phenomena, and of the meaning phenomena have in our subjective experience [11]. More simply stated, phenomenology is the study of an individual’s lived experience of the world [12]. By examining an experience as it is subjectively lived, new meanings and appreciations can be developed to inform, or even re-orient, how we understand that experience [13].

From this shared understanding, we now address how transcendental (descriptive) phenomenology and hermeneutic (interpretive) phenomenology approach this study in different ways. These approaches are summarized in Tab. 2.

Table 2 Comparison of transcendental and hermeneutic phenomenology

Transcendental (descriptive) phenomenology Hermeneutic
(interpretive) phenomenology
Philosophical origins Husserl Heidegger
Gadamer
Ontological assumptions Reality is internal to the knower; what appears in their consciousness Lived experience is an interpretive process situated in an individual’s lifeworld
Epistemological assumptions Observer must separate him/herself from the world including his/her own physical being to reach the state of the transcendental I; bias-free; understands phenomena by descriptive means Observer is part of the world and not bias free; understands phenomenon by interpretive means
Researcher role in data collection Bracket researcher subjectivity during data collection and analysis Reflects on essential themes of participant experience with the phenomenon while simultaneously reflection on own experience
Researcher role in data analysis/writing Consider phenomena from different perspectives, identify units of meaning and cluster into themes to form textural description (the what of the phenomenon). Use imaginative variation to create structural (the how) description. Combine these descriptions to form the essence of the phenomenon Iterative cycles of capturing and writing reflections towards a robust and nuanced analysis; consider how the data (or parts) contributed to evolving understanding of the phenomena (whole)
Methodological texts Polkinghorne [28]
Moustakas [18]
Giorgi [27]
Van Manen [12]
Examples Takavol [32] Bynum [2]

Transcendental phenomenology

Phenomenology originates in philosophical traditions that evolved over centuries; however, most historians credit Edmund Husserl for defining phenomenology in the early 20th century [14]. Understanding some of Husserl’s academic history can provide insight into his transcendental approach to phenomenology. Husserl’s initial work focused on mathematics as the object of study [15], but then moved to examine other phenomena. Husserl’s approach to philosophy sought to equally value both objective and subjective experiences, with his body of work ‘culminating in his interest in “pure phenomenology” or working to find a universal foundation of philosophy and science [13].’ Husserl rejected positivism’s absolute focus on objective observations of external reality, and instead argued that phenomena as perceived by the individual’s consciousness should be the object of scientific study. Thus, Husserl contended that no assumptions should inform phenomenology’s inquiry; no philosophical or scientific theory, no deductive logic procedures, and no other empirical science or psychological speculations should inform the inquiry. Instead, the focus should be on what is given directly to an individual’s intuition [16]. As Staiti recently argued, this attitude towards phenomenology is akin to that of ‘a natural scientist who has just discovered a previously unknown dimension of reality [17].’ This shift in focus requires the researcher to return ‘to the self to discover the nature and meaning of things [18].’ As Husserl asserted: ‘Ultimately, all genuine and, in particular, all scientific knowledge, rests on inner evidence [19].’ Inner evidence—that is, what appears in consciousness—is where a phenomenon is to be studied. What this means for Husserl is that subjective and objective knowledge are intimately intertwined. To understand the reality of a phenomenon is to understand the phenomenon as it is lived by a person. This lived experience is, for Husserl, a dimension of being that had yet to be discovered [17]. For Husserl, phenomenology was rooted in an epistemological attitude; for him, the critical question of a phenomenological investigation was ‘What is it for an individual to know or to be conscious of a phenomenon [20]?’ In Husserl’s conception of phenomenology, any experienced phenomenon could be the object of study thereby pushing analysis beyond mere sensory perception (i. e. what I see, hear, touch) to experiences of thought, memory, imagination, or emotion [21].

Husserl contended that a lived experience of a phenomenon had features that were commonly perceived by individuals who had experienced the phenomenon. These commonly perceived features—or universal essences—can be identified to develop a generalizable description. The essences of a phenomenon, according to Husserl, represented the true nature of that phenomenon. The challenge facing the researcher engaging in Husserl’s phenomenology, then, is:

To describe things in themselves, to permit what is before one to enter consciousness and be understood in its meanings and essences in the light of intuition and self-reflection. The process involves a blending of what is really present with what is imagined as present from the vantage point of possible meanings; thus, a unity of the real and the ideal [18].

In other words, the challenge is to engage in the study of a person’s lived experience of a phenomenon that highlights the universal essences of that phenomenon [22]. This requires the researcher to suspend his/her own attitudes, beliefs, and suppositions in order to focus on the participants’ experience of the phenomenon and identify the essences of the phenomenon. One of Husserl’s great contributions to philosophy and science is the method he developed that enables researchers ‘to suspend the natural attitude as well as the naïve understanding of what we call the human mind and to disclose the realm of transcendental subjectivity as a new field of inquiry [17].’

In Husserl’s’ transcendental phenomenology (also sometimes referred to as the descriptive approach), the researcher’s goal is to achieve transcendental subjectivity—a state wherein ‘the impact of the researcher on the inquiry is constantly assessed and biases and preconceptions neutralized, so that they do not influence the object of study [22].’ The researcher is to stand apart, and not allow his/her subjectivity to inform the descriptions offered by the participants. This lived dimension of experience is best approached by the researcher who can achieve the state of the transcendental I—a state wherein the objective researcher moves from the participants’ descriptions of facts of the lived experience, to universal essences of the phenomenon at which point consciousness itself could be grasped [23]. In the state of the transcendental I, the researcher is able to access the participants’ experience of the phenomenon pre-reflectively—that is ‘without resorting to categorization on conceptualization, and quite often includes what is taken for granted or those things that are common sense [13].’ The transcendental I brings no definitions, expectations, assumption or hypotheses to the study; instead, in this state, the researcher assumes the position of a tabula rasa, a blank slate, that uses participants’ experiences to develop an understanding of the essence of a phenomenon.

This state is achieved via a series of reductions. The first reduction, referred to as the transcendental stage, requires transcendence from the natural attitude of everyday life through epoche, also called the process of bracketing. This is the process through which the researchers set aside—or bracket off as one would in a mathematical equation—previous understandings, past knowledge, and assumptions about the phenomenon of interest. The previous understandings that must be set aside include a wide range of sources including: scientific theories, knowledge, or explanation; truth or falsity of claims made by participants; and personal views and experiences of the researcher [24]. In the second phase, transcendental-phenomenological reduction, each participant’s experience is considered individually and a complete description of the phenomenon’s meanings and essences is constructed [18]. Next is reduction via imaginative variation wherein all the participants’ descriptions of conscious experience are distilled to a unified synthesis of essences through the process of free variation [25]. This process relies on intuition and requires imagining multiple variations of the phenomenon in order to arrive at the essences of the phenomenon [25]. These essences become the foundation for all knowledge about the phenomenon.

The specific processes followed to realize these reductions vary across researchers engaging in transcendental phenomenology. One commonly used transcendental phenomenological method is that of psychologist Clark Moustakas, and other approaches include the works of: Colaizzi [26], Giorgi [27], and Polkinghorne [28]. Regardless of the approach used, to engage rigorously in transcendental phenomenology, the researcher must be vigilant in his/her bracketing work so that the researcher’s individual subjectivity does not bias data analysis and interpretations. This is the challenge of reaching the state of the transcendental I where the researcher’s own interpretations, perceptions, categories, etc. do not influence the processes of reduction. It is important to note that modern philosophers continue to wrestle with Husserl’s notions of bracketing. If bracketing is successfully achieved, the researcher sets aside the world and the entirety of its content—including the researcher’s physical body [17]. While dedication to this bracketing is challenging to maintain, Husserl asserts that it is necessary. Suspending reliance on and foundations in physical reality is the only way to abandon our human experiences in such a way as to find the transcendent I. Researchers might borrow [29] practices from other qualitative research methods to achieve this goal. For instance, a study could be designed to have multiple researchers triangulate [30] their reductions to confirm appropriate bracketing was maintained. Alternatively, a study could involve validation of data [18] via member checking [31] to ensure that the identified essences resonated with the participants’ experiences.

Husserl’s transcendental phenomenology has been employed by HPE researchers. For example, in 2012, Tavakol et al. studied medical students’ understanding of empathy by engaging in transcendental phenomenological research [32]. The authors note that medial students’ loss of empathy as they transition from pre-clinical to clinical training is well documented in the medical literature [33], and has been found to negatively impact patients and the quality of healthcare provided [34]. Tavakol et al. [32] used a descriptive phenomenological approach (i. e. using the methodology of Colaizzi and Giorgi) to report on the phenomenon of empathy as experienced by medical students during the course of their training. The authors identified two key factors impacting empathic ability: innate capacity for empathy and barriers to displaying empathy [32].

Hermeneutic phenomenology

Hermeneutic phenomenology, also known as interpretive phenomenology, originates from the work of Martin Heidegger. Heidegger began his career in theology, but then moved into academia as a student of philosophy. While Heidegger’s philosophical inquiry began in alignment with Husserl’s work, he later challenged several key aspects of Husserl’s transcendental phenomenology. A foundational break from his predecessor was the focus of phenomenological inquiry. While Husserl was interested in the nature of knowledge (i. e., an epistemological focus), Heidegger was interested in the nature of being and temporality (i. e., an ontological focus) [21]. With this focus on human experience and how it is lived, hermeneutic phenomenology moves away from Husserl’s focus on ‘acts of attending, perceiving, recalling and thinking about the world [13]’ and on human beings as knowers of phenomenon. In contrast, Heidegger is interested in human beings as actors in the world and so focuses on the relationship between an individual and his/her lifeworld. Heidegger’s term lifeworld referred to the idea that ‘individuals’ realities are invariably influenced by the world in which they live [22].’ Given this orientation, individuals are understood as always already having an understanding of themselves within the world, even if they are not constantly, explicitly and/or consciously aware of that understanding [17]. For Heidegger, an individual’s conscious experience of a phenomenon is not separate from the world, nor from the individual’s personal history. Consciousness is, instead, a formation of historically lived experiences including a person’s individual history and the culture in which he/she was raised [22]. An individual cannot step out of his/her lifeworld. Humans cannot experience a phenomenon without referring back to his/her background understandings. Hermeneutic phenomenology, then, seeks ‘to understand the deeper layers of human experience that lay obscured beneath surface awareness and how the individual’s lifeworld, or the world as he or she pre-reflectively experiences it, influences this experience [35].’ Hermeneutic phenomenology studies individuals’ narratives to understand what those individuals experience in their daily lives, in their lifeworlds.

But the hermeneutic tradition pushes beyond a descriptive understanding. Hermeneutic phenomenology is rooted in interpretation—interpreting experiences and phenomena via the individual’s lifeworld. Here, Heidegger’s background in theology can be seen as influencing his approach to phenomenology. Hermeneutics refers to the interpretation of texts, to theories developed from the need to translate literature from different languages and where access to the original text (e. g., the Bible) was problematic [36]. If all human experience is informed by the individual’s lifeworld, and if all experiences must be interpreted through that background, hermeneutic phenomenology must go beyond description of the phenomenon, to the interpretation of the phenomenon. The researcher must be aware of the influence of the individual’s background and account for the influences they exert on the individual’s experience of being.

This is not to say that the individual’s subjective experience—which is inextricably linked with social, cultural, and political contexts—is pre-determined. Heidegger argued that individuals have situated freedom. Situated freedom is a concept that asserts that ‘individuals are free to make choices, but their freedom is not absolute; it is circumscribed by the specific conditions of their daily lives [22].’ Hermeneutic phenomenology studies the meanings of an individual’s being in the world, as their experience is interpreted through his/her lifeworld, and how these meanings and interpretations influence the choices that the individual makes [13]. This focus requires the hermeneutic phenomenologist to interpret the narratives provided by research participants in relation to their individual contexts in order to illuminate the fundamental structures of participants’ understanding of being and how that shaped the decisions made by the individual [37].

Another key aspect that distinguishes hermeneutic phenomenology is the role of the researcher in the inquiry. Instead of bracketing off the researcher’s subjective perspective, hermeneutic phenomenology recognizes that the researcher, like the research subject, cannot be rid of his/her lifeworld. Instead, the researcher’s past experiences and knowledge are valuable guides to the inquiry. It is the researcher’s education and knowledge base that lead him/her to consider a phenomenon or experience worthy of investigation. To ask the research to take an unbiased approach to the data is inconsistent with hermeneutic phenomenology’s philosophical roots. Instead, researchers working from this tradition should openly acknowledge their preconceptions, and reflect on how their subjectivity is part of the analysis process [16].

The interpretive work of hermeneutic phenomenology is not bound to a single set of rule-bound analytical techniques; instead, it is an interpretive process involving the interplay of multiple analysis activities [35]. In general, this process:

Starts with identifying an interesting phenomenon that directs our attention towards lived experience. Members of the research team then investigate experience as it is lived, rather than as it is conceptualized, and reflect on the essential [phenomenological] themes that characterize the participant’s experience with the phenomenon, simultaneously reflecting on their own experiences. Researchers capture their reflections in writing and then reflect and write again, creating continuous, iterative cycles to develop increasingly robust and nuanced analyses. Throughout the analysis, researchers must maintain a strong orientation to the phenomenon under study (i.e., avoid distractions) and attend to the interactions between the parts and the whole. This last step, also described as the hermeneutic circle, emphasizes the practice of deliberately considering how the data (the parts) contribute to the evolving understanding of the phenomena (the whole) and how each enhances the meaning of the other [35].

In the hermeneutic approach to phenomenology, theories can help to focus inquiry, to make decisions about research participants, and the way research questions can be addressed [22]. Theories can also be used to help understand the findings of the study. One scholar whose engagement with hermeneutic phenomenology is widely respected is Max van Manen [38]. Van Manen acknowledges that hermeneutic phenomenology ‘does not let itself be deceptively reduced to a methodical schema or an interpretative set of procedures [39].’ Instead, this kind of phenomenology requires the researcher to read deeply into the philosophies of this tradition to grasp the project of hermeneutic phenomenological thinking, reading, and writing.

A recent study published by Bynum et al. illustrates how hermeneutic phenomenology may be employed in HPE [2]. In this paper, Bynum et al. explored the phenomenon of shame as an emotion experienced by medical residents and offer insights into the effects of shame experiences on learners. As a means in scholarly inquiry, this study demonstrates how hermeneutic phenomenology can provide insight into complex phenomena that are inextricably entwined in HPE.

[title text=”Main contents” link_text=”See more from basic to advanced” link=”/category/methodology/qualitative-research/qualitative-methods/phenomenology/”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”5000″ cat=”228″ posts=”3″ offset=”45″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”6000″ cat=”228″ posts=”3″ offset=”42″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”7000″ cat=”228″ posts=”6″ offset=”36″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”8000″ cat=”228″ posts=”6″ offset=”30″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”5000″ cat=”228″ posts=”6″ offset=”24″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”6000″ cat=”228″ posts=”6″ offset=”18″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”7000″ cat=”228″ posts=”6″ offset=”12″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”8000″ cat=”228″ posts=”12″ offset=”0″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[row style=”small” class=”form-lien-he”]

[col span=”2″ span__sm=”12″]

[/col]
[col span=”4″ span__sm=”12″]

[button text=”Home” color=”secondary” style=”gloss” radius=”5″ depth=”2″ depth_hover=”3″ expand=”true” icon=”icon-star” icon_pos=”left” link=”https://phantran.net/”]

[/col]
[col span=”4″ span__sm=”12″]

[button text=”See basic to advanced” style=”gloss” radius=”5″ depth=”2″ depth_hover=”3″ expand=”true” icon=”icon-checkmark” icon_pos=”left” link=”/category/methodology/qualitative-research/qualitative-methods/phenomenology/”]

[/col]
[col span=”2″ span__sm=”12″]

[/col]

[/row]

Source: Neubauer, B.E., Witkop, C.T. & Varpio, L. How phenomenology can help us learn from the experiences of others. Perspect Med Educ 8, 90–97 (2019). https://doi.org/10.1007/s40037-019-0509-2

Introduction to observation

Observation has one overpowering claim to validity: it deals not with what people say they do but what they actually do – to the extent that their behaviour is open to observation, and insofar as observation is as objective as it seems to be. Two questions follow from this. In the first place why don’t we just take what we are told, because surely people know themselves better than anyone else does? And secondly, if observation is more valid why is it not used more often in social research?

For some dimensions of human experience asking people is the only feasible way of finding out, particularly the ‘invisible’ elements: thoughts, feelings, intentions, attitudes and the like. Sometimes these can be inferred from beha­viour but in the main we can only speculate. The question of validity (how accurate these self-reports are) is not a simple one because people ‘construct’ their understanding of themselves; and how is anyone to say whether these self­constructions are accurate? It is not a meaningful question: such formulations represent how people manage them­selves, changing with age and experience, a process of per­manent revision in an attempt to find an effective way of being. It is an entirely subjective ‘reality’ even if sometimes appearing to verge on self-delusion: we all have a preferred way of viewing ourselves.

Words and deeds

Whether people report their behaviour accurately is a dif­ferent matter; and here the notion of accuracy has a different meaning. We can observe what people do and that includes observing ourselves. Comparing observed beha­viour with the acknowledged subjectivity of self-perception, it is easy to assign to observation an unchallenged objectivity. Less easy is to acknowledge that observation is to a greater or lesser degree a process of selection and reconstruction. Interestingly, it is research on the validity of witness state­ments (traditionally highly valued in criminal courts) that has shown how much omission, reconstruction and unvarnished error there can be in such reports.

We can accept that we may not be entirely accurate in our recollection of past events, including our own behaviour. That we may not accurately know how we behave in the pre­sent is another matter. If you have ever had to keep a work diary as part of a job evaluation exercise you will know that the pattern is often rather different from your unanalysed impression; in particular that the productive elements are fewer than you would like to think. And that is evident at the more mundane level of how we spend our money – an exercise that most of us are driven to at some point when our bank balance is inexplicably depleted or a credit card bill far beyond what was expected.

The simple fact is that we don’t normally feel the need to have an explicit record of what we do so that we can’t ‘know’ ourselves in that fashion – and, therefore, cannot be other than approximately accurate. We have an impression of how we conduct ourselves and how other people behave in a range of social situations. In the ordinary business of living that is all we need: self-invigilation is unnecessary. But research requires a more rigorous approach.

In social research on human behaviour survey methods of one kind or another (interviews, questionnaires) predominate. Some are more expensive on time and resources than others; questionnaires are often preferred for that reason. But none is as time-consuming as observation; and this is the main answer to our earlier question as to why it is less often used.

Structured observation is the most economical form with its highly specific focus and systematic checking of the ele­ments of behaviour – for example, bullying incidents in a playground; stopping to look at a picture in a gallery; fre­quency of donations to a street beggar and so on. Here the observation is of the restricted non-participant variety. At the other extreme essentially unstructured participant observation, typically in the theoretical framework of ethnography (usually describing a particular sub-culture in our own society) involves a much longer duration – weeks and usually months, exceptionally even longer than that.

Such groups are investigated in this way for a number of reasons (to be considered later) but also because their mem­bers may not be willing, or sufficiently ‘organized’, to answer questions about themselves. One of the under-recognized weaknesses of survey methods is the implicit assumption that people have their self-knowledge arranged in such a way that they can be easily interrogated about it. This is part of the contemporary expectation in Western society that people should be able to explain themselves. Compliance with such expectations is one reason why self-reports have to be treated with caution: responses to survey questions may be little more than an artefact of the method employed.

[title text=”Main contents” link_text=”See more from basic to advanced” link=”/category/methodology/qualitative-research/qualitative-methods/observation/”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”5000″ cat=”221″ posts=”3″ offset=”44″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”6000″ cat=”221″ posts=”3″ offset=”41″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”7000″ cat=”221″ posts=”6″ offset=”35″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”8000″ cat=”221″ posts=”6″ offset=”29″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”5000″ cat=”221″ posts=”6″ offset=”23″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”6000″ cat=”221″ posts=”6″ offset=”17″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”7000″ cat=”221″ posts=”6″ offset=”11″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[blog_posts style=”normal” col_spacing=”xsmall” columns=”3″ columns__md=”1″ depth_hover=”2″ auto_slide=”8000″ cat=”221″ posts=”11″ offset=”0″ show_date=”false” excerpt_length=”25″ comments=”false” image_height=”60%” image_size=”original” image_hover=”zoom” text_align=”left”]

[row style=”small” class=”form-lien-he”]

[col span=”2″ span__sm=”12″]

[/col]
[col span=”4″ span__sm=”12″]

[button text=”Home” color=”secondary” style=”gloss” radius=”5″ depth=”2″ depth_hover=”3″ expand=”true” icon=”icon-star” icon_pos=”left” link=”https://phantran.net/”]

[/col]
[col span=”4″ span__sm=”12″]

[button text=”See basic to advanced” style=”gloss” radius=”5″ depth=”2″ depth_hover=”3″ expand=”true” icon=”icon-checkmark” icon_pos=”left” link=”/category/methodology/qualitative-research/qualitative-methods/observation/”]

[/col]
[col span=”2″ span__sm=”12″]

[/col]

[/row]

Source: Gillham Bill (2008), Observation Techniques: Structured to Unstructured, Continuum; Illustrated edition.

Observation and self-report: similarities and Differences

Both self-report (as in questionnaires and interviews) and observation techniques can differ in their degree of struc­ture. The first of these may involve short, prescriptive question-and-answer formats that are easily analysed in quantitative terms. Using structured observation schedules which involve the recording and counting of pre-determined categories of behaviour is an almost exact analogy.

On the other hand, interviewing can be largely unstructured, apart from identifying the broad area of interest, following directions determined mainly by those being interviewed. Observation can be similarly open-ended, recording what turns up at a level of fine detail, with analysis deferred (as well as final purposes, research questions, theoretical interpretation etc.).

Whether surveys or various methods of observation are employed, the differing levels of structure lead to different kinds of data being collected. For the researcher the ques­tion becomes: what kind of data do I need? Table 1.1 pro­vides a simple contrast.

This polarized distinction is false in two respects:

  • the extremes can be used in combination to complement each other
  • the extremes represent points on a graded scale because there are techniques with varying degrees of structure (as is the case with interviews).

A structured observation schedule has to be preceded by an unstructured phase – otherwise how would the researcher know what to focus on? However, this kind of unstructured observation is more likely to be of the detached, non­participant variety (see page 23 for more on this ‘fly-on-the- wall’ technique).

The need for a combination of structured and unstruc­tured methods commonly arises when the researcher derives an unsatisfactorily impressionistic judgement from partici­pant observation alone. Conversely, it may be that struc­tured, detached data raise more questions than they answer (as in surveys based on questionnaires) so that supplemen­tary participant observation is required to get at what the data actually mean (the qualitative dimension).

What do structured and unstructured methods have in common ?

The broad common characteristic is that both are systematic, because in taking this approach we come to see things, events and the connections between them that would either be overlooked or not recognized as significant. Detailed recording, in words or images, brings into focus what is there to be seen or understood.

It is a fallacy to suppose that because something (an object, human behaviour) is within our field of view that we ‘see it’. We have all had the experience of ‘not seeing’ something we were looking for even though it was there to be seen all the time (I commonly ‘lose’ something on my desk). But there is another and more profound point: we tend not to see things that we do not know about or understand, that we cannot relate to our existing knowl­edge. Systematic observation: checking, specifying and seeking explanation forces us out of our preconceptions, leading to a shift in understanding.

Source: Gillham Bill (2008), Observation Techniques: Structured to Unstructured, Continuum; Illustrated edition.

The uses of observation as research method

The most general use of observation in research is exploratory, as it is in real life. When we take up a new job, enter university, move to a different part of the country (or to a different country), or even just go on holiday to a new region, we look around us. In that novel setting everything is going on presumably as normal; we nodce differences, of course, but our main preoccupation is how things work in the social sense, what the ‘rules’ are: because every social setting operates in a different way. This is a familiar and often surprising experience when we change jobs, even within the same regulated profession, or to another insti­tution governed by the same, standardized legal require­ments. A different school, hospital, police force has its own character, operates its own ‘rules’ within the same regulatory framework. If we have any sense we don’t make overt com­parisons but ‘research’ the sub-culture we find ourselves in. This kind of initial, exploratory phase is adaptive: we learn lessons that we can act upon, avoid blundering on in a state of ignorance. It is also widely applicable in the preliminary stage of much social research, from which purpose, ques­tions and methods emerge.

Observation as an initial technique may lead to quite dif­ferent methods in the main study: surveys, problem-focused action research, focused case studies, experiments of one kind or another. None of these would be possible, or sen­sible, without preliminary observation of an unfamiliar social context. Such early immersion also guides reading and, as the issues are identified, we come to know what to search for in the literature – the beginning of an iterative cycle of first­hand experience and studying the research reports of others.

Source: Gillham Bill (2008), Observation Techniques: Structured to Unstructured, Continuum; Illustrated edition.

Observation in multi-method research

In the same way that surveys can give the bigger picture within which more in-depth interviews are nested, so can observation provide a wider descriptive framework. In a school, for example, it would make only limited sense to interview teachers about their views on the official dis­ciplinary policy without some account, by direct observation, of how student behaviour was routinely dealt with. Both approaches have their strengths and limitations; in combi­nation these balance out.

Because of the difficulty of getting a comprehensive pic­ture via any one method in social research, during the past 20 years or so there has been increasing interest in the complementary strengths of different methods. A key text, recommended for further reading (but not for its read­ability) is Brewer and Hunter’s 1989 book Multi-method Research: A Synthesis of Styles. Case study research methods (see Gillham, 2000), with the emphasis on multiple sources of evidence, are part of the same movement. The notion of taking multiple perspectives on a complex social phenom­enon (teenage pregnancies, for example) is a commonsense one. Interviews, national level statistics and demographic patterns can combine with participant observation – going with these young women on their daily routines, visiting them in their homes, helping them with the practicalities of claiming allowances, and so on – all these factors in com­bination enable outsiders (perhaps neither young, nor female, nor pregnant, nor poor) to grasp the wider issues. And the observational element adds something vivid and ‘real*, which may not be apparent even from loosely struc­tured interviews with the teenagers concerned.

Source: Gillham Bill (2008), Observation Techniques: Structured to Unstructured, Continuum; Illustrated edition.

Structured observation in practice

For the moment the terms structured, detached and non­participant are used almost interchangeably: that is not quite correct (see page 19) but sufficiently so to equate their meaning. All introductory classifications simplify reality.

Structured observation (specifying exact behaviours and recording their frequency over short, usually intermittent, periods of time) is something that figures regularly in text­books; less often in the real world of research. It has had a vogue in educational research and survivals appear occa­sionally in Master’s dissertations, as I have reason to know. One can understand the appeal of the technique: it renders tangible an approach to complex, fast-moving situations like school classrooms or playgrounds. The fall from favour has much to do with its ‘thin’ mechanistic quality and, it has to be said, the obsessional complexity of some of the proce­dures advocated. See, for example, Flanders’ Interaction Ana­lysis Categories (FLAC) devised by the American educationist of that name (Flanders, 1970) where in classroom observa­tion during a minute, and every three seconds, one of 20 categories of teacher and pupil behaviour is checked. One can only admire the rigour of such a scheme but its use is less than enthralling.

However, the basic principle of identifying people and (precisely) what they do is capable of a more practicable but still valid use. Let us take an example.

Structured observation in practice

I am currently exploring the practice of street begging in Glasgow. This can be approached in several ways: getting anywhere near a full picture is not easy and this is spelt out in Chapter 6 Work in Progress.

Begging is commonplace in the city. You may be approached in the street but the focus of my investigation is those who site themselves in a carefully chosen position, usually with a plastic cup for donations. For want of a better term I call these ‘stationary’ beggars and they are most often encountered in and around the pedestrianized sections of three main shopping streets. To begin with I observed them in an unstructured fashion and for varying periods of time (15-30 minutes) – sufficient for me to see how I might carry out a more structured observation. All the ‘stationary’ beg­gars (those who just sit and wait as against those who walk around accosting people in the street) were male; while most of the donations appeared to come from women usually, by my estimate, in the younger age range (under 45).a

Source: Gillham Bill (2008), Observation Techniques: Structured to Unstructured, Continuum; Illustrated edition.

Event sampling in Structured observation

1. Event sampling

Event sampling is used when the behaviour of interest is discontinuous and low frequency, where you would miss the events if you didn’t observe continuously. The behaviour has to be specified exactly (making a monetary donation, engaging in conversation) so that it can be recorded on an observation schedule in a simple check-mark fashion.

Now, my impression when passing these street beggars was that they didn’t get much custom: continuous observation showed a highly variable picture. But it also led me to expand the interaction categories as follows:

  • ‘silent’ donation where nothing is said
  • donation plus some conversation
  • conversation but no donation.

Men were more likely to come into the first category. The last category, usually male, were different again; I came to describe them as ‘hangers on’ and some beggars had more of these than others.

In other words, even the simplest scheme requires amplification in practice. The point to watch is that it does not become too fragmented or unmanageable. For example, the ‘silent’ donation is a bit of a misnomer as I caught a hint of non-verbal communication now and then, usually eye contact, but too subtle for me to be sure of it. Note also that I was trying to identify unambiguous ‘chunks of behaviour’, not elusive fragments.

Defining the ‘events’

What the above discussion demonstrates is that defining a ‘simple’ event is not all that simple. I had thought initially in terms of a donation interaction but, once I had started observing, it became clear that that was not adequate. I had to define the events in terms of the kind of interaction. The interactions could have been further divided, for example in terms of different levels of conversation (the odd remark to a longer exchange). I decided against that on grounds of manageability: it is possible to create a recording schedule that is so exhaustive (exhausting?) as to be impractical. What I did was to observe one of the subjects of study for an hour and record each donating ‘event’. So I recorded frequency (how many times in the hour) and who donated (gender and my estimate of age 45+-). My first use of the developed schedule produced the results shown in Table 2.1.

The main point is that even when you try to keep it simple you have to develop your categories to be anywhere near adequate; and that there is a preceding phase of develop­ment where you try out your initial assumptions following a period of unstructured impressionistic observation. You might think that this preliminary stage should be sufficient to identify the categories. In fact, it is only by attempting to record these events that their limitations become apparent, because you don’t really observe in a focused way until you have the task of recording. This being ‘work in progress’, what is said here is neither a full account nor the last word – see Chapter 6 for a narrative account of this particular project.

2. Linked events

One of the virtues of continuous structured observation is that you can link events over time. It may be something as simple as noting the time someone joins a queue at an enquiry desk up to the time their enquiry is dealt with. Such a start-to-finish observation has multiple uses, for example ‘shopping behaviour’: a customer browsing a display up to the point of making a purchase. Other examples could be how long a child in a class has to wait to get a response from the teacher; how long people spend scanning an under­ground map, or reading a product instruction booklet before using the product and so on. This touches on the area of ‘experimental observation’ (see Chapter 3).

The limits of event sampling

The continuous recording of behavioural events works well when those events are not too frequent: it gets more difficult as the frequency increases, the main strain being on your capacity for sustained attention. This overload experience usually arises when observing several individuals in a group, such as a whole class of children. When the events are very high frequency – happening simultaneously and/or so often that continuous recording verges on the impossible – you have a number of options. These are:

  • narrowing your category(ies) so you are observing only one or two types of behaviour clearly defined, i.e. picking them out of the flow
  • carrying out time sampling where you observe, at intervals, for very short periods of time (a few seconds to a few minutes)
  • constructing a narrative account – essentially unstruc­tured, selective and, to a degree, impressionistic; this takes us out of the ‘structured’ frame entirely but there comes a point where any kind of specified behavioural sampling is not only impractical but inadequate.

Source: Gillham Bill (2008), Observation Techniques: Structured to Unstructured, Continuum; Illustrated edition.

Time sampling in Structured Observation

This is also known as interval sampling because you observe for a specified duration at specified intervals – like taking a succession of snapshots, an analogy which is pretty close. Sampling means estimating the frequency of events in a continuous time sequence from a much shorter period (or periods) of time. The main practical challenge is deciding on the length of time for the sample estimate; there is a certain amount of trial and error in this.

The general principle is that the higher the frequency of the ‘events’ the shorter the periods of observation. There is a kind of gradient here: at some point, which can only be determined by the practicalities of recording as well as ‘representativeness’, the choice moves from event sampling to interval sampling (or the other way). With discontinuous interval sampling (as in taking a population sample for a survey) the level of representativeness needs to be gauged in some way.

Alternate sampling

Interval sampling has one important advantage in that you can alternate the focus of your observation. The focus could be:

  • on some individuals in a group, e.g. boys as against girls in a classroom
  • on some specific behaviours, e.g. how many children are not ‘actively learning’ in a classroom setting or more specifically are engaged in a particular learning activity – or not, as the case may be
  • on different sites, e.g. in a public art gallery how many people are looking at one painting rather than another, or one kind of painting rather than another.

The question remains, however: how do you decide on the duration of the ‘interval’ in practice? Initially you should take a short interval – say every three minutes where you record for perhaps ten seconds – and then work out whether a longer interval (or a shorter duration of observation) would suffice. If the purpose of the research is the difference in gender response to teachers’ ques­tions then you might move the focus of recording from boys to girls (and back again) every other recording per­iod or you might cover all the children at the same time. Note that you would have to define in terms of specific behaviours what you mean by a ‘response’ (volunteering an answer, signalling the desire to do so, following work instructions).

And because children’s work in a classroom has a ‘devel­opmental’ sequence, in that it evolves throughout the les­son, then a consideration for sampling is whether these phases are adequately represented.

Source: Gillham Bill (2008), Observation Techniques: Structured to Unstructured, Continuum; Illustrated edition.

Validating observation sampling

In survey research a sample of the population (however defined) is taken because it is much more economical to do so. A ‘valid’ – i.e. representative – sample is achieved in various ways (not our concern here but see the book in the present series dealing with social surveys (Gillham, 2008)). Validating interval sampling is achieved by taking a given period of observation, dividing it up into, say, three-minute intervals and then calculating whether by taking every other three-minute interval (i.e. every six minutes) you obtain a similar picture to the more frequent sampling. Table 2.2 illustrates a hypothetical example of observed classroom behaviour (children engaged or not in active learning). Here the intervals are every three minutes; the period of observation (counting/recording) is ten seconds – but it could be less. It is usually easier to record the ‘inactive’ children, defined as those who are not:

  • reading or writing individually
  • choosing a book
  • using a computer
  • using apparatus or equipment
  • involved in making something or painting
  • engaged with a teacher or classroom assistant on a learning activity
  • working cooperatively with other children.

It is not a difficult matter to record the individual children involved and their gender (you need to be able to identify the children and simply check them at each observation). If you do this ten-second check every three minutes during a 30-minute period you will quickly identify those for whom active learning is a problem; but the total observation time is less than two minutes.

There are two elements here:

  • deciding on the length of the interval (when you’re not recording)
  • deciding on the duration of the active recording of behavioural events (a function of the frequency of the behaviour and the time needed for recording).

Duration needs to be only as long as is required to check the behavioural events – a practical question; frequency needs to be often enough to give a representative sample. The frequency of observation copes with individual children’s on task/off task variation.

Table 2.2 shows that the average number of ‘inactive’ children at three-minute intervals is 5.5. If we take six- minute intervals it is 5.4: not much in that. But if we are interested in individual children then the higher frequency of observation might be important; for example the hypo­thetical example in Table 2.3.

In other words the less frequent interval does not differ­entiate so well in this respect, i.e. those who are more reg­ularly ‘inactive’ are underestimated.

Why sample ?

Since in the above instance you are only ‘active’ as an observer for less than two minutes out of 30 why not carry out continuous monitoring of the children? The answer is that, quite apart from the burden of the task, you don’t get as clear a picture. The successive snapshots tell the story with a precision that is not spurious; and you can validate these frequencies against a class-teacher’s subjective judgement.

To take another example: if an art student is interested in comparing the public’s response to different styles of con­temporary painting (e.g. abstract v. representational) in a public art gallery then the task could be to observe how many people stop to look at these different kinds of painting for at least 15 seconds. Looking at paintings is not a momentary business but if no-one stops to look for more than three minutes then a ten-minute interval and 120 sec­onds for observation would make it unlikely that anyone was counted twice. The student can then move to a room where paintings of the other genre are hung and repeat the exercise; if both kinds are present in the same site then it becomes a simple matter of shifting the observational focus. This is an example of the ‘alternate site’ situation. Within an hour the number of people looking at each of two paintings is observed every five minutes for 120 seconds, alternating one to the other.

This last example is introduced because it commonly leads to this question: surely people know which kinds of painting they prefer? The answer is that it depends on their knowl­edge and experience; and their ability to express it. In any case we may give a view or opinion but find our eyes drawn to the kind of abstract painting that we might dismiss in response to a general, hypothetical question. We don’t always know what is going to interest or appeal; only our behaviour shows that.

So here we come back to the point made in the first chapter: that you study behaviour not just for its own sake but because it reflects those elusive internal states that underlie what people do, and of which they may not be fully aware.

Source: Gillham Bill (2008), Observation Techniques: Structured to Unstructured, Continuum; Illustrated edition.

Semi-structured Observation Method

If observation is a primary technique of real-world social research one can be forgiven for thinking that structured observation, with its ‘count’ emphasis and fragmented character, is not the best way of doing it. Sometimes that level of specificity is necessary and useful and it is to be hoped that we have done justice to this approach in the preceding chapter.

As a representation of the reality of what people do, structured observation is as accurate as a questionnaire is of what people think. You know exactly what you want to find out and the form of the data is precisely specified. The limitations are roughly the same as for questionnaires: not much scope for discovery and the underlying reasons lag somewhere behind.

However, being relatively unstructured in approach does not mean you don’t know what you are looking for. In the semi-structured variety of observation you go in with quite specific questions but they are ‘open’ so that you cannot predict what you are going to find. It is particularly suited to the kind of research which seeks to identify practical pro­blems people experience; and then what can be done about them.

An example of how this approach works is the study of the difficulties older people experience in maintaining an independent living style. You don’t need to be a demographic expert (or a pension fund actuary) to know that we are part of an ageing population, and that old age is accompanied by a range of disabilities, many of them rela­tively minor. Helping people to manage their disability has a long tradition; the profession of occupational therapy has a distinguished role in this respect. But the problem has become much broader and, in a sense, mainstream.

A major consequence of the ageing process is when peo­ple find they cannot cope, or only cope with difficulty, in their normal environment. At a mobility level this is easy to appreciate: stair-lifts, adapted bathrooms and lavatories, wheelchair access, although not cheap, can help older people and their carers with problems that are almost self­evident.

But an accumulation of less conspicuous disabilities can make independent living more difficult and, in total, become as much a barrier as the more high-profile pro­blems. We can go further than that: people often cope well with major disabilities – the conspicuous problems of living. It seems to call forth their emotional resources and a helpful response from others. What wears people down are the multiple, minor defeats of everyday. On their own they may not amount to much: in total they can lead to a non-coping depressive state. At this point we need to take a theoretical side-step.

1. Ecological psychology

Ecology is a term dinned into us by the media: it’s about being ‘green’ – sensitive to environmental issues. But that is only one application of the term.

Ecological psychology is about the interaction of people and their environment in terms of its effect on their psy­chological make-up: at the detailed level of the behaviour and mental experience of individuals. It emphasizes that those psychological dimensions are only meaningfully understood in the context in which they occur, and that the environment facilitates or constrains people’s behavioural or mental state. It is from this standpoint that we can approach the notion of disability. This is not just something about the individual: a disability occurs in a given situation. It is an interactive (person <-> environment) problem which can be approached from either end or, indeed, from both.

People don’t just have to adapt to their environment: their environment can also be adapted to them – at a level of functional detail. A simple example is the problem of lifting and carrying experienced by many people with moderate disabilities. They can be taught more effective, less effortful techniques; as well as being provided with aids that make the tasks easier such as the ‘helping hand’ – rather like the tool used by litter collectors – that makes it easier to pick things up or pull them towards you, or the dycem,, a non-slip mat to keep things steady – jars and tins, for example. These are relatively ‘minor’ problems with simple solutions: they have to be multiplied many times and viewed as part of a persis­tent daily struggle for many people. Helping them to cope practically is to help them emotionally and a practical focus has to be reckoned in terms of these benefits as well.

2. Observing the problems of living

You can learn a lot about helping people maintain their independence by talking to them. But this approach is lim­ited for two reasons:

  • they may accept their problems as being normal and ‘only what you can expect’
  • they may not even realize they have difficulties in living for which they could get help, as often people adapt when they don’t need to.

Inclusive design

An ergonomically-minded designer brings a particular mind-set to issues such as these. Designers are trained to analyse the functional problems posed by the myriad man­made objects that form part of our domestic existence. The purpose of design is not just to produce something that looks good but something that is also reliable and easy to use. An important principle is that design which makes life easier for people with disabilities can mean products that are easier to use for everyone. The recent Focus range of cars from Ford is an example of this. Designs that only the fully able­bodied can use are exclusive – hence the reverse term.

That trend in design exists as a corollary of observational methods that direct the designer’s attention. Not that this is just for such specialists: there is a straightforward common- sense dimension to identifying difficulties that points the way to possible solutions.

Take, for example, the case of a man in his seventies who has suffered a stroke that has resulted in a degree of paralysis to the left side of the body. He lives on his own but is still mobile and speech is only slightly impaired. The major problem is the limited use of his left hand – in most people the sub-dominant hand. This is not so severe a han­dicap as it might have been because he was normally right­handed, so it could have been worse. But the problems are numerous, nonetheless, and by no means obvious.

It is instructive to spend an hour or so as if your sub­dominant hand were not functional. You can’t exactly replicate the difficulties this person might have. But you soon come to see that even a relatively minor disability leads to many problems – some more marked than others. Take something as simple as writing a letter or making a shopping list: you write with your dominant hand but you need the other one to stop the paper from sliding around. This is the kind of thing you don’t normally need to think about but the examples are multiple – not just obviously intricate ones like threading a needle but larger movements like holding a cupboard door open with one hand to stop it swinging closed so that you can take something out with the other; and so on.

The context focus

The strategy for observation is straightforward.

An initial period of ‘open’ observation is required: getting a sense of the person in his or her context, making pre­liminary notes of particular tasks that look problematic. You ask questions as you go but watching is the primary method. Most people can tell you what causes their difficulty but they cannot necessarily analyse it: at least at the level of devising a solution.

It is only by spending time ‘on site’ and through the routine of a person’s day that you can arrive at a ‘disability map’ highlighting those features which require attention. Occupational therapists in particular are well aware of the problems associated with particular disabilities so that, in many cases, the solutions are readily available. But some are specific to an individual and to a particular context and not so straightforward to resolve.

So, in the case of our hypothetical stroke patient, we may find he is unable to use a conventional cooker because he cannot stoop down and do the two-handed job of taking something out of the oven. A waist-level or microwave oven on a flat surface is one solution. If he likes to heat a tin of soup for his lunch he may have difficulty in using the wall- mounted can-opener – normally holding the tin in the left hand and operating the opener with the right – as the two actions need to be simultaneous. But he can’t achieve the necessary left-hand grip on the can. Again this is a case where there are ready-made design solutions – openers with single-handed or even no-hands operation. But there are many other problems not so well-focused – as you will dis­cover from trying out a one-handed style of operation yourself.

Source: Gillham Bill (2008), Observation Techniques: Structured to Unstructured, Continuum; Illustrated edition.

Semi-structured Observation in training, teaching and learning

1. Observation in training

In a sense we are all ‘disabled’ when it comes to operating an unfamiliar and relatively complicated piece of equipment: the controls in a new car, the sequence of operations in a new piece of software or a washing machine with a more elaborate choice of programmes – all of these can have us poring irritably over a not-entirely-clear instructional hand­book. Those who produce these manuals know what they’re presenting: and that’s the problem. They cannot see it from the perspective of the first-time user. It is surprising that more manufacturers don’t use the relatively inexpensive medium of a demonstrational DVD. Such things are more easily grasped by observation. That’s one point.

The other, and relevant to training, is ‘expert’ observation of a novice’s attempt to use equipment or a technique. Apart from focusing guidance on the actual difficulties of an individual attempting to master the procedure, there are implications for design and instructional guidance. Training therefore needs to proceed from:

  • an informed position based on familiarity with the diffi­culties likely to be experienced
  • an awareness of the importance of observing an individual who is learning the procedure.

2. Teaching and learning

An uncritical assumption these two terms are synonymous: the contrary case is that if there is no learning there has been no teaching. Even the most clear and careful teaching is not enough to guarantee learning; in the same way the present book is not sufficient for the effective practice of the techniques described. The apprentice researcher has to try them out with tutorial guidance and corrective feedback.

The teaching-learning gap is most apparent in the case of practical skills – those which you have to execute. There is a world of difference, for example, in knowing how to swim and being able to swim. In that case it is fairly obvious.

Demonstration is the critical first stage, where key skills are emphasized and the learner’s difficulties anticipated. This is different from observing a smoothly polished performance which lacks an instructional focus; and discourages the novice. The trouble with expert performance is that it looks ‘easy’ and gives no indication of the training and practice that led up to it – until you try to replicate that low, scooping backhand you observed on the centre court at Wimbledon.

The range of applications is vast: the use of machine tools for engineering apprentices; classroom management skills for probation teachers; dealing with aggressive or unco­operative patients in nursing training; or the handling of people in distress by social workers and others in the ‘caring’ professions.

Training in research skills is, in many respects, no differ­ent. Research is largely practical, as are its component activities: you need to know how to do things – as well as appreciating their intellectual significance. Take, for exam­ple, the use of interview techniques (commonly used in qualitative research). There are methods texts on the sub­ject, some more practical than others; with varying degrees of effort they can be read with a level of (intellectual) understanding. But practical training (which can be self­managed to a large extent) is indispensable. Actually doing an interview is, in itself, highly instructive. And this can be built on by making a video recording of your performance and then viewing it perhaps with a supervisor but, in any case, with structured guidance as to what to look for. A checklist example to guide observation is given in Table 3.1.

Table 3.1 Interview observation checklist

  1. Do you explain the purpose of the interview?
  2. Do you introduce yourself clearly – who you are and what research you are involved in?
  3. Do you take time to setde in the interviewee, checking if they have any questions they want to ask you?
  4. Do you explain how long the interview will take and that you plan to record it (have they agreed to that)?
  5. Do the questions you ask, topics you raise, have a developmental sequence where one leads on to the other?
  6. Are you sensitive to the direction indicated by the interviewee?
  7. Do you allow ‘space’ for the interviewee to respond?
  8. Do you avoid ‘portmanteau’ questions, i.e. two or more questions joined up?
  9. Are your own questions economical in content and style?
  10. Do you tend to overtalk or finish off what the inter­viewee is saying?
  11. Do you follow through topics sufficiently?
  12. Do you (unobtrusively) ‘steer’ the interviewee in the direction you want to go?
  13. Are you sensitive to the mood and uncertainty of the interviewee?
  14. Are you alert to non-verbal signals from the interviewee?
  15. Do you make good use of non-verbal communication yourself?
  16. Do you round off the interview, e.g. summarizing, checking your understanding of what they have told you?
  17. Do you ‘close’ the interview in an appreciative way?
  18. Do you explain what you will be doing with the interview recording?
  19. Do you offer to let them know about the outcome of the research?
  20. Do you explain how confidentiality is protected?

Note that there are two elements to learning here:

  • observation followed by practice
  • critical analysis of performance largely carried out by the person who is learning (hence the importance of a video recording).

The particular example given here could be paralleled in other domains. It can be applied to the learning of any skilled performance where explicit techniques can be spe­cified; and, as in the instances given, these do not need to be low-level and mechanistic in character. There are levels of skill in any new task, some straightforward and basic (but still important); others more interpretive and evaluative. For instance, thinking in terms of research skills, the use of bibliographic software like Endnote involves fundamental how-to-do-it operations that have to be mastered which then lead on to a wide range of applications such as integration with other databases. Becoming confident (and competent) in such procedures should involve following set exercises and then evaluating the results: different dimensions of preparing academic texts – citation, footnotes and endnotes, referencing systems and the like – all part of mastering the use of this important aid to preparing academic texts whe­ther in book, paper or thesis format.

The point needs be laboured no further, except to emphasize that a similar approach (observation, practice, guided stf/fabservation) should form part of any learning programme, at all levels and in all areas of skilled performance.

Source: Gillham Bill (2008), Observation Techniques: Structured to Unstructured, Continuum; Illustrated edition.

Observation as an Experimental Method

We commonly talk of ‘experimenting’ with things – whether it is a new multi-function mobile phone or an elaborate recipe culled from a magazine – by which we mean trying something out and seeing what happens, what results we get. Formal experiments lie at the heart of scientific research and there are two main kinds: theory testing (if this theory is correct we ought to get this result) and significant effects testing (empirical research) which is quite close to our commonsense usage above.

Consider, for example, medical researchers evaluating a new drug. A recipe that doesn’t work is of little importance; a drug that doesn’t do what it is supposed to do can lead to a waste of resources and even damage human health – hence the controlled conditions and elaborate safeguards involved in such research. We shall take lessons from the careful procedures of medical scientists.

1. Formal experiments

Let us assume that a new drug for treating hypertension (high blood pressure) is being tested.

The scientists would first ask themselves: does the drug have an independent effect on blood pressure (itself a variable phenomenon)? The standard procedure is to use an experimental group (who get the drug) and a control group (who get an inert placebo). They might also employ multi­ple experimental groups trying out the drug at different dosage levels.

Obviously they would try out the drug on people who suffer from hypertension, and there are levels of this – mild, moderate and severe. However these human guinea pigs are selected, the medical scientists still have to ensure that the two groups to be compared are equivalent. This is done by allocadng patients randomly to each group – note that this is a technical procedure designed to ensure that there is no systematic bias in selecting patients.

The patients are tested before and after the (real or pla­cebo) drug treatment, and here great care has to be taken to ensure:

  • no patients know which they have been given
  • the doctors administering the ‘drug’ do not know either
  • the medical researchers who measure blood pressure before and after the administration don’t know to which group the patients belong.

This kind of triple-blind study effectively removes the bias that comes from expectation (by the patients, but also the doc­tors and researchers). Of course that level or kind of rigour won’t be needed in what is to be described here; but it points the lesson that we should be alert to sources of bias in our findings.

2. A practical example

We live in a world of mass-produced, designed objects. In the previous chapter we stressed the need to observe, nat- uralistically, the fine detail of daily living, where people have to deal with the, usually minor, challenges of routine prac­ticalities. That can be done systematically but it does not amount to an ‘experiment’. In a practical experiment we construct a setting and then observe how different groups (by age or whatever) cope with it: we manipulate or control what we observe.

Designers work to a particular brief and with a particular purpose in mind. A familiar example is that of safety botde caps – for medicines and potentially toxic household fluids such as bleach, disinfectant and paint stripper. These have been a significant source of harm (sometimes fatal) to young children. Most serious accidents to this age group occur in the home because that is where they spend most of their time. The contribution of design to child safety is an important one, with many successes.

Safety bottle caps, so designed that they require a (pre­sumably) adult level of understanding and dexterity to unscrew them, are a good example. But as with most ‘solu­tions’ they can create problems in their turn. A characteristic design is one where you have to squeeze the top at certain points, push down and then turn. This creates difficulties for older adults who have arthritic hands or muscular weakness; but in truth we all have some difficulty with this type of cap. And it can lead to other kinds of accidents – for example to an older person trying to lever the top off.

So we have two problems that require a design solution: botde caps which can’t easily be opened by young children but can be opened without difficulty by adults with mild disabilities. How could a design which seeks to overcome these conflicting problems be evaluated?

The experimental setting

We could try out the new design with three groups:

  • children aged 3-5 (a particularly vulnerable age)
  • bodily able adults aged 25-35 years
  • adults over 65 with the kind of mild manual disabilities outlined above.

The researcher would give each of them, individually, the ‘test’ bottle simply saying: See if you can get this cap off (in the case of the children first screwing the cap on while they watch so that they are ‘cued in’).

Their attempts would have to be videoed because the designer/researcher would need to analyse each attempt retrospectively. It would also be necessary to time each indi­vidual because, even if successful, any delay might be critical to safety in young children (as many parents can testify); and conversely might try the patience of older people struggling to remove the cap.

The results of such an experiment can be surprising. For example, we might find that the new design defeats the attempts of all the children, half of the older group with manual disabilities, but also some of the physically able younger adult group. That would be interesting in its own right. But the most important element is what lies behind the results and it is here that the video analysis makes its contribution, allowing repeated observation of the same sequence as necessary, showing how the individuals attemp­ted to remove the cap and what seemed to be the problem elements.

A short video interview could also be used to supplement the observation sequence, asking (the adults) what they found difficult about the operation of the cap.

What we have described comes under the heading of evaluative research and it is here that systematic ‘experi­mental’ observation is particularly appropriate. Does it work in the way intended? And what lessons can be learned from a study of how the individuals concerned tried to operate the safety cap (or whatever was being tried out)?

Using comparison groups

In the previous, hypothetical, experiment we proposed three different age/ability groups, giving them all the same task.

Another approach would be to have groups made up of approximately the same kind of people (loosely matched in terms of age, gender, ability and experience) and give them different versions of the same task, for example evaluating different approaches to software training:

  • a group that watched a ‘live’ demonstration
  • a group that studied the manual
  • a group that had access to a video demonstration and a ‘key points’ printed summary.

Note that this is not a tightly controlled conventional experiment seeking significant differences between the groups on some pre- and post-test performance criterion. Rather the different methods would be compared in terms of:

  • the kind of questions people asked in training
  • the difficulties they experienced in their subsequent use of the software, perhaps against a performance checklist.

We are not out to demonstrate the superiority of Method A over Method B or C; in real life you learn something from observing each method.

So the emphasis may not be quantitative but it is systematic. We are after insight into the practicalities of learning a procedure. There will be hints and clues from the successes and difficulties of those using the software; and we can ask them what they found useful or not, as the case may be, in the form of training they were given.

Although the comparisons are carefully specified and the whole procedure systematically organized and analysed, it is a long way from a traditional experiment where you would have random allocation of subjects to groups, exact equiva­lence of training times, pre- and post-tests on a precisely specified performance test (of the outcome or dependent vari­able) and so on.

If experimentally-minded social scientists see this as the thin end of the wedge, they should be warned that our exposition is about to get wider by taking ‘experiments’ lit­erally outside into a real-world setting.

3. Devising signage systems

A well-designed environmental setting like a road layout or piece of equipment almost speaks for itself in the sense that without specific instructions or even too much thought you know what to do. Ambiguous road layouts or control panels on a car are at least irritating, at worst can lead to accidents. Both employ what are known as signage systems to supple­ment the guidance that comes from the overall perception of the design layout. Such systems almost amount to an international language and for road signs, in the European Union at least, are regulated to that end.

Devising signs that are easily and unambiguously read is an industry in its own right. The most easily read signs (like primitive languages) are pictographic. For example on a video or DVD player we would all recognize:

<<<< = rewind/retum

>>>> = fast forward

Note that the use of multiple arrow heads seems to con­note movement; you get something similar in the kind of road sign that emphasizes you are travelling to the left or right (or should be!).

On amplifying equipment this kind of visual movement may be incorporated to show an increase in volume, espe­cially if it has a ‘growing’ gradient as you press the button. These pictographic visual clues are fairly straightforward but there is a range of more abstract signs; and first we need to clarify these different ‘written’ language systems.

Types of written language

Pictographic signs – where simple schematic picture-signs are employed – are the most basic and straightforward: for example the signs for wheelchair access to lavatories, those for men and women, or baby-changing facilities. Picto­graphic languages are the most primitive because they are the least capable of representing more abstract and complex language functions such as the expression of thought. In western cultures we mostly have an alphabetic language sys­tem – where the written symbols are linked reasonably directly to the way in which the ‘signs’ are said.

But the third main type of written language system is logographic: that is where the sign represents a concept, which may be abstract in character. The written Chinese language is logographic – it conveys meaning but not how the signs are spoken – thus the two main spoken Chinese languages, Mandarin and Cantonese, are mutually incomprehensible, though the speakers can communicate in writing. This may sound strange but we have a parallel in our own culture in the system of numerals and mathematical symbols; these are almost universal but a Frenchman would probably not understand a Norwegian who ‘spoke’ a formula such as 3(52 )/10.54 – yet both could read it (although to compli­cate the example most Europeans use a comma to indicate a decimal point). Many established signage systems are ‘logographic’, i.e. universal in that sense, and they are con­stantly developing. And product marketing depends heavily on instantly identified logograms – hence logos – from the Nike ‘swoosh’ to the controversial design for the 2012 Olympics.

4. Testing signage systems

It would be wrong to assume that pictographic signs are always easy and unambiguous to read; also, some of them are ‘in between’ – for example the skull-and-crossbones sign to indicate danger (why not a graveyard?). Here the picture represents a concept; but there is a limit to how far pictures can depict the abstract. The relationship between sign and symbol, signifier and signified, is too deep a theoretical issue for us to consider here. It is sufficient to say that some ‘abstract’ symbols are more easily ‘read’ than others, whe­ther they are conventional or not. Consider what these examples might mean (some more established than others).

The last two have a well-established signification of gender – but are you entirely sure which is which? And why} (Answers are given at the end of the chapter.)

Signs in context

Signs, like words, are supported in their meaning by the context in which they appear and these contextual factors all have a bearing on whether signs are ‘seen’ as well as ‘read’. You can, of course, test signs as a paper exercise – as above, i.e. what do you think these might mean? But a more ade­quate test is the behavioural response of people to the sign.

This needs to be spelled out because it involves juggling several variables in an actual live setting – too complex and difficult to define for a tightly controlled experiment. Both structured and semi-structured observation have a role here, and perhaps interviewing as well. The experimental dimension is the manipulation of the contextual factory we would pre­viously have found out whether people read the signs cor­rectly once they have seen/noticed them. So the experiment is about presentational and contextual factors, for example:

  • size and colour contrast of signs
  • precise location (proximity to what is being signed, ‘gui­dance’ from the layout)
  • association with/or distinction from other signs (relevant linking, avoiding confusion or ambiguity)
  • height at which signs are placed
  • ‘confusion’ factors – the visual busyness of the surroundings.

If signs on equipment are being tested then mock-ups are appropriate but here again other factors come into play (sequence, visibility, size, and so on), all of these being relevant to how, and whether, the signs are read correctly. For example, if on a piece of equipment there is a sequence in operating the controls – whatever signs are used – the signs will be more easily ‘read’ if they are placed in a left-to- right arrangement in the required order.

In researching these situations video recordings may be useful: the direction of attention, hesitation and uncertainty displayed in relation to public space signage; the number of correct operations of keys etc. on technological equipment. In the latter case the use (and design) of product manuals is an additional dimension. In general it is unaided responses that are the primary data. The more help you need, the less suc­cessful the overall design and sign system employed.

And in all cases, the user dimension is a factor. Different groups – by age, ability, experience – are going to respond differently to ‘tasks’ of this kind. In the case of specified usage this may not be relevant. But, to repeat a point made earlier: something that works well is that which presents fewer problems for everyone.

Source: Gillham Bill (2008), Observation Techniques: Structured to Unstructured, Continuum; Illustrated edition.

Unstructured Observation: The Rise of Ethnography Method

Observation can vary in its degree of structure – how far the researchers’ approach is pre-formed, in the sense of know­ing what they want to find out or how they plan to do it. But no research, however open-ended, lacks structure. It would be chaotic if it were. So the chapter heading is not exactly correct.

An alternative is to assign the degree of participation, conventionally divided into non-participant and participant varieties. If anything these terms are even more unsatisfac­tory. No observation is entirely non-participant if there is any contact with, or awareness by, those being observed; but it’s relative. Much of what is described as participant observa­tion is not so, in the sense that the researcher is not a nor­mal part of the group being observed, nor does she/he usually behave in a fully participant way in the group’s activities (which in some contexts may be minimal). Fully participant observation can only be carried out by an insider: someone who already belongs to the group being resear­ched. Two studies of this kind – by Burgess (1983) of a comprehensive school, and by Holdaway (1983) of a police force – are discussed later. It is sufficient for the moment to keep these limitations in mind.

 1. What is ethnography?

The Oxford English Dictionary gives a first usage of this term as 1842 but it has only come into common use since the 1970s. Before that it was comparatively rare and a classic text of the genre, Whyte’s 1943 study of street-comer gangs in Boston, doesn’t use the term at all.

So what does it mean? Quite simply ethnography began as the descriptive arm of social anthropology where the focus of the latter was on the study of ‘primitive’ societies. It aimed to describe the rules and practices of a culture. Since the 1970s it has become applied in particular to the study of sub­cultures in Western society. Some of these will be reviewed later in detail but it is worth considering briefly the moti­vation underlying this surge in research activity.

The concept of a ‘multi-cultural’ society is conventionally applied to a population of different ethnic and religious origins. But an alternative is to view the whole range of essentially distinct minority groups, about whom the majority of outsiders know little, as subjects of sub-cultural study. The range of possibilities is vast: not only anti-social football fans, the chronically unemployed, those in the ‘black’ economy or casual migrant workers; but also parti­cular communities defined by occupation or affiliation: the informal operation of a hospital, or a prison or a police force; black religious groups, West End gentlemen’s clubs, Freemasons; or ‘deviant’ groups – for example, urban gangs or users of illicit hard drugs. In all cases ethnographers seek to gain an inside perspective, perhaps covertly (see Chapter 9); one reason for this research interest being that we are either ignorant of differences or make shorthand, unin­formed judgements (adverse or otherwise) about the char­acter of these sub-cultures.

A recurrent theme in such studies is that in taking a defined focus on these minority groups we come to under­stand mainstream society better. Since, whether viewed as ‘deviant’ or not, these sub-cultures are often the subject of social or political action, the use or validity of such action is going to depend on an adequate understanding of the group in question.

What do ethnographers do?

The basic procedures are easily summarized.

  • They immerse themselves in a particular social setting for an extensive period of time, depending on access to the group. This is usually a matter of months, occasionally more than that: Whyte (1993) spent three years in a ‘slum’ area of Boston researching for Street Comer Society.
  • They make protracted observations of what people in that setting do and say.
  • They talk to people in the group in a naturalistic way as the occasion arises.
  • They may interview key informants in the group and iden­tifying these figures is part of the method: someone who will explain to the researcher those elements of social organization which are not easily viewed or self-evident.
  • They seek to understand and explicate the rules govern­ing behaviour and social relations in the group and how these relate to the physical and economic context of the setting.
  • They keep detailed notes of their observations which they may check out with their key informants.
  • They collect any other material which supports the descriptive process or aids understanding – photographs, sketches, videos, or ‘documents* of one kind or another.

How is this different from case study research methods?

In terms of the kind of data collected it may not differ at all: both involve accumulating multiple forms of evidence on a social phenomenon of interest, of which no one variety is adequate for explanation on its own.

The difference is in focus:, ethnography is concerned with elucidating the character of a particular culture. A case study may involve an individual, or individuals, in widely different settings or institutions – such as a national organization of professionals – which is not located in a single or simple setting.

2. Gaining access

Most ethnographic studies are carried out by people who are outsiders, so for them the key problem is access. How do you gain entry, and acceptance once you’re admitted to the group? How do you get into a position where you can achieve understanding? Identifying and establishing trust with key informants is the most important factor.

In Whyte’s study the key informant was the gang leader whom he called ‘Doc’. A direct quotation conveys the character of this. At their first meeting Doc listened to what he had to say and then responded:

Well, any nights you want to see anything, I’ll take you around. I can take you to the joints – gam­bling joints – I can take you around to the street corners. Just remember that you’re my friend. That’s all they need to know. I know these places, and, if I tell them that you’re my friend, nobody will bother you. You just tell me what you want to see, and we’ll arrange it. (Whyte, 1993, p. 291.)

This extract shows just how fortunate Whyte was, which brings us to an element that does not usually figure in research methods texts: that the social researcher, particu­larly in the role of ethnographer, is heavily dependent on luck. The converse is that with the best will in the world you can find yourself excluded, treated with suspicion.

3. In it but not of it

Not all ethnographers are in the position of needing to negotiate access and acceptance. Some ethnographic research is carried out by people who are normal members of the group. Burgess was able to study a Roman Catholic comprehensive school because he was employed as a part­time teacher (but identified and legitimized as a researcher) (Burgess, 1983). Within professional groups that kind of researcher membership, though not without difficulties, is usually a privileged and relatively straightforward business.

With deviant or culturally distinct groups no such fully legitimate membership is possible; so that even if someone gains acceptance that does not imply being seen as ‘one of them’. Indeed, any attempt to be ‘one of the boys’ is likely to be perceived as false. Whyte provides an amusing example of this describing how on one occasion, in the company of the gang, he started swearing ‘trying to enter into the spirit of the small talk … [They] came to a momentary halt as they all stopped and looked at me in surprise. Doc shook his head and said: “Bill, you’re not supposed to talk like that. That doesn’t sound like you”.’ Whyte continued: ‘I learned that people did not expect me to be just like them; in fact they were interested and pleased to find me different, just so long as I took a friendly interest in them’ {op. cit., p. 304).

That last quotation expresses the stance very well and is cited to emphasize that falsifying oneself is more likely to create barriers than otherwise. There are exceptions. Patrick’s (1973) role in his study of a Glasgow gang was covert (or at least largely so); but he is not typical.

4. The lack of prior theoretical commitment

One of the most striking things about these sub-cultural ethnographic studies is their atheoretical stance. Patrick describes his research as containing ‘no new theory, no integrating thesis, no synoptic overview of juvenile or gang delinquency’ (Patrick, 1973, p. 155). He cites Merton (1957, p. 93) as calling this type of empirical research ‘post factum sociological interpretation’ where analysis and explanation take place after the observations have been made and where there is no testing of a pre-designated hypothesis. According to Merton such interpretations ‘remain at the level of plau­sibility’ (low evidential value).

Ethnographic research by its very nature is not pre­determined even as to broad direction, let alone its theo­retical orientation. Whyte (1993) describes how he was 18 months in the field before he knew where his research was going. He also challenged the utility of the conventional prior literature review – a problem he had to grapple with in getting his study accepted for a PhD. In the end he pro­duced a review as a conventional appendix but it bore no organic relation to his work.

Taylor’s 1993 literature review in her study of women drug users is conventional (being based on her PhD) but also marks out its irrelevance in the main to the work of an ethnographer studying a very specific group, at least in terms of preparation and orientation.

In Chapter 10 we return to these issues which have major implications for the real-world research process and con­stitute a challenge to conventional academic thinking.

5. ‘Thick description’

If there is a lack of a priori theoretical commitment (in advance of the evidence) that does not mean that interpretation is not one of the aims of ethnographic research. Clarifying the rules governing social behaviour and the social structure of the ‘culture’ being studied are primary aims.

But the starting point is that of meticulous and detailed description – what the American cultural anthropologist Clifford Geertz calls thick description. This term is exemplified in his 1973 book The Interpretation of Cultures. Two points he makes are that it is only by detailed description that one will see what is there: and that such description is basic to interpretation. Such interpretation can only be supported, as a theoretical argument, if the descriptive style ‘takes the reader there’. There may be disagreements about the interpretation but the substantive basis for the theorizing provides a reference point.

In reading ethnographic studies one is struck by the amount of detailed description, typically in a straightforward narrative style, often with extended quotations from indivi­duals in the group being studied; this is characteristic and somehow belies the need for elaborate ‘interpretation’. To a large extent the data are allowed to speak for themselves although it has to be noted that a process of selection is involved in what is presented. An example of this, taken from Patrick’s study of Glasgow gangs, describes the arrival of a district gang leader in a bar.

A slightly-built boy, no taller than five feet eight, was being pointed out even by some of the bar­men. He was dressed in a light-grey suit of the latest fashion, white shirt, and a red tie with a white polka dot and matching handkerchief. His long fair hair was well-groomed, parted just to the left of centre and combed down over his ears. Behind him walked a much taller boy, who looked stronger with broad shoulders and deep chest, wearing a light blue suit and a black casual. In their tour of the bar, Dick [gang leader] led the way, shaking hands with everyone and smiling;

Bob (whose name I learned later) followed behind at a respectful distance … Dick had a few words to say to all members of his gang, refused drink after drink, and accepted the deference of boys and young men much broader and taller than himself. Within twenty minutes they had toured the bar and gone. (Patrick, 1973, p. 44.)

What is immediately evident is that the effort to achieve a clear account of social relations in a specific context results in a good piece of writing. Of course, much descriptive writing in ethnography is much plainer in content: not that this detracts from its significance. Burgess (1983) devotes a section of his book to the informal groupings in the school staff-room with a schematic sketch of where their groups were clustered.

He comments:

I recognized that many of these groups were formed on the basis of the members holding similar positions in the formal organization of the school. None of these groups had an exclusive membership, that is, not all those who sat in the young women’s group were either young or female and, likewise, not all those who sat in the heads of houses group were house heads. How­ever, I have given titles to these groups on the basis of their main members and their recogni­tion by other teachers. (Burgess, 1983, p. 73.)

6. The difficulties of recording

Burgess had the great advantage of overtly (with the knowledge of colleagues) carrying out his research in a setting where making written notes, etc., was a normal activity. When you are engaged in studying gang culture (like Whyte and Patrick) then conspicuous recording may be neither practical nor, indeed (as in Patrick’s case) entirely safe. Ditton (1977), in a study of fiddling and petty theft in a bakery, had recourse to making his notes in the only private place available, and on lavatory paper. Whatever the setting, recording what you have seen and heard needs to be carried out as soon as possible. Very shorthand notes can act as prompts; a recommended procedure using these prompts is to expand them soon after in an audio recording, which then becomes another level of data for analysis. However they are made, these notes need to be made close to the time of the events while memory is still clear and vivid.

Street Comer Society, an ethnographic classic

First published in 1943, in Whyte’s lifetime this classic text ran to four editions and references here are to the 1993 4th edition. For a book of this kind to be re-issued 50 years after its original publication is some kind of testimony to its enduring worth. Of all the studies cited, it is the one which can be designated as essential reading, even if you read no other.

What Whyte did was to live in a slum area of Boston (the Italian quarter) for three years (1938-40) during which time he married and took his wife there: evidently a man of clear priorities. Coming from an advantaged background himself (with a Junior Fellowship from Harvard) he was concerned to understand the sub-culture, particularly the gang culture, of that area about which there were many judgemental opinions and related explanations, but little real knowledge of what living there and being part of that social network was actually like.

He structured his study of the district from the perspective of the gang and members of it who had their own ‘street corner’ – in effect a meeting place, hence the title. The focus is on the social structure of what Whyte called ‘Cor- nerville’ relating it to the gang culture. So such dimensions as different kinds of ‘clubs’, social mobility, politics and racketeering are all approached, and interpreted, in this way.

Whyte sought to achieve the insider perspective and comments (Whyte, 1993, p. xvi): ‘The middle-class person looks upon the slum district as a formidable mass of con­fusion, a social chaos. The insider finds in Comerville a highly organized and integrated social system (emphasis added)’. His stance could therefore be described as ‘appreciative’: but it is an appreciation based on intimate knowledge. The implications of such understanding for social action are discussed in our concluding chapter, and re-appear else­where; but one of the main lessons of studying such sub­cultures is that sound-bite judgements – for example, about drug users – do not stand up to scrutiny.

Here we concentrate on the major contribution Whyte makes to the process of carrying out ethnographic research. In the 1993 edition of his book he includes a section dealing with the evolution of Street Comer Society (Appendix A, pp. 279-373). Going beyond ethnography it is virtually an exposition of a strategy for real-world research-in-context.

He writes:

… I am convinced that the actual evaluation of research ideas does not take place in accord with the formal statements we read on research methods. The ideas grow up in part out of our immersion in the data and out of the whole pro­cess of living. Since so much of this process of analysis proceeds on the unconscious level, I am sure that we can never present a full account, {op. cit9 p. 280.)

He goes on to describe how his interest in the topic origi­nated and developed: elements typically missing from research reports which conventionally give the explicit ‘logical’ impression of having emerged from a prior study of the research literature. He describes his initial attempts to prepare outlines of his intended research (a typical requirement for funding purposes) and comments: ‘the most impressive thing about them was their remoteness from the actual study I carried out’ (p. 285).

The approach he adopted was that of studying the social organization of the community by observing the patterns of interaction between people – what they did and said in their social relations, what rules or conventions governed their social behaviour. Because this organization was largely informal: ‘Life in Cornerville did not proceed on the basis of formal appointments’ (p. 293), he had to spend a lot of time with the group he was studying and from day to day.

The influence of Whyte’s study can hardly be over­estimated and that is because of the general lessons he provides; it is rare to find a contemporary ethnographic study where it is not included in the bibliography.

A much later criticism of his work which he discusses (pp. 370-2) is that the account is his construction of the ‘truth’. This constructivist perspective is valid to the extent that all knowledge, in the sense of interpretation and explanation including the results of scientific experiments, is a matter of choice. Whyte, with characteristic reasonableness, says that it reduces to the argument whether ‘my “truth” is better than your “truth” ’ (p. 371).

When you have read the book you can form your own judgement.

7. Urban ethnography: two studies

Here we review two studies carried out in the city of Glasgow, both of which have been cited earlier: Patrick’s 1973 account of a juvenile gang and Taylor’s 1993 study of female intra­venous drug users. Both exemplify the challenges and opportunities awaiting the urban ethnographer. In reading them you come to see the distinctive character of this kind of study: like no other in social research.

The over-powering impression – and it is a seductive one – is of the vivid reality of the material obtained. As one comes to appreciate the commitment involved, in terms of time and coverage, it is easy to understand why such data are scarce; and why society in general so little understands those sub-cultures that exist within it.

Glasgow gangs

Patrick’s study is unusual. Working as a young teacher (and looking younger than his age) in what was then known as an ‘approved school’ he struck up a friendship with one of the older boys, Tim, who invited him to ‘come and see for himself what the gangs were like on the next weekend leave (a usual arrangement at that time); an invitation that with some misgivings he took up.

He describes his investigation as:

… a descriptive account of a participant obser­vation study of one such gang between October 1966 and January 1967. In all I spent just under 120 hours in the field; and as my involvement with the gang deepened, so the hours lengthened, until towards the end of January I was in the company of the gang during one weekend from seven o’clock on Friday evening until six on Sunday morning. (Patrick, 1973, p. 9.)

His research was covert in the sense that he did not identify himself as a researcher but as a friend of Tim’s from the approved school who was there for housebreaking. Any doubts as to the ethical stance involved are removed as one reads his account of a culture so violent and dangerous that concealment was the only possible strategy; and not without its risks even then. So, although the amount of fieldwork was limited, it is remarkable that it was obtained at all. Patrick’s time in the field was curtailed because of the threat of vio­lence to him (because he’d avoided participation in a weekend gang war).

Not the least of its illuminating qualities is the perspective it offers on the institutions of society; as for example a time when he was taken into custody by the police:

The police quickly realized that I had no infor­mation to give them, and so, finally, they told me to empty my pockets. The moment I put my hands into my trouser pockets to comply with the order, I was punched in the back by one police­man and kicked from behind by another as I fell.

After a few more punches and kicks, the police withdrew and the door was locked, (p. 58)

An incidental benefit of this episode was that it validated his acceptance by the gang.

Female drug users

Taylor’s study had its own share of dangers, a concern that recurs throughout the book; in fact, no harm came to her, which was a subject of remark.

Her research was more intensive than Patrick’s; she recounts how for 15 months she spent most of her days, and many nights, participating in and observing the activities of a group of female injecting drug users in Glasgow. Since she was a married woman with children this shows exceptional dedication arising out of her high level of motivation. She observed 50 such women during this period and with 26 of them carried out in-depth unstructured interviews at the end of the project.

Taylor’s stance was ‘appreciative’ in the sense that she sought not just to observe but to understand the women’s behaviour by exploring the meaning they attached to what they did. Without promoting any notion that drug-taking was a ‘good thing’ she argued that:

… against the stereotypical view of pathetic, inadequate individuals, women drug users in this study are shown to be rational, active people making decisions based on the contingencies of their drug-using careers and their roles and status in society. Such an approach also allows the ordinariness as well as the more deviant aspects of their lives to be seen, showing that women drug users have many of the same concerns, fears and hopes as other women. (Taylor, 1993, p. 8.)

Although both studies were radically different in focus there were several common features distinctive to this kind of fieldwork research.

Sponsors and key informants

These are critical to gaining access to the group under study, as previously noted in the case of ‘Doc’ in Street Comer Society (Whyte, 1993) and Tim in Patrick’s 1973 study. They are often one and the same. The sponsor validates you and gives you entry: while the key informant answers your questions and generally keeps you briefed and aware. As in Taylor’s case this last group may comprise several people. Her sponsor was a local drug worker in the area who was known to, and trusted by, the women. He was able to introduce the first couple of contacts and accompanied her on these occasions. Making more contacts was a slow business at first but gradually, as she became known and accepted (Are you the woman who is interested in women junkies ?), so the study group expanded. But there was a nucleus of eight women who were her key informants with whom she could raise questions and seek clarification.

8. ‘Speaking for themselves’

An obvious criticism of an ethnographer (to be discussed more fully later) is that she/he is interpreting, selecting and so constructing the ‘reality’ presented. Straight but com­prehensive description of events is one strand to counter this (legitimate) objection; reporting spontaneous speech is another. Patrick (1973, p. 16) writes: ‘Whenever possible, I shall let events and characters speak for themselves’. Taylor takes an identical stance (1993, p. 7): ‘Much of the text allows the women to speak for themselves, describing from their point of view the lifestyles which have evolved round their use of illicit drugs’.

Interestingly, although Taylor and Patrick were bom and bred in Glasgow they found the rapid patter in the broad accent of the groups they were studying something of a problem (Taylor, p. 14; Patrick, p. 15) and both found it necessary to ask their informants what particular words meant and to include a glossary in their books.

In the contexts in which both of these researchers were working, on-the-spot note-making was out of the question. Taylor is particularly clear in this respect, but found that by writing up her experiences at the end of each day she could recall detail better than she expected. However, most of the direct quotation came from extended interviews with some of the women at the end of her study.

9. Risk-taking

As noted above, Patrick had to curtail his investigation because of the threat of physical violence; he certainly wit­nessed a great deal. He was a witness also in a different sense, that of seeing criminal activity in which he might be seen as complicit.

Taylor (op. cit., p. 20) had a similar concern that ‘remained with me throughout the fieldwork [which] arose from the illegal nature of much of the information I came across’. On only one occasion did she find herself in actual physical danger ‘from a mentally disturbed drug user who was stabbing people who merely spoke or even looked at him’. She did, however, take precautions, first in her choice of area to work, not giving her home address and making her telephone number ex-directory. But, as she became more confident and ‘accepted’ she took what might be regarded as risks, on occasion being alone with drug-users, male and female. Real-world research such as this does involve risks because that is what parts of our society are like.

These two studies have been outlined here mainly in terms of their procedure: the roughly generalizable lessons to be gained from them. They are strongly recommended for further reading because the detailed sense of what urban ethnography is like requires this kind of thoughtful reading – summaries and quotations are not enough.

It is first-hand experience that brings these lessons into sharp focus. The next chapter describes some current work of the author on street-begging in Glasgow.

Source: Gillham Bill (2008), Observation Techniques: Structured to Unstructured, Continuum; Illustrated edition.

Process of observation methodology

This chapter is written ‘as it happened’ so that much of it has an episodic quality. The chronological form of presentation also demonstrates the nature of the research process, including the development of the author’s thinking.

When I first came to work in Glasgow in the mid-1980s one of the things that struck me was the number of people begging in the street, some apparently more habitual in this respect than others. It is still a common experience to be accosted, sometimes by women or children, to be asked for their ‘bus fare home’ or some such.

I soon came to see that this casual, direct approach kind of begging was different from those who sited themselves, usually strategically, with a plastic cup in front of them. The latter group, always men, appeared never directly to ask for money. Here there were also two groups: those with a dog and those without. The no-dog group often held a card­board notice in front of them: one, who sited himself next to a cash-point in Buchanan Street, had a card which read: HOMELESS AND HUNGRY – PLEASE HELP – GOD BLESS YOU. Their stance – typically withdrawn, eyes cast down – presented a picture of utter dejection. This may be just a ‘style’ but whenever I attempted to do so, I was never able to make eye contact, let alone draw them into conversation. I was puzzled as to how I might get to know more about what appeared to be a distinct culture of longstanding.

For some time these street beggars, who seemed to com­prise both a shifting and a regular population (I came to recognize faces), were something that remained on the margin of my interest but I was intrigued by the normalcy of this street phenomenon and began to read around the topic (usually only dealt with incidentally). Interestingly, begging never has been illegal in Scotland, as in England where it was made an offence under the 1837 Vagrancy Act. Devine in his book The Scottish Nation 1700-2000 (1999) describes how begging in Scotland was a recognized, locally-licensed activity (p. 100), in effect part of the pattern of poor relief. Sydney Smith, the early nineteenth-century clerical wit and Canon of St Paul’s, writes in a letter dated 4 November 1798 of his impressions on a visit to Scotland:

I suppose there are at least 3 beggars in this country for every one in England, and there is not here the same just reason for putting an end to the abuse. They beg in a very quiet, gentle way, and thus lose the most productive act of the profession, Importunity. (N. C. Smith [ed.], 1956, p. 120

After more than 200 years Sydney Smith’s observations still apply in my experience; I disagree, however, with his jud­gement on the effectiveness of their style (see page 63).

My impression was that those beggars who ‘set out their stall’ usually with a remarkably docile dog sleeping on a cover, were more ‘open’ than their more withdrawn breth­ren. I determined to try and establish contact with one of them and so to get a perspective on this sub-culture which, I suspected, had its own characteristics, unknown except to those voluntary social workers who sought to help the homeless as these men presumably were. However, I didn’t want to approach the topic through people with their own preconceptions, however well-informed.

I began by plotting the location of these street beggars in three, largely pedestrianized, intersecting main shopping streets (Sauchiehall Street, Buchanan Street, Argyle Street) so I came to see how carefully they placed themselves to get a maximum flow of passers-by, balanced against unwanted attention from the police: in that they might be held to be causing an obstruction. It was also apparent that they picked their time of day – across lunch-time being the preferred period.

1. Making contact

I made a tentative approach to one of the ‘regulars’ who occupied a pitch on Argyle Street. On the first occasion it was raining and he had had the thoughtful (and witty) notion of erecting a small and colourful women’s umbrella over his dog, a brown and white specimen of indeterminate breed. I stopped, commented on this, had a friendly response, put a few coins in his cup, asked him his name (Ian) and told him mine, saying I would drop by again.

Being out of town, it was almost three weeks before I saw Ian next. I dropped some money in his cup, crouched down next to him, said that I was from Strathclyde University doing a study of people like him – and could I ask him questions?

Ian was willing to talk. He told me he was there every day usually from about eleven in the morning to two in the afternoon. I asked if he had a place to ‘stay’ (i.e. live) and he told me he sometimes stayed with a friend but that he usually slept rough where he could – different places. I asked him whether he had trouble with the police and he talked about this at some length: ‘they say I’m in people’s way’ and that he was sometimes taken into custody. I offered to get him something to eat but he declined. I said that I would drop by again and could I buy him cigarettes? His face lit up at that so I took my chance and asked if I could come back and observe who gave him money. He said he was perfectly happy about that. I arranged to be there the next day.

When I turned up he was clearly waiting for me. He said: ‘you’ve just missed about ten people’. I handed over a packet of cigarettes, which he immediately started opening, a box of matches; and a packet of chews for his dog. In characteristically oblique fashion he started talking about his dog (Misty, about nine years old). He was keen to tell me how he’d detected a tumour and took her to the free veterinary service (the PDSA) and the vet couldn’t find it but ‘I know my dog’. This side-tracked into an account of how he’d tried to leave the dog ‘with a lassie’ but the dog had looked at him as if to say ‘don’t do it … ’.

As he talked it became clear that he was very attached to Misty (‘she sleeps where I sleep’) and that having the dog with him on his pitch was not just a ploy to attract custom – although it did, as I was to observe. People often looked at the dog even if they didn’t give something.

Ian was a bit uneasy about being observed (‘how long is this going to take?’) and suggested I sit on a bench about 15 yards away where I would have a good view. Apart from the business of recording I was able to see how Ian regulated his pitch. Periodically he removed larger coins from the plastic cup and put them in a pocket. At only one time did he actually solicit a donation – from a young man part of a group, and as a result of a rapid exchange of Glaswegian banter, incomprehensible to me.

Donations were usually made swiftly and deliberately – in one passing movement, so to speak. As Table 2.1 (page 12) shows, younger women were the most likely to give some­thing and particularly to talk at some length: one young woman crouched down beside him talking and stroking the dog for five minutes. There was only one non-donor who gave Ian and the dog attention. He seemed to be of the type I had noted in my phase of unstructured observations (i.e. ‘hangers-on’).

I felt that Ian was rather conscious of my observing him but seemed concerned that it should work for me. ‘Nae bother’, he said when I thanked him.

I tried to get some account of his sources of income; as far as I could understand what he said, begging was his main and most reliable source. My estimate is that he took in at least £15 in that hour but I didn’t feel I could ask him directly.

One incidental benefit of an hour’s continuous observa­tion was that I gained a sense of the ‘street culture’: difficult to analyse but with a quite different feel from passing through as a preoccupied shopper. One market researcher, armed with a clipboard like mine, and mistaking my pur­pose, remarked: ‘It’s a boring job, isn’t it?’ I didn’t feel I could contradict her …

2. Where next?

From my work so far I could see the following developments:

  • determining a focus for a literature search on the culture and practice of begging in Scotland and other urban areas
  • building on my relationship with Ian
  • attempting to establish similar contact with others like him.

On this last point I soon realized that Ian was unusual in always being at his post: others comprised a relatively shift­ing population even when the same sites were inhabited. So the question became: what was the ‘turnover’ and how did these men differ from Ian (if they did)?

I had to be away from Glasgow for almost two months but made a point of looking for Ian the day after my return, supplying myself with a packet of cigarettes.

He had moved his pitch to the other side of the doorway from his usual place. He greeted me as if I had only been gone a day or two. As I bent down to give him the cigarettes he whispered: ‘Do you have any change? I don’t usually ask but it’s not been a good day’, and he nodded towards a police van stationed nearby. I took this as some sort of recognition and gave him what loose change I had, talking to him for a while before I asked him if I could come back to photograph him a couple of days later (illustrated on page 72). ‘Nae problem’, he said. I had in mind to take a sequence of photographs eventually, but starting off with a single shot to gauge Ian’s acceptance of being photo­graphed. I also speculated as to whether video would be a possibility at some later date.

Note that I had decided to focus more on Ian, for the moment, because I felt there was a lot more to learn from studying him and because of the tentative relationship of trust that was being built up. As have others engaged in this kind of urban ethnography, I found myself increasingly interested (concerned?) in Ian’s welfare, not just as an object of study.

On the appointed day the weather was fine for photo­graphy and Ian was doing brisk business in the crowded shopping street. I observed that instead of a plastic cup he had a plastic lid with a few (low denomination) coins in it. The effect of this seemed to be that people put the money in his hand. Being more visible it may have been that people felt it too conspicuous to put their contribution in the lid. I didn’t ask Ian why he’d made the change, but I doubt that it was deliberate – on a later visit he just had a scrap of plastic bag, weighted down with coins.

I explained that I would be taking about a dozen shots in quick succession, and that I would give him one of the photographs. My impression was that he liked the attention and it occurred to me, really for the first time, that his street pitch was for Ian a part (the main part?) of his social life.

In conversation afterwards he said, quite proudly: ‘A lot of people know me. They know I’m always here.’ Coming away I felt I was right to allow the pace to go slowly; partly because it seemed wrong to do too much questioning and partly because if you are patient, not only are your half-formed questions often answered but you’re likely to be told things it wouldn’t occur to you to ask. That was to be borne out at the time of my next visit.

3. Extending the project

It was only at this stage that I started a search of the journal literature for papers on urban street begging in western countries. This was because I had wanted to see for myself first without preconceptions from the work of others. I would be able to read these sources with a context of my own to which I could relate them.

When I saw Ian about ten days later I said I had a pho­tograph for him and would drop it off the next day. I gave him some change and took the opportunity to ask him how long he had been on his present pitch. After some hesitation he said about eight years and before that he’d been in Sauchiehall Street for two years when he’d had an Alsatian dog. I asked him if he’d had a job before that and he launched into an involved tale, hard to follow, about how he’d been described as a bad influence on ‘the others’ but I couldn’t get it any clearer than that. I have decided that this kind of piecemeal questioning is the only way I can proceed.

Later I went to another regularly inhabited pitch – not always occupied by the same person as far as I could judge – on a pedestrian way between Sauchiehall Street and Bath Street. I found the occupant quite friendly and forthcoming. He said his name was Dougie and that he was there most days between twelve and five ‘but sometimes I go out with my girlfriend – I’ve got kids’ and on those occasions a friend ‘he sells the Big Issue’ filled in for him. (More forthcoming than others I’ve seen on this pitch – perhaps another useful informant here: something to build on.)

Back after about ten days I took Ian one of the photo­graphs I’d taken, which seemed to please him. But he looked troubled so I asked him if he was OK. T can’t tell you,’ he said at first, ‘you’ll no believe me.’ I said that was up to him, but could I help? He shook his head: ‘There’s a guy over there watching me and when I go he’s going to follow me’. I couldn’t make out what it was about and Ian refused to identify him. Later that same day I paid a visit to Dougie who seemed disgruntled: ‘Nobody’s giving me anything’. I dropped a coin in his plastic cup; it was not the moment to ask questions. He remembered me: ‘You’re Bill aren’t you?’ So, a small increment.

A week later and Ian greeted me as an old friend. He was eager to show me a photograph of a painting (oil?) of himself and Misty: ‘It’s a girl from the gallery over the way’. Had he been to the gallery to see it? No, he hadn’t. What about the man who’d been watching him at the time of my previous visit: had anything happened? He shook his head: ‘He was just a nutcase’. I’d assumed something more sinis­ter; certainly Ian had been very troubled at the time.

I explained that I was only in Glasgow for a few days. Ian grinned: ‘You’re always away!’ – adding sententiously, ‘you get a lot of knowledge going to different countries’.

That brief episode confirmed my view that Ian took an interest in people, as people did in him: and that contrary to a superficial impression was not a ‘pathetic’ character, even if he was financially dependent on others. He was ‘good value’ in return in a way that Dougie was not.

A month later: a sunny day and Ian had erected an umbrella as a sunshade over Misty. I took the opportunity to ask him if he had any family. He said his mother lived in Glasgow but he hadn’t seen her for three years because it was ‘nae use’, and he had a sister as well but he shook his head. I asked him who would look after him if he were ill.

He said: ‘I’m not well now – it’s my throat’. He’d mentioned something about that before but I hadn’t understood him: to be followed up.

4. The research literature: a comparative review

In what has been written so far no reference has been made to the research literature on urban street begging and associated factors; indeed none was actually read until a first­hand knowledge base (a restricted one, admittedly) had been established.

Two main studies were identified: one by the housing charity Crisis: We are Human Too: A Study of People Who Beg (Murdoch, 1994); and ‘Begging, rough sleeping and social exclusion: Implications for social policy’ (Kennedy and Fitzpatrick, 2001).

These were relatively large-scale projects. The Crisis report dealt with 145 people who begged in Central London; the paper by Kennedy and Fitzpatrick reported on 66 beggars in Glasgow and Edinburgh. They make fascinating reading and provide more extensive information than in the present chapter. Of interest from the methodological point of view – and relevant to the present book – is that neither is an observational study although Kennedy and Fitzpatrick car­ried out a brief structured observational audit of who was begging and where.

This lack of observational data leads to a central weakness in the definition of begging: Kennedy and Fitzpatrick (2001, p. 2001) define it as ‘asking passers-by for money in a public place’. Now from my observational experience this defini­tion is only true of those who walk around accosting mem­bers of the public. Those whom I have called ‘stationary’ beggars (page 10) do not usually ask for money, even non­verbally by extending a hand. Ian (page 60) seemed to regard this as not what he usually did at all and my observations had also confirmed this. In part, of course, it depends what you mean by ‘asking’ – having a plastic cup with a few coins in it is a kind of request. But it is necessary to distinguish different styles of begging.

In both studies the main method employed was the interview (structured in the case of the Crisis study; descri­bed as ‘biographical’ in the Kennedy and Fitzpatrick study).

The stance taken is that begging is a problem to be dealt with; but Kennedy and Fitzpatrick argue that ‘homelessness’ is not a sufficient focus and that what is required is ‘an individually tailored “resettlement” package which met their particular needs’ (op. cit., p. 2012). Both acknowledge that begging is part of a lifestyle: e.g. ‘Both rough sleeping and the bed and breakfast/hostel circuit help create a life­style that is quite different from that of people with homes and jobs. There was definitely a sense of begging being part of that lifestyle’ (Murdoch, 1994, p.10).

Kennedy and Fitzpatrick take the view that ‘begging is properly viewed as a product of social exclusion’ (p. 2003). But ‘social exclusion’ is a political notion which presumably places a particular value on ‘inclusion’/conformity. In get­ting to know Ian I have come to understand that his way of life is an adaptive response not just to circumstances but to how and what he feels psychologically comfortable in being. The notion of a ‘resettlement’ package which met his par­ticular needs is to beg the question: according to whose definition of needs and system of values? This is not an attempt to romanticize his style or situation but to question the assumptions that underlie a mainstream interpretation.

With all that in mind I continue with an observational approach which is more neutral, and seeks to describe and understand the street culture of which beggars are a part. Note that even the limited empirical work I have been able to carry out has enabled me to qualify what I have found in the published research.

Source: Gillham Bill (2008), Observation Techniques: Structured to Unstructured, Continuum; Illustrated edition.