CHAPTER

But Is It Ethical?
Learning to Do Right

Research in itself is a powerfit! intervention . .. which has traditionally benefited

the researcher, and the knowledge base of the dominant group in society.
(Tuhiwai Smith 1999, 176)

Neutrality is not pluralistic hut imperialistic . .. reinscribing the agenda in its

terms.
OIt'n

(Christians 2000, 142)

As a group of students entered their second semester together in a qualitative research

methods class, they reflected on the role trial and error had played in their best-learned
lessons. Ernie wondered, "Can you even consider the possibility of learning research ethics
through trial and error'?" With increased awareness of ethical issues, they deliberated over
perceived ethical dilemmas and wondered about the unintended consequences of their work.
This group of students realized that ethical considerations should accompany plans,
thoughts, and discussions about each aspect of qualitative research. Ethics is not something
that you can forget once you satisfy the demands of institutional review boards and other
gatekeepers of research conduct. Nor is it "merely a matter of isolated choices in crucial
situations" (Cassell and Jacobs 1987, I). Rather, ethical considerations are inseparable from
your everyday interactions with research participants and with your data.
Ethical decisions are not peculiar to qualitative inquiry. Guidelines for ethical conduct
grew out of medical and other types of intrusive research and led to emphases on informed
consent, avoidance of harm, and confidentiality by Institutional Review Boards (lRBs). Differ-
ent epistemological systems give rise to different ethical concerns (Lincoln 1990; Scott 1996).
Logical positivist inquiry emphasizes separation between researcher and researched while,
in most interpretivist research, researcher-researched interaction is common. The distance
between researcher and participants does not make a study more conducive to meeting ethical
standards, however. Indeed, a neutral stance, in itself, can be construed as an ethical issue
because it can lead to an objectification of others. This is true of traditional qualitative research
as well in which the researcher is expected to be friendly and empathetic, but to remain neutral
and uninvolved. A large area of ethical consideration and discussion in qualitative research,
therefore, concerns the nature of relationships with research participants.

129
130 Chapter 6

Many feminist, critical, and indigenous researchers argue that research must go beyond
bestowing "hope" for future contributions, and glossing over "abuses of power and human
need in the present" (Christians 2000, 144). Such perspectives require that the research
process be constantly negotiated with research participants. What constitutes ethicality then
becomes something to be discussed and heavily contextual.
It follows that choosing your topic and designing your methods can be perceived as an
ethical issue because what you choose to research and how you design the inquiry relates to
your philosophical and ethical stance on the purpose and nature of research. Soltis (1990)
observes:

In critical research there seems to be the presumption that the very purpose of all human
research is to raise our consciousness regarding ethically suspect arrangements embedded in
the structure of our sociocultural world. This requires that researchers be ethical in the purpose
as well as in the process of doing research. Perhaps this raises the most fundamental ethical
questions of all: Should the fundamental purpose of human inquiry be directed primarily at
securing the good of human beings? (255)

Generally, this chapter focuses on ethical issues that arise out of the researcher-
researched relationship in qualitative research approach. It does not discuss those ethical
issues generic to all types of research, such as falsifying results or publishing without
crediting core searchers. As in previous chapters, unequivocal advice on "right" or "wrong"
ways to behave is difficult to provide. Rather, the issues raised here are meant to alert you
to areas that need consideration and forethought, so that you can possibly avoid learning
ethical lessons through trial and error.

Ethical Codes
Nazi concentration camps and the atomic bomb served to undermine the image of science as
value-free and automatically contributing to human welfare (Diener and Crandall 1978).
Medical research in the United States that resulted in physical harm to subjects (such as the
Tuskegee Syphilis Study) and social science research that caused, at the least, psychological
pain (such as the Milgram shock experiment) led to the formation of codes of ethics by
different professional organizations and academic institutions. By 1974, the federal govern-
ment had mandated the establishment of institutional review boards (IRBs) at all universities
that accepted federal funding for research involving human subjects. Five basic principles
guide the decisions ofIRBs when reviewing applicants' proposals:

1. Research subjects must have sufficient information to make informed decisions

about participating in a study.
2. Research subjects must be able to withdraw, without penalty, from a study at any point.
3. All unnecessary risks to a research subject must be eliminated.
4. Benefits to the subject or society, preferably both, must outweigh all potential risks.
5. Experiments should be conducted only by qualified investigators.
But Is It Ethical,) Learning to Do Right 131

Various professional groups created their own codes of ethics. The ethical guide-
lines adopted by the American Anthropological Association (AAA) address issues that
qualitative researchers in general face. The AAA Code of Ethics has evolved through several
versions, most recently amended and adopted by the AAA membership in 1998. The following
portion is taken from their five-page statement and focuses upon researchers' responsibilities
to people and animals with whom they work and whose lives and cultures they study.

1. Anthropological researchers have primary ethical obligations to the people, species, and
materials they study and to the people with whom they work. These obligations can
supersede the goal of seeking new knowledge, and can lead to decisions not to undertake
or to discontinue a research project when the primary obligation conflicts with other
responsibilities, such as those owed to sponsors or clients ....
2. Anthropological researchers must do everything in their power to ensure that their research
does not harm the safety, dignity, or privacy of the people with whom they work, conduct
research, or perform other professional activities ...
3. Anthropological researchers must determine in advance whether their hosts/providers of
information wish to remain anonymous or receive recognition, and make every effort to
comply with those wishes. Researchers must present to their research participants the
possible impacts of the choices, and make clear that despite their best efforts, anonymity
may be compromised or recognition fail to materalize.
4. Anthropological researchers should obtain in advance the informed consent of persons
being studied, providing information, owning or controlling access to material being stud-
ied, or otherwise identified as having interests which might be impacted by the research.
It is understood that the degree and breadth of informed consent required will depend on
the nature of the project and may be affected by requirements of other codes, laws, and
ethics of the country or community in which the research is pursued. Further, it is under-
stood that the informed consent process is dynamic and continuous; the process should
be initiated in the project design and continue through implementation by way of dialogue
and negotiation with those studied .... Informed consent, for the purpose of this code,
does not necessarily imply or require a particular written or signed form. It is the quality of
the consent, not the format, that is relevant.
5. Anthropological researchers who have developed close and enduring relationships ...
with either individual persons providing information or with hosts must adhere to the obli-
gations of openness and informed consent, while carefully and respectfully negotiating the
limits of the relationship.
6. While anthropologists may gain personally from their work, they must not exploit individ-
uals, groups, animals, or cultural or biological materials. They should recognize their debt
to the societies in which they work and their obligation to reciprocate with people studied
in appropriate ways. (American Anthropological Association 1998,2-3)

The AAA Code of Ethics includes directives on the researcher's responsibilities to scholar-
ship and science, the public, students and trainees, and applied work. Many of the principles
are general and open to interpretation; nonetheless, they provide a framework for reflection
on fieldwork, sensitizing you to areas that require thoughtful decisions.
In light of today's codes of ethics, a number of studies from the 1950s and 1960s
would never be approved. Generally, subjects were drawn from low-power groups; in some
132 Chapter 6

cases, they gave information only to have the findings used against their own interests by
people in positions of power (Punch 1986). Ethical codes help to mitigate this occurrence.
Nonetheless, some researchers object to ethical codes because they can also protect the
powerful. For example, Wilkins (1979, 109) notes that prisoners' rights are rarely a matter
of concern for authorities until someone wants to do research in prisons. In effect, authori-
ties can protect themselves under the guise of protecting subjects. Institutions that require
explicit consent often have elaborate screening devices to deflect research on sensitive
issues. Galliher asks, "Is not the failure of sociology to uncover corrupt, illegitimate covert
practices of government or industry because of the supposed prohibitions of professional
ethics tantamount to supporting such practices?" (Galliher 1982, 160).
In addition, aspects of ethical research codes may be culturally biased. Lipson (1994)
points out how Western codes of ethics focus on respect for the individual and for individual
rights, while "in many other cultures, 'personhood' is defined in terms of one's tribe, social
group, or village" (341). She uses examples from her work with Afghan refugees to demon-
strate how "Afghans do not think of themselves as individuals who have their own rights or
autonomy, but as members of families" (342). With this kind of dilemma in mind, a commis-
sion raised the issue of whether or not the AAA had the moral authority to create a code of
ethics if it also espoused cultural relativism. That is, they asked if moral codes of different
cultures can be considered as morally equal, how was it that the AAA could develop a code of
ethics for conducting research? In their discussion, the commission concluded that although
cultural relativism is an important intellectual stance for understanding practices within a
culture, it does not mean that the researcher has to agree with any or all of the practices of
a people being studied. For example, although slavery is generally considered wrong, the
practice continues to exist in some places and is worthy of study. The commission eventually
agreed that the development of an ethical code was important as a guide for people doing field
research. That ethical codes may preclude certain kinds of research or that they may be cul-
turally biased are not grounds for dismissal, but rather indicate how, in qualitative research,
standards of ethicality may evolve as your research perspectives grow.

Informed Consent
Though informed consent neither precludes the abuse of research findings, nor creates a
symmetrical relationship between researcher and researched, it can contribute to the empow-
ering of research participants. The appropriateness of informed consent, particularly written
consent forms, however, is a debated issue that accompanies discussions of codes of ethics by
qualitative inquirers. Through informed consent, potential study participants are made aware
(1) that participation is voluntary, (2) of any aspects of the research that might affect their
well-being, and (3) that they may freely choose to stop participation at any point in the study
(Diener and Crandall 1978). Originally developed for biomedical research, informed consent
is now applicable when participants may be exposed to physical or emotional risk. Some-
times the requirement of written consent is readily accepted, as in the case of obtaining
parental consent before studying young children. In other cases, as recognized by IRBs, the
very record left by consent papers could put some individuals' safety at risk if discussing
sensitive topics (i.e., crime, sexual behavior, drug use). [f written consent were required for
 But Is It EthicaJ'7 Learning to Do Right 133

all research projects, then the work of some qualitative researcher would be curtailed. Written
consent would also eliminate all unobtrusive field observations and informal conversations.
Margaret Mead stated that "anthropological research does not have subjects. We
work with informants in an atmosphere of mutual respect" (in Diener and Crandall 1978,
52). Field relationships continually undergo informal renegotiation as respect, interest, and
acceptance grow or wane for both researcher and participant. As the relationship develops,
the researcher may be invited to participate in ways he or she hoped for, but could not have
sought access to in the beginning (from secret ceremonies to executive golfing rounds).
When research becomes collaborative, cooperation, active assistance, and collegiality may
exceed the demands of informed consent (Diener and Crandall 1978; Wax 1982). This
sense of cooperation and partnership may be more relevant to the ethical assessment of
qualitative fieldwork than whether or not informed consent forms were signed.

Researcher Roles and Ethical Dilemmas

In the beginning stages of research projects, novices tend to see their research role as one
of data gathering. As they become more involved in fieldwork, they find themselves func-
tioning in a variety of roles depending upon research purposes and procedures, their own
characteristics, and personal attributes of research participants. Some of the roles may
worry the researcher while others may be attractive but perplexing in relationship to their
data-gathering goal. This section addresses several roles that qualitative researchers easily
assume: exploiter, reformer, advocate, and friend. Different ethical dilemmas accompany
each role.
I

Exploiter
Esperanza has given me her story to smuggle across the border. Just as rural Mexican laborers
export their bodies for labor on American soil, Esperanza has given me her story for export
only.... The question will be whether I can act as her literary broker without becoming the
worst kind of coyote, getting her across, but only by exploiting her lack of power to make it to
el otro lado any other way. (Behar 1993,234)

Questions of exploitation, or "using" your others, tend to arise as you become immersed
in your research and begin to rejoice in the richness of what you are learning. You are thankful,
but you may begin to feel guilty for how much you are receiving and how little you seem to be
giving in return. Take this concern seriously. Do researchers, as uninvited outsiders, enter a
new community, mine the raw data of words and behaviors, and then withdraw to process
those data into a product that serves themselves and, perhaps, their professional colleagues?
Research participants usually remain anonymous. In contrast, researchers may get status,
prestige, and royalties from publications (Plummer 1983). Researchers sometimes justify
their actions with trickle-down promises such as, "Through getting the word out to other pro-
fessionals (special edu.cators, nurses, social workers), we will be able to help other people
like you."
134 Chapter 6

Exploitation involves questions of power. If you are not engaged in collaborative

research projects, then how do you decide if you are "using" your participants? Mitzi began to
interview homeless mothers about the schooling of their children. She agonized over ques-
tions of exploitation:

What am I giving back to these homeless mothers that I interview? It seems so unfair that this
middle class privileged person is "using" this needy population ... Can someone in a shelter
tell me they don't have time? Privilege allows my response [of no time 1 to others to be OK.
For them, that response would be suspect.

Dick, in his study of first-year principals, felt he "used" his relationships, his contacts, and his
friends all over the state to get data.
Mitzi and Dick ask difficult questions. They were both working on dissertation studies
and feeling as though they were receiving more than they were giving. They most likely
were. One could ask, however, in what ways were they giving back to the communities?
Mitzi and Dick treated interviewees with respect and dignity. That was ethical. They listened
carefully, making sure they understood what was told them. That was ethical. Mitzi worked
in social services and Dick in public education. Both planned to incorporate what they were
learning in the work they did and to share it with others. That was ethical. Neither made
promises to participants to solve their problems; rather they listened to their stories and
resolved to make their voices heard. That was ethical.
If the standard of ethicality is resolving the difficulties of people from whom you
collect data, and resolving them right away, then much research is doomed never to begin.
Nonetheless, the question of exploitation needs serious attention; a question that has led
many researchers to make the choice of more collaborative-based research. Try answering
the following questions posed by Linda Tuhiwai Smith (1999. 173):

• Who defined the research problem?

• For whom is this study worthy and relevant? Who says so?
• What knowledge will the community gain from this study?
• What knowledge will the researcher gain from this study?
• What are some likely positive outcomes from this study?
• What are some possible negative outcomes?
• To whom is the researcher accountable?

If your answers clearly show that you do all the decision making and acquire the most, you
may want to modify your research design.

Intervener/Reformer
Unlike the exploiter role. which researchers wander into but want to avoid, the intervener or
reformer role is one researchers may consciously decide to assume. As a result of conducting
research, researchers may attempt to right what they judge to be wrong, to change what they
But Is It Ethical'! Learning to Do Right 135

condemn as unjust. Through observations at a zoo, Nancy grew increasingly concerned over
what she considered to be inhumane treatment of certain animals and agonized over what to
do with her information.
In the process of doing research, researchers often acquire information that is poten-
tially dangerous to some people. Don was interested in the history of an educational research
organization. As he interviewed, he lamented, ''I'm hearing stuff that I neither need nor wish
to know about attitudes and relationships." The process was complicated for Don because he
was investigating an organization in which he himself was involved.
As I interviewed young Caribbean farmers about their practices, I unexpectedly learned
about the illegal cultivation and marketing of marijuana. And as Peshkin interviewed students
in his ethnicity study, he became privy to information like the following:

You know about the corner store, right? No? Gosh. They sell alcohol to anyone. Anyone.
My friend and I went there to buy some chips and the guy who was standing behind the
counter said, "You guys drink? 1"11 sell you some wine coolers. I won't tell your parents.
Don't worry about it. Want some wine cooler?"

When your others trust you, you invariably receive the privilege and burden of learning
things that are problematic at best and dangerous at worst.
Your ethical dilemma concerns what to do with dangerous knowledge. To what extent
should you continue to protect the confidentiality of research participants? If you learn about
illegal behavior, should you expose it? If those of us in the above examples informed author-
ities of our knowledge, we would jeopardize not only our continued research in those sites,
but also possible subsequent projects. None of us discussed our knowledge with other
research participants, nor personally intervened. If what you learn relates to the point of your
study, you must explore ways to communicate the dangerous knowledge so that you fully
maintain the anonymity of your sources. Such advice is consistent with other researchers
who suggest that continual protection of confidentiality is the best policy (Ball 1985; Fine
and Sandstrom 1988).
In their book Knowing Children. Fine and Sandstrom (1988) discuss how preadoles-
cents "not only behave in ways that are unknowingly dangerous, but also knowingly and
consciously behave in ways that are outside the rules set by adults" (55). As trust develops
between the researcher and children, words and actions of the children may pose ethical
dilemmas for the researcher. A child may, for example, act as a bully or make a sexist
comment. Fine and Sandstrom conclude that "children must be permitted to engage in certain
actions and speak certain words that the adult researcher finds distressing. Further, in some
instances, the researcher must act in ways that are at least tacitly supportive of these distress-
ing behaviors" (Fine and Sandstrom 1988,55).
The question remains, however, of how "wrong" a situation must be before you
should intervene on the basis of your unexpectedly acquired knowledge. If, for example, as
a researcher you suspect ongoing emotional abuse of a child, do you react differently than
if your work puts you in contact with students being offered alcohol at the corner store?
Could not the latter also be construed as a case of child abuse? How do you decide where
the lines are between a felt moral obligation to intervene and an obligation to continue as
the data-collecting researcher'?
136 Chapter 6

No definitive answers can be provided for many questions and again, judgments
are made on a mix of contextual elements and personal compulsions. Some preventative
measures, however, will help avoid such dilemmas. Laurie, a nurse, conducted research in a
hospital setting. She worried about what she should do if she observed malpractice while in
her research role. Finally, she discussed her worries with her cohorts in a qualitative research
methods class. By taking the worry seriously and putting it through a variety of configu-
rations, the class urged Laurie to meet with her gatekeepers and with the nursing staff
whom she was observing and interviewing to get their advice on how she should proceed if
she observed malpractive. In the earlier example, Nancy also appealed to colleagues after
witnessing behavior at the zoo which she considered "wrong." After much debate, the group
agreed that she should continue collecting data and become an animal advocate after she
published the data.
Developing some sort of support group to discuss worries and dilemmas is a valuable
part of the research process. Some researchers build a panel of experts into their research
design. A student's dissertation committee can serve this function, but expert panels and
dissertation committees do not necessarily know how to deal with ethical questions that
arise in qualitative research. Ideally, the researcher has a support group made up of others
who, although perhaps involved in substantively different topics, are all struggling with
similar methodological questions.

Advocate
Advocates are like interventionists in that they decide to take a position on some issue that
they become aware of through their research. Unlike interveners or reformers who try to
change something within the research site, the advocate champions a cause. As Lynne inter-
viewed un.versity custodians, she was tempted to become an advocate:

I keep asking myself to what extent the research should improve the situation for custodians.
This is magnified somewhat by my feeling that I have been a participant in the process, raising
issue. with custodians that many by now have come to terms with or raising expectations that
some good will result. Even though my research was for the purpose of understanding and not
"fixing," how can one come so close to what is judged to be a very bad situation and walk
away? I keep asking myself, "Do I own them solutions or at least some relief?" My answer is
always "no," but then I keep asking myself the same question, probably because I just don't
like my answer.

Lynne's research heightened her concern for the well-being of the custodians she studied,
and the "take-the-data-and-run" approach left her uncomfortable. Traditional qualitative
researchers find that advocacy can take a variety of forms-presentations and publications
among the most readily available. Lynne needs to decide whether such formats will serve
her concern, or if there are others that are within her competency that would be acceptable
to the custodians.
Finch (1984) experienced a dilemma over publishing data she collected through her
study of play groups. She found that child-care standards differed among working- and
middle-class women.
But Is It EthicaP Learning to Do Right 137

This evidence, I feared, could be used to reinforce the view that working-class women
are inadequate and incompetent childrearers. Again, I felt that I was not willing to heap further
insults upon women whose circumstances were far less privileged than my own, and indeed
for a while, I felt quite unable to write anything about this aspect of the playground study. (84)

Finch resolved her dilemma by distinguishing between the structural position in which the
women were placed and their own experience with that position. This enabled Finch to "see
that evidence of women successfully accommodating to various structural features of their
lives in no way alters the essentially exploitative character of the structures in which they are
located" (Finch 19X4, 84). Thus, she described the child-care practices of the working-class
women in a way that would support them in an unfair and unequal society. Finch did not
alter her data; she did not explain away the differences she uncovered. Her ethical sensitivity
led her to contextualize her findings, so that the behavior of the two groups of women was
framed within the differential realities of their lives. Confronting the ethical dilemma res-
ulted in more effective interpretation.

Friend
Researchers often have friendly relations with research participants; in some cases, the rela-
tionship is one of friendship. Whether friendship or friendliness is the case, ethical dilemmas
can result. You may gain access to intimate information given to you in the context of friend-
ship rather than in your researcher role. Should you use such data'? Both Hansen's (1976)
exploration of Danish life and Daniels' (1967) investigation within a military setting relied on
personal friendships as channels for information. Hansen (1976) expressed her discomfort
with her role as researcher and her role as friend: "The confidential information I received
was given to me in my role as friend. Yet, I was also an anthropologist and everything I heard
or observed was potentially relevant to my understanding of the dynamics of Danish interac-
tion" (Hansen 1976, 127). Hansen refers to a particular confidential story told to her by one
woman:

Later that day r would record this conversation. alone, without her knowledge, in my role as
anthropologist. In my role as investigator the conversation became "data." Would she have
spoken so frankly about this and other more intimate subjects had she understood that I
listened in both roles, not only as friend? (129)

As she continued to gather data, Hansen grew concerned over how she would protect the
anonymity of her interviewees and struggled with thoughts on whether public description of
behaviors violates an individual's right to privacy. She and Daniels both experienced ethical
dilemmas over publishing findings that would possibly discomfort their friends, if not betray
their friendship relationships.
Both Hansen and Daniels need to ask, as do we all in similar circumstances, if their
narrative truly needs to include all that their friends tell them. Will the narrative hold up if
the troublesome bits are excluded? Can these troublesome bits be presented in less trouble-
some ways? In the end, should we not let our friends be judges, by submitting to them what
we have written. and taking our lead from their decisions?
138 Chapter 6

In an article on "Intimacy in Research" (Busier et aI., 1997), the authors argue that
intimacy can be a "route to understanding" (165) but that it carries with it responsibilities
and considerations, including reflexivity on the nature and influence of the relationship,
analysis of the role of power in the relationship, and attunement to relational ethics. In rela-
tional ethics "the derivation and authority of moral behavior [is located] not in rules and
obligations as such, but in our attachments and regard for others ... " (Flinders 1992, 106).
Predicated on trust, caring, and a sense of coIIaboration, relational ethics is at the core of
research, where friendship relationships are welcomed.

The Researcher-Researched Relationship

No matter how qualitative researchers view their roles, they develop relationships with
research participants. Unlike the friendship relationships described previously, traditional
research relationships are generally asymmetrical, with power disproportionately located on
the side of the researcher. Consequently, researchers must consciously consider and protect
the rights of participants to privacy. They must reflect on and mitigate deceptive aspects of
research and consider issues of reciprocity.

The Right To Privacy

In discussions of the rights of research participants, privacy is generally the foremost concern.
Participants have a right to expect that when they give you permission to observe and inter-
view, you wiII protect their confidences and preserve their anonymity. Respect confidentiality
by not discussing with anyone the specifics of what you see and hear. When a principal asks
you what you are learning from the teachers, you respond with something like the following:

I am really enjoying talking with your teachers. They seem to take both their jobs and my
research seriously and are therefore helping me tremendously. It's too early yet to know
what I can make of all the information I'm receiving, but a couple of themes have been
emerging and I'd like the opportunity to discuss them with you. Do you have the time?

Such a response leads away from particular individuals and towards the discussion of general
concepts, which respects the principal's interest in your findings without violating any of your
commitments to teachers. Such discussions must balance your unqualified obligation to the
teachers with your appreciation of the principal's natural interest in your findings. It also
makes use of an opportunity for participant feedback or a "member check" (Lincoln and
Guba 1985) on your analytical categories.
Researchers sometimes argue over whether unobtrusive methods, even in public
places, invade rights of privacy. This discussion usually includes debates on the use of covert
observation (to be discussed in the next section, "Deception"). One position is that covert
observation in public places is permissible because people ordinarily watch and are watched
by others in public places. Accordingly, social scientists should be able to observe as well.
A counterpoint is that when such observations are systematic, recorded, and analyzed, they
no longer are ordinary and thereby violate rights of privacy.
But Is It Ethical? Learning to Do Right 139

Similar arguments develop around less discussed means of unobtrusive data collection.
Diener and Crandall (1978) describe a study in which researchers used both surveys and the
contents of garbage bags to discover what people bought, discarded, and wasted in different
sectors of Tucson, Arizona. The findings concluded that poor people waste less food than
higher-income people, and that there is a marked discrepancy between self-reports on alcohol
consumption and evidence from bottles and cans in the garbage. Although garbage content
was not linked to particular households, the examined bags often included envelopes with
names on them. Do such studies violate privacy rights?
The issue of privacy arises again during the writing-up phase of the qualitative inquiry
process. To protect the anonymity of research participants, researchers use fictitious names
and sometimes change descriptive characteristics such as age or hair color. Fictitious names,
however, do not necessarily protect participants as demonstrated by two frequently cited
cases: West's (1945) Plainville, U.S.A. and Vidich and Bensman's (1968) Small Town in Mass
Society. Despite made-up names, the towns were easily identified by descriptions of their
characteristics and locations, and people in the towns easily recognized themselves in the
descriptions of individuals. In both cases, research participants were upset by the portrayals
of the towns and their inhabitants. Critics (see Johnson 1982, 76) point out that West, for
example, focused on the negative, that he looked with an urban perspective, and that he used
offensive and judgmental words such as "hillbilly" or "people who lived like animals."
Plummer (1983) states that although "confidentiality may appear to be a prerequisite
of life history research, it frequently becomes an impossibility" (142). He cites several
examples: Fifty years after the original study, Shaw's [1930 (193011966)] Jack Roller was
located for reinterview, and after a month of detective work, a reporter tracked down Oscar
Lewis's (1963) Children of Sanchez. In addition to breaches of privacy, these examples also
illustrate potential difficulty in observing the ethical principle of "doing no harm." Although
"no harm" may be done during the research process, harm may result from making research
findings public. In publishing findings, the researcher needs to consider how the manuscript
could potentially affect both the individual and the community. If specific information about
an individual were released, would it cause him or her pain? If collective information about a
community were published, does it harm its reputation or social standing? If the researcher's
analysis is different from that of participants, should one, both, or neither be published? Even
if respondents tend to agree that some aspect of their community is unflattering, should the
researcher make this information public? In sum, what obligations does the researcher have to
research participants when publishing findings?
Despite justified worry about protecting anonymity, researchers may also have to deal
with anonymity declined. Jacobs (1987) tells of an anthropologist who wrote about a commu-
nity in Melanesia; she disguised villagers and their location through use of pseUdonyms.
Three years later, she returned to the field to distribute copies of her manuscript to those who
had been most helpful and to ask permission to conduct further study. People liked the book
and felt the accounts were correct, but told her that she had gotten the name of the village
wrong and the names of the individuals wrong. She was told to be more accurate in the next
book. The author was faced with an ethical dilemma: Should she follow the wishes of the vil-
lagers or the conventions and cautions of ethical codes? When her second book was com-
pleted, she sent a copy to the village and asked for comments as well as whether they still
wanted actual names used. When she did not get a direct reply to her question, she used the
same pseudonyms in her second monograph.
140 Chapter 6

In another case of anonymity declined, an applied medical anthropologist worked for

three years in an urban African American community. Before she published her articles. she
asked community members to read, comment on, and criticize them. They complimented
her on her accuracy, but questioned her use of pseudonyms for the town, the health center, and
the individuals who "struggle to improve the healthcare for our people" (in Jacobs 1987,26).
The anthropologist explained the reasons for privacy conventions and how disclosing names
could result in possible harm. In the end, she omitted the actual name of the center and
its location, but she acknowledged the names of staff members in footnotes. This decision
was made collaboratively.
Scott (1996) distinguishes between open autocratic research and open democratic
research. In the open autocratic case, the researcher is open with research participants
about all aspects of the research and invites their feedback on research interpretations, but
does not give the respondents the rights of veto. In open democratic research, participants
have the right to control not only which data are collected, but also which data are included
in the research report through a series of negotiations between the researcher and project
participants. In the first situation, power resides with the researcher; in the second situation,
community power and politics affect what gets reported.

Privacy and The Internet

The use of internet communications as a forum for data gathering raises new ethical chal-
lenges to the right to privacy (Mann and Stewart 2000; Robson and Robson, 2002). The use
of such technology makes it relatively easy to gather data from a widespread population and
removes the time and money-consuming task of transcription. Also, a researcher can easily
share and receive feedback on research findings with participants. No clear ethical guide-
lines pave the way, however, for researchers using computer mediated communications.
For example, some investigators have observed online communities or conducted interviews
in chat rooms. Must consent be obtained from participants in chat rooms, newsgroups, or
mailing lists? If researchers are using information from such sources and want to gain
consent, they must consider how they will do so since participation can be sporadic. It is also
more difficult to promise confidentiality in internet communications, particularly to users of
chat groups. You can use pseudonyms in your published text. but if you include quotations, it
is easy to track down the source by conducting a search for the quote.
Robson and Robson (2002, 95) advise researchers to pay attention to not only ethical
codes for doing social science research, but also to codes of conduct or netiquette devel-
oped by online communities. Take a cue from the Computer Professionals for Social
Responsibility (CPSR), which has produced a set of privacy guidelines that include the
need for individuals to be made aware of any collection of personal information and of how
the information will be used.

Deception
It is interesting, and even ironic, that social scientists espouse some of the techniques normally
associated with morally polluted professions, such as policing and spying, and enjoy some of
the moral ambivalence surrounding those occupations. (Punch 1994, 91 )
But Is It EthicaJ'7 Learning to Do Right 141

Chris was interested in researching the gay community on a university campus.

He attended a meeting of the Gay/Lesbian Alliance as a participant observer, jotting notes
unobtrusively. Because the meetings were open to the public, he originally saw no reason to
proclaim his role as researcher. As that first meeting continued, however, he struggled with
feelings of deception and guilt. Finally, he quit taking notes and decided to meet with the
organization's officers and obtain permission to attend meetings in the role of researcher.
Conventionally, we regard deception as wrong. Nonetheless, its role in research is
debated time and time again. Deception easily enters various aspects of research, and it can
take the form of either deliberate commission or omission. For example, in covert studies,
participants never know that they are part of a research project. Some researchers misrepre-
sent their identity and pretend to be someone they are not; others present themselves as
researchers, but do not fully explain what it is that they are researching. This latter practice
is called omission or shallow cover (Fine 1980). The decision to deceive generally rests on
a concern to ensure the most natural behavior among research participants.
Punch (1986, 39) raises two questions concerning the role of deception in research:
(I) Are there areas in which some measure of deception is justified in gaining data? and
(2) Are devious means legitimate in institutions that deserve exposure? These questions
summarize the ongoing debate over the use of deliberate deception in research.
Covert research gets its strongest support from those who advocate research of the
powerful. As in investigative journalism, access to the workings of some groups or institu-
tions with power would be impossible without deception. Van den Berge says of his research
in South Africa, "From the outset, I decided that I should have no scruples in deceiving the
government" (in Punch 1986, 39). If you, like Van den Berge, view an institution as "essen-
tially dishonorable, morally outrageous and destructive," do you ignore it and study some-
thing more publicly acceptable in order to avoid being deceptive? Jack Douglas, a strong
supporter of the utilitarian or "ends justify the means" approach, states,

The social researcher is ... entitled and indeed compelled to adopt covert methods. Social
actors employ lies, fraud, deceit, deception, and blackmail in dealings with each other.
Therefore the social scientist is justified in using them where necessary in order to achieve
the higher objective of scientific truth. (in Punch 1986, 39)

From the utilitarian perspective, deception in research may be justified by benefits to

the larger society. Ethical decisions are made on the basis that moral action is that which
results in the greatest good for the greatest number. This perspective went hand in hand
with the belief that value-neutral science was possible and that rational thought and science
could solve the world's problems (Christians 2000). Critics of this position argue that
although costs and benefits may be estimated, both are impossible to predict and to mea-
sure. Furthermore, who is to set the standards that determine when something is for the
greater good of society? Who defines what is "good?" This approach overlooks the power
and ideology of institutions (from pharmaceutical labs to the U.S. Congress) that support
much of the research that is done (Christians 2000).
For most interpretivists, the utilitarian position-that one does what is necessary for the
greater good-is overshadowed by the deontological ethical stance, which posits that moral
142 Chapter 6

conduct can be judged independently of its consequences. The deontological framework

holds up some standard, such as justice or respect or honesty, by which to evaluate actions.
This position changes the nature of the researcher-researched relationship and readily makes
it unethical for researchers to misrepresent their identity to gain entry into settings otherwise
denied to them or to deliberately misrepresent the purpose of their research. Bulmer (1982),
for example, argues that covert research is not ethically justified, practically necessary, or in
the best interest of social scientists. He views the rights of subjects as overriding the rights of
science, thereby limiting areas of research that can be pursued. Bulmer suggests that the need
for covert methods is exaggerated and that open entry may more often be negotiated than is
commonly supposed (Bulmer 1982,250). (See Flinders, 1992, for an in-depth examination of
qualitative inquiry from the perspective of four ethical frameworks: utilitarian, deontological,
relational, and ecological.)
Even when you are as honest and open as possible about the nature of your research,
you will continue to develop ethical questions concerning your fieldwork. Many of the ques-
tions will be context-bound, arising out of specific instances in each study. For example,
informed consent regulations indicate that you should disclose to potential participants all
information necessary for them to make intelligent decisions about participation. Yet doing
so is difficult in qualitative research because often you are not fully aware of what you are
looking for, among whom, or with what possible risks. 'The researcher is in a perplexing
situation," states Erickson. "He or she needs to have done an ethnography of the setting in
order to anticipate the range of risks and other burdens that will be involved for those studied"
(Erickson 1986, 141). Although the partial nature of your knowledge does not obviate the
propriety of informed consent, it does make implementing it problematic.

Reciprocity
In some kinds of research, reciprocity is assumed to be a matter of monetarily rewarding
research subjects for their time. Although participants in qualitative research sometimes
receive remuneration, the issue of reciprocity becomes more difficult because of the time
involved and the nature of the relationships developed. The degree of indebtedness varies
considerably from study to study and from participant to participant, depending upon the
topic and the amount and type of time researchers spend with participants.
Glazer (1982, 50) defines reciprocity as "the exchange of hlVors and commitments, the
building of a sense of mutual identification and feeling of community." As research partici-
pants willingly open up their lives to researchers-giving time, sharing intimate stories, and
frequently including them in both public and private events and activities-researchers
become ambivalent, alternately overjoyed with the data they are gathering, but worried by their
perceived inability to adequately reciprocate. As I wrote up my Caribbean work, I reflected:

Cultural thieving is what ethnographers do if their written product is limited in its benefits
to the gatherer and. perhaps, his or her community. Also known as "data exportation" or "aca-
demic imperialism" (Hamnett and Porter 1983. 65). the process is reminiscent of past archae-
ologists carrying stone, pottery, and golden artifacts away from "exotic" places of origin to the
archaeologists' homeland for analysis and display. What is owed to the people observed is the
question. Are the terms of trade more than glass beads"? (Glesne 1985.55-60)
But Is It Ethica!'1 Learning to Do Right 143

Researchers do not want to view people as means to ends of their choosing. Nonetheless, in
noncollaborative qualitative work, they invariably cultivate relationships in order to gather
data to meet their own ends. In the process, researchers reciprocate in a variety of ways, but
whether what they give equals what they get is difficult, if not impossible, to determine.
Equivalency may be the wrong standard to use in judging the adequacy of your reci-
procity. What can you do for those teachers who let you spend hours at the back of their
classroom, or for those nurses who come to your interview sessions week after week?
Literally, their time is invaluable to you. Is there anything within your means to deliver that
your research participants would perceive as invaluable to them? Probably not. Often they
do not have a relationship with you that puts you in a position to have something that, typi-
cally, is of such consequence to them. What you do have that they value is the means to
be grateful, by acknowledging how important their time, cooperation, and words are; by
expressing your dependence upon what they have to offer; and by elaborating your pleasure
with their company. When you keep duty teachers company, assist participants in weeding
their gardens, or speak to the local rotary club, you demonstrate that you have not cast
yourself as an aloof outsider.
The interviewing process particularly provides an occasion for reciprocity. By listening
to participants carefully and seriously, you give them a sense of importance and specialness.
By providing the opportunity to reflect on and voice answers to your questions, you assist
them to understand some aspect of themselves better. If your questions identify issues of
importance to interviewees, then interviewees will invariably both enjoy and find useful their
roles as information providers. By the quality of your listening, you provide context for per-
sonal exploration by your interviewees.
144 Chapter 6

Although researchers do not wittingly assume the role of therapist, they nonetheless
fashion an interview process that can be strikingly therapeutic. Obligations accompany the
therapeutic nature of the interview. Self-reflections can produce pain where least expected,
and interviewers may suddenly find themselves face to face with a crying interviewee.
Tears do not necessarily mean that you have asked a bad or a good question, but they do
obligate you to deal sensitively and constructively with the unresolved feelings, without
taking on the role of analyst. If appropriate, you might suggest people, organizations, or
resources that may be of help. Follow up through letters or conversations to assist such
interviewees in feeling comfortable with their degree of personal disclosure. When Dick
interviewed first-year principals, one began to cry as he expressed his stress and frustration
with the job. When Eileen interviewed students of color about their experiences on a pre-
dominantly white campus, a young man began to cry as he talked about leaving his home
community. At first, both Dick and Eileen were stunned, but they sympathetically listened.
Finally, they suggested people and organizations that might be of interest and assistance to
the interviewees.
The closer the relationship between researcher and research participants, the more
special obligations and expectations emerge. For example, Cassell (1987) tells of an anthropol-
ogist who, during her initial fieldwork and successive summers, was accepted as grandaughter
of an elderly Southwestern Native-American couple. Their children and spouses treated her as
a sister. One summer, when the anthropologist returned to the reservation, she learned that her
"grandfather" showed signs of senility, was drinking heavily, and was hallucinating. His chil-
dren and their spouses left soon after her arrival saying that they had cared for him all year and
that it was now her tum. Although his care took full time and her work did not get done, the
anthropologist felt she had no choice but to honor her "occasional kin" status. She also felt,
however, even more a part of the family and free to bring with her an emotionally and educa-
tionally challenged nephew the next summer. Her "kin" helped tremendously in dealing with
him. In another example, biographer Rosengarten wrote about his work with Ned Cobb and
the form of his reciprocity: "There was one special reason why Ned Cobb's family agreed to
busy itself with me, apart from the feelings between us. My work with Ned revived his will to
live" (Rosengarten 1985, 113).
Interviews and other means of data collection can contribute to raised expectations in
less intimate relationships as well. When researchers spend days and months asking people
about their problems and aspirations, they elicit voices of dissatisfaction and dreams. In the
process, they may encourage people to expect that someone will work to alleviate their
plight. If, as a researcher, you plan only to publish your findings, then you must find a way to
make that clear to research participants throughout the data-gathering process. Through
written reports, however, qualitative researchers frequently convey reciprocity by their tales
of injustice, struggle, and pain. Reciprocity may also include making explicit arrangements
to share royalties from publications.

Cultural Considerations
Patricia Martin and I met in Oaxaca, Mexico. As we shared research stories, we found our-
selves focusing on three concepts important to Oaxacan society-community, autonomy, and
hospitality. We had observed ways in which these cultural values guided people's actions and
 But Is It EthicaJ'i Learning to Do Right 145

interactions in Oaxaca and as we talked, we began reflecting upon how these concepts could
serve as ethical frameworks for our research processes specifically and qualitative research
generally (see Martin and Glesne, 2002). I'll use "hospitality" as an example.
Patricia and I began by discussing how we had responded to the hospitality offered us
by the communities that served as our research sites. Conscientiously incorporating greater
reciprocity (sharing food and time, in particular) within the daily process of fieldwork was
undoubtedly one step for us to better respond to hospitality. As we tried to imagine hospi-
tality as an ethical framework for doing research, we began seeing differently our previous
emphases on the role of power in research relationships. Using a lens of hospitality rather
than power, we would attend also to exchanges of care, compassion, and generosity. Hospi-
tality asks us to see aspects of relationship that include and then go beyond inequities in
power. It also demands that we, as researchers, act in culturally hospitable ways. A code
of ethics for research in New Zealand's Maori communities (Tuhiwai Smith 1999, 120)
supports this notion. It includes culturally specific ideas that relate to being hospitable:

• show "respect for people"

• "present yourself to people face to face"
• "look, listen ... speak"
• "share and host people, be generous"
• "be cautious"
• "do not trample over the mana [fundamental duties and rightsJ of people" and
• "don't flaunt your knowledge."

The concept of hospitality also suggested that, as Western researchers, we need to go

beyond the terrain of individual research to the academic communities within which our work
is enmeshed. How do we transform our own communities to make them more hospitable?
If hospitality were an ethic for Western academia, in which the foreigner, the stranger, the
"other" is given a place within the "we," (Esteva and Prakash \998,87) then other knowledge
standpoints would have to be more fully welcomed within academic communities.

No Easy Solutions
By their nature, ethical dilemmas defy easy solutions. Researchers continue to debate over
whether or not some people or areas should be researched. They question whether or not
fieldwork is inevitably deceitful. They argue over the role of conscious deception or omission
in fieldwork. They raise ethical questions over the issue of power in relationships, particularly
with economically poor and "deviant" groups. And they question whether codes and regula-
tions can successfully shape research ethics.
Plummer (1983) identifies two positions in relation to ethics: the ethical absolutist and
the situational relativist. The absolutist relies heavily on professional codes of ethics and
seeks to establish firm principles to guide all social science research. The relativist believes
that solutions to ethical dilemmas cannot be prescribed by absolute guidelines but have to be
"produced creatively in the concrete situation at hand" (141). Pointing out weaknesses in
both positions, Plummer suggests a combination: broad ethical guidelines with room for
146 Chapter 6

personal ethical choice by the researcher. Ethical codes certainly guide your behavior, but
the degree to which your research is ethical depends on your continual communication and
interaction with research participants throughout the study. Researchers alone must not be
the arbiters of this critical research issue. (For further discussion about ethics in qualitative
research, see Burgess 1984; Christians 2000; Ellen 1984; Eisner and Peshkin 1990; Guba
1990; Punch 1986, 1994; Rynkiewich and Spradley 1976; and Whyte 1984.)

EXERCISES

1. Choose one of the following ethical dilemmas (either individually or as a group in class) and
reflect upon what you would do if you were the researcher.
a. You are interviewing college women who are anorexic, but whose anorexia is no longer
active, about their schooling experiences. You have arranged to interview each of your
participants at least five times over two consecutive semesters. During the third interview
with one participant, just after the winter holidays, you begin to suspect that her anorexia
is active again because of her obvious weight loss and a few of her comments. When you
ask her how her health is, she replies that she is feeling great. What do you do?
b. You are working on an intellectual biography of a well-respected university president.
Most of your interviews are with the president who has obviously consented to your
request to compose an intellectual biography, including some attention to his formative
years. You are reading all of his published works and interviewing some family members
as well as significant colleagues. In the process, you uncover some potentially damaging
or, at the least, unflattering information about his private life. What do you do?
c. You are inquiring into a refugee resettlement program in a small southern city, with par-
ticular interest in educational aspects and community involvement. Through development
of rapport and time spent volunteering with the program, you begin to learn how an early
immigrant is seemingly taking financial advantage of recent refugees. He is charging for
information and services that should be provided through the settlement program and
people are going to him, rather than trying to get their needs met through the program.
You want to protect the new refugees from exploitation and to report the behavior of the
earlier immigrant, yet you also worry that perhaps you don't fully understand what is hap-
pening culturally. What do you do?
2. Reflect in your field log on potential ethical issues that might arise during your study. What can
you do to minimize their potential? What would you do if faced with your ethical concerns?
Discuss with at least one classmate.