Module 3 Assignment 1

Qualitative Health Research 21(7\f 968 \b975 © The Author(s\f 2011 Reprints and permiss\7ion: sagepub.com/journalsPermissions.nav DOI: 10.1177/10497323103\795607 http://qhr.sagepub.com 395607 QHR 21 7 10.1177/10497323103956\n07Ho lloway an\f Biley\buali\ntative Health Research\n 1Bournemouth Universi\7ty, Bournemouth, Uni\7ted Kingdom Corresponding Auth\Qor:

Immy Holloway, Cent\7re for Qualitative\7 Research, School \7of Health and Social Care, Bo\7urnemouth University\7, Royal London House\7, Christchurch Rd., \7Bournemouth BH1 3LT\7, United Kingdom Email: ihollowa@bo\7urnemouth.ac.uk Being a Qua\fitative\Q Researcher \bmmy Ho\f\foway 1 and Francis C. Bi\fey 1 Abstract This article, from a keynote address, is the result of some of the things which I learned about qualitative research during my many years of doing and teaching it. The main point I make is that qualitative researchers should present a good story which is based on evidence but focused on meaning rather than measurement. In qualitative inquiry, the researchers’ selves are involved, their experiences become a resource. Researchers cannot distance themselves from the other participants, although they cannot fully present their meaning and experience. I also discuss voice, paradigm, and innovation as potentially problematic issues in qualitative research. These are terms often used but not always examined for their meaning in qualitative inquiry. If researchers are aware and sensitive, rather than overemotional or self-absorbed, qua\7litative research \7can be enlightening, \7person-centered, and \7humanistic.

Keywords narrative inquiry; reflexivity; research, qualitative \bntroduction: Trying to Capture the Essence of \bmmy Francis C. Biley As the newest an\f most junior member of the Centre for \bualitative Research (C\bR) at Bournemouth University in the Unite\f King\fom, it was a great honor to have been given the opportunity to intro\fuce Professor (Irmgar\f) Immy Holloway, the most senior an\f foun\fing member of the C\bR, before her keynote a\f\fress on the eve of her retirement at the 8th Biennial International Qualitative Research \fonference, hel\f September 6-8,\n 2010. It woul\f have been too easy to simply enumerate her multiple achievements an\f publications in a brief, potte\f biography, as woul\f be the norm on such occasions.

Instea\f, I wante\f to somehow grasp an\f be able to quickly communicate much more of the “qualitative,” the person, the “essence,” of Immy to the au\fience. I wante\f the au\fience to be able to “know” Immy, rather than just “know of” Immy. I was setting myse\nlf quite a task. After giving the task some thought, I came across the i\fea that I nee\fe\f to ask Immy a number of questions, unusual questions, perhaps, that might reveal some of that essence, some of the unknown, some of the “private,” even. In the Unite\f King\fom, we have a \faily newspaper that, each Satur\fay in a column calle\f “\b+A,” asks a celebrity a series of such questions, aime\f at, perhaps, trying to somehow get at that “essence.” I thought I might be able to use similar questions in an interview with Immy. So I rang her. The following is what emerge\f from our conversation, or at least it approximates to what I was trying to achieve in my intro\fuction because, in the same way that I woul\f never be able to fully reveal Immy’s essence, I will never be able to fully an\f entirely, accu- rately \fescribe my loosely structure\f but otherwise essentially spontaneou\ns intro\fuction. But he\nre goes . . .

Immy was born in Germany really quite a goo\f num- ber of years ago, an\f receive\f her initial e\fucation at the University of Freiburg, having lectures from, among oth- ers, Hei\fegger an\f Jaspers. (About the former, an\f some- what reassuringly for me, she sai\f that she never un\ferstoo\f a wor\f of what he was saying.). Later, in the early 1950s, she stu\fie\f in Grenoble before travelling to Manhattan, New York, where she live\f with her husban\f Chris \furing the late 1950s an\f 1960s. I aske\f Immy, “What is your earliest memory?” “Gazing up into the trees,” she replie\f. I aske\f Immy, “What \foes love feel like?” “A warm blanket,” she replie\f. I aske\f Immy to tell me a secret. “I have none,” she replie\f. Resisting the urge to interrogate or interpret these answers, in the hope that the au\fience woul\f spontaneously get a feel for that essence, I progresse\f quickly with my questions. “What woul\f you change about your past?” “I woul\f be less Keynote Address \followay and Biley 969 strict with my chil\fren, but they forgive you if you love them.” “What is your greatest achievement?” “To work well into my ol\fer age,” replie\f Immy. I aske\f, “What woul\f be the one thing that woul\f improve your quality of your life?” “Wheels on my feet,” replie\f Immy. “I think we’re starting to get a real sense of the real Immy,” I thought to myself. There were some questions that were not so easy to ask.

“When \fi\f you last have sex?” I aske\f, but I can’t give you her reply here. “What music woul\f you like to be playe\f at your funeral?” “Dvorak’s ‘New Worl\f Symphony’ [the 5 th Symphony],” Immy replie\f imme\fiately, as if she might even have given it some prior thought. I forgot to ask which movement. We were about half way through the questions.

“What was your biggest \fisappointment?” I aske\f. “I’ve never been completely \fisappointe\f,” she replie\f. “What makes you unhappy?” I aske\f. “When somebo\fy experi - ences loss,” she replie\f. “What is your most unappealing habit?” I aske\f. “Being too noisy an\f lou\f,” she replie\f. I aske\f her to tell me a joke; any joke woul\f \fo, but “I’m not goo\f on jokes,” she replie\f. I aske\f Immy where she woul\f like to live. “By the \focksi\fe in Bristol,” she replie\f (which is where she \foes actually live). “What was your most embarrassing moment?” I aske\f. “When I fell flat on my face when I was showing off an\f trying to be graceful,” she replie\f. An\f finally I aske\f, “What is your most trea - sure\f possession?” “A simple woo\fen bowl by the artist Paul Caton,” she replie\f. Dwell on these answers a little, an\f I think you might get to the heart of Immy, beyon\f an\f \feeper than the activities an\f the awar\fs an\f the accola\fes an\f the achievements. At least that was the aim of this short piece. Have I achieve\f t\nhat? Only you can tel\nl me that. Keynote Address Immy \followay I woul\f like to explore what it is like to be a qualitative researcher. The sections of my session will cover some important aspects of qualitative inquiry, the problems one might encounter, an\f their potential solutions. This pre- sentation will be about some of the things I learne\f in my years of \foing an\f teaching inquiry, supervising PhD stu\fents, an\f working with colleagues. It inclu\fes a \fis- cussion of the choices we make as qualitative researchers an\f the balance we have to fin\f, though when I rerea\f it I felt I shoul\f perhaps have calle\f it “The Trouble With \bualitative Research.” \btorytelling When I \fi\f my sociology \fegree many \feca\fes ago, I learne\f about research metho\fs. We hear\f all about mea- surement, questionnaire \fesign, controlle\f trials, scales, an\f other issues, mainly connecte\f with numerical mea- surement. I tol\f my tutor that I was getting quite bore\f, although I clearly saw the value of these very rigorous ways of \foing research. He gave me a little volume an\f aske\f me to rea\f a particular piece of research, an\f I reporte\f back to him that the book was won\ferful, a goo\f story, but not really research. He laughe\f an\f contra- \ficte\f me. The book was Boys in White\b Student \fulture in Medical School, written by Howar\f Becker an\f his coresearchers on the socialization of me\fical stu\fents (Becker, Geer, Hughes, & Strauss, 1961). I’ve never forgotten the thrill of rea\fing this, an\f as I became a qualitative researcher I saw what my tutor meant. Being a qualitative researcher means, among other things, being able to tell a goo\f story an\f focus on meaning over mea- surement. A Good \btory. This is how I learne\f my first lesson about qualitative research. Each account or report nee\fs a goo\f story. The researcher a\f\fs all the human touches that make the story interesting to others, an\f the account at the en\f also fulfills the human \fesire for storytelling.

Most of us are natural storytellers an\f try to make sense of what we know by phrasing an\f rephrasing it until we have extracte\f meaning from our knowle\fge an\f experi- ence. Storytelling mak\nes us human. Writers such as Polkinghorne, Bro\fy, Mattingley, an\f many others emphasize the narrative nature of human beings. Of course, storytelling has its roots in the oral tra\fition, but it can be translate\f into writing a text or presenting a performance. Storytelling in research accounts, however, has listeners an\f rea\fers; it requires participa- tion an\f interaction with the au\fience as an important communication \fevice. Morey (2010) cites Clark (2007) on authoring plays, which fits qualitative writing: Goo\f stories shoul\f grab the attention of the au\fience, they shoul\f \fevelop the interest of the rea\fer; they shoul\f make the rea\fer care about the participants. All this is important for qualitative research accounts. In a goo\f piece of qualitative research all the elements of story exist, but the story shoul\f be cre\fible, too. I shall elabo- rate on the questions\n that Hay an\f White \n(2005) pose\f:

1. What is happening? If you remember, early groun\fe\f theorists alrea\fy aske\f the question about happenings in the fiel\f. This is about what people \fo, how they \nbehave.

2. How \fo we know? There has to be evi\fence an\f witnesses to what happene\f. The story \femon- strates the evi\fence for the researcher’s knowl- e\fge. There must be evi\fence for the story to be trustworthy an\f reflect the social worl\f of the participants, an\f it shoul\f have fit with the \fata.

3. What \foes it mean? There are various levels of meaning. What is the meaning to the participants, 970 Qualitative \fealth \dResearch 21(7) the researcher, an\f the rea\fership or au\fience?

The story is an interpretation of meaning so that rea\fers an\f the au\fience can make sense of it.

There is a nee\f for both insi\fer (informant) an\f outsi\fer (researcher) \nvoices to be hear\f.

Both Alasuutari (1995) an\f Frank (2004) compare qualitative accounts with a mystery or \fetective story whose rea\fers become involve\f with the people within it.

Tension an\f interest in outcomes are essential traits for qualitative inquiry: They make the story rea\fable an\f its contents communicable, an\f communication of the fin\f- ings is, after all, the aim of all research. Caulley (2008) gave fitting a\fvice for writing qualitative research accounts. He \feman\fs the elements of “realism, truth, authenticity an\f authority” (p.432), but also to use some of the techniques of fiction to make the report more inter- esting an\f clearer to the rea\fer. Not Just a \btory. Because of storytelling, qualitative research has often been criticize\f as “journalistic.” It is interesting to look at one of the comments Atkinson ma\fe as early as 1992 about goo\f work in both ethnography an\f journalism: “It is base\f on thorough research ethi- cally an\f conscientiously con\fucte\f, with a systematic review of sources an\f evi\fence, an\f conveye\f to the rea\fer through coherent written texts” (p. 4). Of course, he also warns that ba\f journalism an\f research share neg- ative traits which are the opposite of the above. Smart (2010) a\f\fs her view \nan\f \fistinguishes betwe\nen research story an\f fiction writing, an\f I woul\f like to stress the \fifferences between them. One of these is that a story has major an\f minor characters, while the characters in a research account are usually of equal importance. Also, the research story is not imagine\f but base\f on presente\f evi\fence. \bualitative evi\fence is \fistinctive, as Morse (2006) suggests; it lies within the humanistic arena, an\f the experiential an\f behavioral nature of the context in which it occurs is of \nmajor importance. \bualitative researchers are scientists. Science involves the pro\fuction of systematic knowle\fge which the researcher collects, transforms, an\f interprets. They are also artists. Smart (2010, p. 4) compares \fata with wet clay that has to be shape\f into something recognizable.

An\f, like a chil\f, the researcher has to play with the material. All too often in my experience, beginning quali- tative researchers focus too early in their stu\fy an\f \fon’t play aroun\f with i\feas. If they \fo the latter, the final story will be more lively an\f rich. The story itself nee\f not only reflect the complexity of what went on in the fiel\f, an\f how that can be transforme\f into a scholarly piece of work, but also has to be something interesting an\f origi- nal as well as contribute to the area of research. \bualitative researchers, as Smart says, \fo not “simply capture reality, they con\fense it an\f represent it” (p. 6). They translate it an\f \fevelop arguments about the knowle\fge generate\f through the research.\n \bualitative researchers \fo not only write a story, they are also story analysts. No amount of \frama an\f interest - ing narrative can be a substitute for analysis an\f theoriz - ing. Webster an\f Mertova (2007) a\fvise the researcher against “smoothing”—trying to \femonstrate goo\f an\f \fesire\f results, regar\fless of what the \fata in\ficate, or, I woul\f a\f\f, make the \fata fit to provi\fe a goo\f tale. The researcher shoul\f not invent or embellish what was observe\f an\f hear\f. On the other han\f, qualitative researchers nee\f be open to alternative interpretations an\f explanations, or the stu\fy will suffer from a rigi\f framework alien to qualitative inquiry. It isn’t easy to write a goo\f story an\f to present a scholarly account.

Thorne (2009, p. 1183) speaks of “blurry lines between formal scholarship, journalism or stu\fiously crafte\f sto - ries.” Occasionally qualitative researchers over\frama - tize the tale by making it into a moral story. They often stress, inappropriately, how much better an\f more per - sonal qualitative research is compare\f to quantitative inquiry. That seems arrogant an\f inappropriate, as we know that \fifferent approaches a\f\fress \fifferent prob - lems an\f questions. Being a qualitative researcher means being a c c o u n t able—for the choice of \fata an\f for their interpretations—to the participants an\f to the rea\fers of the story. It also entails recognizing emotions an\f some of the motives of all participants—both their own an\f those of the people with whom they \fo the research.

Emotions of the participants are important, an\f they have to be value\f \furing \fata collection an\f writing up.

\bualitative researchers nee\f to reflect these emotions in the research account. Some of us focus more on the cog- nitive, others on feelings, \fepen\fing on our personalities.

Ezzy (2010) suggests that we nee\f “\fetache\f concern,” which expresses elements, involvement, an\f a small mea- sure of \fetachment. However, it is \fifficult to be evoca- tive an\f show the emotions of the participants without being sentimental, \fifficult to be creative an\f imaginative without generating fiction, \fifficult to be poetic without soun\fing overly romantic. Much qualitative research suf- fers from its overly\n romantic presentation.\n The \belf and Others Storytelling will make the rea\fer relate to the experience of others through intersubjectivity an\f reciprocity. One of the elements that make the story interesting is the per- sonal involvement an\f the subjectivity of the researcher who writes an account which is not objective an\f neutral.

This is one of the reasons why qualitative research is interesting an\f rea\fable, but it can also become a prob- lem. It helps qualitative researchers to be really intereste\f \followay and Biley 971 an\f involve\f in the area of stu\fy, particularly when not too much is known about it. I recently rea\f some notes on the Internet where it was suggeste\f that the researcher shoul\f look for a topic which was well researche\f—a comment with which I entirely \fisagree\f. For qualitative research, an un\ferresearche\f topic is most appropriate— as Stern (1980) call\ne\f it three \feca\fes ago \nresearching in “uncharte\f waters,” because these nee\f to be explore\f. Involvement of the \belf. This takes me to the place of the self in research. I woul\f suggest that qualitative research - ers nee\f huge interest an\f enthusiasm for an area without being overengrosse\f an\f obsessive about it. If researchers have experience of the topic an\f the phenomenon which they research, they might be able to share the language of the participants an\f a\f\f \fata from their own experience to those of other participants. Prior experiences an\f back - groun\f obviously shape i\feology an\f even influence the choice of \fata use\f. The self is always present in fiel\fwork. This is state\f not only by feminist researchers an\f aca\femics such as Coffey (1999). I rea\f a thesis recently which \felve\f \feeply into the feelings which the researcher ha\f about caring for a relative with Alzheimer’s \fisease while researching the topic of caring (Morey, 2010). In it she use\f her own experiences as a\f\fitional \fata when \fis- cussing her participants’ perspectives. This gave her a valuable source of in\nsi\fe knowle\fge. \bualitative research is reflexive, an\f hence contains autoethnographic elements. Researchers cannot exclu\fe themselves from \fata collection, analysis, an\f reporting of the research. Walshaw (2009) calls this performing the self, writing oneself into the research. This, however, might lea\f to narcissism an\f self-absorption. Many of us struggle to fin\f the balance between inclu\fing the self an\f being other-oriente\f by focusing mainly on the par- ticipants’ perspectives. Researchers are involve\f by being reflective an\f reflexive, a \fistinction ma\fe by Finlay (2002). Reflectivity means that they take a critical stance to their work when they have complete\f it. Reflexivity is about the researchers’ own reactions to the stu\fy, their position an\f location in the stu\fy, an\f the relationships encountere\f, which are r\neciprocal. \bualitative research is usually influence\f by the feel - ings an\f experiences of researchers an\f their stan\fpoint.

Bour\fieu’s notion of habitus, as explaine\f in 1978, is important here, as human beings have learne\f an\f inter - nalize\f orientations; that is, schemata of perceptions which are influence\f by their social location an\f context.

Foucault, for instance, strongly stresse\f that writing about the self is one of the earliest tra\fitions in Western culture (1977). There are, however, both negative an\f positive aspects to subjectivity (Hegelun\f, 2005). Researchers \fraw on their own experience an\f the meanings they attri - bute to it, an\f they believe this helps them better un\ferstan\f the participants. On the other han\f, they might let their own nonevi\fence\f assumptions influence the research, an\f this might make it skewe\f or create bias.

As qualitative researchers we \fo not wish to \fistance ourselves from the people with whom we \fo the research.

Not only that: Researchers are not “tabula rasa”—blank slates without any assumptions but, like the other par - ticipants, they come with their own backpack of precon - ceive\f i\feas, usually roote\f in their experiences an\f culture. The self is always an integral part of any stu\fy.

Writing the self into the research is only the beginning, not its en\f nor its purpose. Ultimately, “moving beyon\f oneself” (Ma\fison, 2005) is \feman\fe\f of the qualitative researcher. An\f the qualitative researcher then remem - bers that “research is not therapy” for oneself (one of the occasional failings of qualitative research). In\fee\f, Probyn (1993, p. 4) warns that an overemphasis on the self of the researcher an\f a lack of appropriate theory might lea\f to writing “in which the ontological is impoverishe\f.” Intersubjectivity. The concept of intersubjectivity is of importance here. I want to stay away here from the philo - sophical realm, but \fiscuss the sociological. In a culture which researchers often share with the participants, they have similar, if not the same \fefinitions of the situation.

Schűtz (1967) speaks of reciprocity of perspectives that are accessible to the members of a particular culture.

There is also the common humanity which researchers an\f participants share. That means in simple terms that researchers can have empathy with the participant, although they can never fully un\ferstan\f the participants or, as Ga\famer states somewhere, that a person cannot wholly grasp the min\f of another. On a more pragmatic level, often qualitative researchers assume that other peo- ple see the social wor\nl\f in the same way th\nat they \fo. Insider–Outsider Perspectives Some writers a\fvise that being a researcher shoul\f be like being a person from Mars, but that is \fifficult, as we are also part of what is being stu\fie\f. How much we shoul\f be part of it is a question both interesting an\f problematic. My next tale concerns something that many qualita- tive researchers \fo. One of my stu\fents ha\f epilepsy. She was passionately intereste\f in the topic an\f \feci\fe\f to \fo research on the experience of epilepsy; although she was a\fvise\f to be careful of this topic, she was \fetermine\f to research it. Initially she was so overenthusiastic that she aske\f lea\fing questions of the participants until she learne\f to take a step back. As an insi\fer in the culture of people who have epilepsy, she ha\f not yet learne\f to “walk the hyphens of the Self an\f Other,” which Rosal\fo a\fvise\f researchers to \n\fo (1989). 972 Qualitative \fealth \dResearch 21(7) The researcher can in\fee\f become an important resource for the inquiry. This is exemplifie\f in the research of one of my colleagues (Shipway, 2010) who, as a long-\fistance run\nner, investigate\f the w\norl\f of other runners. He un\ferstoo\f their feelings, their camara\ferie, an\f their thoughts, an\f in\fee\f use\f his own experience as a resource without taking his assumptions for grante\f.

In\fee\f, the relationship between the researcher an\f the other participants nee\fs critical analysis. It is \fifficult to have both a truly emic as well as an etic perspective, an insi\fer an\f an outsi\fer view. In a sense, being a qualita- tive researcher means both. Our own experiences an\f knowle\fge are a resource an\f source for exploring the i\feas of others. Schütz (1967) makes this \fistinction between first- an\f secon\f-or\fer constructs: First-or\fer constructs are the participants’ own practically oriente\f interpretations of their reality, while secon\f-or\fer con- structs consist of the more abstract, theoretical i\feas with which the researcher translates every\fay meanings into scientific knowle\fge. Is the insi\fer□researcher able to \fevelop secon\f-or\fer constructs? Certainly being a cul- tural member permits access to the meanings of others, while it might prevent the researcher from taking some \fistance from the research an\f its participants. On the other han\f, the participants might be more forthcoming an\f open when an insi\fer\n speaks to them. I remember when interviewing a group of which I was part for my master’s \fegree some \feca\fes ago, they use\f to stop in mi\f-sentence an\f say, “Well, you know what I mean,” an\f I thought I \fi\f. On exploration though, it became obvious that often I assume\f what they meant.

Being outsi\fers means that we can take a new look through the lenses of our participants’ eyes, an\f it also helps us to theorize\n.

The Problem of Voice This brings us to the problem of voice. Voice encompasses the spoken wor\f, the written text, an\f other types of expression. Voice is not a simple concept but is complex, ambiguous, an\f has many \fimensions. Are we as qualita - tive researchers most competent an\f best place\f to speak for the other? There is the assumption among researchers that they give voice to the participants an\f truly represent them. \bualitative researchers ten\f to stress the theme of “voice,” especially when the participants are vulnerable, marginalize\f, or powerless, an\f state that they speak for them, “giving voice to the voiceless” (Lather, 2009). One of the problems occurs at the \fata collection phase, for instance: In the process of listening we might \fistort the meanings of the participants. They not only speak through wor\fs but also through silences, as Mazzei (2009) claims. Some of these silences are intentional, others are not. What \fo the silences mean? The qualitative researcher nee\fs to give the participants a chance to open up these silences. Secon\f, there are a number of participants in any stu\fy. Whose voices \fo we give more or less weight?

Those of the vocal in\fivi\fuals? The quiet participants?

Those we like more, or those who seem to be more hon- est? As qualitative researchers, you have experience\f these \filemmas yourse\nlves.

Research stu\fents in particular, but even experience\f researchers often rely on their first hearing in their eager- ness to procee\f, rather than listening to these voices over an\f over again. In any case, voice is only one source of \fata; another is the behavior by participants. Just by choosing some of the participants’ wor\fs for our research an\f leaving out others, by \fescribing some behaviors an\f not inclu\fing other actions, we have alrea\fy taken control an\f shown our power. We choose from the narratives, interviews, or observations that which we think will a\fvance the research an\f often that which confirms our own i\feas. This might be \fangerous, an\f some manipula- tion an\f censorship is inherent in this. Mazzei (2009), in particular, a\fvises qualitative researchers not just to echo their own voices, which\n they might be tempt\ne\f to \fo. Some qualitative research tries to be “a\fvocacy research.” McWilliam, Dooley, McAr\fle, an\f Pei-Ling Tan (2000) maintains that researchers sometimes are “stuck in the missionary position,” because they state that they present their powerless an\f voiceless participants, forgetting that speaking for others in itself implies control an\f privilege, an\f might neglect accountability to partici - pants. McWilliam an\f colleagues (2009) call this speaking for others a “fantasy.” One might also query the concepts of tactical an\f catalytic authenticity, which Guba an\f Lincoln (1989) \feman\f for qualitative research, meaning that qualitative research shoul\f empower an\f enhance the \fecision making of the participants. While qualitative researchers can change participants’ lives occasionally an\f long term, “voice-centric” strategies are not always useful, nor are goo\f intentions always effective. Patti Lather (2009) criticizes the “romantic aspirations of giving voice to the voiceless” an\f “sentimentalising empathy.” Gary Shank (2005) calls this one of the many sins of the qualita - tive researcher: “the sin of sentimentality.” \bualitative researchers usually interpret an\f move to a \fifferent level of abstraction from the participants. During this process some of the meaning that participants give to their experience may be lost. Also, sometimes we hear the obvious rather than the hi\f\fen. On the other han\f, when we focus on hi\f\fen meaning, the chance for misin- terpretation an\f “misimagination” is even greater. We are translators. I \fon’t know if any of you have seen Brian Friel’s play, Translations (1980), which shows the prob - lems of \fifferent language an\f meanings between two si\fes, even if similar wor\fs are use\f; even if researcher an\f participant use the same language, they might un\ferstan\f \followay and Biley 973 wor\fs in \fifferent ways. \bualitative researchers, in any case, are translators who grasp the sense rather than give a literal translation; in translators’ jargon, as literal as necessary an\f as free a\ns possible. As qualitative researchers, I’ve sai\f before, we cannot forget, however, that the participants, the rea\fers, an\f the researcher together shape the text, all of whom are, in Denzin’s wor\fs, “meaning makers an\f theorizers” within a \fialogical context (1997, p. 36). The voice of the partici - pants is presente\f through the reflective an\f \fiscursive lens of the researcher an\f the rea\fer. As Mazzei says, we “reframe, reshape an\f re-imagine it” (2009, p. 52).

Paradigm Talk One of the areas about which I’\f like to speak will be the overuse an\f misuse of the wor\f paradigm. Donmoyer (2006) speaks of para\figm proliferation, while I woul\f like to talk of the proliferation of the wor\f para\figm itself. In\fee\f it is now \fevoi\f of meaning because of its overuse, not only in research but also in business organi - zations an\f other areas. We have come so far as to use the term para\figm for quantitative research, qualitative research, an\f even mixe\f metho\fs research; Guba an\f Lincoln (1994) even state that competing para\figms in qualitative research exist. They suggest that para\figm means worl\f view or belief system. Many others use the term very loosely for framework, model , perspective , approach , exemplar , or pattern , for instance. Others use it for theory , methodology , heuristic . But if we feel it is one or some of these, why \fo we use the term para\figm?

Can we give the name para\figm to competing qualitative research metho\fs when researchers who use these have very similar (though perhaps not the same) belief sys - tems? For qualitative researchers it has almost become obligatory, a buzzwor\f when we want to soun\f aca\femic.

So I woul\f agree with those who say that the wor\f is often abuse\f. Almost any way of researching, any stan\f - point, is now calle\f a para\figm, an\f when i\feas change, the approach is calle\f a para\figm shift. This might be inappropriate terminology, an\f even pretentious. Of course, we all know that the concept as use\f to\fay in the social sciences originates with Thomas Kuhn (1962), who maintaine\f that there is at any one time a \fominant way of “\foing science,” practices that \fefine a \fiscipline, an agreement about aims within a community of scientists. They a\fhere to similar rules an\f are social- ize\f into ways of thinking which they share. A para\figm shift is a revolutionary change in the assumptions that un\ferlie a para\figm an\f the gui\felines that rule it. But Kuhn wrote about the natural sciences an\f use\f the con- cept of para\figm to make clear the core \fifferences between the natural an\f social sciences. In\fee\f, he claime\f that the term paradigm is inappropriate in the social sciences. In the social sciences there is no “\fisci- plinary matrix”—which is what he calls it—because social scientists \fo not even have an initial para\figm in which they share assumptions, rules, an\f aims as the nat- ural sciences \fo. So, how can there be a para\figm shift?

In\fee\f tensions, controversies, an\f conflicts are en\femic in the social sciences (this is \fiscusse\f in greater \fetail by Wee\f, 2009). Why then \fo we use the term para\figm?

First of all, qualitative researchers act as though it exists because through using the term, it is easier for them to \felineate their i\feas from those of others. Para\figmatic behavior clarifies an\f \nsimplifies approaches.\n I shall not \fwell on this, an\f instea\f quote Coulehan (2009), who says—in a \fifferent context—that the notion of para\figm shift has resulte\f in “creeping gran\fiosity, vanishing humility an\f wor\f inflation.” One approach \foes not replace another; it \foes not create a completely new culture in which a para\figm shift occurs. \bualitative research is just a \fifferent way of seeing an\f using new forms of language. It illuminates \fifferent corners of research areas. Innovation Being a qualitative researcher, for many, means hunting for the new, the “cutting e\fge” when collecting \fata an\f presenting research. In\fee\f, innovation has become another catchphrase for qualitative researchers. I’m not speaking of the application of metho\fs to new topics or areas, as researchers have always \fone this as it is part of the essence of qualitative inquiry. Wiles, Pain, an\f Crow (2010) state that most innovations or claims for innova- tive research are linke\f to new \fesigns, new strategies, or new a\faptations of ol\n\fer metho\fs, an\f \fiffer\nent forms of \fissemination, in particular. It is interesting that qualitative researchers use the term much more often than those in the quantitative arena (Travers, 2009, p. 165). Strategies for collecting \fata such as focus groups, roving focus groups, or mobile metho\fs (mentione\f in one of the latest research forum newslet - ters) have been aroun\f for some time, though not always formally in research. They are variations on ol\fer meth - o\fs. Using cameras for collecting an\f presenting \fata isn’t new, though in the last \feca\fe, in particular, performative social science has contribute\f to our un\ferstan\fing of research an\f the participants in it, an\f has a\f\fe\f original - ity an\f creativity. Chil\fren an\f a\fults have been “\frawing the \fata,” “enacting the \fata” in \fisciplines other than research, but these metho\fs of \fata collection an\f presen - tation have now foun\f a home in qualitative inquiry.

Theatrical an\f film performances to \fisseminate \fata have also been aroun\f for \feca\fes. I remember sociology 974 Qualitative \fealth \dResearch 21(7) conferences in the 1970s where the fin\fings were enacte\f on stage. Travers, in his skeptical view of innovation, sees it as a marketing \fevice, as there is a link to marketing a pro\fuct. I woul\f suggest that calling our research innova - tive can sometimes help in getting fun\fing. What is new an\f enhances an\f \fevelops qualitative research is the use of interesting technologies, which opene\f up exciting possibilities in the last \feca\fes, but newness \foes not free qualitative researchers from paying attention to rigorous analysis. Innovation is more than new technologies: Holloway an\f To\fres (2007) suggest that qualitative researchers can learn from artistic an\f literary en\feavors, as well as acquire multime\fia skills.

Nevertheless, Morse (2004) believes that these ways of collecting an\f \fisseminating \fata \fo not replace ortho\fox ways of researching, but are complementary to them. We shoul\f \femonstrate that we are scientists, otherwise we harm our cause an\f will not be taken seriously. The relent - less pursuit of innovation might lea\f to superficiality. I saw an unconventional play by Caryl Churchill recently (2000). Afterwar\fs, there was a \fiscussion by the \firector, actors, an\f au\fience about the play. They suggeste\f that the play change\f the shape an\f form of the usual plays, an\f that it showe\f a new way of seeing, in which au\fience, writer, an\f \firector are all of impor- tance. Perhaps it is like this with innovation in qualitative research. It is not so important that something is “new” or cutting e\fge, but that there are perceptions that make the familiar surprising an\f create new language. An\f, me\fia metho\fs can be useful, in particular to get to those who are “har\f to reach” (\nBurgess, Moles, & S\nmith, 2009).

Conclusion I have presente\f these notes about qualitative research to highlight only some of the issues that we might overlook.

While one might \feplore the self-absorption, overemo- tionalism, an\f almost religious missionary spirit of some qualitative researchers, I fervently believe that qualitative inquiry is still the most humanistic an\f person-centere\f way of \fiscovering an\f uncovering thoughts an\f action of human beings.

Authors’ Note This keynote a\f\fress was presente\f by Immy Holloway at the 8th Biennial International Qualitative Research \fonference, Bournemouth University, September, 2010, with the intro\fuc- tion graciously offere\f by Francis Biley.

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Wee\f, M. (2009). The structure of (social) scientific contra\fic- tions: A commentary on the problem of para\figmatic behav- iour by social scientists. Qualitative Research in Sport and Exercise, 1(3), 312-321. \foi:1\n0.1080/19398440903\n192365 Wiles, R., Pain, H., & Crow, G. (2010). Innovation in qualita- tive research methods\b A narrative review. Southampton, UK: ESRC National C\nentre for Research Met\nho\fs. Bios Immy Holloway, BE\f, MA, PhD, is a professor emeritus at Bournemouth University, Bournemouth, Unite\f King\fom.

Franc\fs C. \b\fley , RN, PhD, is an associate professor at Bournemouth University in the Unite\f King\fom an\f an a\fjunct professor at Seton Hall University, South Orange, New Jersey, USA.