Clarities and Commotions

I really appreciate Grbich’s (2007) attempt to offer guidelines for the uses of such a variety of approaches in part two of her text. The introduction to this section, however, speaks to the fuzzy nature of qualitative research in general, offering the analyst to “trial new ways of proceeding” and then “publish the outcomes for other research to add to their list of possible choices” (p. 37). This clarity is why doctoral students grow premature gray hairs. (OK, mine are just mature – not the pre-.)
In regard to the content of part two of her work, I appreciate that Grbich helps to frame the most popular approaches to analysis. This section of the text helps to frame the historical landscape from which each analytic approach has grown. I also find her examples, resources and summaries quite accessible. It reminds me of other texts (Bentz & Shapiro, 1998; Creswell, 2007/2003; and Bogdan & Biklen, 2007) which provide a state of the practice view of a number of qualitative approaches to analysis.
For the purposes of this course, and my project goals within the course, I will need to use Grbich as a jumping off place and read much more detailed accounts of how others create either clarity or commotion with the blending of different approaches to analysis. For example, I am looking at the possibility of blending Grbich’s classical ethnographic approach with that of existential phenomenology. Howard Pollio (personal communication, November 9, 2010) introduced a new approach, phenomenography, to me last semester that I am finding few examples of in my area of research interest. This interests me greatly and I am determined to read more widely on the use and underlying assumptions inherent in this approach.
In the meantime, I am finding that extensive readings of ethnographies and phenomenologies are helping me to think more critically about the strengths and advantages of each approach. I find Goodall’s (2000) description of the “New Ethnography” to be more centered on the presentation and narrative composition of ethnographic work rather than on self-discovery and Marxist critique as Grbich frames it. Perhaps this is due to my own frame of reference – do you think? I am fortunate to have been able to read several ethnographic works, such as Bettie’s (2003) Women Without Class; Bourgois & Schonberg’s (2009) Righteous Dopefiend; Ferguson’s (2001) Bad Boys; Lareau’s (2003) Unequal Childhoods; Milner’s (2006) Freaks, Geeks and Cool Kids and Ellis’ major autoethnographic work (2004) The Ethnographic I this year. These books excite both the reader and the scholar in me! I find the narrative writing style of ethnographic accounts to provide the clearest test for validity – does the reader believe what you are saying is true is in fact true from his or her own personal worldview. Have you made your claims from the research data and connected this with the literature? Has your own personal bias been exposed and subjected to critique? Have you attended to your own persona as the narrator of the story of others. Goodall describes this form of ethnographic reflexivity as “akin to the function of self-disclosure in friendships” and includes how you treat people, reflect on your experiences in the field, and attempt to derive meaning through your explanations (p. 131). Clearly, these matters are much bigger than merely your approach to analysis of the data collected in a study. It involves the tools of authorship, storytelling and the ability to effect an emotional reaction from your reader. Powerful stuff!
From Grbich’s treatment of phenomenology, I find that I have been operating on the assumption that Husserl, Heidegger, Merleau-Ponty and Gadamer’s approaches were not incommensurable frameworks. I have attempted to understand the search for essences as the focus of phenomenology with Heidegger’s Dasein and Husserl’s focus on a “return to the things-themselves” without conflict. My naïve understanding of key differences between Husserl and other phenomenologists lied in the assertions about bracketing. Husserl believed that one could bracket out their own views and experiences in order to keep the research pure and free of researcher bias. Heidegger, Merleau-Ponty and Gadamer counter that this is an impossible condition to achieve and lacks value if it could be achieved. All of our experiences are necessary in order to understand another’s position as a being-in-the-world and we need to be cautious that our interpretations are truly deriving from the participants in our research practices. I am regularly reminded to “show me that [interpretation of meaning] in the text” (Howard Pollio, personal communication, various dates and times).
This warns me that I have perhaps been reading at a more superficial level and need to examine more critically the unique foundations of existential phenomenology as it diverges from classical and hermeneutic phenomenology. Grbich does help me sort some of this out by stating that “The difference in approach here from the classical phenomenology of Husserl [speaking of Heidegger and Merleau-Ponty’s existential phenomenology] lies in the broad movement from the abstract to the real – the meanings for being must be uncovered first – in contrast with Husserl’s movement in classical phenomenology from the real to the abstract” (p. 91). This is a critical distinction for existential phenomenology and I am thankful to begin to sort this out.
Which brings me back to where we started…. I am need of a coherent methodological framework for analysis (still thinking that phenomenography may work) which will require me to convince my readers of the soundness of this decision, the reflexivity of the research process, and the (hopeful) possibility of an evolution in my understanding as I read more of these research publications.