This blog was written by Dr Ioannis Costas Batlle and is republished here with permission.
My first contact with qualitative research occurred during my Masters. As an undergrad, I had opted to study Computer Science – a decision I can now comfortably characterise as a ‘swing and a miss’ given it was based on the flawless logic of “I guess I like using computers, so I’ll study Computer Science”. Having soon realised that numbers and programming did not come as naturally to me as my peers, I embarked on a Master’s degree in Coach Education and Sport Development. It was as far as I could run from Computer Science without doing a full 180 degrees into, say, English Literature. It was in my Master’s where I began to discover the beauty of qualitative research. Whilst analysing numbers felt cumbersome, my brain could clearly detect themes and patterns in interview transcripts. I could sniff out implications. I could spot omissions – i.e., what were participants not saying? In short: I could ‘see’ qualitative research just as clearly as characters in the Wachowskis’ 1999 blockbuster could ‘read’ the Matrix.
I was hooked. The more experience I gained of conducting qualitative research throughout my Master’s and subsequently my PhD, the more at home I felt with it. I was particularly drawn to what many consider its core criticism: anything goes. This refers to the subjective nature of qualitative research; the assumption that because it is not ‘objective’ anyone can make anything up and that it is all airy-fairy nonsense. As if ‘objective’ data could never be cherry-picked to present a skewed result (*coughs in statistics*). My point here is certainly not to claim qualitative research is ‘better’ than quantitative work, or vice versa. In both cases, if you do not have robust checks and balances, then you can ‘prove’ whatever you want with either numbers or words[1].
The checks and balances required for qualitative research are, I would argue, one of the most challenging aspects of using it. How did you collect your data to minimise your chances of ‘leading the participant on’? How do you know your data collection tools are appropriate? How did you analyse your data whilst acknowledging your own world views? How does your prior knowledge of what you are researching affect the process – are you a former school teacher researching school teachers (an insider) or someone exploring a completely new domain (an outsider)? To what extent do you as a person shape the data you collect (how likely is it that girls would be willing to share the experiences of their first period with men in comparison to women?). All these questions (amongst the many more I could have included) have an almost infinite number of possible answers. This. Is. Amazing! It means you can essentially do whatever you want, however you want, as long as you can justify it with theory, reflexivity and evidence (if I could make that last part flash in bright green neon whilst a siren goes off, I would).
Flexibility, therefore, is the name of the game when it comes to qualitative research. Ensuring you always use what I affectionally describe to my undergraduate students as the ‘J-word’ (justification), the world really is your oyster. The pandemic has exemplified this: when meeting people face-to-face was ruled out, qualitative research had to adapt (I would not wish running a focus group on a Teams call upon my worst enemy). What creative methods can be used to gather data? What about participants writing blogs? What if they took photos and then explained why they took them? What if they recorded, on video, parts of their day? Could they draw a timeline of their experiences and describe ‘highs’ and ‘lows’? What if they make a collage which represents their views on an issue? ‘Modern problems require modern solutions’ quips the Dave Chapelle meme. The growth of qualitative research as a field means all these forms of data collection and analysis continue to blossom. It is a privilege to be part of the journey. After all, if qualitative research aims to ‘tap into’ the subjective experiences of human beings, we need an incredibly wide array of ways in which we can do that. Just because I cannot express myself effectively through poetry does not make it so for my participants.
So, what is the most important skill a qualitative researcher requires to keep up as the field develops and grows? To become comfortable with discomfort. As an ex-Computer Scientist, I had to learn this the hard way and loved each second of it (except for completing ethics forms). Enjoy your qualitative journey and if our paths ever do cross, I hope we can learn something from each other!
[1] I am fully aware that there is a great deal more to qualitative research than just words; I am adhering to Braun and Clarke’s (2013) basic definition of qualitative research here for simplicity’s sake.
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