Ethnographing

(UGH. Blogger decided not to publish this last night. -- a )

Julie's notes below offer a great overview of the mechanics of Emerson, et al.'s process. But Tram's critique, that the authors leave unresolved the tension between the ethnographer's role as rapporteur and participant, is also illuminating. Building on this critique, it seems to me that the process described in the book is deliberately elliptical: ethnography, as perceived by these authors, is necessarily a process built on this tension.

Ethnography, here, is — rather than the output function reported in the publishable analysis — the act of writing built on a repeated procecss of exit and reentry. Initial observations are recorded as jottings, reevaluated and fleshed out as fieldnotes, spun into stories, examined for thematic linkages, and parsed into what we usually term "ethnography." Yet, though the authors use the term, I think it more a shorthand for their whole process; their "ethnographic texts" makes more sense here.

The term itself captures much of this, I think. Ethnography is not simply storytelling. Differentiating the research method from any other form of aggregation of detail is the necessity of the writing. It is the act of putting nations on paper, not merely the final product of such an endeavor.

Demystifying ethnographic fieldnotes

Overall, I found Writing Ethnographic Fieldnotes to be a helpful contribution to our growing toolbox of methodology literature. The book fills an apparent void by going “behind the scenes” of completed ethnographies (like Orr and Burawoy et al.), and even going beyond the usual “how-to” focus of moving from fieldnotes to ethnography. Indeed, though Emerson, Fretz, and Shaw include a (helpful) discussion of this final step, the emphasis of the book is clearly on the specific exercise of writing fieldnotes.

To be sure, as stated on page xii, the goal of the book is to “demystify writing fieldnotes, giving explicit attention to the processes of transforming observation and experience into inspectable texts.” In doing so, the authors aim to provide practical guidance and also to encourage reflection on the ontology of ethnography by examining its process (Plug: see Avi’s blog for more on this topic!). For me, the authors do a good job of “demystifying” fieldnotes, of which I knew very little before the reading. They accomplish this goal through the book’s structure, discussion of specific methods, and useful framing of ethnography.

First, the structure of the book makes the information conveyed clear and easy to understand. Despite having three authors, the book flows well and is organized in clear sections and sub-sections. Indeed, the insight of multiple authors for a book like this is actually helpful for providing balanced discussions of the ideas, and for providing a diverse selection of examples. To be sure, the regular inclusion of real examples in general, and comparative examples in particular, is especially useful for determining strengths and weaknesses of different attempts and for identifying varied approaches to the same task.

Emerson et al’s breakdown of specific methods is also helpful for indicating that writing fieldnotes is not just a single step, but an entire process in itself. I found the first section on “jotting” to be less instructive than later chapters, with the authors basically concluding that “whatever works for you” is fine at this stage. While I recognize the need to accommodate diverse approaches at this initial point in ethnographic research, I was at first worried that the entire book would fit the ethnographic stereotype of concluding that everything is contextual. I thus found the chapters on writing up fieldnotes, and especially the chapter on coding, to be more useful in describing specific strategies and skills.

In terms of Emerson et al’s “framing,” I found the interactionist, interpretive understanding of ethnography discussed in the book to be helpful. As stated on page xii, this approach “derives from the traditions of symbolic interaction and ethnomethodology,” allowing for an appreciation of reflexivity, which is a unique aspect of ethnography: “Reflexivity involves the recognition that an account of reality does not simply mirror but rather creates or constitutes as real in the first place whatever it describes” (213). This approach is useful in several ways, especially when considering “ethical dilemmas” that ethnographers might face. As Emerson et al discuss in the conclusion, the interactive approach allows the ethnographer to be seen and heard in the ethnography, which clearly identifies the presence of the ethnographer and thus directly recognizes personal perspectives and biases. Secondly, the interactive method is well suited to represent members’ meanings and help ethnographers avoid imposing exogenous meanings, as discussed in chapter five.

Emerson et al neglect to discuss some of the shortcomings of this interactive approach, ie, it may be more difficult to link specific contextual observations to broader themes or communities, or it may be difficult to rely on this method in communities in which interactions are limited. However, such a discussion is not really necessary for this book, as the approach adopted was recognized as one of many, simply used to provide a framework for the content. Likewise, while reading the book, I was hoping for a more nuanced discussion of the ethical questions faced by ethnographers (such as the tension between being a participant v. observer; commitment to the community v. the academy; sensitivity to privacy v. recording valuable observations, etc.), yet again, such questions are beyond the scope of this book. For me, the book was successful in meeting its goal of “demystifying” ethnographic fieldnotes, and had the added benefit for this reader of demystifying the methodology of ethnography in general.

Understanding the Global, Harnessing the Local

Global Ethnography represents what Buroway defines as an accumulative effort to ‘represent a broader commitment to soft hermeneutic sociology’ to study today’s realities of transnational flows of population, discourse, commodities and power. What this collection aims to represent is the relationship between the macro and the micro, the nexus between the local and the global, through the use of a methodology traditionally used to study a specific phenomenon within a particular frame of time and space. Ethnography, with its focus on a detailed study of human cultures, is used by the authors to discover what is new about the global, to delve into the external forces of globalization and seeking its implications for the local, to explore the connections between different sites of similar occurrences and examine their transnational and transcendental nature. Simultaneously, using this kind of research methodology, the book aims to highlight the bottom up approach to globalization defined by Buroway as ‘grounded globalization’to explore the realities of the global political economy and its power to disenfranchise the local, while expanding the transnational social place to create and recreate social identities and relationships and allow for projections of the global imagination in the construction of new political projects and controversies.

Central to the project is the book’s assumptions on ideology which it argues is not merely a reflection of reality. In using ethnography as the entry point into the local-global nexus, it asserts that global discourses alone claim an autonomy and coherence of their own and become powerful ideological constructions that can arouse collective wills (p.342). In other words, to borrow Searle’s terms, global discourses, once unleashed create a new set of socially constructed realities within which individuals, communities, and movements not only seek their meaning and position, but also their legitimacy in relation to one another. The challenge ultimately of using a global ethnographic study seems to lie in being able to highlight the establishment of these newly emerging relationships that are no longer confined within national boundaries.

At this juncture, a few threads of commonality throughout the book need to be highlighted. First, the different kinds of ethnographies and case studies projected highlight not only the tension between the local and the global, but also the dialectics of the global political economy, the economic and social costs of such a large-scale venture and the blurring of the lines (as was reflected in Dirty Nurses and Men who Play) between those who benefit and those who lose out in the new constantly constructed narrative. Second, the book is successful in highlight the reconstitution of identities whether it be the men who recycle, the Indian families who recreate cultural, social and political norms and expectations in very different geographical settings or the evolution of social movements from the local to the global such as the breast cancer movement to claim legitimacy and voice on a larger platform as both a consequence as well as a constituent in the global phenomenon. Third, global ethnography as a methodological approach captures the uncomfortable relationship that emerges between those who have not been destroyed by globalization, yet benefit from it and use its forces as a means of furthering their own agendas, or challenging the status quo that it creates in terms of power and hegemony in the new world.

Yet, despite the strengths of this work, what remains unclear is what the constituents of a good ethnographic study really are, what questions need to be asked and answered before developing such a research methodology to study a global phenomenon. In this regard,

a rich array of questions can be posed given the range of issues tackled in this collection, relating to the effectiveness of using a micro level approach to a macro-level phenomenon.

First, would you agree with the assertion that the value of global ethnography lies in its ability to reveal social dilemmas as aspects of a contested terrain of globalization rather than as inevitable outcomes of an apolitical process? What form of alternative research methodology could provide a similar insight into the processes and dialectics within globalization and its relation to the local if not ethnography? Is ethnography the only approach to provide a multilevel understanding of the dynamics within globalization and reconstitution of social identities and relationships as a consequence of globalizing forces?

Second, how can one arrive at the appropriate level of analysis within a context where all boundaries are porous and identities constantly capable of changing in relation to one another? Does the global ethnographic approach with its focus on global forces, connections and imaginations provide the methodological toolbox that is required to study multilayered and multinuanced variables which are inextricably connected to each other?

Third, Global Ethnography argues for an understanding of global forces that views the process of globalization as being in transition. Do the narratives provided in the next highlight this assertion?

The Man Who Sold the World

While ‘Global Ethnography’ provides us with more interesting stories than that told in last week’s reading (sheesh!), the methodological issues stay the same. I’ll admit, even I found myself curious to find out just how the connection between the micro-practices that traditionally (and, seemingly, necessarily) have been the realm of ethnography, and the macro-structures that partly make out the demonic concept of ‘Globalization.’

In the introduction, Michael Burawoy complains that the neo-institutionalists “leave ethnographers, who work from the ground upward, without theoretical tools to delve into the connections between micro-practices and macro-structures.” (3) The authors set out to remedy this, and, as far as I can tell, they do an excellent job at it. Without losing sight of the individual and local experiences, they shed light on the ‘new’ localities, the units of analysis break free from national boundaries and even from the constraints of time. However, to evaluate the success of this project, it seems necessary to have a clear understanding of what ‘good’ ethnography is (I’m still not clear on whether there are any formal guidelines set up by some sort of global Lollipop Guild, but from last week’s discussion, it seems clear that there is such a thing as ‘bad’ ethnography, and, hence, there should be something deemed as ‘good’ ethnography.).

One of the perks of being an ethnographer seems to be the right to chose freely who the most deserving underdog to rescue is. While ethnography may not require attempts of objectivity – or even believe that objectivity can or should be achieved – there is a self-righteous tone that is, at the very least, annoying at times. Don’t get me wrong, I find this book brilliant, but I still at times find myself asking, how is this not just journalism? No offense to journalists intended, of course. In the case of Hungarian welfare mothers, for instance, Lynne Haney sets out to investigate the impact of IMF and World Bank demands on the formerly socialist welfare system in Hungary. Like any good investigative journalist, she finds her data in historical records and in interactions with contemporary welfare caseworkers. The looming shadow of the ‘neo-liberal’ agenda is constantly present, and sometimes I find myself wondering if not Mr. Burns is hiding in the background, rubbing his hands while wheezing a delighted “Eeexcellent!”

I hope you will forgive my KKV-ishness, but I find it difficult to break free from the standards I have been fed since, well, the beginning of my conscious life (so since about five years ago). I find it difficult to swallow the normative elements so clearly embraced in the ethnographic approaches we have seen examples of here. I may agree with many of the not-so-hidden views of the authors, but I am nevertheless bothered by the flaunting of them: “Armed with neoliberal economic theory, these men in expensive suits from the IMF and World Bank spanned the globe, counseling governments about ‘appropriate’ levels of social spending.” (51) Does anyone doubt who the bad guys are here? Furthermore, there seems to be no restrictions in data selection; no attempts to avoid cherry picking are apparently needed: “In this fieldwork I focused primarily on those who were the most serious about their work, the most productive…I find that my work appeals most to those men whose life-worlds support my thesis.” (75) Ok. So in order to find support for my thesis, I set out to find those whose stories will support my thesis. What is the standard here? Is it possible to discern some general guidelines for ethnography, or does pretty much anything go? If the latter is the case, is the book we just read an outstanding work of science, or is it an excellent piece of investigative journalism?

So What? Use/Value of Knowledge

At the beginning of his book, Orr defines the goal of his investigation of “work practice” as illuminating and deepening our understanding of the more commonly studied aspects of the industrialized society – that of the relations of employment and the role of work in the constitution of the worker’s identity (1). His account of the copier technicians maneuvering through the daily grind of their jobs and negotiating the “service triangle” between themselves and the machines, themselves and the customers/users, and the users and the machines is rich in detail and surprisingly interesting. (Who would have imagined that someone could write 160 pages about a day-in-the-life-of-the-Xerox-man?) The technicians think of themselves as skilled, yet underappreciated. Interaction with customers is a much bigger part of their jobs than is believed by the corporate management. They are forced to constantly improvise, both because of the complexities of the technology and the vagaries of its users, but also because of the inadequacies of the product design and documentation. And so on, and so forth….Okay, so what’s the use of this knowledge?

While this was not Orr’s stated intention, the numerous implications of his work that immediately leapt to my mind were related to management of this portion of the company. FOr example, if procedures limit future options (like cutting a wire that may be useful in the future (27)) or design leads to poor performance (reversing-roll problem (57)) – how is this knowledge being communicated to the non-technicians in the company? Like the engineers or manufacturing units? Why do some fixes get incorporated (soldering of faulty wiring connections (52)) and some procedures are made customizable (the LOLOS forms for field inventory (55)) but others are not? When technicians circumvent the system by obtaining extra schematics (33) or manually forcing settings outside the specified ranges (Chicago Fix 53), what does that mean for the company’s efficiency and performance? Are the corporate criterion for success (partially machine and partially customer (80)) out of sync with what the technicians value in their performances? For example, if the technicians think of the “great” technicians as those that hold a “repertoire of known problems and fixes”, doesn’t this imply that that knowledge is held within a person (who may leave, get fired, forget….)? Maybe the proximate technicians would then have access to that information, but what about the universe of technicians? Wouldn’t it be better for the company if everyone knew these findings? How could the company employ incentives for reporting and documentation of these currently oral traditions? [It seems like these were the types of questions that Xerox also had in response to Orr’s work since they apparently created a tips database, and the enduring influence that it has had on the business community – see Wall Street Journal article of 1/23/06 – “Companies struggle to pass on workers’ knowledge”]. What would Orr think of this use of his work? Is there a privileged use of ethnographically gathered information? If so, what is it?