Connecting Research and Reality – Where is the bridge?
A while ago, we had posted an anonymous blog post on our Sussex Research Hive blog of a social scientist’s reflection on conducting field work and the purpose of social science research, which prompted a deeper reflection amongst us.
Most of us got into academia because we wanted to contribute to society – whether directly through applied subjects or indirectly through the system of knowledge production (which may then feed back into practical applications). The realm of research is indeed thriving with progress made in terms of interdisciplinary work, and increasing inclusivity and decolonialisation efforts. Unfortunately, these progress parallels growing gap between research and the community. Our ivory tower is somehow getting higher and higher.
Knowledge is being produced, but is it being applied? What are the barriers that social scientists have to get past to apply findings to real world settings? Take the COVID-19 pandemic for instance – even in an event that so acutely impacts people’s lives, we see behavioural scientists and psychologists struggle to get past various barriers (e.g., policy makes, news outlets, etc.) for their recommendations to be applied in real life.
Our anonymous blogger ponders over the point of conducting field research amongst the marginalised or oppressed if this research will not lead to any immediate improvements onto their lives, and the contradictions between promising ‘effective’ and ‘impactful’ research, and the realities of working alongside more complex marginalised communities that need structural changes (and different forms of research/activist support).
“While conducting field research, I would occasionally be asked by participants this very question - ‘Why are you doing this?’
My answer varied over time; in the early stages, I would explain that I was conducting research on refugee camps, with the largely abstract (and naive) hope that this might, in the long run, lead to some improvement in the conditions, or during flights of frankly inexplicable optimism, the closure of the camps. In truth, I knew this would not be the case – who reads the work of a PhD candidate? – but I felt compelled to offer some kind of hope, to legitimise my research project by illustrating its practical relevance. In the main, this seemed to satisfy most participants; several expressed gratitude, and a belief that drawing attention to their plight would push the relevant authorities to act. ‘If only they knew what it is like,’ goes this line of reasoning, ‘they would not let it continue’. Unfortunately, this logic is fundamentally flawed; the relevant authorities, policy makers from Brussels to Berlin to Athens, were well aware of what was happening. Their respective publics were either supportive of repressive policies, indifferent or so overwhelmed by their own struggles that they were incapable of mustering the energy to engage with more distant (geographically, emotionally) concerns. And so the imposition of ever more repressive ‘border’ policies, of which the (closed) camps are a part, continue apace.
On reflection, perhaps it would have been better to answer honestly, to explain that my research would have no effect at all on the conditions in the camps. At best, it would be read by a handful of scholars, who might muse over its findings, possibly cite a particularly insightful excerpt in their next paper, and then move on. Meanwhile, the conditions in the camp would not change (indeed, they were to get progressively worse over the period of fieldwork). The wider ‘war on refugees’ (there is a reference here) would continue. Though it is standard academic practice to point to the various ways in which the marginalised/oppressed research participants might gain from such projects, the only real beneficiary, as far as I could make out, would be the humble author, who, on the strength of my thesis, might secure additional funding, or some form of employment (either within academia or outside its hallowed halls). This dire prognosis precipitated a change in approach.
Improving the everyday lives of participants (and indeed others in similarly precarious situations but not participants as such) therefore became the priority. This took many forms; from re-humanizing (shaking hands, remembering names, listening) to arranging or accompanying people to medical appointments, from offering logistical support/legal connections to setting up literacy or language projects in camp. In this I am not exceptional; the figure of the activist-researcher is well established. Activism, in this context, meant using the various means available to me (time, communication skills, access to social/financial capital) to deliver tangible, short-term improvements to participants lives, whenever and wherever possible. Placing this concern at the centre of my research praxis allowed me to accept the negligible societal impact it would have, and overcome my reservations about the exploitative nature and/or impotence of academia.” - Anonymous postgraduate researcher at the University of Sussex
What can publishers do?
To reconcile with these tensions, publishers can help expand dominant narratives around research positionalities and 'impact' by promoting publications that are critical and transparent of the researchers' positionality. Publishers can help expand narratives around researcher activism by supporting fieldwork outputs that move beyond traditional academic outputs, budgeting for multiple translations, and expanding open access to bridge linguistic and academic barriers.
This blog post is an interesting take on the ‘epistemic extractivism’ of field research, and ways in which to try and break that chain of extraction by universities. While publications strive for ‘complete’ stories that promise ‘big impact’, the reality of dedicated researchers on the field is that they must balance supporting communities with honesty of what their roles and research can give. Sometimes this reality is more ‘long-term’ and slower paced than what publishers (or PhD researchers) can feasibly do.