2016 Book Patrick Alan Danaher Navigating The Education Research Maze

PALGRAVE STUDIES IN
EDUCATION RESEARCH METHODS
Edited by Dolene Rossi, Francis Gacenga

and Patrick Alan Danaher
NAVIGATING
THE EDUCATION
RESEARCH MAZE
Contextual, Conceptual, Methodological
and Transformational Challenges and
Opportunities for Researchers
Palgrave Studies in Education Research Methods
Series Editors
Patrick Alan Danaher
University of Southern Queensland
Toowoomba, Queensland, Australia
Fred Dervin
Department of Teacher Education
The University of Helsinki
Helsinki, Finland
Caroline Dyer
School of Politics and International Studies
University of Leeds
Leeds, United Kingdom
Mairin Kenny
Wexford, Ireland
Bobby Harreveld
School of Education & the Arts
Central Queensland University
Rockhampton, Australia
Michael Singh
Centre for Educational Research
Western Sydney University
Penrith, New South Wales, Australia
This series explores contemporary manifestations of the fundamental para-
dox that lies at the heart of education: that education contributes to the
creation of economic and social divisions and the perpetuation of socio-
cultural marginalisation, while also providing opportunities for individual
empowerment and social transformation. In exploring this paradox, the
series investigates potential alternatives to current educational provision
and speculates on more enabling and inclusive educational futures for
individuals, communities, nations and the planet. Specific developments
and innovation in teaching and learning, educational policy-making and
education research are analysed against the backdrop of these broader
developments and issues.
More information about this series at

http://www.springer.com/series/15092
Dolene Rossi • Francis Gacenga • Patrick Alan Danaher
Editors
Navigating the
Education Research
Maze
Contextual, Conceptual, Methodological and
Transformational Challenges and Opportunities for
Researchers
Editors
Dolene Rossi Patrick Alan Danaher
Central Queensland University University of Southern Queensland
North Rockhampton, Queensland Toowoomba, Queensland
Australia Australia
Francis Gacenga
University of Southern Queensland
Toowoomba, Queensland
Australia
Palgrave Studies in Education Research Methods

ISBN 978-3-319-39852-5 ISBN 978-3-319-39853-2 (eBook)
DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-39853-2
Library of Congress Control Number: 2016956418
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SERIES EDITORS’ FOREWORD: THE
METAPHORICAL MAZE: ANALOGIC THINKING
FOR/IN THE RESEARCH PROCESS
R.E (Bobby) Harreveld
Gandalf: “I am looking for someone to share in an adventure that I am

arranging, and it’s very difficult to find anyone.”
Bilbo Baggins: “I should think so–in these parts! We are plain quiet folk and
have no use for adventures. Nasty disturbing uncomfortable things! Make
you late for dinner! I can’t think what anybody sees in them.” (Tolkien
1937/2012, p. 7)
Some hobbits such as Bilbo Baggins cannot think what anyone would
see in an adventure, just as some researchers may not be able to think
what anyone would see in a maze as being allegorical of their work. Both
adventure and maze may be disturbing and uncomfortable and can take
over hobbits’ and researchers’ lives. Yet, as in Tolkien’s novels, the maze
of social science and educational research is entered into with just as much
excitement and trepidation, fear and bravery, challenges and opportuni-
ties as his wandering wizard and hobbits found on their adventures. This
book is a metaphorical story of the research maze crafted with similarly
discursive analogical thinking.
Navigating the education research maze: Contextual, conceptual, meth-
odological and transformational challenges and opportunities for researchers
is the second in the Palgrave Studies in Education Research Methods series
that sets out the requirements for ethical, effective, impactful, relevant
and rigorous education research (understood in the broadest sense). The
editors of this collection (Danaher, Rossi and Gacenga, Chap. 1) invite
v
vi R.E HARREVELD
readers to think about the transformational aspects of the research process

constructed through a series of analogical transpositions in three parts:
(1) politics, ethics, philosophies and theories of research mazes; (2) specific
navigational methods for entering and maneuvering through the mazes;
and (3) tools and techniques for navigating, negotiating and nullifying
contextual, conceptual, and methodological challenges encountered in
the research process maze.
Metaphors represent a particular feature of analogic thinking, namely
its “pervasive, irreducible, imaginative structure of human understanding
that influences the nature of meaning and constrains rational interferences”
(Johnson 1987, p. xii). The choice of metaphor requires linguistic and
cultural connectivities, such that the metaphor is the product of analogic
thinking in which different elements are related through similarity and/or
difference to create new understandings, meanings and constructions of
knowledge. A metaphor may emerge from shared experiences (e.g., read-
ing Tolkien’s books or watching the movies); from other common lived
experiences such as completing a doctorate, working in a university or
undertaking a research project; or from existing well-known narratives,
myths and/or legends (Bioy and Nègre 2011). The choice of the maze as
metaphor for examining the conditions of contextual, conceptual, meth-
odological and transformational change in the research process reflects the
authors’ socio-cultural and historical framings of their work as researchers
across a number of disciplines.
This is an important distinction. If I have never known of a maze—if
I have no concept of a maze—then the metaphor will not speak to me.
If in my working life I have never had to maneuver in, with and through
political, ethical, philosophical and/or theoretical dilemmas, then navi-
gating and negotiating a research maze may be discursively incompre-
hensible. Further, if analogic thinking is a peculiarly cultural construct,
then, when working in the maze, neoliberal managerialism is to univer-
sity academic work as the knowledge economy is to the construction of
academic capitalism (Jensen-Clayton and Murray, Chap. 2). This meta-
phorical maze works when readers have also experienced the pleasure and
pain of academic capitalism, of wanting the intellectual and material goods
that westernised academic work may bring and of daring to go thinking
and working beyond westernised normative processes of what counts as
research (Jensen-Clayton and Murray, Chap. 15).
Similarly, the maze of politics and ethics encountered when being
non-compliant in an educational bureaucracy, such as that examined by
SERIES EDITORS’ FOREWORD: THE METAPHORICAL MAZE… vii
Trimmer in Chap. 3, suggests that embarkation points for navigating the

research maze vary from situation to situation. Such was the case for Salton
(Chap. 4), who took as her embarkation point for navigating the maze
of her PhD research process her theoretical and methodological encoun-
ters with her researcher self. Yet there are multiple points for navigating
the maze and negotiating when in the maze. This means that metaphori-
cally the maze also inspires a scholarship of integration among multiple
institutional logics from different disciplinary domains (Somasundaram,
Howard and Reed, Chap. 5).
The research maze is not for the faint hearted. It requires “a deter-
mined sense of adventure” (Meenach, Chap. 6) with trusty navigational
tools of questions, ideas and research-led practices. At its most transforma-
tional, this sense and “spirit of adventure” are imbued with a disposition
to negotiate unknown paths such as those encountered by Burke in her
design-based research (Chap. 7). Adventuring in the maze can be danger-
ous if researchers are not aware of, then engage with, the powerful para-
digmatic debates and methodological contradictions encountered in the
maze (Donovan, Chap. 8; Fasso, Knight and Purnell, Chap. 9).
Metaphorical representations of the research process are replete in the
literature, often using analogic thinking to broker meaning within and
across different disciplinary boundaries, data sources and types. Computing
researchers use metaphors to understand complex social objects and/or
phenomena, represented through a maze of images and metaphorical con-
structs (Naidoo, Chap. 10). So too for nursing researchers who use the
metaphor of the maze to choose among technologically mediated dis-
covery tools when systematically reviewing their literature (Ramsay and
Williamson, Chap. 11). Mobilising complex social networking secondary
datasets in information systems research represents both a challenge and
an opportunity when examined through the lens of a metaphorical maze
(Pervin and Nishant, Chap. 12).
While the lodestars of research such as problem, question/s, context,
concept, theory, methodology and method/s provide navigational guid-
ance through the process, the sometimes troubling, often puzzling prick-
les and pebbles encountered along the way must still be addressed. In the
governance of twenty-first century research, Gacenga (Chap. 13) argues
that eResearch services interacting with computing infrastructure and
associated technological tools are additional navigational aids or lodestars
to improve research data management, explain outcome impact measures
and present publications. Another metaphorical lodestar promulgated as
viii R.E HARREVELD
being essential for the navigating, negotiating and nullifying research pro-
cess maze is that of collaboration. Rossi (Chap. 14) challenges taken-for-
granted assumptions about the beneficence of collaboration, especially in
cross-institutional, multidisciplinary collaborative processes.
Going outside your disciplinary and institutional doors to do research is
indeed dangerous business, but, like the authors in this edited collection,
there is no telling where you might be swept off to—and what adventures
will then ensue.
REFERENCES
Bioy, A., & Nègre, I. (2011). Analogy in metaphors. European Journal of Clinical
Hypnosis, 11(1), 2–9.
Johnson, M. (1987). The body in the mind: The bodily basis of meaning, imagina-
tion, and reason. Chicago: University of Chicago.
Tolkien, J. R. R. (1937/2012). The hobbit or there and back again. Hammersmith/
London: HarperCollins Publishers.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The editors and authors are very grateful to the following individuals,
without whom this book would not have been published:
• Mr Andrew James and Ms Eleanor Christie and their colleagues at

Palgrave Macmillan.
• Ms Jodie Gunders for masterminding the book project, overseeing
the peer review process, typing the manuscript and composing the
index.
• E Ganesh and colleagues at SPi Technologies India Private Ltd. for
their expert copyediting and typesetting of the manuscript.
• Professor Bobby Harreveld for writing the Series Editors’ Foreword
to the book.
• Professor Jean Clandinin for writing the Afterword to the book.
• Professor Barbara de la Harpe for financial support for the book
project.
• Ms Hazel Harrower for administrative support for the writing work-
shops associated with the book.
• The anonymous reviewer of the original book proposal.
• The scholars who provided double-blind peer reviews of one or
more submitted chapters:
– Professor Peter Albion, University of Southern Queensland,

Toowoomba, Australia.
– Dr Wendi Beamish, Griffith University, Brisbane, Australia.
ix
x ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
– Dr Ali Black, University of the Sunshine Coast, Maroochydore,

Australia.
– Dr Jacqueline Blake, University of the Sunshine Coast,
Maroochydore, Australia.
– Professor Judith Brown, CQUniversity, Mackay, Australia.
– Dr Janet Buchan, Lourdes Hill College, Brisbane, Australia.
– Dr Gillian Busch, CQUniversity, Rockhampton, Australia.
– Mrs Phyllida Coombes, independent scholar, Bundaberg,
Australia.
– Dr Geoff Danaher, independent scholar, Yeppoon, Australia.
– Dr Michael Danaher, CQUniversity, Rockhampton, Australia.
– Dr Christina Davidson, Charles Sturt University, Wagga Wagga,
Australia.
– Professor Barry Golding, Federation University Australia, Ballarat,
Australia.
– Dr Barbara Harmes, University of Southern Queensland,
– Dr Marcus Harmes, University of Southern Queensland,
– Associate Professor Dominique Hecq, Swinburne University of
Technology, Melbourne, Australia.
– Dr Linda Henderson, Monash University, Melbourne, Australia.
– Associate Professor Annette Hilton, University of Technology
Sydney, Australia.
– Dr Eileen Honan, University of Queensland, Brisbane, Australia.
– Dr Tseen Khoo, La Trobe University, Melbourne, Australia.
– Dr Celeste Lawson, CQUniversity, Rockhampton, Australia.
– Dr Sarah Loch, University of Technology Sydney, Australia.
– Dr Wendy Madsen, CQUniversity, Rockhampton, Australia.
– Associate Professor Katie Makar, University of Queensland,
Brisbane, Australia.
– Dr Jenny Ostini, University of Southern Queensland, Toowoomba,
Australia.
– Mrs Karen Peel, University of Southern Queensland, Toowoomba,
Australia.
– Dr Harsha Perera, University of New South Wales, Sydney,
Australia.
– Dr Petrea Redmond, University of Southern Queensland,
CONTENTS
1 Navigating, Negotiating and Nullifying Education

Research Mazes: Successful Strategies for Mobilising
Contextual, Conceptual, Methodological and
Transformational Challenges and Opportunities 1
Patrick Alan Danaher, Dolene Rossi, and Francis Gacenga
Part 1 Navigating the Politics, Ethics, Philosophies and

Theories of Education Research Mazes 17
2 Working in the Research Maze: At What Price? 21

Cecily Jensen-Clayton and Atholl Murray
3 “Have You Been Non-compliant?” Dilemmas of Decision-

Making for School Principals and Education Researchers 47
Karen Trimmer
4 Navigating the Terrain of Methodological Uncertainties

to New Spaces of Research 67
Yvonne Salton
xi
xii CONTENTS
5 Navigating the Scholarship of Integration: Insights

from a Maze 79
Jay Somasundaram, Prue Howard, and Rob H. Reed
Part 2 Navigating Mazes in and with Specific Research

Methods 97
Francis Gacenga
6 Practice-led Research: Creating, Embodying and

Shifting My Understanding of Research 101
Bernadette Meenach
7 Investigating Creative Arts Practices in Australian Home

Education Through Design-Based Research: Entering
the Research Maze with the Spirit of Adventure 115
Katie Burke
8 Meandering in the Maze of Mixed Methods: Navigation

Strategies of a Researcher into the Influence of the Mass
Media on Children’s Science Understandings 131
Jennifer Donovan
9 Navigating, Negotiating and Nullifying Contradictions

in the Research Around School Curriculum Change 145
Wendy Fasso, Bruce Knight, and Ken Purnell
10 Research as a “Quest” through a “Maze” of Representations:

Understanding Metaphorical and Image Constructions
in a Research Community 163
Rennie Naidoo
Part 3 Navigating Mazes in and with Specific Research

Tasks and Technologies 181
Dolene Rossi
CONTENTS xiii
11 Many Paths to Discovery: The Increasingly Complex

Literature Maze 183
Lindy Ramsay and Moira Williamson
12 Food for Thought: Managing Secondary Data

for Research 199
Nargis Pervin, Rohit Nishant, and Philip J. Kitchen
13 The Compass, Navigation and the Journey: A Role

for eResearch in Navigating the Research Maze 217
Francis Gacenga
14 Collaborative Research: A Partnership That Seizes

Opportunities, Navigates Challenges and Constructs
New Knowledge and Shared Understandings 235
Dolene Rossi
15 Working Beyond the Research Maze 253

Afterword: Contextual, Conceptual, Methodological and

Transformational Challenges and Opportunities
for Researchers 275
D. Jean Clandinin
Notes on Contributors 281
Index 285
LIST OF FIGURES
Fig. 1.1 Theorising and conceptualising the education research

maze 7
Fig. 1.2 Navigating, negotiating and nullifying the research maze:
exemplars from a cross-institutional, multidisciplinary
case study 9
Fig. 2.1 The research maze 22
Fig. 2.2 The research maze: the local context 31
Fig. 5.1 A pictorial model of the chapter. The text uses footnotes,
fonts, citations and grammatical structures to suggest alternative
pathways 82
Fig. 5.2 My wife and my mother-in-law. They are both in this
picture—find them (Hill 1915). The skill of perceiving
multiple images requires the ability to ignore detail and to explore
alternatives. However, appreciating and engaging with a
perspective require attention to detail and a dismissal of
alternatives 83
Fig. 7.1 Reeve’s (2006) four phases of Design-Based Research 121
Fig. 9.1 Betweenness centrality—distance from the mean 153
Fig. 9.2 The social network diagram (bold lines are reciprocal advice) 155
Fig. 9.3 Teacher curriculum expertise—distance from the mean
for core and periphery 155
Fig. 10.1 Research as a spiral 172
Fig. 10.2 Research as a bridge 173
Fig. 10.3 Research as a looking glass 174
Fig. 13.1 Research cloud—using NeCTAR VM and QRIScloud
storage 228
xv
xvi LIST OF FIGURES
Fig. 13.2 An eResearch Journey—using NeCTAR VMs and

QRIScloud 228
Fig. 13.3 Research cloud for integrated climate modelling 230
Fig. 14.1 The collaborative action research process 241
Fig. 15.1 The research maze: The local context 255
Fig. 15.2 Rolling out the maze and its implications 262
LIST OF TABLES
Table 5.1 Changing patterns of usage 89

Table 5.2 Dictionaries demonstrate the ambiguity of these terms 90
Table 5.3 A laddered framework of four principal elements 90
Table 7.1 A map of the research maze 122
Table 9.1 Density of core and peripheral networks 156
Table 10.1 A social representations and conceptual metaphor theory
framework for metaphorical analysis 167
Table 10.2 Evidence of a maze of metaphorical constructions 171
Table 10.3 Applying the framework for metaphorical analysis 175
Table 12.1 Dataset overview 202
Table 13.1 Navigating research computing: four paradigms based
on Hey et al. (2009) 219
Table 13.2 Australian eResearch service providers 222
xvii
CHAPTER 1
Navigating, Negotiating and Nullifying

Education Research Mazes: Successful
Strategies for Mobilising Contextual,
Conceptual, Methodological
and Transformational Challenges
and Opportunities
Patrick Alan Danaher, Dolene Rossi, and Francis Gacenga
INTRODUCTION
Metaphors stand tall in all fields of human enterprise, ranging from the
leitmotifs of music (Górska 2010) and the imagery of poetry (Lakoff and
Turner 1989) to the epochs of historical analysis (Tucker 2009) and the
political and spatial representations of cultural studies (Swiss and Herman
P.A. Danaher ()

Faculty of Business, Education, Law and Arts, University of Southern
Queensland, Toowoomba, QLD, Australia
D. Rossi
Central Queensland University, North Rockhampton, QLD, Australia
F. Gacenga
Office of Research Development, University of Southern Queensland,
Toowoomba, QLD, Australia
© The Author(s) 2016 1

D. Rossi et al. (eds.), Navigating the Education Research Maze,
DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-39853-2_1
2 P.A. DANAHER ET AL.
2000) to the accounts of families in biological species (Mindell 2013) and

the depictions of networks in explaining technologies (Grint and Woolgar
1997). Metaphors have always been, and continue to be, insightful and
powerful renderings of often complex internal processes and also of con-
nections between the subject of the metaphor and other phenomena in
the systems under review. Consequently, metaphors help to generate new
understandings of such processes and phenomena and can underpin fresh
research into those areas of human activity.
More specifically, contemporary scholarship abounds with vivid meta-
phors for characterising the intentions, outcomes and vicissitudes of educa-
tion research projects (with “education” being used here and throughout
the book in a broadly inclusive sense, encompassing formal educational
provision as well as informal learning by individuals and communities).
Accordingly, this chapter, and the book that it introduces, are particu-
larly concerned with the diversity of metaphors that accompany and enrich
such education research endeavours. Importantly, this diversity encom-
passes recognition of the limitations and even the risks attending some
metaphors. For example, Regehr (2010) was critical of “… a common
metaphor of ‘legitimate’ science, and goals for science, which is shaping
the conceptualisation of what constitutes ‘good’ research in education:
namely, the metaphor of the physical sciences” (p. 31). Likewise, Pitcher
(2014) reported research findings whereby metaphors used in teaching
electronics theory varied in their effectiveness, with students exhibiting a
range of reactions to the metaphors and others forgetting the metaphors
over time. More broadly, research in domains such as public policy has
been depicted as having “… moved beyond both metaphors and popular
units of analysis” (Pump 2011, p. 1), suggesting metaphorical analysis as
being useful in the early stages in the development of a scholarly field but
becoming less fruitful as the field progresses.
By contrast, education research has also highlighted the development of
metaphors as a discernible link between intelligence and creativity (Silvia
and Beaty 2012). Furthermore, as one example of the creative power of
mobilising metaphors, Bazeley and Kemp (2012) examined the potential
insights to be gleaned from analysing and applying mixed methods
research in terms of mosaics, triangles and DNA. Moreover, Bruckmüller
et al. (2013) distilled a similarly tripartite set of metaphors—in their case,
ceilings, cliffs and labyrinths—to encapsulate current research into work-
place gender discrimination. Another benefit claimed for metaphors is
their capacity to simplify complex research understandings—for instance,
NAVIGATING, NEGOTIATING AND NULLIFYING EDUCATION RESEARCH... 3
“brain architecture”, “toxic stress” and “serve and return” being advo-
cated as metaphors to communicate sophisticated scientific concepts to
non-scientists (Shonkoff and Bales 2011). Other metaphors of research
collected from the contemporary literature include diffusion, cascading
and life cycles being used to account for the emergence and dissemination
of sociocultural norms (Bucher 2014); “… gardener, buddy, saint, cyborg,
commander and bully” (Alvesson and Spicer 2011, p. 1) synthesising
selected understandings of the work of business leaders and managers;
and machine, organism, brain, culture, politics, psychic prison, flux and
transformation, and instruments of domination representing some of the
different metaphorical understandings of organisations (Bell et al. 2012).
From this perspective, education research mazes emerge as integral
components of the education research enterprise—simultaneously signi-
fiers of the complexity and messiness of research and enablers of effec-
tive, efficient and ethical techniques for apprehending that complexity and
messiness. Certainly, metaphors need to be taken seriously as significant
signifiers of deeper and wider complexities of understandings of research
aspirations and outcomes across a diverse range of scholarly disciplines.
The chapters in this book—including this one—explore one specific meta-
phor, that of research as a maze, to elaborate the multiple ways in which
education researchers can and should devise and enact research to address
some of the real-life concerns and issues confronting the world today.
Presenting several variations on the image of mazes, the authors of the
subsequent chapters illustrate different but equally legitimate means of
engaging (with) research that help to explain, pursue, contest and where
appropriate and possible transform the multiple mazes occupying contem-
porary education research.
In order to foretell and situate the chapters to follow, the remainder of
this chapter is divided into five sections:
• A necessarily selective review of literature pertaining to education

research as mazes
• A theoretical framework and a conceptual model that distil three
distinctive approaches to engaging with such mazes
• These three approaches illustrated by reference to two of the authors’
respective research projects
• Some suggested broader implications for mobilising education
research mazes
• An overview of the book’s rationale and structure.
LITERATURE REVIEW
The notion of the maze is understood in this chapter and in the book
as a whole as a differentiated, multifaceted phenomenon whose form,
impact and importance take shape differently in diverse contexts. At the
same time, the term “maze” evokes a varied but nevertheless consistent
set of meanings, including “… confusion and complexity …” (MacQueen
2005, p. 14); dilemmas, mysteries and pathways (Missiuna et al. 2006); a
complex task whose successful completion demonstrates learning achieve-
ment (Grieshaber 2008) and requires the application of “… the necessary
practice knowledge to negotiate…” (Walshaw 2015, p. xi); enduring the
likelihood of “… the path ahead…[being indirect] and [that as research-
ers] you will take many twists and turns and go down a few blind alleys
before you reach your goal” (Bell with Waters, 2014, p. 5); and bearing
the marks and traces of the mazes’ designers that convey meaning to those
who experience them (Hayles 2000).
Those commonalities of defining characteristics duly noted, there is
considerable variety in the ways in which education scholars have depicted
and derived meaning from the proposition of research as a maze. Some
researchers have highlighted the ethical maze attached to particular
research dilemmas, such as gaining children’s informed consent to par-
ticipate in research (Cocks 2006). A variation on that theme has included
characterising as a research maze the complexities of securing approval
from research ethics committees to conduct sensitive research (Roberts
et al. 2007). Others have portrayed the doctoral journey as a particular
kind of research maze requiring the application of agency by the doc-
toral candidate to survive and indeed to thrive during and following that
journey (Jones 2013; see also Miller and Brimicombe 2004). Still others,
building on that assumption of researcher agency, have emphasised that
“… the maze of research has several entries and choices of paths and direc-
tions” (Ringsted et al. 2011), drawing our attention to the possibilities
for creativity and innovation in enacting such choices. Likewise, Munro
(2010) communicated the timely reminder that even apparently unpro-
ductive pathways can yield important information for researchers and
practitioners alike.
Similarly, the maze metaphor has been deployed productively across
a range of scholarly disciplines and educational levels and sectors. For
instance, Daniel (2012) posited the maze as a useful encapsulating device
for imagining the constraints as well as the possibilities attending the cur-
rent efflorescence of Massive Open Online Courses (MOOCs) traversing

both formal and informal learning. An educative approach was advocated as
“A way through the moral maze … of poor ethical practice by image-based
researchers” (Prosser 2005, p. 147) with regard to the recording, selection,
representation and distribution of images of children and other potentially
vulnerable groups in education research. Moreover, Borbasi and Jackson
(2016) highlighted the educational dimension of navigating the maze of
research in relation to nursing and midwifery practice by emphasising the
attitudes, knowledge and skills required to design and conduct research in
this challenging professional field. Finally, Hirschkorn et al. (2015) elabo-
rated specific elements of the maze to which they likened efforts to research
the landscape of teacher education in Canada; these elements included:
… duplication of research ethics procedures across institutions; feelings

of vulnerability as faculty [academic staff members] in various institutions
worry about potentially damaging comparative information arising from a
national study; and lack of funding and vision for research that transcends
provincial and territorial boundaries. (p. 20)
Clearly, considerable diversity characterises the ways in which education

researchers have defined the concept of a research maze and in which they
have appropriated and applied this concept in their respective research
projects. This diversity includes the degree to which such mazes are per-
ceived as negative phenomena to be controlled and subdued and/or they
are positioned as positive phenomena that afford and enable opportu-
nities to reconsider otherwise taken for granted assumptions about the
educational issue being researched. Despite this diversity, most education
researchers regard research mazes as complex, contextualised and fluid
entities that require the mobilisation of specific approaches to engage
(with) these entities. Three of these possible approaches are elaborated in
the next section of the chapter.
NAVIGATING, NEGOTIATING AND NULLIFYING RESEARCH

MAZES: A THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK AND A CONCEPTUAL
MODEL
Theoretical frameworks consist of a system of concepts, assumptions,
expectations and beliefs that support and inform the research process
(Maxwell 2005). Three important elements have been acknowledged: the
framework, a conceptual model and the constructs (Garrison et al. 1999).

As Garrison (2000) explained, a theoretical framework represents a broad
paradigmatic set of assumptions that provides the elements of the theory
but without the detail and completeness (nuances) of a comprehensive
theory. A model is a less abstract form of a theory and represents structural
relationships among the key concepts. It is a replica and often provides
visual simplicity that can be grasped at a glance. However, by itself, it may
lack the richness of explanation inherent in a theory. Finally, concepts are
the building blocks of a theory and evolve from ideas generated from
direct experience. In this way, they are less abstract and do not have the
coherence of a framework, model or theory (pp. 3–4).
Based on this description, a theoretical framework provides an outline that
may be developed further by the concepts that emerge during the research
process, and the conceptual model offers a visual representation of the rela-
tionships among initial or subsequent theoretical constructs. Theories and
models serve several functions, in that they inform research practice (Garrison
2000), and they may also enable researchers to demonstrate links between
their fields of interest and those of other researchers (Anderson 2008).
From the literature review in the previous section of the chapter, it is
evident that the conceptualisation of education research as a maze is not
uncommon and that there are many examples illustrating its relevance
and/or use in a diverse range of research studies. In the chapters in this
book, the authors traverse the elements inherent in any research study: the
contexts or conditions that impact upon the investigation; the conceptual
understandings of the researchers; the methodological decisions that are
made; and the potential for transformation as a result of the knowledge
and understandings constructed as a result of the work. In this chapter, the
editors of the book articulate three possible approaches to engaging with
education research mazes and with the challenges that education research
studies present: navigating (by identifying and heading towards, away
from and/or around selected points of scholarly reference); negotiating
(through interacting with research frameworks, technologies, participants,
gatekeepers and other stakeholders in the research); and nullifying (in
the sense of understanding and where appropriate diminishing and/or
sometimes enhancing what is puzzling or troubling about the research).
Figure 1.1 illustrates each of these approaches and depicts the contex-
tual, conceptual, methodological and transformational elements of any
education research study as both a challenge and an opportunity. The
relationship between each research element and the approaches that may
be utilised within any given education research maze are illustrated in the
figure, which accordingly represents both the theoretical framework and
the conceptual model for this chapter and for the book as a whole.
ILLUSTRATING THE THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK

AND THE CONCEPTUAL MODEL
Within this section of the chapter, two of the authors of the chapter utilise
the concept of a metaphorical education research maze as the basis for
their contributions. From this perspective, a maze, whether metaphorical
or theoretical in character, is generally envisaged as a path or a collection
of paths that leads from an entrance to a final destination. In education
research, the destination or the goal is invariably the construction of new
knowledge or the development of new understandings about a phenom-
enon or an area of interest. Although the aim of each research study is the
same, the researcher’s journey may be simple or complicated and convo-
luted. In order to demonstrate the relevance of the maze as a theoretical
framework and the potential value of the conceptual model presented in
Fig. 1.1, this section draws examples from the contributions of Francis
Gacenga (see also Chap. 13) and Dolene Rossi (see also Chap. 14).
Na
g
yin
Contextual
vi
ga
lif
Challenges & Opportunies

ul
n
gN
gN
n
a
eg
o
o
a
eg
N
ng
ng
Nu
a
lli
vig
fy
in
Na
Conceptual Transformaonal
Challenges & Opportunies Challenges & Opportunies
The Research Maze g

yin
Na
lif
vi
ul
ga
N
n
g
gN
n
a
eg
o
o
g
Ne
a
n
ng
gN
a
Methodological
ul
vig
lif
Challenges & Opportunies Na

yi
ng
Fig. 1.1 Theorising and conceptualising the education research maze

In pursuing his research, Gacenga acknowledges a range of contex-

tual, conceptual and methodological challenges and opportunities that
have occurred and that will continue to occur as the result of technologi-
cal advances in research, research methods and research computing tools.
Gacenga points out that in the world today all researchers rely, to varying
degrees, on information and communication technologies (ICTs) in their
research and that the extent to which they do so will vary depending on
the research discipline, the nature of the research, the ICT environment
and the level of ICT knowledge, skill and experience held by the individ-
ual. That said, organisations and research institutions are presently invest-
ing heavily in computer environments where ICT resources are located
centrally in data centres and accessed remotely. Termed “cloud comput-
ing”, these environments have the potential to deliver greater comput-
ing capability, including big data storage, powerful processing power and
enhanced collaboration. Within the scholarly literature, it is argued that,
while empirical, analytical and simulation methods have provided answers
to many questions, a new scientific methodology, driven by data inten-
sive problems, is now emerging labelled “the fourth paradigm”. In this
regard, e-research is predicted to unite theory, experimentation and com-
putation, and to change the ways that research is funded, communicated
and published (Collins 2010). Gacenga points out that, as new research
approaches and resources and advanced technologies co-exist with tra-
ditional research tools, the conceptualisation of research as a maze is fit-
ting for researchers required to navigate, negotiate and sometimes nullify
the contextual challenges associated with the effective application of new
research approaches.
From a different perspective, Fig. 1.2 illustrates the application of
the maze as a conceptual framework to elucidate the factors that had an
impact on the conduct of a cross-institutional, multidisciplinary education
research study, as elaborated by Rossi in Chap. 14. Researchers within the
externally funded, collaborative study analysed various forms of learner
interactions within multiple online courses of study. Within Fig. 1.2, these
elements are linked to the contextual sphere and relate to the location
and context of the research, thereby representing an opportunity that the
researchers were keen to grasp. As the study was situated across institu-
tional boundaries, organisational considerations are also represented. In
this case, the organisational policies and procedures constituted a chal-
lenge. Also depicted are the measures that the researchers negotiated in
order to proceed with the project.
Organisaonal policy & procedures Ethical procedures
Partnerships/relaonships with other organisaons MOUs

Online learning environments
Research priories
Condions of funding
Research capacity
Individual knowledge & understanding

g
Na
Contextual
v
yin
ig
lif Co-constructed knowledge
ul
a
ng
Conﬁdenality agreement gN & shared understandings
N
n
e
Contracts of employment
go
o a
a
eg
n
g
gN Disseminaon
N
n
ul
lif
iv ga
yi
Na Enhanced knowledge &
ng
new understandings
Conceptual Transformaonal
Challenges & Opportunies Challenges & Opportunies
The Collaborave Research Maze
Na
v
ig
Project aims & objecves g
a
yin
n
Philosophical perspecves llif
gN
e
g Nu
go
n
a
Muldisciplinary perspecves a
n
o
eg
gN
Knowledge &
u
ngN
lli
fy
experience of individuals a
in
vig
g
Na
Methodological
Mixing methods
Which stories to tell
Presentaon of results
NAVIGATING, NEGOTIATING AND NULLIFYING EDUCATION RESEARCH...
9
Fig. 1.2 Navigating, negotiating and nullifying the research maze: exemplars from a cross-institutional, multidisciplinary
case study
In this example, the conceptual challenges related to researcher char-

acteristics and included references to understandings of project aims and
objectives, discipline orientations, philosophical perspectives, and the
knowledge and experience of individuals. In this case, individuals were
required to share knowledge derived from previous personal research. As a
consequence, these individuals were presented with conceptual challenges
as well as opportunities to develop cross-disciplinary understandings. In
this respect, each researcher was required to navigate, to negotiate and
potentially to nullify personal limitations to prepare for participation in the
collaborative research project.
More specifically, together the researchers were required to collect and
to analyse qualitative and quantitative data. This approach proved chal-
lenging and required the adoption of a collective perspective in order to
make sense of the data, determine which stories to tell and formulate a
strategy to present the results. This process required individuals not only to
accommodate but also to adopt different perspectives. The process, while
challenging, also afforded researchers the opportunity to construct and co-
construct knowledge, and to develop enhanced and shared understandings.
Interestingly, the construction of knowledge did not end with the conclu-
sion of the project and the dissemination of the project results, as each
researcher has drawn and continues to draw from the experience to create
new knowledge and greater understandings, not only about the research
process but also about the foundational characteristics of collaborative
research and the potential to continue to learn through reflective practice
and to extend knowledge by accessing personal and professional networks.
IMPLICATIONS FOR MOBILISING EDUCATION RESEARCH

MAZES
Why is it important to mobilise education research mazes and the con-
textual, conceptual, methodological and transformational challenges and
opportunities that attend them? How does doing so enhance the capaci-
ties of education researchers to engage authentically and wholeheartedly
with the vicissitudes of research projects and to contribute productively to
contemporary debates about education and possible alternative futures for
educational policy-making and provision? What kinds of successful strat-
egies for beginning and more experienced education researchers derive
from enhancing these capacities?
One response to these appropriate and enduringly significant ques-

tions relates to the metaphorical power of likening education research to
a maze. This metaphorical power generates new insights and understand-
ings by making explicit and opening to critique otherwise implicit and
tacit assumptions about the character and impact of research. For exam-
ple, envisaging research design as a maze (Wahyuni 2012) emphasises the
complex and high level decision-making attendant on developing, enact-
ing and evaluating research designs in specific research projects, rather
than positioning research design as automatic, easy, straightforward and
unproblematic.
From a different and wider perspective, and resonating with some of
the chapters in this book, Bridges (2003) raised concerns about the per-
ceived ethical and political dimensions of “research for sale” and whether
such research constitutes a “moral market” or a “moral maze” (p. 153).
Seeing education research through the prism of a “moral maze” (and/or
in terms of a “moral market”) constitutes a timely reminder that decisions
made in the context of specific research projects take (their) place against
the backdrop of broader educational, political and sociocultural forces
and influences. This might suggest the notion of “a maze within mazes”,
with the effects of ever-enlarging mazes coursing like ripples through and
beyond particular studies. While some education researchers might feel
alarmed by this seemingly unending complexity and fluidity, others see it
instead as a reflection of the multiple and sometimes contradictory realities
that they encounter in their research projects.
Furthermore, education researchers can benefit from reflecting on the
metaphor of the maze being applied to educational practice. A recent
and telling example came from the field of teaching students with dis-
abilities (Mazzotti et al. 2013). The authors propounded that, while
“evidence-based practice” (p. 159) is lauded and even idealised, the reality
is somewhat more complicated for teachers seeking to improve the learn-
ing outcomes of their students with disabilities. Thus, although the sug-
gested strategies for the teachers appeared to be sensible—“… (a) follow
a research-based framework …, (b) use practices with the best available
research evidence to support effectiveness; and (c) use data-based deci-
sion making to guide [the] use of evidence-based practices” (p. 159)—the
elicitation of these strategies in response to “… the process of navigat-
ing the evidence-based practice maze …” (p. 159) highlighted that these
strategies were not necessarily easy to implement. For instance, education
researchers do not always agree about what the most effective approaches
are, and there are often multiple and sometimes conflicting interpretations
of data, even assuming that access to such data is comprehensive and equi-
table and that those data are accurate and reliable.
All of this accentuates both the need for and the complexity of elabo-
rating and applying successful strategies for mobilising the challenges and
the opportunities alike attendant on contemporary education research
mazes. Many of the subsequent chapters articulate several such strategies
and explain and illustrate their application in specific research projects. At
the same time, the chapter authors express caution in not advocating the
wholesale adoption of these strategies in other contexts or for other pur-
poses. While it is crucial to explicate the influences on and the effects and
the effectiveness of these kinds of strategies, it is equally vital to recognise
their situatedness and to avoid propounding them as unproblematic pana-
ceas for addressing educational and research-related dilemmas.
THE BOOK’S RATIONALE AND STRUCTURE

Against this backdrop of the preceding discussion in the chapter, this book
is focused on exploring several of the contextual, conceptual, method-
ological and transformational challenges, and the accompanying oppor-
tunities, presented in and by the conduct of contemporary educational
research. Drawing on a variety of situational, philosophical, theoretical
and methodological approaches, the subsequent chapters examine the
diverse ways in which researchers engage with these challenges and take up
these opportunities. The intention is to build on the contributing authors’
respective accounts of navigating the education research maze in order to
elicit broader lessons for enhancing the impact, quality and significance of
such research.
The remaining 14 chapters in the book have been clustered around three
parts of the book, each coordinated by one of the editors. The four chap-
ters constituting Part One, edited by Patrick Alan Danaher, are directed
at “Navigating the politics, ethics, philosophies and theories of research
mazes”. Part Two, edited by Francis Gacenga, consists of five chapters
that explore “Navigating mazes in and with specific research methods”.
Finally, in Part Three, edited by Dolene Rossi, the five chapters pursue
strategies for “Navigating mazes in and with specific research tasks and
technologies”. (The details of the individual chapters are summarised by
each editor in the respective introduction to the three parts of the book.)
The subsequent chapters in the book have all undergone a rigorous

process of double-blind peer review. Moreover, academic quality was
maximised by means of two structured writing workshops (held on 4
November 2014 and on 27 February 2015) in which successive chapter
drafts were presented and received formative peer feedback.
CONCLUSION
For us, and also for the authors of the following chapters, the metaphor of
the education research maze occupies an important place in contemporary
research discourses. From one perspective, this metaphor might be seen as
disabling, paralysing and stultifying—mazes can be spaces of confusion, of
going round and round in unproductive circles, of repeating already failed
manoeuvres and of unsuccessful efforts to escape the confines of restrictive
thinking and action. From a very different perspective, research mazes can
be perceived as generating new ways of thinking and action that are much
more imaginative, innovative and productive. This is as a consequence
of being required to rethink previously unexamined assumptions and to
identify and evaluate potential alternative solutions to existing problems.
It is this second perspective that is elaborated at length in this book.
While in no sense seeking to understate the complexities and the chal-
lenges in doing so, we contend that it is in embracing the opportunities
involved in engaging with these complexities and challenges that educa-
tion research mazes, and the differentiated and heterogeneous issues that
they encapsulate, can be understood more comprehensively. More specifi-
cally, we have proposed and illustrated in this chapter that three distinct
approaches—navigating, negotiating and sometimes nullifying—can be
useful options to consider when taking up these opportunities. Certainly
strategies such as these, and also like those canvassed in the subsequent
chapters, are vital elements in the toolkits available to education research-
ers as they pursue the contextual, conceptual, methodological and trans-
formational dimensions of education research mazes.
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PART 1
Navigating the Politics, Ethics,

Philosophies and Theories of
Education Research Mazes
INTRODUCTION
The four chapters constituting Part 1 of this book represent diverse efforts
to navigate the politics, ethics, philosophies and theories of education
research mazes. These dimensions of the mazes are central and crucial
elements to understand and to mobilise; after all, in combination they
constitute the key conceptual and methodological underpinnings of the
mazes that can attend both education and research. Moreover, they reflect
significantly varied perspectives on the world, as well as on the knowledge
and value claims that are often made in the name of education research.
Furthermore, successful strategies for navigating such mazes depend in
part on apprehending the broader and deeper forces, including the politi-
cal, ethical, philosophical and theoretical components, that construct edu-
cation research mazes and that also animate their short- and long-term
effects. This is the focus in this first part of the book.
In Chap. 2, Cecily Jensen-Clayton and Atholl Murray engage with the
complex phenomena of neoliberalism and the knowledge economy, and
those forces’ active construction of managerialism and academic capitalism,
to explore and explain what they see as a fundamental contradiction at the
P.A. Danaher
University of Southern Queensland,
18 P.A. DANAHER
heart of the maze of contemporary education research. This contradiction

refers to a significant loss of freedom for academics and a profound shift
from knowledge as a public good to a private gain. The authors link this
contradiction with wider developments such as globalisation and interna-
tionalisation, and with significant changes to the character of the work of
academics. They present a compelling case for interrogating neoliberalism
and its underlying assumptions, both for its impact on individual academics
and for the enduring risks that it represents to the cohesiveness of future
communities. Importantly, the authors outline in the final chapter of the
book some potential strategies in which academics might wish to engage in
their efforts to work sustainably beyond the neoliberalist constraints of the
education research maze.
Karen Trimmer uses Chap. 3 to explore the parallel phenomenon of
risk-taking by school principals in Western Australia and the researcher in
relation to the education and research maze of potential non-compliance
by the principals in leading their respective schools. This parallel phenom-
enon highlighted the contradiction between the centrally imposed and
sometimes decontextualised requirements imposed by the Department of
Education and Training, based in the state capital city of Perth, and the
locally developed and highly contextualised decisions made by principals,
some of whom worked thousands of kilometres away from Perth. This
contradiction clearly generated a complex maze, framed by ideas of cor-
porate governance and accountability as well as of professional autonomy
and responsibility, for the principals to navigate. This complex maze was
mirrored by the one confronting the researcher, who had to ensure ano-
nymity and confidentiality for the participating principals and who also
needed to make situated decisions about how to engage with the some-
times unsolicited information about potential non-compliance that some
principals shared with her.
In Chap. 4, Yvonne Salton builds on her reflections on being chal-
lenged by her confirmation of candidature panel about a key aspect of
her confirmation proposal to share how she navigated this particular ele-
ment of the education research maze that constituted her doctoral study.
The challenge related to her selection of particular philosophers as being
potentially contradicted by her selection of hermeneutic phenomenology
as her research method for the study. The author used this challenge to
read even more widely and to think further about what she was seeking
to achieve in her study and about her understandings of the philosophical
and methodological dimensions of her research. In elaborating her sense
NAVIGATING THE POLITICS, ETHICS, PHILOSOPHIES AND THEORIES OF… 19
of her researcher self as a strategy for navigating this particular research

maze, the author articulates a number of lessons that in retrospect facil-
itated that navigation and that might also be useful for other doctoral
candidates.
Finally in this first section of the book, Jay Somasundaram, Prue
Howard and Rob H. Reed explore in Chap. 5 the education research
maze derived from the complexity of navigating the scholarship of integra-
tion. The authors posit this maze evocatively as a network of pathways that
need to be mapped and explored as well as traversed. Two specific skills—
multiplicity and precision—are proposed as potentially engaging produc-
tively with this maze, provided that they are seen as complementary rather
than as one needing to dominate the other. These skills are mobilised
against the backdrop of three distinct and possibly contradictory logics:
the first-named author’s logics, institutional logics and university logics.
This chapter presents a provocative account of education research mazes
and proposes some potential resources for engaging wholeheartedly with
those mazes.
CHAPTER 2
Working in the Research Maze:

At What Price?
OVERVIEW
In adopting the maze as a metaphor for the contexts in which Western
researchers undertake their work, we have imagined the maze as having
been created by walls of tall shrubs or bushes (see Fig. 2.1). In this imagin-
ing, it is not possible to see, at once, the path that leads out of it. Although
the path might appear to offer choices, there is only one path that leads
directly to the exit, with other options leading in circuitous routes or to
dead ends. We see the task of reaching the exit of the maze as a metaphor
for success in career advancement, or for success in the various aspects of
this process such as the attainment of grants, completion of research proj-
ects and dissemination of research findings, concretised in publications as
a measure of research productivity (Altbach 2014; Hirsch 2005; Leahey
2007). This listing of tasks, as goals of the contemporary researcher, and
focused on productivity, offers an opportunity to question how aligned our
current understandings of ourselves are with the ways in which we saw our-
selves entering the academy. Were our original goals less self-focused and
more altruistic? Did we want to make a difference in the world rather than
C. Jensen-Clayton () • A. Murray

Lifelong Conscious Living, Brisbane, QLD, Australia

DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-39853-2_2
22 C. JENSEN-CLAYTON AND A. MURRAY
Fig. 2.1 The research maze
being shaped to climb the corporate ladder? If so, how do we reconcile

our experiences of the forces within the maze with our forgotten altruistic
intents? It is our view that climbing the corporate ladder is at odds with
the actual goals of research, which (in our view and in others’) is to create
and produce new knowledge (Hackett 2014). How then do we respond
in this current atmosphere of outcome-driven, near-sighted assessments of
academic value in ways that provide spaces for truly new and innovative
knowledge to emerge?
Our goals in this chapter are to describe something of other research-
ers’ experience through taking a bird’s eye view—that is, offering an expla-
nation of why the maze is constructed in the way that it is, and then,
based upon that explanation, suggesting that the exit from that maze (i.e.,
outcomes for researchers) is predetermined by the principles, ideologies
and practices that construct the maze. We seek to offer this explanation
in order to bring greater meaning to researchers’ experiences. We are not
assuming that this is the only explanation that will bring greater meaning.
The usefulness of this chapter, we realise, will depend on the readers’ expe-
riences and we anticipate in the future that we might see how widely useful
these explanations are. Neither are we making any claim that our explana-
tions are true for all Western researchers. Having offered an explanation
WORKING IN THE RESEARCH MAZE: AT WHAT PRICE? 23
for the current experiences of researchers that the literature describes, we

articulate the implications of these insights in terms of the tasks and goals
of research as presently problematic at a local (Western) level.
Before moving into greater detail, it is important to address several
issues. First, our use of the term “Western” refers to the Anglophone coun-
tries (i.e., the UK, the USA, Australia and New Zealand), that have built,
shaped and sustained the English language education industry through
valorising English—particularly academic English—as a hegemonic force
(Ahern 2009; Biber and Gray 2010; Gray 2010; Lin 2013). (The implica-
tions of this valorisation are addressed in the final chapter of this book.)
Second, it is important to provide some reasons for the depth of the
political/philosophical ideas that we present. Our reasons are that: (i) this
chapter contains ideas that can alert researchers to the gravity of the cur-
rent situation, something that has implications for the future of academia;
(ii) it is important to understand these issues in some depth because they
provide the necessary framework to understand the implications and appli-
cations that are begun in this chapter, and continued in the final chapter
of this book; and (iii) we suspect that you might not want to believe that
what we are describing is anyone’s real experience (we didn’t want to
believe it either)—by taking the time to allow you to understand our argu-
ment, we hope that you will be in a more informed place to evaluate this
argument for yourself.
INTRODUCTION
The world in which we live and work as researchers is increasingly com-
plex (Connell 2015; Harvey 1990, 2005a, 2005b; Trawick and Hornborg
2015). The source of this complexity is a result of the invention of the
knowledge economy, an invention using the forces of globalisation, inter-
nationalisation, neoliberalism and managerialism. These forces construct
the working conditions of researchers at the local level.1 We (the authors)
identify these working conditions as the maze in which researchers work,
conditions emerging from social and economic transformations that have
changed our experiences of the world.
Changed social and economic conditions have changed the intellec-
tual work and the experiences of researchers (Anderson 2013; Basken
and Voosen 2014; Billig 2012; Marginson 2015; Simonton 2013). In
the past, academic work was more confined to discrete fields, identifi-
able through seminal works, professional associations and their related
avenues for publication such as journals (Bansel et al. 2008; Simonton

2013). Without the speed and access that have been created through elec-
tronic distributions of information, academics spoke to smaller audiences
with more predictable bodies of shared knowledge, and there was less
need to re-establish the basis of theory or empirical research as this could
be presumed to be generally accepted. Today the sheer volume of work
that has been created and its wider availability mean that researchers are
required to undertake more extensive reviews of literature and to justify
their proposals and explanations on the basis of others’ findings (Bansel
et al. 2008). In addition, the process of disseminating research is now
more complex, based not just on the merit of the research but also on the
researcher’s strategic skills, such as in identifying an appropriate journal
for publication, navigating complex electronic submission and peer-review
processes, and meeting the unwritten expectations of journal editors, such
as journal-specific referencing (Bansel et al. 2008). Further to this, reduc-
tion in governments’ funding in conjunction with private grants and other
forms of funding connects researchers and their work more directly with
industry and society (Basken and Voosen 2014; Bastalich 2010; Sanberg
et al. 2014; Wilson et al. 2015). Thus, like the changes on a global scale,
the work of researchers is now also more complex.
The Expansion of Knowledge

In order to see the construction of the maze in which these researchers
work, it is necessary to understand the broader social, political and eco-
nomic contexts. The maze, a complex entity, is the result of knowing and
seeing more, and therefore having to incorporate more and increasingly
diverse information into our decision making (Connell 2015; Iversen and
Soskice 2015; Macias Vazquez and Alonso Gonzalez 2015). This increase
in knowledge is not growing at a steady pace; instead it is expanding expo-
nentially (Sellar and Lingard 2014), as is the complexity that it creates
(Lynch 2014; Marginson 2014; Miszczyński 2012; Robertson 2014).
Advances in science and technology have been an important part of this
growth, both in adding to this knowledge and also in seeking to find solu-
tions to these more complex problems. In this and in other ways, knowl-
edge and knowledge creation through research have been recognised as
new areas of economic growth (Gard 2014). What we can know (and
what the following exploration can tell us) is that contemporary society as
we understand it in advanced industrial nations has transitioned from “an
economy based on natural resources and physical inputs to one based on

intellectual assets” (Powell and Snellman 2004, p. 215).
Changes in Economics
In the era of synchronised mass production—that is, Fordism (Harvey
1990)–economic growth was understood in terms of the production of
things. This focus has changed dramatically. In the current context, intel-
lectual work is central to the global economy and “there is now wide-
spread agreement among economists, sociologists and policy analysts that
creativity, design and innovation are at the heart of the global knowledge
economy: together creativity, design and innovation define knowledge
capitalism and its ability to continuously reinvent itself” (Peters 2011,
p. 19). As this chapter describes, and as synthesis of the literature high-
lights, creativity and innovation are seriously undermined by the present
research context—that is, the current research maze.
In order to understand the maze further, it is necessary to move to
a socio-political view and to examine neoliberalism. Neoliberalism has
changed the ways that western governments have shifted their understand-
ing of their functions (Davies and Bansel 2007; Flew 2014; Olssen 2006).
In the past, governments have fulfilled a largely protective and gatekeep-
ing role (i.e., ensuring law and order–that is, setting limits to create a
harmonious society); in the present context, governments fulfil a proactive
role in facilitating business interests and creating business opportunities
(Iversen and Soskice 2015; Macias Vazquez and Alonso Gonzalez 2015;
Olssen and Peters 2005; Wilson et al. 2015). This shift has placed eco-
nomic concerns as the central agenda and, as we discuss in the following
section, knowledge has been placed at the centre of this agenda–hence the
name, ‘‘knowledge economy”. Within these shifts that have created a new
world order, it is assumed that all individuals are equally equipped to navi-
gate these economic concerns. However, this is not the case, and social
management through economics has exponentially increased social and
financial inequalities (Fuller and Geddes 2008; Harvey 2005a, 2005b).
The impact of these inequalities on the work of researchers is the focus of
this chapter, inequalities exacerbated through globalisation, neoliberalism,
the knowledge economy and internationalisation (Gao and Park 2015;
Iversen and Soskice 2015; Springer 2015b; Yemini 2014).
This chapter identifies these elements—globalisation, neoliberalism,
the knowledge economy and internationalisation—as key components
of the construction of the maze within which researchers are presently

working. Consequently, this raises questions regarding the impact of this
maze upon Western researchers; and, in a global world, a world in which
the global experience has become the local experience and the local the
global, it behoves us to consider the impact of this maze upon the rest of
the world.
THE KNOWLEDGE ECONOMY: A GLOBAL AND LOCAL

CONTEXT
This section, in illuminating the structure of the maze, examines the inter-
connections among the knowledge economy, neoliberalism and interna-
tionalisation, interconnections that are experienced by researchers who
work in an institutionalised context—that is, the university (Connell 2013;
Marginson 2006; Tadaki and Tremewan 2013; Todd et al. 2015; Yemini
2014). These multiple interacting social, political, economic and interna-
tional forces construct the maze in which researchers find themselves and
in which research takes place.2 In this institutional context, the researcher
and the research work have been shaped by neoliberalism, which is, for
university academics (and others), facilitated through the global cre-
ation of the knowledge economy (by the OECD, the World Bank and
other organisations with interests in the success of developing nations)3
(Connell 2013; Miszczyński 2012; Sellar and Lingard 2014). It is within
this global context—the knowledge economy–that the local research maze
is constructed.
The Invention of the Knowledge Economy

In the knowledge economy, “a ‘new’ kind of economic formation has
emerged in which ideas, or more specifically research and development,
have replaced physical labour and the trade of natural resources as the key
drivers of growth and the ‘national good’” (Bastalich 2010, p. 846). The
knowledge economy is a political/business invention, a concept that goes
by various names such as “knowledge-driven economy”, “learning econ-
omy”, “digital economy”, “innovation-based economy”, “knowledge-
based” and “information economy” (Miszczyński 2012). These related
notions are all aspects of the same stream of discussion about contem-
porary society by major global stakeholders (e.g., the Organisation for
Economic Cooperation and Development [OECD], the International

Monetary Fund [IMF], the World Bank and world governments). The
highly political nature of the knowledge economy can be further seen by
its position as “the centre piece of almost every national government’s
strategy for economic development” (Robertson 2014, p. 268). Although
the knowledge economy has been widely implemented, its potential is
largely unknown: “reports, policies and governance tools, the question of
what knowledge is, what and who it is for, and what kind of knowledge,
remain under-developed” (Robertson 2014, p. 268). By contrast, while
knowledge is valued, knowledge transfer from institution to industry is
complex and difficult (Mendoza 2012; Rajat 2012).
In the knowledge economy, knowledge becomes a resource that re-
creates educational institutions as holding intellectual (economic) assets.
From a business perspective, the sale of knowledge is highly valued over
other commodities because of its limitless supply, its relative ease of pro-
duction and its capacity to maintain and even increase its value over time
(Miszczyński 2012). Marketing knowledge creates a competitive advan-
tage that flows onto other areas of trade, such as in business and national
contexts. The ease of production and capacity for re-configuration into
diverse knowledge products and knowledge-intensive activities inten-
sify local competition as well as creating new local and global markets
(Marginson 2006; Miszczyński 2012; Todd et al. 2015). These knowl-
edge products and activities “contribute to an accelerated pace of tech-
nical and scientific advance, as well as rapid obsolescence” (Powell and
Snellman 2004, p. 199). This obsolescence increases business advantage
through increased opportunities for production and reproduction of new
knowledge products and reconfigured knowledge-intensive activities, and
in this way forms self-generating market conditions (i.e., obsolescence cre-
ates the further need to purchase). Thus, in this context where knowledge
is the key resource, and intellectual assets are valued, universities are the
new oil fields, but with the potential for a limitless supply of assets, with
far less infrastructure and fewer costs in production; therefore “universities
are seen as a key driver in the knowledge economy” (Olssen and Peters
2005, p. 313).
While the knowledge economy constructs universities as invaluable
economic assets, on the other hand, the role of universities within soci-
ety is being diminished by the knowledge economy (Connell 2013; Reid
2002; Rhoades and Slaughter 2004). Universities are no longer overtly
valued as the highest form of knowledge with a responsibility for public
good as they were in the past (Marginson 2011). The cost of becoming
an invaluable economic asset is the subordination of knowledge to indus-
try. According to Bastalich (2010), the “knowledge economy policy dis-
course undermines older understandings of the role of universities within
a democracy, and fails to recognise and support the distinctive and diverse
nature of university knowledge innovations” (p. 845). Therefore, to main-
tain their original integrity and to take steps to prevent any displacement
of this integrity, universities cannot afford to be consumed within the
knowledge economy; economic production must form only part of the
work of universities (Rhoades and Slaughter 2004). In their analysis of the
interface between universities and industry, Szelényi and Bresonis (2014)
emphasise the importance of maintaining complementary, cautiously
complementary and oppositional relationships between public good and
academic capitalism.
Knowledge as an economic resource is likely to remain a global force. As
Robertson (2014) states: “This knowledge-based economy master narra-
tive is powerful in its capacity to articulate with, and give direction to, proj-
ects, strategies, practices and subjectivities that might underpin and realize
a new long wave of accumulation” (p. 274). In addition, the involvement
of education as part of the knowledge economy stabilises the typically
volatile market forces experienced in capitalism (Robertson 2014). As a
master narrative, the knowledge economy provides the “resonance, plau-
sibility, flexibility, and interpretability” (Robertson 2014, p. 270) needed
for economic control on a global scale. Thus, the knowledge economy
having control over the relationship among knowledge development,
knowledge production and economic development is a significant global
force, the beneficiaries being global stakeholders (e.g., governments and
global NGOs such as the OECD). In this way, the knowledge economy
and global concerns are inextricably linked.
Globalisation and Internationalisation

Globalisation is not a simple concept. It is a contested and contestable
phenomenon (Khoo 2011) described in multiple ways. Scholars have
described globalisation in terms of empire building driven by political
leaders over the millennia (Iadicola 2008); and, referring to more recent
times, Pederson (2012) and Phillipson (2013) identify globalisation as a
means of empire building through the spread of English. Others have sug-
gested that globalisation is a more recent phenomenon, appearing only in
the last two centuries (Nayyar 2006). Grierson (2006) recognises globali-
sation as empire building, the knowledge economy, however, changing
the nature of how empire is understood. While recognising the relation-
ship between globalisation and empire, particularly through the spread of
English, it is beyond the scope of this chapter to address this (we take up
this focus in the final chapter of this book). In this chapter, we examine
globalisation in terms of who benefits from this phenomenon and claim
that globalisation in its present form is a new and unprecedented phenom-
enon, a phenomenon that is no longer driven by individual nation-state
interests but that is driven by transnational interests (Kauppinen 2012),
evidenced in the knowledge economy by “knowledge-intensive transna-
tional economic practices” (p. 543) and not by local economic practices.
Constitutive of the knowledge economy are the forces of globalisa-
tion and internationalisation. Contrary to what might be a common-
sense assumption, globalisation and internationalisation are not two sides
of the same coin but are in fact entirely different both conceptually and
operationally (Anastasiou and Schäler 2010). Globalisation, as we (and
others) have described it, is an umbrella term describing a contemporary
phenomenon facilitated in large part by the development of technology
(Anastasiou and Schäler 2010). Globalisation brings human beings into
immediate contact with one another through technological development.
With advances in communications and travel, fuelled by advances in tech-
nologies, nations’ experiences are no longer contained within national
boundaries (Deblonde 2015). Consequently, everyday experience is influ-
enced by changes that occur beyond the local context.
Internationalisation, on the other hand, is a strategy of local institutions
to connect with overseas markets (Anastasiou and Schäler 2010)—that
is, the strategic approach of local institutions to the new phenomenon
of globalisation. As a response to globalisation, institutions, govern-
ments, financial institutions and corporate businesses have recognised the
opportunities created by these changes: increased market opportunities,
opportunities to attract expertise and wider arenas for competition. With
the corporatisation of universities, internationalisation has become a key
strategy in both attracting international students and increasing the pool
of expertise from which faculty staff can be employed (Knight 2013). In
describing differences between the terms “globalisation” and “interna-
tionalisation”, what we are identifying here is that globalisation can be
seen as a natural evolutionary force, while internationalisation is a political
force arising from the interests of stakeholders in the knowledge economy.
Central to this chapter is the insight that internationalisation is a strate-

gic deployment of institutional force (by institutions) to exploit global
opportunities.
This global context and the exploitation of global opportunities point to
the significance of global and local stakeholders (i.e., institutions at global
and local levels) and the mechanisms and technologies that they deploy
to produce and reproduce the knowledge economy (Bastalich 2010;
Kauppinen 2012; Olssen and Peters 2005). The following section illumi-
nates this complex in terms of neoliberalism and managerialism, leading
to the emergence of academic capitalism. What is hidden in this produc-
tion/reproduction of the knowledge economy is that researchers are a key
resource in facilitating the stakeholders to achieve this exploitation. Equally,
as is shown in our later chapter, researchers have the power to change this
situation if this is what they desire. Another hidden aspect that we seek to
illuminate in this chapter is how the impact of internationalisation as an
institutional force is diminishing, rather than promoting, knowledge cre-
ation and truly innovative research, and thus diminishing the experiences
of researchers working within this environment. As we began to outline
earlier, and as the next section develops, we use a particular conceptualisa-
tion of the maze (metaphor) to highlight the present situation of research-
ers within a Western context and its implications for the work of research.
EXAMINING THE ARCHITECTURE OF THE MAZE

In this section, we explicitly describe our understanding of the architec-
ture of the maze in which researchers work, and in which research takes
place. In the previous section, we created a context for this exploration
and explanation of the maze by offering a brief summary of the knowledge
economy, which we describe as being enacted through the forces of glo-
balisation and internationalisation. In examining the maze, we show that
neoliberalism and its effects through managerialism, in conjunction with
the knowledge economy, and in the university context, result in academic
capitalism. We propose that these things–managerialism (the embodiment
of neoliberalism) and academic capitalism (the embodiment of the knowl-
edge economy)–form the architecture of the maze. We propose that the
consequences of these efforts of working within this maze are a loss of
innovation, creativity and intellectual life. This analysis then highlights the
contradictions raised in our opening questions regarding our original aims
as researchers (to make a better world).
Fig. 2.2 The research maze: the local context
In studying the architecture more closely, we look at the maze in more

detail, analysing the local context, pictured in Fig. 2.2. In this exami-
nation, managerialism and academic capitalism are located at the centre,
because the day-to-day experience of working in the maze is in direct con-
tact with the demands created by managerialism and academic capitalism,
rather than the philosophical/political ideologies of neoliberalism and the
knowledge economy as forces/values that create managerialism and aca-
demic capitalism. The experience of working in the context of manage-
rialism and academic capitalism prohibits the researcher from seeing and
responding to these forces/values. Thus, researchers working in the maze
are unable to make conscious choices as to how to respond to what is
shaping them and their work.
Neoliberalism as an Economic System and an Ideology

Neoliberalism in contemporary times can easily be thought of as the way
that the world is (Flew 2014; Harvey 2005a, 2005b), its ubiquitousness
creating normality, creating an epistemology that makes neoliberalism
appear as an intractable reality (Springer 2015a, 2015b). Observing neo-
liberalism as a concept that is “oft-invoked but ill-defined”, Flew (2014)
provides a taxonomy of its uses:
(1) an all-purpose denunciatory category, (2) ‘the way things are’, (3) an
institutional framework characterizing particular forms of national capital-
ism, most notably the Anglo-American ones, (4) a dominant ideology of

global capitalism, (5) a form of governmentality and hegemony, and (6) a
variant within the broad framework of liberalism as both theory and policy
discourse. (p. 49)
This section draws on all these uses in recognising the normality of neo-
liberalism in joining the critical debate in addressing the relationship
between neoliberalism and capitalism on both global and local levels, as
government and hegemony, while dissenting from the view of neoliberal-
ism as a variant of liberalism.
Various influential accounts of the initial implementation of neoliberal-
ism exist (Connell and Dados 2014); however, the concept of neoliberal-
ism itself originated within economics (Flew 2014). As part of the critical
discourse, neoliberalism is sometimes referred to as neoliberal capitalism,
an economic system that now spans the globe (Connell and Dados 2014;
Flew 2014; Ganti 2014). As a global economic system, enacted through
multinational entities, neoliberalism serves the interests of governments,
institutions, transnational corporations and global financial institutions,
such as the World Bank, the IMF and non-government organisations such
as the OECD (Flew 2014; Miszczyński 2012). Flores (2013) states that
“at an institutional level neoliberalism can be understood as the coalescing
of institutional forces in support of the free flow of capitalism in ways that
benefit transnational corporations and economic elites” (p. 503). Thus,
neoliberalism constructs a system that provides greater benefits to stake-
holders and fewer benefits to others who participate in this system. In
addition, neoliberalism can be seen as a conflation of liberalism and capi-
talism (Phillipson 2008). Liberal ideals of freedom and individual rights
are seen as being met through economic means (Foucault 2008; Olssen
2006).
In this conflation of liberalism and capitalism, the market takes what
was the role of governments, under liberal governance, in the allocation
of resources as “both a more efficient mechanism and a morally superior
mechanism …. [B]ecause the free market is a self-regulating order it regu-
lates itself better than the government or any other outside force” (Olssen
and Peters 2005, p. 314). According to this philosophy, governments take
a laissez-faire approach, allowing market forces to determine the fair dis-
tribution of resources and allowing individuals the freedom to pursue their
rights, goals and dreams. This conflation has significant advantages for
institutions and institutional business concerns because capitalist goals can
be presented as being for the common good and therefore the interests of
democracy. Economic rationalisations are thus accepted as valid justifica-
tions for all areas of decision making. In this way, capitalism is seen as the
ideal vehicle for addressing business, welfare, democratic, social and eco-
nomic concerns. However, at its heart, capitalism is (and always has been)
driven by competition. While this may have been accepted in the sphere of
business, its acceptance as a means of managing welfare, democratic and
socio-economic concerns is, in essence, a return to a “survival of the fit-
test” mentality–the antithesis of the goals of welfare concerns, democratic
concerns and concerns regarding the well-being of people.
Liberal notions of freedom and individual rights, while having played
a part in justifying the development of neoliberalism, as part of the trans-
formation of liberalism to neoliberalism, did not function as conceptual
technologies in this transformation. In short, we do not subscribe to the
theory of neoliberalism as simply a mutation of liberalism, but view it
as a distortion for the following reasons. Although both political phi-
losophies use these notions (freedom and individual rights), liberalism
is a doctrine “based upon the natural freedom of the individual that will
develop by itself of its own volition” (Olssen 2006). Neoliberalism does
not adopt this passive sense of the individual and the individual’s rights
and freedom. Rather, the notion of individuals’ freedom and rights has
been co-opted and conceptualised in an active way, constructing indi-
vidual citizens as entrepreneurs and managers of their own lives (Gershon
2011). However, within neoliberalism, individual rights and freedoms are
no longer conceived in democracy (i.e., having the freedom of choice);
individuals are constructed as entrepreneurs, free from any social/insti-
tutional support whether they like it or not, and whether they agree or
not. Furthermore, the context within which individuals are conceptual-
ised as free is the freedom of the market, under the guise of the free
market as a proxy for equality. However, this “freedom” is dependent
on competition for its existence, a freedom that pretends to be natural
(Foucault 2008), a naturalness, however, that creates winners and losers.
Thus, neoliberalism constructs a social context in which individuals are
forced to compete with one another and this is as part of the market as
the “state’s political machine” (Olssen 2006, p. 218). Under neoliberal-
ism, the individual and the government are synonymous.4 As Foucault’s
(2008) thought expounds: “Neo-liberalism is not Adam Smith (civil lib-
eralism); neo-liberalism is not market society, neo-liberalism is not the
Gulag on the insidious scale of capitalism … but … take[s] the formal
principles of a market economy and … project[s] them on to a general act

of government” (p. 131).
Neoliberalism has changed the forms in which most governments across
the world operate, resulting in a common form, “a merging of the state
and the market in a new form of corporate governance” (Klein, as cited in
Flores 2013, p. 502). In this narrowing of governance to a single form of
governmentality, neoliberalism can be described as a political philosophy
that also serves the interests of global institutions for systemic homogeni-
sation. The flow-on effect of reconfiguring institutional relations at a
global level has been experienced, and is continuing to be experienced at
subsequent institutional levels and in all societies across the globe, and (as
the next paragraph begins to describe) by individuals.
Neoliberal logic poses a significant threat to researchers and their work.
Neoliberal logic (as stated earlier) has spread into every realm of culture,
politics and society (Hassan 2011) through its uptake as a pervasive epis-
temology, so that it “has become incorporated into the common-sense
way many of us interpret, live in, and understand the world” (Harvey
2005a, p. 3). Consequently, because neoliberal logic has become the nor-
mal way that we experience the world, it is difficult to see its effects—and,
as was described earlier (Flew 2014; Harvey 2005a), becomes “just the
way things are” (and, we assume, have always been). This homogenised
understanding creates a normalcy that most researchers are likely to have
unknowingly internalised. Yet this homogenised understanding that works
towards seeing and accepting the construction of state, business and soci-
ety as an integrated global whole has not occurred in a vacuum. This suc-
cess of neoliberalism “in world economic relations [is] a consequence of
super-power sponsorship” (Olssen and Peters 2005, p. 314). Thus, this
reconfiguring of institutional relations has been the result of active and
strategic endeavours designed to meet the purposes of particular interna-
tional bodies. It is not the result of the haphazard intersection of random
events, or the result of serendipitous efforts. Rather, it meets the needs
of those who are advantaged by these strategic moves, which arise from
this intellectual work. This intellectual work is strategically deployed in
the mechanisms and technologies of neoliberal governance, shored up by
the he(d)ge-monic force of managerialism. Neoliberal logic, shored up
by managerialism, is the binding force of the maze, a force that has also
become a way of thinking and imagining for researchers and their work
(this insight is unfolded in the following section).
As stated at the beginning of this chapter, it is necessary to describe

the workings of neoliberalism and its enactment through managerial-
ism in order to understand the discursive impact on researchers. What
we describe in the next section goes beyond the more immediate effects
of managerialism (such as imperatives to publish as addressed in the final
chapter). It highlights how managerialism controls, and of greater con-
cern determines, language use and thinking.
Neoliberalism as Governance Relies on a Managerialist Ideology

Neoliberalism as a mechanism and a technology can also be referred to as
(new) managerialism, a system of government devised during the Thatcher
and Reagan years in the UK and the USA respectively (Phillipson 2008).
Managerialism is a key technology/driver of this neoliberal governance
(Brancaleone and O’Brien 2011). As a particular form of governing, manage-
rialism assumes a common-sense view of management. In this view, manage-
ment skills are considered to be generic, so that managing a business requires
only generic skills. Managerialism does not require a manager to have any in-
depth knowledge of its products or give any consideration to what the business
is selling. These generic skills are focused upon achieving efficient economic
production through “auditing, accounting and management” (Olssen and
Peters 2005, p. 315). Management of resources and outcomes (not people or
professional ideals) becomes the focus of managerialist practices.
The success of managerialism lies in its materialisation as “an autono-
mised system of economic production” (Debord, as cited in Brancaleone
and O’Brien 2011, p. 501). Thus, in being self-perpetuating and self-
servicing, it is an ideal business mechanism. This autonomised system of
production fails to draw attention to itself and as such is invisible; this
invisibility becomes its strength as a hegemonic force.
Managerialism also acts as a hegemonic force through its economic
empirical base, which is, in itself, “presumed to be beyond ideology,
beyond naming, to the exclusion of alternative ideologies” (Brancaleone
and O’Brien 2011, p. 502). Being self-referential ensures that managerial-
ism (and thus neoliberalism) are accepted as common-sense, prohibiting
the conception of other ways of being by reducing thought to one view of
the world, thus invalidating contesting views.
Managerialism also imposes a particular, narrow and sterile vocabu-
lary, which constrains thought. This singular way of being, seeing and,
more disturbingly, thinking becomes internalised through this linguistic
hegemony (Davies 2005). Thus, language plays a central role in neolib-

eral governance, governance that deploys the language of managerialism.
This happens through the use of language such as “outcomes”, “efficient
production” and “accountability”, which are used to promote productiv-
ity and cost effectiveness (Ylijoki 2010), while at the same time tradition-
ally economic terms such as “capital” have been co-opted to re-interpret
workplaces as well as those who work within them, as seen in commonly
used terms such as “human capital”, “cultural capital” and “knowledge
capital” (Fairclough 1999, 2002). Through language, humanity has been
conscripted for economic purposes.
This type of language is also problematic for intellectual work in that
it is sterile, removing the warmth of humanity (Davies 2005). This has
significant implications for research in that the richness of the English
language, a key resource for researchers, has become diminished. The
use of this managerial language through its internalisation by researchers
impoverishes researchers’ capacity to develop rich conceptual tools and so
to extend imagination and develop innovative thinking. As Davies (2005)
states:
In speaking ourselves into existence as academics, within neoliberal dis-

course, we are vulnerable to it and to its indifference to us and to our
thought. It can become the discourse through which we, not quite out
of choice and not quite out of necessity, make judgements, form desires,
make the world into a particular kind of (neoliberal) place. . . . In adopting
this neoliberal language we don’t know, and we haven’t known for some
time, whether we have just adopted some superficial and laughable language
that will appease government, or whether the professional knowledge that
guides and informs . . . [has been] reshaped in neoliberal terms. (p. 1)
Neoliberal/managerial language has been a significant part of “a relatively

silent colonisation of the hearts and minds of academics … [through] a
language of economic efficiency” (Lynch 2006, p. 7). Managerial language
applies constant pressure on the university to change from being oriented
towards public good to being a business, a corporation with productivity
targets (Lynch 2006, 2014). In the creation of the knowledge economy,
knowledge is now recognised as a commodity that has economic value, and
therefore a means of economic development (Macias Vazquez and Alonso
Gonzalez 2015; Miszczyński 2012; Tadaki and Tremewan 2013). Having
internalised managerialist language, and in the global context of the
knowledge economy, researchers are now key assets in the outworking of

state and national economic goals through academic capitalism.
Academic Capitalism: The Knowledge Economy and Its

Intersection with Neoliberalism
“Academic capitalism”, a phrase invented by Hackett in 1990 (Hackett
2014), describes university activity that seeks to generate revenue
(Rhoades and Slaughter 2004). These activities include “patenting, and
spin-off companies” and “grants, university-industry partnerships, and
tuition fees” (Kauppinen 2012, p. 544). Rhoades and Slaughter (2004)
suggest that this turn toward economic concerns arose as a result of reduc-
tion in government funding and the need for universities to “generate
revenue for the core educational, research and service functions” (p. 37).
This has not only resulted in more diverse sources of funding for universi-
ties but also increased competition among other universities/institutions
or companies who seek to tap into the same markets. In addition, financial
benefits from grants or from university-industry partnerships have also
brought expectations of alignment with the purposes of those institutions
or companies that are providing the grants or engaging in these partner-
ships. In doing this, Hackett (2014) suggests that the university “cedes
freedom, purpose and the ability to act as an independent moral force in
society” (p. 637), a view also described by Bastalich (2010).
As universities have become more dependent upon funding from pro-
viders other than governments, or from their own entrepreneurial activity
(i.e., the sale of knowledge or invention), these dependencies have priori-
tised certain university activities over others. Thus priorities of universities
have become more closely linked with the specific activity of research-
ers—what they do and how they do it—because these now directly relate
to the economic practices of the university as a whole. This has resulted
in “a basic change in academy practices—changes that prioritise potential
revenue generation, rather than the unfettered expansion of knowledge,
in policy negotiation and in strategic and academic decision making”
(Rhoades and Slaughter 2004, p. 38).
More specifically, this change in practice is represented by a shift in
research from being a discipline-based inquiry to being a problem-based
inquiry (Bachman 2013). This trend is not necessarily problematic; however,
it tends to orientate research activity towards solution-seeking, overlook-
ing explanatory research, and away from research that is guided by pure
enquiry (Mendoza 2012), or as Hackett (2014) states: “Steering funds

away from those [research activities] that deepen fundamental knowledge
or enhance human capabilities and well-being” (p. 636). Not only is the
focus of this research driven by what pays, but also, in doing so, this shift
within a university context “benefits the interests of the few at the expense
of the many” (Rhoades and Slaughter 2004, p. 57). Those who benefit
are usually engaged in “industry-friendly” research (Mendoza 2012) in
the areas of science and technology (Bastalich 2010). Consequently, those
who work in the areas of the humanities and social sciences are likely to be
disadvantaged. For researchers working in science, technology, engineer-
ing and business, benefits are not just in terms of income generation, but
also in terms of the allocation of university jobs and resources to increase
researchers’ capacity to generate this income (Hackett 2014). This situa-
tion seems a long way from the vision of universities as institutions that
“advance knowledge, alleviate poverty, enhance well-being, and assure
human freedoms and capabilities in ways that secure the long-term future
of our planet and its inhabitants” (Hackett 2014, p. 637).
In synthesising the literature in this section, we have suggested that the
shift of university activity towards industry and the economy, and away
from a focus on human quality of life per se, is linked with the effects of
neoliberalism within the knowledge economy—that is, academic capital-
ism. This brings the work of researchers into the spotlight in terms of their
personal ethical responses to academic capitalism. The questions loom
large: Why are we undertaking research? For whom are we undertaking
our research? And, in the final analysis, does the final outcome in the main
honour our original purposes in becoming researchers? Or, in terms of our
metaphor, does the architecture of the maze enable or constrain our social
concern and our altruism as researchers?
CONCLUSION: WORKING AS RESEARCHERS: AT

WHAT PRICE?
This chapter has been underpinned by our belief that, at heart, many
researchers’ goals include at least some altruistic intent: to contribute
something good to the world for its benefit. Throughout this chapter, we
have signalled the current research maze as problematic, suggesting the
goals of the corporate ladder, which, within the knowledge economy, are
to create and produce new knowledge (Hackett 2014), to be at odds with
the actual goals of research. What we have demonstrated is that, work-

ing within this maze, researchers are shaped by a hegemonic force that
channels them into a way of thinking/being that is a far cry from their
original goals. We have also shown that, within the knowledge economy,
the search for innovation has eroded the relationship between ethics and
research. As Deblonde (2015) states: “The relationship between knowl-
edge economies and ‘responsible’ research and innovation is not self-evi-
dent” (p. 20).
Within a neoliberal/managerialist/capitalist maze, research itself has
been compromised: not only has there been a loss of ideals but also,
through managerial language, there has been a loss of capacity for quality
research. In highlighting the current atmosphere of research within the
knowledge economy as outcome-driven, we have described researchers
currently working within the neoliberal maze as being driven by near-
sighted assessments of academic value (Marginson 2014), working in a
context where institutional assessments reflect the “experienced and high-
status players (who) are best at gaming the system” (Marginson 2015,
p. 12). This is what this chapter has sought to address: that academic
capitalism in the end benefits global stakeholders and ruling elites in the
knowledge economy. Our analysis of research imperatives (e.g., publica-
tions as productivity) has raised practical as well as ethical questions about
the possibilities for working in ways that provide spaces for truly new and
innovative knowledge to emerge, our analysis showing that concern for
financial gain has subsumed the concern of research as being focused on
making a difference in the world.
Is this shift of goals—from universities working for the public good
to universities as business organisations focused on productivity for eco-
nomic gain—the unseen cost of the knowledge economy? And what price
are researchers paying to work within this maze? In the final chapter of
this book, we suggest possibilities for new ways of thinking and working
as researchers, ways that can lead to originality of thought, creativity and
innovation in practices. However, as researchers, we need to consider seri-
ously giving up the drive to short-term gain put upon us by global forces,
the discursive nature of the maze that this chapter has addressed. From
our bird’s eye view, as researchers in a local context, we need to resist the
global imperative of the maze; we need to take back our own academic
and personal freedom if we are to make a significant difference in the
world.
NOTES
1. This relationship between the global and the local has more
recently been addressed as a phenomenon known as “glocalisa-
tion”— see Pederson (2012, p. 13) for further information. This
chapter, however, does not deal with this phenomenon from this
perspective.
2. We recognise that not all research is conducted in universities.
3. The OECD countries together with the World Bank seek to develop
and nurture emerging markets in developing countries in the inter-
ests of capitalism, rather than for philanthropic purposes (Connell
2013; Sellar and Lingard 2014).
4. Under neoliberalism, individuals are constructed as an institution to
manage the self—that is, to be self-governing, creating their own
opportunities as well as employing regulatory strategies, mirroring
the same activities of governance at state level.
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CHAPTER 3
“Have You Been Non-compliant?”

Dilemmas of Decision-Making for School
Principals and Education Researchers
Karen Trimmer
INTRODUCTION
There is currently a conflict between the rhetoric of decentralisation and
external requirements in Australian schools. Since the 1960s, the politi-
cal climate of Western nations has contributed to the rise of school-based
decision-making and management as an administrative strategy in edu-
cation (Seddon et al. 1990; Trimmer 2013). A commitment to decen-
tralisation and the devolution of authority in education was made at a
national level following the election of the Australian Labor Party in 1983
(Caldwell 1990), and national and state government initiatives over recent
years are still tending to move in this direction (Department of Education
and Training 2009, 2012; Eacott 2009). This policy trend towards decen-
tralisation is at odds with the move to increase government requirements
for accountability in Australian schools.
K. Trimmer ( )
University of Southern Queensland, Toowoomba, QLD, Australia

DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-39853-2_3
48 K. TRIMMER
The dichotomy created by decentralisation, in combination with

increased external accountability, creates a complex and confusing maze
for school principals to negotiate. The impact of management demands
and the requirements of central education authorities in constraining inno-
vation in schools have been an issue of debate for many years (Bennis and
Nanus 1985; Eacott 2011; Sarason 1982; Sergiovanni 2000; Starr 2008).
Principals have the dual task of being instructional leaders to ensure that
students attain achievement standards and simultaneously leading and
managing the organisation of the school. As each school is a component
of a larger organisation, there are requirements imposed by the organisa-
tional executive regarding both the educational and the business aspects
of the leadership role of principals.
Within this broad and complex educational governance environment,
this chapter looks at navigating the maze through an education research
study of risk-taking in decision-making by school principals. In this con-
text, risk-taking is defined as when decisions are made that are not com-
pliant with the “regulatory framework” (Department of Education and
Training 2004), the primary governance mechanism for public schools
in Western Australia (WA). The research also created potential problems
for participants as it asked principals to expose whether they had made
decisions that were non-compliant with government policy require-
ments. Such decisions involve risk as principals may be exposed to criti-
cism for non-compliance with established policy when they are unable
to meet conflicting requirements, or when negative outcomes arise from
decision-making. This creates a dilemma for principals who need to
be able to respond to the locally identified needs within a school, and
simultaneously comply with all state and Commonwealth departmental
requirements.
This chapter reflects on both the maze that principals must navigate
on a daily basis in balancing risk and compliance, and the conduct of the
sometimes disquieting research study to explore these challenges. The
chapter begins with an exploration of how corporate governance impacts
on the environment of the public sector. It then considers how governance
and the associated accountability requirements are impacting specifically
in the education context on leadership and decision-making in schools in
WA, nationally and internationally. This background and emerging issues
in WA provide the rationale to have undertaken a study where there was
a risk for the researcher of low participation and disclosure. The methods
used to minimise concerns among principals participating in the study are
“HAVE YOU BEEN NON-COMPLIANT?” DILEMMAS OF DECISION-MAKING... 49
discussed, while the labyrinthine educational environment that creates the

dilemma is considered in parallel. While the study was undertaken in pub-
lic schools in WA, the dilemma and the pressures experienced by principals
in providing leadership in schools are also experienced by principals in
other education systems, across all states and internationally.
THE COMPLEX AND CHALLENGING ENVIRONMENT
Corporate Governance in the Public Sector Context

Corporate governance refers to the processes by which organisations are
directed and controlled. This includes the processes of leadership, con-
trol, performance management, accountability and ethics in the organisa-
tion. Legislative structures at Commonwealth, state and local government
levels form a central part of public sector governance structures. Public
sector agencies are regulated by legislative frameworks that determine the
agency mission and guide the implementation of programs and associated
organisational structures. This reflects Collier and Roberts’ (2001) view
that “the state and legal institutions play a key role in setting ground rules
and enforcing sanctions” (p. 68). Allison (1983) indicated that public
sector managers are more often subject to such legislative and judicial
impacts to the extent that “close scrutiny by legislative oversight groups
or even judicial orders often materially constrain executive and adminis-
trative freedom to act” (p. 79). In this way it is still the case that legisla-
tive structures impact significantly on the corporate governance of public
sector agencies.
The legislative framework consists of the constitution and legislation
and also rulings and common law arising from them. This includes legisla-
tion with broad application such as enabling legislation for particular pub-
lic sector agencies, including the Department of Education. Compliance
with the legislation may be a key component of the achievement of stated
agency outcomes and can appear in the Chief Executive Officer’s (CEO)
Performance Agreement or the Key Performance Indicators required for
agency accountability and audit purposes to be included in the Annual
Report for the agency. Internal accountability structures and manage-
ment processes are consequently put in place to support the achievement
of compliance with the legislative framework for the agency. These can
include internal audit processes, business and other planning processes,
quality control systems, risk management and performance monitoring.
50 K. TRIMMER
Ethical structures, including public sector standards, codes of conduct

and codes of ethics, also form an integral part of the accountability within
the public sector context. Barrett (1999) argued that the emergence of
more contestable environments makes it essential that public sector agen-
cies maintain and enhance accountability while meeting traditional ethical
and professional standards. This includes issues such as client satisfaction,
justice, equity of service provision, probity in serving the public interest
and loyalty. Within the Department of Education, central office execu-
tives, district directors and principals provide leadership and management
to link these strategic plans and ensure compliance with public sector
standards and ethics across the public school system. This aligns with
Collier and Roberts’ (2001) view that the duties of management “lie in
aligning and balancing a wide variety of potentially competitive interests”
(p. 67) within an organisation.
Accountability in the Education Context

Clear designation of the roles and responsibilities of each of the partici-
pants in the governance framework, including the responsible minister,
board, CEO and stakeholders, is important for accountability (Barrett
1999). Accountability for the achievement of outcomes and the mainte-
nance of standards within each school is the responsibility of the principal
as plans are put into effect in each individual school under the principal’s
leadership. The requirements and responsibilities for and of principals are
documented in policy and procedures documents that comprise the regu-
latory framework. The regulatory framework of policies is a key account-
ability structure that assists in managing risk and maintaining consistent
quality and standards in service delivery across a wide range of schools in
the state of WA.
In addition to state accountability requirements, there is currently
also a national emphasis on standards-based accountability in education
(ACARA 2012; Bauer and Bogotch 2006). The Council of Australian
Governments (COAG) has moved to implement a requirement for all
Australian states to provide publicly available reports about schools’
achievement in nationally administered tests in relation to established
benchmark standards for literacy and numeracy (COAG Communique
2008a; Federalist Paper 2 2007; National Education Agreement 2008b;
National Partnership Agreement on Low Socio-economic Status School
Communities 2008c; National Partnership Agreement on Literacy
and Numeracy 2008d). This includes the move to a national curricu-

lum (Federalist Paper 2 2007). This trend towards centrally determined
standards and curriculum as seen in Australia is not universal. Karstanje
(1999) reported that Western, Central and Eastern European countries
were moving towards decentralisation and deregulation to allow schools
to respond flexibly to local or regional needs and circumstances. Also in
China there has been a strong trend to decentralisation in educational
governance (Mok 2001). The debates regarding the decentralisation
of education governance (Busemeyer 2012) and the need for central-
ised, standards-based accountability continue globally (Sahlberg 2010).
An emphasis on standards-based accountability, such as is occurring in
Australia, reinforces the responsibility of schools and principals to con-
form with and achieve institutionally set goals.
Consistency and universalism have been lauded as critical aims in
public education to ensure equity of access and opportunity for all
students (Jamieson and Wikely 2001). Compliance with universally
required policy positions in education and schools promotes this ideal.
However, as Jamieson and Wikely (2001) point out, this view is ideo-
logically incompatible with the paradigm of responding to the individual
needs of children. The current educational culture is dominated by the
forces of managerialism and standards that create a dilemma for schools
in trying to make decisions to meet the learning needs of their individ-
ual schools while meeting the externally imposed requirements of these
bureaucratic influences (McMahon 2001). The Federalist Paper (Council
for Australian Federation 2007) recognised that Commonwealth and
State regulations, in addition to operational policies within school sys-
tems, impose an administrative burden on schools. Similarly, in the UK,
Dalton and Read (2001) reported that some school staff members were
unable to distinguish between school strategies and the government and
OFSTED standards agenda, owing to the significant pressure to com-
ply with these external requirements. Eacott (2009) takes this further,
and states that these government policy initiatives, including professional
standards, league tables and school-based management, provide evidence
of the politicisation of education. These government agendas and policy
initiatives place pressure on principals to comply with external require-
ments that may be contrary to identified strategies for education at the
school level.
To address issues such as client satisfaction, social justice and equity of
service provision, the Department of Education, as the principal provider
52 K. TRIMMER
of education across the state of WA, needs to ensure that services are pro-
vided in areas and geographic regions that are not commercially viable
and where no other providers exist. The quality of the process of assess-
ing the needs in such areas and the provision of educational services that
meet these identified local needs are fundamental to the success of schools
and educational strategies put in place by the Department. Information
gathered through consultations with peak bodies, local community organ-
isations and community members is a valuable resource for planning to
determine local needs. Where local stakeholders are aware and accept-
ing of decision-making processes, there are opportunities for an improved
contribution to the planning and development of services that begin to
address the issues of client satisfaction, justice and equity of service provi-
sion. In WA, decentralised governance was introduced to some degree
through provision in the School Education Act (1999) for school councils
involving parent and community members. However, the role of school
councils was limited and principals were provided with guidance for their
decision-making by centrally developed educational policy and procedures
included in the regulatory framework. The dilemma for principals is to
be able to translate the locally identified needs into a local educational
program within a school and simultaneously to comply with all state and
Commonwealth departmental requirements.
NAVIGATING THE MAZE BY PRINCIPALS

Within this complex educational environment, this chapter reflects on a
study of the governance of public schools in WA that are administered
centrally. The WA Department of Education is a state public sector agency
responsible for the provision of education and training in government-
funded schools throughout WA. The responsibility for schools includes
the provision of pre-primary, primary and secondary schooling to over
250,000 students across 800 school sites.
As was noted above, principals of government schools in WA are pro-
vided with guidance for their decision-making by centrally developed
educational policy and procedures included in the regulatory framework.
This regulatory framework provides a mechanism for assuring regulatory
compliance across the Department. The regulatory framework consists of
the Acts, Regulations, delegations, policies and procedures that together
establish the mandatory rules of operation for principals and all officers
employed in the provision of education in public schools.
The supervision of principals’ decision-making in schools is minimal.

Performance management processes are in place and district directors
conduct an annual review of school and principal performance. However,
on a day-to-day basis, principals take the responsibility for decision-mak-
ing at the local school level with the requirement that it occurs within
the guidelines of the regulatory framework. Sarason (1990) indicates
that the risk disposition of principals in undertaking decision-making
within their schools can be accounted for in part by requirements in
the corporate governance systems and their perceptions of the toler-
ance of risk-taking within the system. As a consequence, some principals
with a higher risk disposition may take the responsibility for making
decisions within their schools that are not within the guidelines of the
regulatory framework. Such decisions involve risk as principals may be
exposed to criticism or disciplinary action for non-compliance with
established policy. This is likely to occur when negative outcomes arise
from decision-making.
Leadership in Schools
The issue of the devolution of school decision-making came to the politi-
cal fore in WA in 2001, with the publication of two government reports
that focused specifically on WA public schools. The Evaluation Study of
the Local Management of Schools Pilot Study (Cummings and Stephenson
2001) indicated that “the bureaucratic nature of Central Office and the
plethora of rules were identified as impeding progress with local man-
agement” (p. 54). Similarly, the report, Investing in Government Schools:
Putting Children First (Robson et al. 2001), found that administration
through system-wide management policies does not recognise the diver-
sity that exists across education districts. The report stated that “locally-
managed schools are seen as being more responsive to local needs”
(Robson et al. 2001, p. 13). The implication of these reports was that
there is a risk that over-regulation could act as a barrier, impeding inno-
vation and the flexibility to implement the most appropriate response in
schools given local community opportunities, considerations and condi-
tions. Caldwell (1990) expressed the view that the key to the manage-
ment of the conflict around decision-making in schools that has arisen
from the centralisation of policies is “dependent on minimizing the num-
ber of constraining rules and regulations” (p. 19). Similarly, Wong (1997)
indicated that one of the major strategies for reducing bureaucratic power
54 K. TRIMMER
in education is the empowerment of professionals to be involved in shared

decision-making about policy at the school site.
Cooke and Slack (1991) describe a situation where the degree of
autonomy of the decision-maker and the degree of structure imposed by
the organisational environment are both high. This can occur when the
organisational hierarchy imposes a framework for decision-making in an
organisational environment where there is a high degree of autonomy
for managers. Schools would be an example of such a decision-making
environment, with autonomous principals making decisions within the
bounds of the regulatory framework. Such decision-making frameworks
may be imposed because of concerns about the competence of manag-
ers and have the effect of restricting decision-making choices within this
structure. Hoy and Miskel (2005) argue that the need for autonomy and
the desire to act independently create a fundamental source of conflict
between central bureaucracies and professionals, such as principals, when
the control of decision-making is held by the organisational bureaucracy.
They suggest that, although such authority relationships and control are
a common feature of schools, they promote only minimal compliance in
professional administrators and may discourage initiative and responsibil-
ity in decision-making (Hoy and Miskel 2005).
Both formal and informal governance structures provide the vehicle
through which power is deployed in organisations, including schools.
Creating structures that provide discretion for decision-making within
schools transfers more power from the education hierarchy to schools
(Bennett 2001). With a more equal distribution of power, principals may
be less likely to comply with policies if they do not see them as assisting
in achieving desired school outcomes. Sergiovanni (2000) observes that
school professionals do not have a “high tolerance for bureaucratic rituals”
(p. 166) as they are often responding to a range of competing stakeholder
demands in a politically exposed environment. Fullan (1993) concludes
that “you can’t mandate what matters” (p. 22) as educational goals are
complex and require discretionary judgement. This view is supported by
the research about school effectiveness and school improvement that has
been consistently supportive of school-based decision-making and man-
agement (Caldwell 1990).
However, critics argue that the power inequality in education is being
disguised by the rhetoric of school-based decision-making and manage-
ment and that the institutionalised power of the central bureaucracy
becomes visible when conflict arises (Seddon et al. 1990). Within such
a view, principals would not have real and legitimate control within their
schools. Thorn et al. (2007) report that, in the USA, the recommenda-
tions for flexible governance in schools, power sharing and the use of
collective knowledge in decision-making that are arising from research
are not recognisable in the familiar operations of state and district educa-
tion systems. The control of public sector education may be strengthened
rather than weakened owing to the coexistence of both centralising and
decentralising trends in the governance of education (Mok 2001). Both of
these trends are evident in the WA context, with increased accountability
and the standards agenda a focus of Commonwealth Government policy
(Bauer and Bogotch 2006; COAG Communique 2008a; Federalist Paper
2 2007; National Education Agreement 2008b; National Partnership
Agreement on Literacy and Numeracy 2008c; National Partnership
Agreement on Low Socio-economic Status School Communities 2008d).
However, at the same time the WA state government is moving to provide
autonomous decision-making to independent public schools (Department
of Education and Training 2009, 2012).
Reasoned Risk-Taking in Decision-Making

Policy and procedures included within the regulatory framework are man-
datory. However, a 2003 review of the regulatory framework found that
only 6% of principals indicated that they would always comply with policy in
all circumstances (Trimmer 2003, p. 30). Principals commented that they
had operated outside the mandatory policy requirements in circumstances
where, in their professional judgement, it was impossible to comply with
the policy because of local circumstances. Instead, they based their decision
on the intent of known departmental goals. Principals indicated that they
worked around constraints as well as they could do so, but the majority of
principals cited instances where they had used professional discretion to make
decisions that were contrary to mandatory policy and procedures. These
principals maintained that this was necessary and provided explanations in
interviews that highlighted the existence of specific circumstances that made
compliance difficult or inappropriate (Trimmer 2003). They also provided
details of their decisions, which they deemed were the most appropriate in
the circumstances and given the subsequent outcomes. However, there was
concern expressed that teachers and principals were put into a vulnerable
position by policies with which they could not comply. Restricted flexibility
in decision-making was of particular concern in senior colleges, agricultural
56 K. TRIMMER
colleges with residential students and remote community schools where the
population of students or the community had significantly different charac-
teristics from those of other schools (Trimmer 2003).
From the perspective of public sector management, the lack of compli-
ance leaves these principals and the Department exposed to risk as they
are in breach of mandatory policy and are therefore open to disciplinary
action should an untoward outcome eventuate. The Department is also at
risk as they face public and parliamentary scrutiny in a circumstance where
there is no due process to account for the decision-making or action that
was taken. Starr (2008) indicates that the consideration of risk in schools
“has risen dramatically in stakes and prominence” (p. 1).
The influence of governance as a determinant of risk-taking in decision-
making is especially significant in the public sector environment, where
decisions must be politically and legally defensible. Wirtz et al. (2005)
found that public sector policy makers responsible for decisions regarding
health policy “felt accountable to provide decisions which are politically
and legally defensible” and “which could be defended in public, includ-
ing in court” (p. 335). This is particularly relevant for decision-makers
in the WA education context given the State Coroner’s decision (2002),
and associated media attention, where a principal was found to have made
decisions contrary to policy in the regulatory framework with the conse-
quence of the death of a student. Such incidents highlight the increasing
focus on personal and professional risk for school principals who may be
found negligent if they fail to meet system requirements (Starr 2008).
Starr (2008) indicates that the increase in litigation, insurance and com-
pensation claims have resulted in education systems and school principals
needing to respond by “identifying, managing and delegating responsibil-
ity for risk” (p. 3) in schools. Therefore principals may feel compelled to
make decisions where “procedural safeguards are being valued more than
the content of the decision” (Wirtz et al. 2005, p. 335). These implica-
tions are significant if principals are deterred from pursuing innovative
educative strategies owing to potential litigation risks.
Interviews with principals revealed that situations where compliance
had not been possible occurred on an ongoing basis where local circum-
stances, including geographical and cultural factors, were such that the
population of students or the community had significantly different char-
acteristics from those of other schools. Policies and procedures are devel-
oped centrally within the Department and are intended to provide the
most effective means of achieving the required outcomes in all schools
and circumstances. Where specific school and community circumstances,

including cultural and geographical factors, appear to demand a unique
response, principals may make decisions that are not compliant with the
established policy. 70% of principals indicated that they were aware of
instances where compliance had not been possible given the circumstances
(Trimmer 2003). In such instances, it was felt that compliance may have
resulted in inappropriate, inefficient or ineffective outcomes.
NEGOTIATING THE RESEARCH MAZE

The initial interviews with principals were undertaken as part of a review
of the regulatory framework that was conducted in 2003 (Trimmer 2003).
The interviews were conducted with principals in each of 16 district edu-
cation offices across WA. The purpose of these interviews and of the subse-
quent analysis was to gain a preliminary understanding of the perceptions
of the regulatory framework and its development but an unintended out-
come was to bring to the surface underlying issues. The interviews were
semi-structured to provide focus but allowed an exploratory conversation
regarding the interviewee’s perceptions of the regulatory framework. The
unanticipated information provided by the principals in relation to non-
compliance provided the motivation to conduct a further study focused
on the issues raised. The genuine concerns of principals with regard to the
dilemmas that they were facing on a daily basis were sufficient to convince
the researcher that the hard questions related to non-compliance needed
to be addressed and the strong desire of the principals to have these issues
raised and their collective voices heard provided a rationale to proceed
with a potentially difficult and unsettling study.
A key consideration in developing the methodology was therefore
the negotiation of this research maze. An important aspect of reducing con-
cerns for the participant principals to share their experiences during the inter-
views was the assurance of confidentiality and anonymity. This necessitated
the development of trust between the researcher and the participants in
being able to disclose sensitive information about the circumstances of non-
compliant decision-making. This was assisted by the researcher being able
to demonstrate and maintain a level of independence from the Department
as she was not an employee of the Department but an officer from the
WA Office of the Auditor General on secondment to conduct an indepen-
dent review. Establishing status as an independent researcher was signifi-
cant in encouraging the interview respondents to disclose their perceptions
58 K. TRIMMER
regarding the regulatory framework and in particular the potential risks of

non-compliance. The semi-structured approach resulted in greater depth
and openness of responses than may have been the case if closed and spe-
cific questions had been employed. Informal feedback indicated that the
researcher was perceived not to have pre-existing or set views about the
framework nor to have the motivation of preserving current policy struc-
tures within the Department. This was important in seeking to discover the
reality as it existed for the interviewees and assisted in maintaining a trust
relationship that allowed the interviewees to disclose the dilemmas that they
were facing. In addition, the researcher attended principals’ forums in two
districts that provided the opportunity to be involved in group discus-
sions with principals. These forums assisted in creating an environment of
acceptance of the researcher across the group and hence served to establish
enhanced credibility and trust.
The Development and Pilot of the Questionnaire

The initial interviews with principals, in conjunction with a literature
review, were used to develop a research model and an associated question-
naire to measure the constructs within it (Trimmer 2011). The question-
naire consisted of demographic questions and items measuring principals’
attitudes and behaviour. Attitudes and behaviour are manifestations of the
same measurement continuum but at different levels of intensity, with
behaviour statements at the higher end as they are harder items to agree
with (Andrich and Styles 1994). This is intuitively reasonable as it is easier
to agree with a position in principle than to take action to support it
through one’s demonstrated behaviour.
The survey questionnaire was piloted with a small sample of principals
from both metropolitan and remote primary and secondary schools. A let-
ter outlining the purpose of the study and requesting participation in the
pilot of the questionnaire was sent to a sample of 15 principals in a range
of school types, including an early childhood education centre, primary
schools, high schools, senior high schools, district high schools, a senior
college and an education support centre. The schools were located across
metropolitan, rural and remote areas. Of the 15 principals approached,
11 agreed to participate. Copies of the questionnaire were then sent to
the 11 principals who had provided their consent to participate in the
pilot and a completed questionnaire was received from each. One princi-
pal made email contact with the researcher indicating that the questions
included in the survey made him feel uncomfortable and apologising that
he therefore felt unable to complete and return the survey. However, after
email correspondence with the researcher, this respondent made a deci-
sion to complete and return the questionnaire.
After completing the questionnaire, each of these principals provided
feedback in a half hour telephone interview regarding their overall reac-
tions to the questionnaire and instructions, and a question by question
analysis to determine if each item were measuring what it was intended
to measure. The principals were also asked whether there were any critical
issues related to decision-making that they felt had been omitted from the
questionnaire or any factors that promoted risk-taking in their decision-
making that they felt were not adequately covered. The overall response
to the questionnaire was very positive. Respondents commented that they
felt comfortable answering the questions and found the questionnaire
non-invasive, even though it was dealing with sensitive subject matter.
The independence of the research was considered to be important in this
regard, and also that the responses were going to be kept confidential and
not become the property of the Department. Similarly, utilising a post
office box address for the return of the completed questionnaires directly
to the researcher was an important aspect of maintaining independence.
Respondents also indicated that they found the topic engaging and the
questions interesting to respond to. However, two respondents indicated
that they felt that they had contradicted themselves in some responses and
would have liked to have a free response section included to provide an
explanation of why this had occurred. One of these respondents expressed
this as that they “struggled with a range of possible responses” and “wanted
to have a conversation about it”. Respondents gave details of actual exam-
ples, the circumstances in which they had taken risks and the factors that
had impacted on their decision-making. These related to a range of regula-
tory framework policies, including: maintenance; purchasing and finance;
enrolments; excursions; duty of care; behaviour management and dis-
cipline; school councils; the payment of relief teachers; the performance
management of staff; and the management of substandard performance.
Respondents indicated that principals are not willing to test boundar-
ies and take risks owing to constraints imposed by the central office of the
Department of Education. A view was expressed that these constraints
deterred principals from making autonomous decisions that were most
appropriate to the local needs of their school and community. One princi-
pal noted that “You do things because you’ll get into strife if you don’t”.
60 K. TRIMMER
However, by contrast, another respondent indicated that the potential for

disciplinary action by the Department was not considered to be a signifi-
cant risk. Taking a risk in decision-making was articulated by one respon-
dent as simply “Am I prepared to wear this?” in reference to potential
consequences. There was a consensus that you decide if the rules are rea-
sonable in the circumstances and that risk-taking is justified when you make
a “good enough decision” that is informed and that can be defended in
the circumstances, and if “it leads to a better outcome”. However, it was
noted as a concern that some district directors, who are the line managers
of principals, “don’t care about outcomes as long as you follow the rules”.
Several principals indicated that risk-taking required the rationale for
a decision to be documented. This would enable the justification of the
decision-making process if it were queried at a later time. Principals were
prepared to defend their decision-making processes as they saw them-
selves as taking risks for sound reasons and to achieve better outcomes.
However, one respondent indicated that “Many would be panic struck if
called to account”. These principals would want to be clearly distinct from
“people who break rules for no good reason”. It was also noted that the
“regulatory framework is outmoded in some areas”, creating the pressure
to be non-compliant. One principal highlighted the need to be conscious
of legislative frameworks such as that for disabilities and to ensure that
decisions fall within these frameworks.
The stakes of taking risks in decision-making by school principals can
potentially be high. In addition to the case commented upon by the State
Coroner (2002), a very highly publicised example of risk-taking in decision-
making by a WA Department of Education principal was reported in The
West Australian newspaper on 14 October 2006. The article alleged that
the principal of a remote school was dismissed by the Minister of Education
as a consequence of a controversial decision that was taken to try to resolve
the serious truancy problems being experienced at the school. Evidence
available about the outcomes of the decision indicate that it was successful
in achieving the increase in attendance that it was attempting to achieve,
with school attendance being boosted from 54% to 80% in the two months
in which the school operated the principal’s initiative. However, the decision
took account of the unique circumstances of the families in the community
to achieve this end, and in doing so was seen to be potentially discriminatory.
One respondent principal in this study sent an accompanying letter with the
completed questionnaire indicating that the respondent principal felt “very
strongly about this principal who was victimised for showing initiative in
solving his school’s attendance problems”. This type of response provides

a clear indication of the difficulty faced by principals when navigating the
maze with regard to risk-taking in decision-making.
The finalised survey was sent to principals in a sample of 253 schools
across the state. A stratified sample of schools was selected on the basis of
district, geographical location, school type and school size. The sample was
selected to be representative across districts, geography, school type and size
at a 95% confidence level. To maintain complete confidentiality, no iden-
tification coding was assigned to returned questionnaires. Principals were
assured that they could be confident of the absolute anonymity and con-
fidentiality of responses. Some principals, who originally declined, agreed
to participate following communication with the researcher. They wanted
clarification about aspects of the questions and to express their views about
governance within the Department of Education. These comments were
considered separately from the returned questionnaires. A total of 140
principals returned the questionnaire, a response rate of 55% (out of 253).
CONCLUSION
The results of the study showed that the experience of the principal, the
context in which they are making the decision and their perceptions of
the decision-making environment all impact on the degree of risk that
will be considered by principals in negotiating the decision-making maze.
Perceptions by principals of the governance mechanism as a means of
compliance impact on the autonomy of principals and minimise their pro-
pensity for risk-taking. Experienced principals more often indicated that
they preferred greater flexibility to make decisions at the school level to
meet outcomes that took account of local circumstances. They expressed
a preference for minimal mandatory policy and procedures as they were
of the view that their professional expertise would provide sufficient basis
for best achieving required outcomes. Stakeholder characteristics, where
schools are located in communities with unique characteristics, includ-
ing communities with highly diverse populations and in remote locations,
were found to have a significant effect on risk-taking in decision-making
(Trimmer 2011).
With regard to school governance and leadership, transparency and the pro-
motion of decision-making processes within the school and the broader com-
munity are critically important to negotiate the maze successfully to achieve
the balance of local input with external requirements. Improved transpar-
62 K. TRIMMER
ency of the use of information can enhance both the public sector’s ongoing
contribution to education and the acceptance of new educational strategies
within the community. This is a component of corporate governance of par-
ticular significance to the public sector. As Allison (1983) indicated, manage-
ment within the public sector tends to be exposed to public scrutiny and as a
consequence tends to be more open, while in contrast private business man-
agement tends to be more internal and less exposed to public review. This
creates public awareness of the performance of schools and promotes com-
munity expectations of the quality of services delivered. In this case, com-
munities have an expectation that outcomes achieved across schools will be
equitable across all schools regardless of geographical or other local factors.
While the regulatory framework is in place to assure consistency in the appli-
cation of policy and procedures, a limitation can be that consistency in inputs
may constrain decision-making by principals and the development of innova-
tion in service improvement that would achieve more equitable outcomes for
students. Principals were clear about the need for flexibility in the application
of policy and procedures in order to meet successfully both local needs and
broadly agreed outcomes. The state government of WA has moved to intro-
duce Independent Public Schools, which aim to provide greater decision-
making autonomy, authority and flexibility to school principals (Department
of Education 2009, 2011, 2012; Trimmer 2013).
For the researcher navigating the research maze, the high response
rate and the level of engagement in the study through the provision of
additional unsolicited information were indicative of the level of concern
that principals felt regarding the complexity of the maze with which they
were engaging on a regular basis and the governance environment within
which they found themselves operating. While participation in the study
added another layer of potential challenge in requesting principals to
expose their risk-taking in decision-making, it was well supported by
principals as a means of confronting the issues and opening discussion
regarding alternative governance mechanisms. Participants also showed a
high level of interest in receiving a copy of the outcomes of the research
and an assurance that this would be provided may have encouraged the
level of participation. These results are encouraging for researchers who
are prepared to consider navigating the maze of education research but
also emphasise the need for the development of trust relationships and
a clear outline of ethical processes for confidentiality and anonymity when
obtaining consent and engaging participants who are negotiating complex
and risk-laden decision-making environments.
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CHAPTER 4
Navigating the Terrain of Methodological

Uncertainties to New Spaces of Research
Yvonne Salton
INTRODUCTION: THE RESEARCH MAZE

This chapter is intended to unravel my navigation through the research
maze. I define the research maze as the journey through my Doctor of
Philosophy (PhD) program. The research journey, much like life, is dif-
ferent for every researcher. Every choice that is made, movements in the
maze and every encounter in the maze influence what we do. Conversely,
the encounters in the maze influence the positions that I have taken and
the choices that I have made.
The research maze of the PhD is made up of the different spaces of
theory, methodology, method and other researchers already in this space.
As I journey through theory, method and methodology, my understand-
ing changes, along with how I view my own and others’ research. This
makes it difficult to pinpoint methodology and method, especially when
the understanding of theory, and the literature in my space of research, are
still developing. This was a significant issue at the point of confirmation of
candidature when a decision was required to be made around methodol-
ogy while I was still attempting to articulate my philosophical position.
Y. Salton ()
University of Southern Queensland, Springfield, QLD, Australia

DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-39853-2_4
68 Y. SALTON
A key influence on methodology and method is the researcher’s philo-

sophical position (Ponterotte 2005), or what I term the researcher self.
The researcher self captures the epistemology, how knowledge is viewed
(Carter and Little 2007); ontology, how reality is considered (Aronowitze
and Ausch 2000); and axiology, the underlying values of the researcher
(Carter and Little 2007). This philosophical position informs the decisions
made in relation to the choice of methodology and method in research.
The researcher self is generally outlined in one section of a researcher’s
methodology. This section is positioned as a justification for the choice
of methodology, the theory of how a researcher should proceed (Carter
and Little 2007, p. 1317) and the methods, which are the procedures and
techniques of the research. Attempting to write this section in my own
thesis became problematic, as my study explores the teacher self, which
requires me continually to examine different theories of the self that then
informed my understanding of both the teacher self and researcher self.
My emerging understanding made it difficult to name a position when
shifts in my thinking occurred with everything that I read. However, this
understanding did not emerge until much later in my research journey.
The difficulty in naming my researcher self was the point at which I realised
that I was in my own personal maze. The maze that I was in was surrounded
by complex conceptualisations of the self that I was exploring to understand
the shared teacher self and its impact on teaching professional practice. These
complexities seemed to block my way to further understanding and the nam-
ing of my researcher self. I had to make some difficult decisions to navigate
through my own personal maze. Some of the choices that I made led to
methodological uncertainties. This was the point when I realised that I was
in a maze within a maze: my own personal maze within the researcher maze.
This chapter is designed to articulate the complexities of the personal
maze within the researcher maze and to provide insight into the lessons
learnt while navigating each maze. These lessons, and the resultant strate-
gies to negotiate the maze, provide insights for other PhD students and
early career researchers who may be faced with similar dilemmas. This is
especially significant for researchers attempting to unravel the complexities
inherent in methodology in order to consider data differently.
NAVIGATING THE RESEARCH MAZE

My PhD research considers the impact of the shared teacher self on
the teacher’s professional practice. This required conceptualising the
self, which I chose to do by connecting with the philosophical and
NAVIGATING THE TERRAIN OF METHODOLOGICAL UNCERTAINTIES TO NEW... 69
psychological perspectives of self. As previously highlighted, every theory

that I explored extended and revised my own philosophical position, so to
write a methodology became a complexity that was difficult to navigate.
Inherent in this complexity was the concept of becoming, in terms of how
I viewed each of the conceptualisation of the self, my researcher self, my
methodology and my method.
The idea that self, both teacher and researcher, as becoming led to method-
ological uncertainties. Becoming is a term taken from the readings of Deleuze
and Guattari (1987). This term suggests a fluidness, a process, an ongoing
performance (Barad 2003). Becoming is a space where knowing and being
are not in isolation from each other but, as Mazzei (2010) contends, are
mutually constituted (p. 745). There were times before understanding the
self and research as becoming that I felt that I was going around in circles
in both my personal maze and the research maze. This was compounded
when my researcher self as becoming often seemed to stand in conflict with
the philosophical position regarding methods taken by seasoned researchers.
In order to understand the personal maze within the research maze, I
enacted autoethnographic research about my journey through the research
maze, which is the basis of this chapter. The purpose of this autoethno-
graphic study was to determine the blockages, choices and strategies used
during the PhD journey to confirmation of candidature, in order to iden-
tify lessons that may assist other PhD students encountering the personal
maze within the research maze.
In order to study my own journey through the maze, I collected arte-
facts from my confirmation and research journals written to date. These
artefacts provide insights into the blockages encountered in the maze,
what I perceived these blockages were and the decisions that I made to
move around them. This chapter draws the analysis of these together as
lessons in the maze.
LESSON IN THE MAZE: NEGOTIATING RESEARCH AGENDAS

In the beginning of my PhD, I felt that I had a limited understanding of
both methodology and method. During initial research training, the two
terms were often used interchangeably in the literature. It was difficult to
pin down a complete definition of either methodology or method as they
relate to research, as each article engaged with each term differently. My
understanding and application of research terminology became the first
blockage in the maze, especially in relation to the implication that using
the two terms interchangeably can have for research.
70 Y. SALTON
My initial understanding of the term methodology was in comparison

with the term method. I initially saw method as something that one did in
research and methodology was the study and framing of method. I saw
method, how one did research, as being distinct from a theoretical and
philosophical position. This was based on my interpretation of texts that I
had read that had informed my initial stance. However, during the confir-
mation phase of my PhD, questions were asked of the methodology and
method proposed for my research.
The questions around methodology and method were in relation to
the philosophies that I believed underpinned my researcher self. It was
identified during confirmation that my researcher self, underpinned by the
theories of Foucault (1991), was problematic given my choice of herme-
neutic phenomenology as a research method. Hermeneutic phenomenol-
ogy, from my perspective and understanding at that time, was a method
of interpreting the phenomenon that emphasised the “understanding of
a situation as a situated event in terms of individuals and their situations”
(Heywood and Stronach 2005, p. 115). This method of research was not
questioned, except in relation to my philosophical standpoint.
The inclusion of Foucault and phenomenology in combination seemed
problematic to seasoned researchers. My interpretation of confirmation
feedback was that I was not able to consider a philosophical position that
included Foucault in the light of a method that advocated phenomenol-
ogy. This was based on the view that Foucault’s stance is not one that
would normally underpin hermeneutic phenomenology. This challenged
my understanding of the relationship between methodology and method.
What became evident was that, even though the meanings of the terms
were known, the application was often something quite different, depend-
ing on the worldview of the researcher. The close association between
methodology and method was my first experience of method-ideology
(Thompson 1962). Thompson (1962) discusses Hotopf’s use of the term
method-ideology to “describe the close association between different schools
of thought and particular methods and techniques” (p. 110)–that is, that
certain methods can only be underpinned by particular schools of thought.
This, for me, leads to a single approach to method, a one size fits all con-
sideration. Method-ideology produces an inflexibility of method. I see this
as particularly true when a researcher confuses methodology and method
and sees one as being synonymous with the other. Somekh et al. (2005)
admit that the “paradigm and methodological fortresses” (p. 2) have had
the effect of polarising researchers. St Pierre and Pillow (2000) contend
that research is not a neutral space. I perceived that seasoned research-

ers bring their own agendas that require careful negotiation, especially by
beginning researchers.
My initial response to the inflexibility of method during confirma-
tion was to succumb to what seemed to be an indefensible position. This
indefensible position was the view that phenomenology could be viewed
only in the light of particular philosophies. I had a choice to make: I
could either change my philosophical stance or method, or else find a
way to negotiate the different research agendas. The different agendas
were focused around the choice of methodology with certain philosophi-
cal stances. I chose to find a way to negotiate.
I decided to delve more deeply into methodology and method, which
created the opportunity to learn how to negotiate the complexities of the
different philosophical positions taken. The strategy that I used was to cat-
egorise readings into theory, methodology and method. I created a spread-
sheet that summarised these categorisations and then I proceeded to read
each piece of literature again and review it in the light of theory, methodol-
ogy and method. What I found was that my understanding regarding meth-
odology was incomplete, which left my research proposal open to criticism.
In order to consider the complexities of methodology further, I sought
to identify other researchers in the same area who had utilised a herme-
neutic phenomenology method with a similar philosophical position to
myself. By doing this, I was able to engage further with what hermeneutic
phenomenology as a method required and carefully to negotiate the space
that I originally saw as an indefensible position. I did this by drawing
on others in my own field of research. Following is my response to the
confirmation panel:
Questions were raised by the panel as to the idea of the phenomenon of the self/
identity and appropriate methodologies to explore these concepts. Traditionally
in philosophy the “concept of identity involves domination because it presumes
sameness, thus excluding difference and because it presumes some haecceity,
or essential core” (Alcoff 2000, p. 318). Both Foucault (1991) and Derrida
(1999) consider that the idea of self is not a fixed or determinant concept
because of the influence of the ‘other’. That is not to say that the phenomenon
cannot be explored, but that the exploration itself is not searching for an essen-
tial truth, but is the search for difference. Foucault therefore “did not give up
on the hermeneutic idea of facing up to the truth, but a fixed truth” (Bernauer
and Carrette 2004, p. 132).
72 Y. SALTON
This study is ontological in nature and requires an examination of the phenom-

enon of self that considers the reality of that existence but within “discursive
conditions of experience” (Stoller 2009, p. 729). Stoller (2009) contends that
“phenomenology focuses on an analysis of experience within a discourse of con-
crete subjects … while post structuralism primarily emphasises the discursive
conditions of the experience …” (p. 729). These perspectives are not necessarily
oppositional, but “contribute to the critical examination of experience” (Stoller
2009, p. 729).
This idea has been taken up by Iris Marion Young in her paper “Throwing like
a Girl” (2005). She considered the “lived body” as capturing “a highly histo-
ricized and concrete understanding of bodies and subjectivity” (Young 2005,
p. 18). Del Busso and Reavey (2013) in their post structuralist, hermeneutic,
phenomenological approach “theorise embodiment (the lived body) simultane-
ously as lived experience of being-in-the world and socially constructed through
discourse” (p. 47). This approach is particularly pertinent to the study as it
is important to understand the teacher self through “both social construction
(produced through discourse) and lived experience (the feeling of what it is
like)” (Del Busso & Reavey, 2013, p. 47). As is the purpose of Del Busso and
Reavey’s research, this study seeks to go beyond the surface and avoid a simple
linear view of self. In order to facilitate this, a collection of artefacts from the
participants is included, in addition to interviews, so that they “are faced with
engaging with the complexity of their embodied and emotional experiences in a
more material and contextual manner” (Del Busso and Reavey 2013, p. 50).
(Response to Panel, 2012)
My strategy was to develop in my understanding of methodology and

method. This required considering the historical development of quali-
tative inquiry, phenomenology and hermeneutics and the philosophical
basis of each. Understanding could be gained only through careful and
systematic reading of a broad range of texts, and the categorisation of each
piece of literature to ensure that I was understanding the research area and
the other researchers whom I was joining.
Understanding the philosophical and theoretical basis of methodology
and method became key. The importance of knowing my audience and
the philosophical basis of what I was exploring is an essential component
of research. I found that phenomenology as a method is bracketed with
theorists (St Pierre 2013, p. 647), so it is tended to be viewed as a meth-
odology, which was the basis of my confusion. Unravelling these distinc-
tions was the first step in being able to negotiate the different research
agendas.
My response to the panel was built around the view that choices of meth-
odology and method do not have to be binary opposites. Yet my response
also suggested that the choices in research method are more often than not
set up as binaries. These binaries suggest that one method is privileged.
Therefore my second strategy was to show that phenomenology and post-
structuralism did not have to be set up as binaries but could be combined
in order to create a richer methodology and use of method. I was success-
ful in negotiating the experienced researchers’ agendas as my response was
considered sufficient and was accepted by the confirmation panel.
LESSON IN THE MAZE: RESEARCH AS BECOMING

Through the process of negotiating the different research agendas, I
started to become dissatisfied with my choice of methodology and method.
The more that I engaged with different philosophical views, theory and
method, the more that I became dissatisfied with my choices. I wanted
the data to lead my research rather than to be bound to codes that would
determine the conclusions drawn from my data.
My reading of Butler (1992) confirmed my dilemma. Butler (1992)
referred to “the effort to colonize and domesticate these theories under the
sign of the same, to group them synthetically and masterfully under a single
rubric, a simple refusal to grant the specificity of these positions, an excuse
not to read, and not to read closely?” (p. 5). This led me to consider early
advice from an original member of my supervisory team. This supervisor
expressed to me frustration with studies that outlined a depth of theory
and then proceeded to outline how data were collected using a predeter-
mined formula (personal communication, 2011). There was a disconnec-
tion shown between theory and method that I sought to avoid.
My reading of Butler (1992) and this consideration of earlier advice
placed me at a crossroad in the maze. The decision needed to be made
either to ignore what I was reading and continue as I was, or to let the
reading take me on a different path. I made the decision to disregard
hermeneutic phenomenology. This disrupted all previously held decisions
regarding methodology and method, which required further reading to
clarify my position.
The crossroad decision to disregard hermeneutic phenomenology
meant extending my knowledge of theory and methodology. One of my
supervisors sent to me a reading by Elizabeth St Pierre (2011) about post-
qualitative research that suggested the need to look for alternative meth-
74 Y. SALTON
ods of research. This reading opened my eyes to the consideration that

research methodology and method could come from the process rather
than dictating the process. Therefore, instead of just applying models
of research, methods and designs that had already been constructed, I
decided that the theory would be the focus that would guide the method
and methodology of the research.
The realisation was that I could let the theory lead. This is not to say
that this will happen in all research, but it was especially relevant to my
PhD study, given that I was engaging in understanding the teacher self
and philosophical and psychological perspectives of self. This meant that
understanding self, both teacher and researcher, became the basis of what
and how data were collected, and how those data were analysed. The end
result was that in my study the data were collected through conversations
with current teachers organised around the possible selves theory (Markus
and Nurius 1986), which is a psychological theory that suggests that indi-
viduals have more than one self. I engaged in four conversations with each
of the five teachers about their past, present, and future selves, as well as
what they saw as disrupting their views of themselves. In addition, the
use of diffracted analysis (Harraway, 1992), which looked for interference
rather than for replication, was determined through the construction of
the theory chapter as an alternative to reflection.
Part of this lesson, of letting the data lead, was the importance of being
flexible but being honest in relation to my philosophical position. When I
was attempting to let the methodology and method lead, I became caught
up in the structures of method. This made the process of research diffi-
cult when my philosophical position was constantly in flux. The difficulty
in pinning down my researcher self made working in the structures of
method untenable. I needed a method that was flexible, a method that was
becoming, not fixed or closed.
Letting the data lead and seeking a method that is becoming moved me
out of deterministic thinking. St Pierre and Pillow (2000) explained the dif-
ference between determinist and non-determinist methods and discussed
these in relation to the game of “chess” compared with the game of “Go”.
Think of the spaces of the game of chess and the chess pieces themselves that are
defined by a coded interiority. Chess pieces are like subjects who have an intrin-
sic agency, and their movement in space is defined in advance. The relationship
between chess pieces and space is thus structural and, as Deleuze and Guattari
(1987/1980) say, the point of the game of chess is a “question of arranging a
closed space for oneself” (p. 353), an impenetrable space. On the other hand,
think of the smooth nomad space of the game of Go. Go pieces have no intrin-
sic properties, only situational ones. They are anonymous, collective, and non-
subjective with no inherent agency. They have no coded interiority, only a milieu
of exteriority, and rather than moving from one closed space to another, they
array themselves in an open space and may spring up anywhere on the board at
any time. Their movement is “perpetual, without aim or destination, without
departure or arrival” (Deleuze and Guattari 1987/1980, p. 353). They know
no closed space. (St Pierre and Pillow 2000, pp. 263, 264)
The application of this comparison between chess and Go and the choice of
research method moved me from thinking about categorisations to framing
data. What this meant was that I felt that I could let go of labelling data,
which allowed the conclusions drawn from the analysis of the data to become
something that is not able to be predetermined. This became a turning point
in my journey through the research maze, which has had an influence on the
direction of my research. It has also meant that a research methods chapter is
continually a work in progress until the data analysis is complete.
A further lesson here is that the distinction among data, analysis and the-
ory does not have to be disconnected. For what are data, what is analysis and
what is theory is not always able to be separated, as they can all inform one
another. In my study the data collected and the order of the conversations
were informed by theory. The analysis was conducted through the theoris-
ing of conversations, with the end result being a chapter for each participant
rather than separate data, analysis and discussion chapters. Letting go of pre-
determined categorisations of data allowed me to move into the open spaces
of my researcher self, which allowed the data and theory to lead rather than
the methodology, which from my experience was a restrictive space.
RENEGOTIATING THE VIEW OF THE MAZE

The journey through the maze of research provided an opportunity for
me to develop my understanding of not just particular methods but
also their methodological couplings. This was evident from the learning
that focused on the need to read more and more deeply in order to under-
stand methodology and method in a way that seasoned researchers do,
and to position myself in such a way that I could explore theory and phi-
losophy as well as viewing methodology and method differently.
As I navigated through the maze of method-ideology, I determined
that all experiences were not, in hindsight, roadblocks, but instead a neces-
76 Y. SALTON
sary part of the process of research. Too often as a beginning researcher, I

thought that I knew it all and any counterpoints were distractors from the
main event, my research. However, the opposite is true. All counterpoints
and questioning of research allow me to explore my own thinking further
and to confirm, reject or move forward in my philosophical and method-
ological understanding of method and research. A further lesson connected
with this was that I needed to know my audience and the philosophical basis
of what I am engaging with. It is not enough to have a superficial under-
standing of self and the decisions that I make; it is necessary to give enough
time to explore the researcher self, given the considerable influence that it
has on one’s research practice.
Each part of the journey has contributed to the development of the
researcher self. The researcher self is influenced by everything experienced,
read, critiqued and questioned. Experiences both within and beyond the
research contribute to the decisions that a researcher makes. This was also
true in relation to how I dealt with the data in my research and the resul-
tant lessons where sometimes choices were not to make a choice and not
to impose deterministic ideology on the process of research.
Each of these lessons in the maze has contributed and brought me full
circle to my opening statement that research is a journey, one that is our
own but that is influenced by everything around us. The journey is not a
linear development but one with twists and turns, and with challenges and
moments of inspiration. To understand the journey of research better, we
need to renegotiate our view of the maze. Rather than viewing the maze
as a puzzle to be solved, we need to view the maze as an arrangement of
experiences that provide a framework for understanding the research pro-
cess as a series of decisions and choices.
It is the choices that are made in the research maze that determine the
significance of the research and the influence that the research will have
on others. For research is both public and personal. It is public because
research is reported and utilised by anyone in the public domain. Yet
research is intensely personal because the choices in research are deter-
mined by the philosophical lenses that the researcher uses. It is for this
reason that there are philosophical and theoretical challenges in research
that are faced by beginning researchers as they navigate the maze.
The lessons in the maze are distinctly personal. Everything that inter-
acts with us influences who we are as researchers. Understanding this
moved my research into the public arena. By making my lessons public in
this chapter, I hope that other beginning researchers entering the research
maze will find the courage to question their own positions. In addition,
I hope that you begin to question the positions of others and continue
through the maze, viewing roadblocks as incentives to move forward in
your exploration of your researcher selves.
CONCLUSION
The writing of this chapter has been a vehicle for clarity about my jour-
ney through the research maze. The lessons that I have articulated were
revealed only by documenting my research journey. For beginning
researchers, reading this chapter hopefully provides insight into the con-
flict and roadblocks that we put in our own way. Acknowledging these
roadblocks and accepting others’ perspectives are ways of moving forward.
However, research requires journeying into uncharted territory. This
requires us to bring everytning into question, even our own perspectives.
The research journey is not a process that can be rushed. The end
product may seem to be a completed thesis, but it is actually about the
process of developing as a critical researcher, one who is willing to navi-
gate through others’ viewpoints to consolidate her or his own perspec-
tive. The lessons learnt in the research maze start the process of creating
the researcher. There is no shortcut to this and, in the words of seasoned
researchers, if it were easy everyone would be doing it. Embrace the maze
and all that it affords you.
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Press.
CHAPTER 5
Navigating the Scholarship of Integration:

Insights from a Maze
Jay Somasundaram, Prue Howard, and Rob H. Reed
INTRODUCTION
Historically, scholars were generalists, with expertise across all disciplines.
We are seeing today, however, a plethora of sophisticated disciplines, each
with its own language, culture and norms, with depth that takes years,
even decades to master. Yet, to transcend today’s problems, we need solu-
tions that combine the insights from these multiple disciplines: the schol-
arship of integration, as Boyer (1990) aptly named it.
This chapter, through reflecting on and drawing from one such jour-
ney of integration, explores the theoretical approach and the two skills of
multiplicity and precision: multiplicity as the ability to appreciate and even
accept differing perspectives easily and quickly; and precision as the desire
for exactness. Too often, research appears to apply only one of these skills
but not the other. These skills are complementary, perhaps even contra-
dictory. Multiplicity requires a tolerance of, even cherishes, ambiguity;
J. Somasundaram ()• P. Howard

School of Engineering and Technology, CQUniversity, Rockhampton, QLD,
Australia
R.H. Reed
CQUniversity, Rockhampton, QLD, Australia

DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-39853-2_5
80 J. SOMASUNDARAM ET AL.
precision abhors it. These skills may each align with two different modes
of thinking, perhaps most aptly described as “diffuse” and “focused”.
The job of a scholar is not only to traverse mazes but also to explore
and map them. Exploration requires the skill of multiplicity—the ability to
see multiple paths and hidden crannies. Mapping requires the skill of pre-
cision. Research reports usually simplify the research process, presenting it
as being relatively linear and unambiguous. This chapter is written at two
levels. On one level, it explores a theoretical approach and two skills. On
the other, it invites the reader into a maze: a network of pathways.
OVERVIEW
As was noted above, research results are presented by media and with nar-
ratives that imply that the research process is linear and rational. There is
a subtle yet powerful urge to simplify, to reduce ambiguities. The research
process, however, is typically far more complex and nuanced, presenting
multiple avenues, interconnections, hidden paths, cul-de-sacs (or what
seem like dead ends)—a maze.
A major reason that the research process is perceived as being linear is
that the medium, whether it is printed or audio-visual, forces that logic.1
This chapter seeks to disrupt this logic by several methods. It uses footnotes
and endnotes, fonts, citations2 and voice3 to disrupt and suggest alterna-
tive paths. Many of the ideas in this chapter are interconnected, and we
do not necessarily explicitly draw attention to these relationships. Ideas
that challenge existing concepts can elicit strong emotions4: discomfort,
disagreement and perhaps anger. Or curiosity, excitement and the joy of
discovery. The reader is urged to approach this chapter with both openness
and scepticism. I do not seek to convince the reader, but rather to share
ideas for the reader to taste, dissect, digest, explore and come to her or his
own conclusions.
This chapter seeks to describe one such maze.5 It seeks to illuminate
and explore, not the research question or the results, but rather reflec-
tions from that research, which traversed discipline boundaries. As was
noted above, research that crosses disciplinary boundaries encourages two
complementary yet conflicting skills that are particularly valuable for those
undertaking research: multiplicity and precision. A popular dichotomy
that is similar is that between conceptual and analytical thinking. The best
research is strong in both, but all too often work that is presented appears
to be predominantly of one type or the other.
NAVIGATING THE SCHOLARSHIP OF INTEGRATION: INSIGHTS FROM A MAZE 81
There is increasing evidence from neuroscience that humans think in

two distinct ways, each with its own paths: the Default Mode Network
(DMN) and the Task Positive Network (TPN) (Takeuchi et al. 2012).
Different scholars have popularised these two contrasting methods of
thinking with different analogues, perhaps the most apt being the diffuse
and focused modes (Oakley 2014).6 These two modes may align with
the two skills discussed in the chapter. The skill of multiplicity could be
described as the ability to transcend boundaries and perceive ephemeral
links. The skill of precision then applies focused thinking, clarifying and
strengthening the relationship, while simultaneously testing it.
This book has been instigated by the metaphor of research as a maze.
Metaphors are “conceptual mapping” and “conceptual blending” across
two different domains, leading to creative thinking (de Mendoza Ibáñez
and Pérez Hernández 2011).7
THE MAZE
Figure 5.1 is a pictorial model of the maze that this chapter describes. In a
traditional chapter, it would have 10 sections, arranged in a linear, sequen-
tial hierarchy. The maze does imply a structure, but this structure is less
precise and ordered and more interconnected.
The maze that this chapter describes is based on research that seeks
to apply the perspective and methods of process engineering to the
undergraduate degree. It thus links education and engineering, two
disciplines with distinct, and somewhat conflicting, cultures. Different
terms are used to describe such scholarship—my preference is the
“scholarship of integration”.8 The terms “multidisciplinary research”,
“transdisciplinary research” and “interdisciplinary research” are also
used to describe work that crosses disciplines more frequently than “the
scholarship of integration”.9 The latter three terms are sometimes used
interchangeably, but with disciplinary preferences—the scholar must be
aware of multiplicity and apply precision.10
This chapter defines the scholarship of integration as research that, ide-
ally, seeks to draw together and integrate two culturally different disciplines.
This ideal runs the risk of being counter-productive. There is a risk that
integration papers over, downplays or ignores valid and useful differences.
Can two distinct perceptions, even of the same reality (such as light, with
its wave-particle duality), be adequately and comprehensively studied as an
integrated phenomenon using common metrics? Can, for example, multi-
Fig. 5.1 A pictorial model of the chapter. The text uses footnotes, fonts, cita-
tions and grammatical structures to suggest alternative pathways
perspective visual illusions (Fig. 5.2) be seen simultaneously, or does the

mind, however swiftly, need to switch between modalities?
THEORETICAL APPROACH: THEORY AND PRACTICE

I describe three components of the theoretical approach11 as being worthy
of further exploration owing to their particular value to this chapter: the
epistemology of institutional logics; a theoretical perspective of technology;
and a value system—an axiology (Hart 1971) of stakeholder recognition.
Institutional logics1 is perhaps better described as a meta-epistemology,
or an umbrella that recognises or even welcomes multiple perspectives.
Words that carry some of the flavour of a logic include “narrative”,
“creed”, “doctrine” and “ideology”. Institutional logics has two power-
Fig. 5.2 My wife and my mother-in-law. They are both in this picture—find
them (Hill 1915). The skill of perceiving multiple images requires the ability to
ignore detail and to explore alternatives. However, appreciating and engaging with
a perspective require attention to detail and a dismissal of alternatives
ful additions. First, both institutions and individuals hold multiple logics,
and apply different logics to different contexts (such as at home and in the
workplace), often without realising it. Second, logics are not purely men-
tal constructs but also physical constructs—we order our physical world to
strengthen and reinforce our mental constructs.
Such an epistemology is appealing to integrationists for at least three

reasons. First, it permits the acknowledgement of the “logics” of different
disciplines and it permits the avoidance of judgments about the superior-
ity of one over the other. Second, institutional logics is particularly useful
for studying the interactions among logics. The places where two logics
clash are often rich opportunities for research3. Third, it forces an aware-
ness of, as well as providing tools for, exploring the logics that shape and
influence the research: the logics of the researcher institution12 and those
of the researcher.13
Technology is used in its sense of “the application of scientific knowledge
for practical purposes, especially in industry” (Moore 2005), with science
in its broadest sense including both the physical and the human sciences.
“Practical application” implies that efficiency and effectiveness are essential
and important characteristics of any system being investigated. It also implies
precision but neither over-precision nor under-precision. Both engineering
and education are technologies by this definition, as is research, the topic to
which this book is devoted. In fact, most multi-disciplinary research is for
practical purposes, and therefore fits this definition of technology.
Particularly since challenging existing logics can be confrontational, it is
useful to explore and to state explicitly the values and the axiology (Hart
1971) that inform the research.
The axiology can be described as having three dimensions: beauty, eth-
ics and passion. The first dimension, the beauty of a solution (or a system)
is the relative efficiency with which it achieves the desired outcome(s).
While this definition of beauty appears precise, it is difficult, perhaps
impossible, to measure in practice. First, the assessment of a system must
take into account the development, operation and retirement costs of the
alternatives. Second, it is insufficient to assess the costs and benefits in
financial terms only: social and environmental impact is also part of the
equation. This dimension links with the central tenet of the logic of eco-
nomics—the quest for efficient production.
The second dimension, the ethics of a decision, is that it is made by the
stakeholders (Mitchell et al. 1997; Somasundaram et al. 2013) affected by
the solution, each with a voice commensurate to the effect of the decision
on that stakeholder.14 This dimension links with the central tenet of the
logic of egalitarianism.
The third dimension, passion or motivation, is that of the scholar—the
quest for knowledge, wherever it may lead.
PRECISION: A MATTER OF DEFINITION

Every discipline has its own specialised terms, much as different cultures
have languages and metaphors. There is, of course, a strong argument for
this specialisation: it allows a precise meaning to be conveyed.
However, this specialised language has significant disadvantages. First,
as described earlier with regard to terms such as “transdisciplinary”, the
definitions may vary even within a discipline. As illustrated previously, it
serves a gatekeeping function, either deliberately or subconsciously, to
exclude those not belonging to the group.
Even when definitions are known and explicitly stated (and easily acces-
sible, such as in a glossary), unfamiliar terms do cause an increase in cognitive
load. Furthermore, it is possible that the effect is more exponential than lin-
ear: that opaqueness increases dramatically when the language becomes more
specialised. My own experience provides an excellent illustration: I enjoyed
mathematics in high school, where all the equations used the English alpha-
bet, but at university suddenly all the equations used Greek: ψ; ϕ; δ; λ; μ …….
It was not that the underlying meaning was more complex (it was a shorthand
to represent variables and constants), but that cognitive load was being wasted
recognising unfamiliar squiggles. The instinctive recognition that the subject
was being made harder than it needed to be was further demotivating.
In creative writing, one is advised to use synonyms as repeatedly using
the same word shows a paucity of vocabulary and bores the reader. With
technical words, on the other hand, while different words may have the
same meaning, word substitution may create confusion for a reader vainly
looking for subtleties where none are intended.
The final issue is words that are actually confusing: that their meaning
in common usage is sufficiently different from the technical meaning to be
even misleading. A good example comes from the discipline of statistics15:
it is not uncommon to find results, both in scholarly and popular works,
described as “significant”. In everyday usage, “significant” means that the
factor being discussed is important—that it has, if not a primary, at least
an important, relationship. However, in statistics, the term “significant”
simply means that the factor is not random, even if the effect is miniscule.
The actual strength of the significance may not be given, or it is sometimes
hidden in Greek equations.16
A fitting conclusion to this section is Australian comedian Shaun
Micallef’s incisive analysis of imprecision as a political tool: “Weasel Words
and Distraction” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gvDmqqSP5jk).
MULTIPLICITY: THE ART OF SCEPTICISM

The term “scepticism” has recently gained some notoriety, being asso-
ciated with those who question the scientific consensus about climate
change (Hoffman 2011). Even the common definition of a sceptic-
“a person inclined to question or doubt accepted opinion” (Stevenson
2010)-implies a deserter or an apostate, one who rejects the community.
But this chapter uses the term to mean a state of mind that suspends judg-
ment and investigates (Vogt 2014). Perhaps, for a true scholar, it manifests
itself as an endless curiosity.
Scepticism carries an enhanced risk for the disciplines of technology: the
disciplines that apply science to real-world problems (Stevenson 2010).
The real world is full of complexity and contradictions, and it is far easier
to ignore contradictions.
A useful paradigm perceiving this dilemma is Perry’s (1999) model of
intellectual and ethical development. Perry’s model classifies individuals
evolving intellectually in nine stages, with the first stage where one believes
in black or white, right or wrong, and the final stages where one accepts
not only multiplicity but also commitment: “The student experiences the
affirmation of identity among multiple responsibilities and realizes com-
mitment as an ongoing, unfolding activity through which he expresses his
life style” (p. 11).
Willingham (2009), in a chapter describing how to think like scientists,
uses an episode from the medical drama House to illustrate the process.
The protagonist, a doctor, develops a diagnosis and runs tests to prove it.
When the results are negative, he moves to another diagnosis and repeats
the process until the correct diagnosis is achieved. The ability to discard a
previous opinion, particularly when data are ambiguous, requires a mind-
set that avoids the trap of confirmation bias: our propensity to interpret
information in ways that support our existing beliefs.
Two other toolsets are perhaps particularly useful for a scholar charting
multiplicity. The first, discussed earlier, is institutional logics, with its tools
for exploring the interactions of multiple logics: the science of discourse
politics.
Mathematics, the language of precision, has been called the queen of
sciences. For the scholar of multiplicity, the queen of sciences is perhaps
statistics: the language of probability and confidence intervals—the lan-
guage of ambiguous precision.
CONCLUSION
Readers may wonder why I use the singular pronoun when the chapter
claims to have been authored by three. This chapter is the product of a com-
munity of scholars, of whom only a very few are cited. The editors, reviewers
and co-authors, particularly Patrick Danaher, seeded, nurtured and pruned
this maze. Dave Somasundaram and Arjuna Somasundaram, somewhat out-
side this circle, made their own contributions, with incisive criticism and
the production of Fig. 5.1. But mostly the maze you perceive in this chapter
is your product, your interpretation. This chapter is a composite of many
voices, many logics–not fully integrated but strands, navigable paths.
The ideas expressed in this chapter are not held out to be truths accepted
by all of but that the ideas are defensible and interesting. Citations are pro-
vided, not to claim that another scholar expressed the exact same truth,
but that the thoughts are similar.17
I propose multiplicity, but I provide dichotomies. My only defence is
an anecdote, an analogy. Several decades ago, New Zealand was in the
process of implementing a policy of biculturalism, a recognition of the
dominant Anglo-Saxon culture and the Indigenous Maori. When I ques-
tioned why we weren’t acknowledging a multicultural approach, I was
informed that biculturalism was the most urgent need, and once achieved
would lead to multiculturalism. Scholarship requires many skills, but this
chapter proposes that multiplicity and precision are critical, and too often
one or the other dominates.
NOTES
1. A logic is:
the socially constructed, historical patterns of cultural symbols and mate-

rial practices, including assumptions, values, and beliefs, by which indi-
viduals and organizations provide meaning to their daily activity, organize
time and space, and reproduce their lives and experiences. (Thornton et al.
2012, p. 2)
2. Citations serve multiple purposes, three of which are of particular

relevance to this chapter. First, citations are a door, a passageway to
another maze. Second, they are a means of triangulation (and the
best triangulations are those that do not perfectly confirm an idea,
but instead provide a subtly different flavour). And third, it is a

formal acknowledgment of gratitude for some of the scholars who
have influenced me.
3. Different logics prefer different styles and grammars of voices
(Potgieter and Smit 2008). My own preference is to adapt the
ascetic guidance of Strunk and White (2000).
4. Institutions use a variety of techniques to prevent conflicting logics
causing disruption. Thornton et al. (2012) discuss: (i) decoupling;
(ii) rituals of confidence and good faith; and (iii) the taboo of
inspection as methods that institutions use to avoid facing conflicts
in their logics.
5. The chapter applies Harvey’s (2013) proposition that self-
investigation is a means of transparent and ethical knowledge
production.
6. Daniel Kahneman (2011), a psychologist who was awarded the
Nobel Prize in Economics for his work in behavioural economics,
uses the terms “slow” and “fast thinking”. Iain McGilchrist (2012),
a psychiatrist, in his widely ranging analysis of Western culture and
philosophy, uses right and left brain. Barbara Oakley graduated and
worked as a linguist, but now teaches industrial engineering. It may
not be a coincidence that Oakley, Kahneman and McGilchrist are
multi-disciplinarians. Oakley (2014) is a superior introduction for
those interested in learning and applying these modes of thinking.
7. Metaphors are integrators of disparate logics. Analogies, by con-
trast, apply precision; they analyse the logic of one term and seek
to apply its principles in another domain.
8. Boyer (1990) coined the term the “scholarship of integration”
while differentiating the work of academics (the professoriate) in a
special report to the Carnegie Institute for the Advancement of
Teaching. He distinguished four scholarships: the scholarships of
research, integration, application and teaching:
In proposing the scholarship of integration, we underscore the need for

scholars who give meaning to isolated facts, putting them in perspective. By
integration, we mean making connections across the disciplines, placing the
specialties in larger context, illuminating data in a revealing way, often
educating nonspecialists, too. In calling for a scholarship of integration, we
do not suggest returning to the “gentleman scholar” of an earlier time, nor
do we have in mind the dilettante. Rather, what we mean is serious, disci-
plined work that seeks to interpret, draw together, and bring new insight to
bear on original research. (pp. 18–19)
9. A Google scholar search (on 21 February 2015) of the terms pro-

vides some indication of changing relative popularity, with interdisci-
plinary research traditionally the most popular, but with the term
“transdisciplinary research” gaining popularity (please see Table 5.1).
10. An examination of some popular general and discipline-specific
dictionaries (Table 5.2) suggests that:
Different scholars, though, do propose distinct differences between
the terms. Jessup (2007), for example, considers the term “inter-
disciplinary team” as referring to a specialised healthcare method
that meets certain criteria: “The patient-history taking, assessment,
diagnosis, intervention and short- and long-term management
goals are conducted by the team, together with the patient, at the
one time. The patient is intimately involved in any discussions
regarding their condition or prognosis and the plans about their
care”. She tests knowledge of this definition in employment
interviews.
Dyer (2003), on the other hand, describes the “transdisci-
plinary” team as a more evolved approach, with “a certain amount
of boundary blurring”, “cross-training” and “devaluing of turf
issues” (p. 187).
11. Crotty (1998) suggests a laddered framework of four principal ele-
ments. The framework for this chapter is described in Table 5.3.
Table 5.1 Changing patterns of usage

Search term Works returned Works returned Ratio (relative
(about) – any time (about) – since change in
2011 usage)
“Scholarship of 2,340 662 0.28

integration”
“Multidisciplinary 114,000 16,800 0.15
research”
“Transdisciplinary 14,400 6280 0.44
research”
“Interdisciplinary research” 375,000 21,600 0.06
Table 5.2 Dictionaries demonstrate the ambiguity of these terms

Source Multidisciplinary Transdisciplinary Interdisciplinary
Oxford Dictionary Combining or involving No entry Relating to more

of English several academic than one branch of
(Stevenson 2010) disciplines or knowledge: an
professional interdisciplinary
specialisations in an research programme
approach to a topic or
problem
Merriam-Webster’s Many: much Interdisciplinary Involving two or
Collegiate : more than two more academic,
Dictionary (Multi-) scientific, or artistic
(Merriam-Webster areas of knowledge:
Inc, 1996) involving two or
more disciplines
New Oxford Prefix denoting many or None Prefix denoting
Dictionary for several (e.g. multiaccess, between or mutual
Scientific Writers multicellular, (e.g. intercalary,
and Editors (Isaacs multinucleate, intercellular,
et al. 2009) multiplex) intercostal, interface,
interglacial,
internode,
interstellar)
Concise Medical Multidisciplinary team (trans – ) prefix None
Dictionary (Martin (MDT) – a group of denoting through
2010) health-care professionals or across.
with different areas of Example:
expertise who unite to transurethral
plan and carry out (through the
treatment of complex urethra)
medical conditions
Table 5.3 A laddered framework of four principal elements

Epistemology Institutional logics
Theoretical perspective Technology
Methodology Reflection
Methods Triangulation
12. Scholars with pupils structured similarly to that of craftsmen and

trainees had existed previously, but universities as major institu-
tions characterised by corporate autonomy and intellectual free-
dom developed during the medieval period by exploiting the clash
between the Pope and kings. The word “Universitas”, previously
standing for a guild of master and students, came to mean an insti-
tution of learning (Enders 2006; Perkin 2006).
Universities gradually lost power and relevance during the period
leading to the industrial revolution and the age of enlightenment.
They were tied to the older seven traditional liberal arts—gram-
mar, rhetoric, dialectic, music, arithmetic, geometry and astron-
omy–rather than to the new sciences of their era. Many of the
discoveries in science were made outside universities, as the univer-
sities relied on passing on existing knowledge with very little active
research.
This changed drastically, led by two poorer European countries,
Germany and Scotland, as they embarked on deploying academics
and structures with single-discipline specialisations as a cost-saving
tactic. Specialised scholars were able to conduct research, and the
modern research university was born (Perkin 2006). The Australian
Bureau of Statistics (2008) now specifies 1238 research domains.
The industrial revolution had its own effects on society. The logic
of technology, by delivering the reward of cheap material goods,
was imprinted (Marquis and Tilcsik 2013) in the social psyche.
Three linked economic logics were also perceived as contributing
to the material success of recent human history. The logic of capi-
talism (Wallerstein 1999) is based on the idea that money or capital
is one critical resource of production, and perhaps should even be
considered the most dominant (i.e., wealth as a determinant of
social worth and standing). This logic has evolved, linking with the
ideas of markets (Gumport 2000) to promote the success of the
most efficient producer, and with globalisation (Marginson and
van der Wende 2009) that expands markets across political
borders.
Another powerful logic is that of egalitarianism (fuelled by world-
wide increases in education and wealth). Egalitarianism is an idea
that runs through other logics, challenging elitist power. A final
logic of interest that promotes an alternative organisational power
structure is one that evolved from traditional crafts, and that is now
seen in the professions. In universities, this alternative structure is

the craft of the scholar, the profession of the academic (Enders
2006).
13. My history with universities began in the mid 1970s, with my
undergraduate degree in engineering entitled a Bachelor of
Technology. The institution was one of five Indian Institutes of
Technology, this one funded with German aid, and with academic
ties to Germany. It was as much a research institution as a teaching
organisation, with almost as many postgraduate and research stu-
dents as undergraduates, and a staff to student ratio of about 1:2
(although our classes typically numbered 30–50 students).
I chose engineering simply because that was what those of my gen-
eration and culture did. The academically abled first sought admis-
sion to engineering or medicine. I fainted at the sight of blood, so
engineering it was.
I neither entered nor left university with any great feelings for
engineering, either love or hatred. Yet it was an intense, residential,
five-year program, and the culture is likely to have been deeply
imprinted on me. Nevertheless, I have always sought a liberal edu-
cation. I read widely, both fiction and non-fiction. I have no talent
for the fine arts, however, which I regret.
My next major immersion in university culture was almost 25 years
later. In the intervening years, I first worked as an engineer and
I also worked in other professions and several countries with dis-
tinctly different cultures. I continued my education, though, by
both systematic (Somasundaram et al. 2006) and ad hoc means. It
included postgraduate university programs in computer science
and public policy. However, as a part-time student, while I absorbed
the logics of these disciplines, I did not really engage with univer-
sity culture.
My re-immersion in university culture occurred when I joined a
regional Australian university as an internal auditor. Internal audit
is often not a popular profession, either with the auditors them-
selves or with those being audited. But I found it an excellent way
of exploring how organisations really work, of watching the poli-
tics, but still being able to remain relatively independent and objec-
tive. The auditor’s role is often misunderstood. It is not simply to
make judgments but rather to listen (from the Latin auditus: hear-
ing [Moore 2005]) and to triangulate different perspectives (audi-

tors call it “reconciliation”). After exactly 10 years, I left the
university as an employee to pursue scholarship, which was a some-
what similar role: relative independence in searching for truth
wherever it may lead; an ingrained scepticism; an awareness of
complexity, of the existence of multiple perspectives; and ultimately
uncertainty as to whether such a thing as truth even exists. My log-
ics provide multiple perspectives on mazes. The auditor sees a
maze as a puzzle to be signposted and mapped. The engineer
wishes to bulldoze a straight line from beginning to end and build
a highway. The scholar’s perspective sees a pleasurable opportu-
nity: to explore the nooks and crannies, to search for hidden pas-
sageways and secret traps, preferably with like-minded companions
(Wenger 2011).
14. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder” (Hungerford and Tardieu
1882).
15. Perhaps statistics is the most transdisciplinary of all disciplines,
since in many disciplines scholars with little knowledge of statistics
will have difficulty critically evaluating much of the literature of
their own discipline.
16. When does imprecision cross over to deliberate deception, since
significant results are what make the results attractive? “Lies,
damn lies and statistics” (Twain 1907, p. 471, ascribed to
Disraeli).
17. In particular, I apply logics more broadly than I suspect Thornton
et al. (2012) would prefer; Boyer (1990) perceived the scholarship
of discovery as preeminent; and Crotty (1998) may be uncomfort-
able with the concept of an umbrella epistemology. My triangula-
tions are not exact matches, but nevertheless both the similarities
and the differences are interesting.
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PART 2
Navigating Mazes in and with

Specific Research Methods
Francis Gacenga
INTRODUCTION
The chapters in this section explore transformations experienced by
researchers making sense of methodological complexities encountered
while negotiating research journeys. The authors describe complexities
such as negotiating researcher-practitioner identity, the quantitative-
qualitative methods dichotomy, research authenticity, multiple realities
in networked communities and the application of metaphors in finding
meaning in research projects.
In Chap. 6, Meenach contends with the challenges of a practitioner
identity undertaking academic research and she describes the identity con-
flict in a theatre-based doctoral research context. The author argues that
in order to reach a resolution a new dual identity of a practitioner and
a researcher self was crafted to navigate the research journey by apply-
ing methods in research underpinned by practice. The author details the
thought processes and learning from navigating the research journey with
her new identity. Meenach proposes practice-based research informed by
an understanding of the practitioner’s relationship with research.
F. Gacenga
Office of Research Development, University of Southern Queensland
98 F. GACENGA
Burke, in Chap. 7, describes a different perspective on the challenge of

applying research methods. In this chapter, the author uses the metaphor
of the maze to explain the uncertainty of the final outcome and the chal-
lenges faced in selecting methods and paths to take in doctoral research.
Burke like Meenach presents a transformative journey where the research
and the researcher are shaped by the decisions and methods selected.
Burke is motivated by the prospect of producing authentic research that
benefits the participants in the study. Both chapters attempt to navigate
the theory versus practice divide in research by selecting methods that are
acceptable to practice and that can withstand academic scrutiny. Burke
argues that the dead-ends experienced in the failed application of methods
were informative and enriching as they provided key turning points, lead-
ing ultimately to ways out of the research maze.
In Chap. 8 Donovan delves into the debate about the relative mer-
its of quantitative and qualitative research methods and provides insights
from a mixed method research approach. The author describes navigating
research as entering and exiting a series of mazes, starting with the lit-
erature review maze, followed by, in the author’s particular case, a mixed
methods maze and culminating in a write-up maze. The research journey
transforms Donovan into a mixed-methods researcher. The author advises
that researchers should find their own ways through the mazes encoun-
tered in research.
In Chap. 9 the exploration of the centrality of methodological naviga-
tion in research journeys continues but takes a slightly different direction
by introducing the role of context in research. Fasso et al. argue that
qualitative research is conducted in the context of multiple realities that
can be better understood and navigated by applying the social network
analysis method. The authors apply the research maze metaphor to a
research case study but unlike the earlier chapters does not describe the
journey as being transformative for the researchers.
In Chap. 10 Naidoo explores the diversity of metaphors that a research
community employs to characterise their research projects. The author
argues that metaphors are social representations applied in research by
researchers to become familiar with the unfamiliar. Naidoo applies a
social representations and conceptual metaphor theory framework for
metaphorical analysis and finds that researchers objectify their under-
standing of their research practice by anchoring it to familiar metaphors
and images. The chapter describes the application of the metaphor of
NAVIGATING MAZES IN AND WITH SPECIFIC RESEARCH METHODS 99
research as a maze or a bridge as a method of making sense of the research

journey. As with the first three chapters in the section, the author finds
that the research metaphor and method used will influence the research
journey and transform the researcher.
Overall the chapters in this section explore contextual, conceptual,
methodological and transformational challenges and opportunities in
research and the aim of the authors is to stimulate reflection by research-
ers navigating mazes in and with specific research methods.
CHAPTER 6
Practice-led Research: Creating, Embodying

and Shifting My Understanding of Research
Bernadette Meenach
INTRODUCTION
When I began my PhD project, my goal was to a write dissertation about
three key areas of interest in my professional life as a lecturer within an
actor training course. The dissertation would analyse the evolution of
actor training in Australia over the past decade, highlight the methodolo-
gies and terminologies used by the actor trainers, and determine whether
a distinctly Australian actor training is emerging. The study aimed to
identify the actor trainers by name, school and training approach. To
some, this may appear ethically problematic but I was aware the partici-
pants wished their own work to be discussed in the same manner the-
atre historians discuss European, American and Asian trainers such as
Stanislavski, Strasberg and Suzuki. As actor trainers, they identified as
practitioners rather than academics or researchers. Several believed they
needed someone else to write their work down because they would never
do it themselves. My PhD project had the potential to put their work on
the map, so to speak.
B. Meenach ( )
USQ, School of Arts & Communication (Theatre) Toowoomba, Toowoomba,
QLD, Australia

DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-39853-2_6
102 B. MEENACH
Like many of the project participants, I identified as a practitioner

rather than an academic or researcher. My practical work as an actor and
voice coach in the theatre industry led to my involvement in actor train-
ing within the tertiary sector, not my research profile. Trainers such as
Davies (personal communication, September 26, 2001, lines 208–220)
had taught me to believe the best actor trainers are those who continue
to practice—that is, perform in film, television, radio and theatre; direct
productions; coach other actors in rehearsal or on set in collaboration with
the director. Dispelling the old cliché “those who can’t do teach”, my
mantra coming into the academy became “those who can do teach best”.
Yet, when it came to developing a PhD project, I ignored my background
as a practitioner, as a doer, concerned that a practice-led inquiry would
not be perceived as academically rigorous. I acknowledged that scholarly
investigation into performance had been growing (Hadley 2013, p. 4);
however, in my experience of the tertiary sector I had heard the loud cry
of “publish or perish”! not “perform and prosper”!
Determined to pursue what can be posited as a more traditional quali-
tative research paradigm, methodology and methods, I began collecting
and analysing data regarding the practice of other people. The partici-
pants’ discussions of their actor training methodologies and terminologies
helped me begin to articulate the nature of Australian actor training. I
recognised that I was evolving into a biographer: writing the life story
of the actor trainers through the lens of their training practices. Instead
of reveling in this discovery, I questioned whether the area of life writing
would force me to stray from what I considered my true path. To alleviate
my apprehensions about spending the next six years honing my skills as a
professional biographer rather than as a professional actor and trainer, I
procrastinated about the project and accepted acting jobs. My supervisor’s
advice to avoid acting until I had completed the project only intensified
my misgivings about the direction the project was taking me. I felt that
my identity as a practitioner was struggling with the identity I was try-
ing to build as a researcher. The actor trainers who had come before me
rejected the researcher identity, preferring to remain dedicated to practice
throughout their careers. As a member of a new generation of trainers,
however, I was challenged to accept the researcher identity if I wanted to
remain relevant within the tertiary sector. The researcher identity was not
a comfortable fit.
When I willingly entered the research maze, I endeavoured to take the
path that the poet Robert Frost (1920) may describe as more travelled. I
PRACTICE-LED RESEARCH: CREATING, EMBODYING AND SHIFTING MY... 103
grabbed a pair of walking boots that I had seen others wear for such an
adventure and off I went, trying to follow in their footsteps. With each step
down this path I discovered others’ knowledge but the further I walked
the more my boots began to rub. After two semesters of travelling I finally
stopped to allay my discomfort, only to discover that my boots were the
wrong size. In this moment, I realised that to negotiate my way through
the maze I needed to choose a pair of boots that fit me. A pair of boots to
fit a dual identity: that of both my practitioner self and my researcher self.
Only then would I have the enthusiasm to move forward in my travels.
BUT I DON’T HAVE A QUESTION: ENTHUSIASM VERSUS

THE QUESTION
Denzin and Lincoln (2005, p. 22) state “all research is interpretive: it

is guided by the researcher’s set of beliefs and feelings about the world
and how it should be studied”. They explain that once the researcher
has determined their interpretive paradigm a specific strategy of inquiry
will provide a clear focus on the researcher’s question. As a practitioner,
Shakespeare (Wells and Taylor 1988, p. 669) taught me that the “play is
the thing”: the text is on the printed page and my job is to give it actual,
believable, physical form within a limited rehearsal period. The practitio-
ner’s overriding question is: how do I realise this play in three weeks? My
PhD project seemed a very different beast as there was no existing text to
realise. The notion of a “research question” thereby appeared removed
from how I worked as a practitioner. Ironically, to me, my researcher self
took the lead at this point, and off I went in search of literature to help me
out of this quandary.
A review of the literature confirmed that it was not only normal but
also expected that I would not begin my research inquiry with a specific
problem or question. Haseman (2006, pp. 3–4) states:
Many practice-led researchers do not commence a research project with a

sense of ‘a problem’. Indeed they may be led by what is best described as
‘an enthusiasm of practice’; something which is exciting, something which
may be unruly… They tend to ‘dive in’, to commence practicing to see what
emerges.
This made sense to me. In abandoning my original PhD project, I knew

I still wanted to explore actor training and biography but I just wanted
104 B. MEENACH
to get in a rehearsal studio and do something. I did not know what that
something was but my years of experience as a practitioner told me that
something would emerge. Gray (1996, p. 3) explains this desire to head
to the studio is not just my practitioner self procrastinating about the task
of researching but is actually research “which is initiated in practice, where
questions, problems, challenges are identified and informed by the needs
of practice and practitioners…” Moreover, rather than trying to grapple
with a more traditional qualitative research strategy to answer the ques-
tions that emerge from my studio activities, Gray (1996, p. 3) advises
“the research strategy is carried out through practice, using predominantly
methodologies and specific methods familiar to us practitioners”.
It would seem that I was being granted permission to start with my
enthusiasm for the act of practicing and allow questions and answers to
emerge from my practice. Releasing a great sigh of relief I borrowed from
the work of the US choreographer Deborah Hay (as cited in Albinger
2012, p. 94) and asked myself the question, “What if where I am is what I
need?” In response, I was able to confirm that my enthusiasm was driving
me towards an exploration of actor training, life stories and, significantly,
I needed to be doing it—that is, actually acting, not writing about only
acting and training.
All new boots take some time to get used to but if you wear them every
time you take a walk they begin to fit your form. When I put on my new
boots I didn’t know what path to take but by committing to walking fur-
ther into the maze they began to feel comfortable. And to my surprise, my
new boots started to lead me in the right direction.
SO WHERE TO NOW? A NARRATIVE OF PRACTICE BEGINS

TO TAKE SHAPE
The elders of my practice-led tribe told me it was all right to initiate

research through practice, through the things that excited me. My appre-
hension of practice-led research lingered, however, because I was having
trouble understanding how my PhD project would be distinguished from
my professional theatre-making and performing experiences: what would
make it research rather than just part of my normal job as a practitio-
ner? Hadley (2013, p. 27) alleviated my feelings, positing that a body of
knowledge regarding the field of practice-led inquiry has developed since
the 1990s and thereby terminology and case studies now exist “to describe
the research project and the approaches deployed in it, thus setting the
stage for the required level of rigour in the research”. My research design
began to take shape as I immersed myself in the terminology and case
studies. The most significant influence on my design emerged from engag-
ing with Live Research (Mercer et al. 2012), a collection of practice-led
research essays by recent Australian doctoral candidates undertaking this
type of research under current HDR regulations. Their up-to-the-minute
navigations of the research maze as practice-led researchers became a form
of Lonely Planet Guidebook for my PhD project.
Mercer and Robson (2012, p. 18) suggest there is no homogenous
approach available to the practice-led researcher. They also explain that the
research methods used may not necessarily be unique to the practice-led
field. The characteristic that does distinguish the practice-led researcher,
however, is that “the methods are underpinned by a pre-existing arts
practice”. This pre-existing practice, or what Stock (2007, p. 1) calls the
researcher’s “embodied practice” is what I had to trust as I moved away
from the first incarnation of my PhD project to the new practice-led ver-
sion. In the past, I perceived my way of working in the studio as obvious:
I was using strategies that any practitioner would use, however, I came
to understand that each practitioner has a different embodied practice
depending on their own training, professional experience and enthusiasm
of practice. I realised that by actually articulating my strategies, as I moved
into the studio, my theatre-making could produce new knowledge of a
standard the academy expects.
Like Murphy (2012a, p. 22), I recognise studio practice moves through
phases of gravitation (i.e. what you are intuitively drawn to), failures and
synthesis. With each phase you are “distilling the foci” of your work
(Murphy 2012a, p. 23). These phases are what I believe make studio work
invigorating: you feel that you are getting closer to what it is you are aim-
ing for even though you could not say what you were aiming for at the
commencement of the studio exploration. To keep the process manage-
able, periodic debriefs need to occur. In my experience, debriefs take place
with collaborators in an informal manner, usually at the pub, after several
hours in the studio. Murphy (2012a, p. 22) has assisted in formalising
this strategy: she suggests writing a “narrative of practice”. This story-
telling process, whereby the researcher becomes the “narrator of one’s
own practice” allows the researcher to make sense of the work, and in
terms of the research context, craft “one particular story out of the many
that could have been told” (Murphy 2012a, p. 21). Indeed, this chapter is
an example of my ongoing narrative of practice.
106 B. MEENACH
My pre-existing arts practice in theatre-making is articulated well by

Mercer (2009, p. 44) who speaks of flight and perching. By this she means
she flies when immersed in the making of creative work and she perches
when she is reflecting on the creative work. These flights and perchings
have generally taken place in my arts practice on a daily basis: I work
in the studio all day and spend all night thinking (and dreaming) about
the work. Fenton (2012, p. 35) describes these ongoing cycles of action
and reflection as “cleaning while you cook”. My embodied practice thus
already told me cycles of action and reflection are necessary in the creation
of quality theatre work. Mercer and Fenton, however, highlight how these
cycles are necessary in the research context to ensure the production of
a rigorous dissertation. Moreover, rather than rushing these cycles in the
limited time usually afforded me in my professional work, Mercer and
Fenton convinced me that the duration of a PhD research project allows
for more substantial periods of flight and perching.
Several contributors to the collection of essays in Live Research (Mercer
et al. 2012) admit the strategies they utilised did not become evident
until the final write up of their practice-led doctoral projects. Murphy
(2012a, p. 21), for instance, had completed the performance seasons and
was 40,000 words into the dissertation before she could articulate her
practice-led methodology. Their struggle to clearly articulate practice-
led strategies, which I immediately recognised as part of my unspoken
embodied practice, allowed me to confidently engage in initial studio
investigation and reflection with an understanding of how it could be
both practice and research. Their wisdom also empowered me to com-
bat the more traditional researchers who kept saying: “Well, once you
write your Literature Review and Methodology chapters you’ll be able to
get on with the practice”. Instinctively I knew it was impossible for me
to gather the majority of the literature I would need to make new the-
atre about actor training and biography prior to entering the studio. My
gut also told me that while I had a series of core embodied strategies, I
would only know all the methods and tools I would need for the project as
each cycle of the research progressed. Once again, this new generation of
PhD candidates confirmed what my body knew already. Murphy (2012a,
pp. 25–26, 2012b, p.169) warns that adhering too closely to dominant
epistemological paradigms may restrict embodied studio investigations
and thus limit the new knowledge able to emerge from theatre-making.
Cameron (2012, p. 17) confirms that practice-led researchers have a
“magpie bibliography” because they use the “shiny bits of other people’s
thinking for direction and instruction”. Fenton (2012, p. 45) advises that
“the work will tell you what it is” and that only through methodological
“playful trial and error” can we find the best methods and tools … to suit
any particular creative practice investigation’. He goes on to clarify then
that some methods will be “core” and others will be ‘‘disposable’’ accord-
ing to the ongoing needs of the research.
With the pioneers and the recent PhD candidates behind me I felt con-
fident enough in my dual role as practitioner and researcher to posit you
cannot separate the more theoretical concerns of the project from the
practical concerns. The practice will determine the direction of reading,
the discourses to be engaged with and the tools to be used, and in turn,
the discourses and tools will determine the direction of the studio prac-
tice. And to the well-meaning but somewhat condescending traditional
researchers I have encountered, I felt informed enough to say, respectfully,
“I am writing the chapters in accordance with the practice-led cycles of
action and reflection”.
Determined to venture further into the maze I set on down a path,
even though I had no guarantee it would lead me to the exit. I had a
new-found confidence in my boots. I also had a trusty knapsack that I
carried on my back. This knapsack was no ordinary knapsack. Oh no! It
was packed with handy things I had collected in my journeys outside the
maze. My instincts told me they could be useful to me on my new adven-
ture. This knapsack wasn’t jam-packed though. I had room in there to
store any new things I collected along the way that could help me. Taking
the advice of some young travellers I encountered, I knew I could always
throw some things away if I didn’t need them anymore. As I walked along
the path, I bumped into a few experienced journeymen who told me how
to survive the maze but I decided to trust my own sense of direction and
purpose instead.
ALLOWING THE PRACTICE TO LEAD: CYCLE 1 IN FULL

FLIGHT
So what does allowing the practice to lead the inquiry look like? How was
I to use my pre-existing practice, my embodied practice, to initiate the
research? Using Mercer’s terminology, how do I fly?
When my supervisor agreed to the use of a practice-led approach I
contemplated what was “niggling” me as a practitioner. I had recently
played the role of the actress Judy Garland in a production of Boy from
108 B. MEENACH
Oz (Enright 1998). During rehearsals and the performance season, I was

amazed at how many people would say to me: “Oh poor Judy, she had
such a terrible life”. This distressed me, as I hated to think one’s whole
life could be narrowed down to such a negative viewpoint. I found myself
defending Garland, explaining that we all have our ups and downs, and
reminding people of her impressive career, spanning vaudeville to the
innovation of television. This “niggle” seemed to be a perfect place to
start my practice.
My embodied practice is derived from training and experiences in dance,
singing and acting. The Stanislavski System (Barton 2009, pp. 110–145)
of acting underpins the way I approach any creative work. While the sys-
tem has evolved, through the work of trainers including Strasburg, Adler,
Meisner, Chekhov, Grotowski, Benedetti and Morris, one key element has
remained very important to all my creative endeavours: the magic if. The
magic if requires the actor to ask “what if” questions, such as “what if I
was in the situation that my character is in?”. “What if” questions assist the
actor find a truthfulness in performance. Moving into the studio I used
my embodied practice to ask the question: “what if I could create and
perform a live theatre production that tells Garland’s life story through
the lens of actor training?”. This question excited me. I would still be
investigating training and biography, and I could use a prominent histori-
cal figure from the entertainment industry to do so.
Once I started exploring Garland songs, dances and verbatim stories in
the studio, I was compelled to use another key strategy from Stanislavski’s
System: I had to ask myself the question, “what is my objective?”. For an
actor, this question helps determine what the character’s goal is, what they
want to achieve in the journey of the play. So I asked myself: what do I
want to achieve by creating and performing an original piece of biographi-
cal theatre? The answer to this question emerged slowly as I engaged in
my usual practices of dramaturgical research, character research and skills
preparation (see appendix). Over a period of weeks, I realised that my
objective was to use the lens of actor training and the genre of biographi-
cal theatre to deconstruct the tragedy narrative that has been imposed
upon a prominent female artist. Articulating this objective allowed me to
begin shaping the dramatic structure of the play. I began to know where
to edit and what additional content needed to be sourced and explored in
the studio in order to meet my goal.
A review of the literature suggests practice-led PhD projects usually
culminate in a public performance season after at least two years of inves-
tigation, creative development and informal showings. In a bold move, I

decided it would be advantageous to schedule a public performance season
prior to my confirmation. My first original theatre work to be performed
would thereby stand as a model of the biographical theatre genre to be
expanded upon throughout the duration of my candidacy. As soon as I
made this decision, another of Stanislavski’s key questions came to mind:
“what are my given circumstances?”. An actor asks this question to gain an
understanding of their character’s historical, environmental and personal
conditions. As a practice-led researcher, I used this question to ascertain
when, where and with whom I would produce the first biographical the-
atre work. A performance date was consequently set, a theatre venue was
booked, and a production team assembled.
Stanislavski’s given circumstances question focused the studio practice
immediately. The producers scheduled and marketed the play as part of
their monthly concert series. This meant the play needed to meet particu-
lar criteria: one hour in duration; marketable to their subscriber audience;
and resemble the form of a concert. Collaborating with a director, cho-
reographer, composer-accompanist and another actor, we embraced the
criteria in the studio. Rather than constraining the inquiry, our particular
given circumstances allowed the first biographical theatre work to emerge
as Ms Garland at Twilight. Feedback from audience surveys suggested
I had not entirely deconstructed the tragedy narrative but I had shifted
their understanding of Garland through learning about her actor training.
Thus, I created a model of biographical theatre that was partly successful
in achieving my objective. More significantly, it provided me with myriad
data to analyse in the oncoming perching, or reflection, cycle.
Waving goodbye to the experienced journeymen, I pulled my compass
from my knapsack. This compass had guided me in my other adventures so
I trusted it could help me now. Many a mile I travelled through the maze,
stopping to check for guidance from my compass whenever I needed to
assess my direction. Of course, my compass couldn’t tell me exactly where
the exit was, it wasn’t a GPS after all, but I knew it was leading me closer
to my final destination.
A MESSY ACT: THE CREATION OF NEW KNOWLEDGE

In the film Shakespeare in Love (1998), Geoffrey Rush’s character is asked
about how the show will go on, to which he replies, “I don’t know, it’s
a mystery”. Reflecting, or perching, upon my first period of flight, I do
110 B. MEENACH
know that the act of “relaying” between discourses produced the original
biographical theatre work Ms Garland at Twilight. Like Murphy (2012,
p. 169), I find Deleuze’s metaphor (as cited in Foucault and Bouchard
1980, p. 206) of the relay useful as it “suggests a knowledge endeavour
wherein the baton is always in a process of exchange between multiple
parts, rather than held only in one hand”. Thus, my studio practice was
in a constant exchange with my engagement with the literature I deemed
relevant. Murphy (2012b, p. 170) argues that because this engagement
with the literature “is always in a process of exchange with performance-
making, it is a different style of engagement to that which would occur
otherwise”. This difference, which may appear unruly, idiosyncratic, indi-
vidualistic (Haseman 2006, p. 4), or messy, to those outside the field of
practice-led research, allowed me to generate ideas and performance con-
cepts that would not have been possible if my engagement was limited to
one scholarly discourse.
To the average audience member, Ms Garland at Twilight was a fun
night out at the theatre whereby they experienced nostalgia for a time
passed and discovered that Garland “could actually be happy” (anony-
mous survey response, September 4, 2013). What they were unaware of
was that, as a practice-led researcher, I was “reporting research through
the outcomes and material forms of practice” (Haseman 2006, p. 4).
Behind the grease paint and the bright lights of the stage, a relay had
taken place. First, outside the studio, I engaged with literature regarding
the history and evolution of both biographical theatre and literary biog-
raphy. To support this investigation I read biographical plays and liter-
ary biographies. I also attended live theatre productions from the genre.
This process provided insight into the models of biographical theatre that
already existed and taught me the key strategies used by literary biogra-
phers. The knowledge gleaned from this process influenced the data col-
lection (i.e. the collection of Garland songs, dances and verbatim stories
to use in performance). It also confirmed that my aim to deconstruct the
tragedy narrative would provide my work with a point of difference from
narratives presented in existing Garland biographical theatre or literature.
Knowing that the format of the production needed to meet the pro-
ducer’s concert series criteria, I viewed hours of Garland-related concert
footage. I attended biographical theatre works that used the concert or
cabaret format, and I read literature about the crafting of cabaret shows.
This investigation provided insight into the dramatic structuring of the
work required to meet with an audience’s need for some form of catharsis.
Immersing myself in this research also taught me several “tricks of the

trade” to help maintain audience empathy throughout the performance
of the show.
As my confirmation approached, I found myself writing a literature
review that explained how biography had evolved from a modernist to a
post-modernist genre. Seeing my words on the page, I wondered where
my biographical theatre work was situated: was it a modernist biography
or a post-modernist biography? The work I had been doing in the stu-
dio led me towards an investigation of two theatrical forms to answer my
questions: the Verbatim Theatre form and the Tribute Show form. I read
Verbatim Theatre plays and had informal discussions with an Australian
verbatim theatre practitioner. I used Wikipedia as a starting point for my
Tribute Show research, which subsequently led to an investigation of
Australian theatre venue’s programming of the form and the key com-
panies involved in the creation or disruption of the form. This research
assisted in confirming the playing style of the work.
Other key moments in the messy relay between discourses occurred
when I showed sections of the play to small groups of industry profes-
sionals and spoke at conferences. Those in attendance guided me towards
feminism, phenomenology and a method of collecting and analysing per-
formance feedback known as Creative Response Process (Lerman and
Borstel 2003). My magpie bibliography was not only growing through-
out Cycle 1 of the project but the playwriting, rehearsing and produc-
tion design was moving in a direction that was clearly informed by all my
sources. To my delight, this relay activity was generating knowledge that
had the potential to transcend traditional word-bound knowledge—that
is, the knowledge could be performed and the “reader” could come to
understand this knowledge through their body, not just their mind.
It is obvious I will use writing in the dissertation component of the PhD
project to discuss theories that have emerged from my practice, however,
I realise the readership and impact will be limited to the confines of the
academy. The component of the research that is communicated through
live performance is of a different nature. Now at the end of Cycle 1, I can
happily say the first biographical theatre work reached an audience of 257
people in one hour, on one night. The second work will have at least four
showings in two different cities. Tait (2000, p. 1) argues that perform-
ers have the ability to embody intellectual ideas that can be received and
understood by an audience. She suggests “live is the starting point for
all bodily knowledges” (Tait 2000, p. 4) and she highlights the power
112 B. MEENACH
of live performance stating “performance reception may not manifestly

be thought, but rather embodied, felt and known” (Tait 2000, p. 5). I
expect then that my audiences are embodying knowledge regarding the
relationship between actor training, biography, tragedy, and female artists
when they experience my work. In turn, I anticipate this new embodied
knowledge may impact their lives outside of the confines of the theatre.
This messy act of relaying took me “to and fro, hither and thither, here
and there” (Laing 2012, p. 99) in pursuit of new ways to communicate
answers to the questions that emerged from my enthusiasm of practice.
My practice essentially led the research to new ways of knowing.
The days passed as I travelled through the maze. To maintain my
strength, I searched for nourishment up hill and down dale. Wandering
here, I devoured the berries I discovered. Roaming there, I sipped the
nectar I found. As I sat, digesting these goodies, my thoughts turned to
new and original ways to make it through the maze. Revitalised by the
morsels I had collected from hither and thither, I set off again in search of
the exit. I knew it couldn’t be too far off now.
CONCLUSION
It is spring as I write this chapter and the smell of jasmine permeates the
air. I can hear the baby magpies calling from their nests. Like them, it’s
almost time for me to take flight. Cycle 2 awaits. My foci are distilling, I
accept there may be failures but I am gravitating towards particular perfor-
mative and theoretical notions in the hope of synthesis. Throughout Cycle
1 of my practice-led research project I created a dual identity for myself as
both practitioner and researcher. I already possessed an embodied practice
as a practitioner at the outset of the project but throughout this cycle
of the research I began to embody the practice of a researcher. Overall,
my understanding of the practitioner’s relationship to research has shifted
dramatically.
Research is indeed a maze that must be navigated with a determined
sense of adventure. Avoid wearing other people’s boots on the journey:
choose ones for yourself that fit. Carry a knapsack that is packed with your
most useful tools. Be prepared to collect new tools along the way, and
when the time comes dispose of those you don’t need. Trust your com-
pass. Search here and there for answers to your questions. Most impor-
tant, never be afraid to take the road less travelled, for as Frost (1920)
suggests, it will make all the difference.
APPENDIX
Dramaturgical Research involves gathering and analysing historical
sources that may be useful in developing an understanding of the time
in which the play is set: the events, the people, their actions and their
motivations.
Character Research draws on the historical information, specifically
regarding the character I am to play: their personality, the way they walked,
what they sounded like, how they dressed and so on. This information can
assist me in making choices about how to embody the character.
Skills Preparation draws on the Dramaturgical and the Character
Research. It also assumes that I have a self-awareness of my current perfor-
mance skills and personal attributes. Thus, as I make choices about how to
embody the character I must determine what skills or attributes need to be
focused upon in order to successfully achieve my choices in performance.
For example, an accent may need to be acquired, weight may need to be
lost or gained, a particular emotional intensity may need to be developed,
stage combat or acrobatic skills may need to be learnt.
REFERENCES
Albinger, D. (2012). Diva Voce: reimagining the diva in contemporary feminist
performance. Doctoral dissertation, ECU. Retrieved from http://ro.ecu.edu.
au/theses/538/
Barton, R. (2009). Acting onstage and off (5 ed.). Boston: Wadsworth Cengage
Learning.
Cameron, M. (2012). I shudder to think: Performance as philosophy. Doctoral dis-
sertation, VU. Retrieved from http://vuir.vu.edu.au/25677/1/Margaret%20
Cameron.pdf
Denzin, N., & Lincoln, Y. (Eds.) (2005). The Sage handbook of qualitative research
(3 ed.). Thousand Oaks: Sage Publishing.
Enright, N. (1998). Boy From Oz. By arrangement with David Spicer Productions.
Retrieved from http://www.davidspicer.com.au
Fenton, D. (2012). Unstable acts: Old, new and appropriated methodologies. In
L. Mercer, J. Robson, & D. Fenton (Eds.), Live research: Methods of practice-led
inquiry in performance (pp. 33–47). Nerang: Ladyfinger.
Foucault, M., & Bouchard, D. F. (Eds.) (1980). Language, counter-memory, prac-
tice; elected essays and interviews. Ithaca: Cornell University Press.
Frost, R. (1920) The road not taken. Retrieved from http://www.bartleby.
com/119/1.html
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Gray, C. (1996). Inquiry through practice: Developing Appropriate Research

Strategies. Retrieved from http://www.carolegray.net/Papers%20PDFs/
ngnm.pdf
Hadley, B. (2013). Performance as research. Retrieved from http://www.adsa.
edu.au/research/performance-as-research/
Haseman, B. (2006). A manifesto for performance research. Retrieved from http://
eprints.qut.edu.au/3999/1/3999_1.pdf
Laing, B. (2012). A horse throwing its rider: Falling into fiction and practice-led
resreach. In L. Mercer, J. Robson, & D. Fenton (Eds.), Live research: Methods
of practice-led inquiry in performance (pp. 99–113). Nerang: Ladyfinger.
Lerman, L., & Borstel, J. (2003). Critical response process: A method for getting
useful feedback on anything you make, from dance to dessert. Takoma Park: Dance
Exchange, Inc.
Mercer, L. (2009). Complementarity and the uncertainty principle as aesthetic prin-
ciples: The practice and performance of The Physics Project. Doctoral dissertation,
QUT. Retrieved from http://eprints.qut.edu.au/29938/
Mercer, L., & Robson, J. (2012). The backbone of live research: A synthesis of
method in performance based inquiry. In L. Mercer, J. Robson, & D. Fenton
(Eds.), Live research: Methods of practice-led inquiry in performance (pp. 11–19).
Nerang: Ladyfinger.
Mercer, L., Robson, J., & Fenton, D. (Eds.) (2012). Live research: Methods of
practice-led inquiry in performance. Nerang: Ladyfinger.
Murphy, S. (2012a). A narrative of practice. In L. Mercer, J. Robson, & D. Fenton
(Eds.), Live research: Methods of practice-led inquiry in performance (pp. 21–31).
Nerang: Ladyfinger.
Murphy, S. (2012b). Writing practice. In L. Mercer, J. Robson, & D. Fenton
(Eds.), Live research: Methods of practice-led inquiry in performance
(pp. 164–176). Nerang: Ladyfinger.
Shakespeare, W. (1988). Hamlet. In S. Wells & G. Taylor (Eds.), William
Shakespeare complete works. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Shakespeare in Love (1998). Retrieved from http://youtu.be/827EAYtM6XQ
Stock, C. F. (2007). Accented body and beyond: A model for practice-led research
with multiple theory/practice outcomes. Retrieved from http://eprints.qut.edu.
au/12420/1/12420.pdf
Tait, P. (2000). Introduction: A/live performance. In P. Tait (Ed.), Body show/s:
Australian viewings of live performance (pp. 1–11). Amsterdam: Rodopi.
CHAPTER 7
Investigating Creative Arts Practices

in Australian Home Education Through
Design-Based Research: Entering
the Research Maze with the Spirit
of Adventure
Katie Burke
INTRODUCTION
The research journey is rarely a straightforward process. Instead, the many
complexities and contextual requirements that a researcher faces, includ-
ing their specific research focus, chosen approach and desired outcomes
present the researcher with a veritable maze of decisions throughout their
journey. Like decisions made in the maze, where the “way ahead” is not
able to be clearly seen, decisions made throughout the research process are
rarely guaranteed to achieve a straightforward outcome and may lead to
further complexities, dead ends where work is wasted, or a “wrong turn”
that leads down a path that is later found to thwart the intended objec-
K. Burke ()
Faculty of Business, Education, Law and Arts, University of Southern
Queensland, Fraser Coast, QLD, Australia

DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-39853-2_7
116 K. BURKE
tives. And yet, the maze is compelling. The lure of the hard-won victory
for those who conquer the maze makes it all the more enticing; easily
attained goals rarely hold the same appeal.
This chapter explores my decision to enter the research maze, and my
early doctoral journey as I investigate the Creative Arts practices of Australian
home educators.1 Utilising Design-Based Research (DBR), I am currently
working collaboratively with home educators to identify challenges and needs
regarding their arts teaching practices, which is informing the design of a sup-
port resource which will be iteratively trialled and refined. The end-goal in
engaging with this maze, therefore, represents a practical and well-tested arts
resource that will benefit home educators in engaging with the creative arts
in their teaching practice, in addition to the defining of “design principles”—
resulting theory that describes how quality learning and teaching occurs in
this context. This chapter will explore the challenges—experienced and antic-
ipated—of engaging with research into this alternative educational practice,
noting how DBR both enables the creative navigation of emerging challenges,
while posing additional new challenges. It will highlight how the uncertainty
of the research maze has converted challenges into assets. While decisions
made have often contributed to further complexity, this is approached in
the spirit of adventure: complexity is not avoided, but embraced, in order to
develop richer understandings and more beneficial outcomes.
ENTERING THE RESEARCH MAZE: BACKGROUND

TO THE RESEARCH
My decision to enter the research maze was prompted largely through

personal experience: for a period of eight years (2005–2012), I home edu-
cated my two children. During this time, I was also employed as a tertiary
arts educator teaching pre-service teachers how to effectively engage their
future students with the creative arts. Ironically, I found myself experienc-
ing difficulties in facilitating an arts education within my home education
practice. Pedagogical challenges were raised by difference in the children’s
ages and their diverse interests; arts resources and time were both limited
and the general demands of teaching across all subject areas meant that
I often carried a sense of ineffectiveness in this role. Such experiences
raised personal questions regarding how other home educating families
engaged with arts learning, of whether my own experiences were shared,
and whether research into this domain was warranted.
INVESTIGATING CREATIVE ARTS PRACTICES IN AUSTRALIAN HOME... 117
My engagement with research literature across both the creative arts

and home education had identified two important understandings that
further prompted me to engage in researching the arts in home educa-
tion: first, home education is the most rapidly growing educational sector
in Australia (Smith 2014; Strange 2013; Tovey 2013; Townsend 2012),
and one that has only a limited, albeit growing, body of research (Harding
2011). Second, the arts are increasingly recognised as a fundamental fea-
ture of a holistic education and vital to the development of critical and
creative thinking, innovation, and personal and cultural understanding—
all considered necessary dispositions for twenty-first-century learners
(Australian Curriculum Assessment and Reporting Authority [ACARA]
2011). I felt it stood to reason that developing understandings of how
the arts are being facilitated within this rapidly growing educational sec-
tor was warranted. The limited existing research on arts practices within
home education revealed an important opportunity to develop insights
into how home educators engage with the arts, which was consequently
explored through my Master’s degree research. Beyond generating impor-
tant insights into how home educating participants engaged with the arts,
the project identified that many desired greater support in facilitating cre-
ative arts engagement with their children. Such insights prompted a desire
to work further with the home educating community to see this support
actioned.
But did the creation of an arts support resource necessitate entering
the research maze? At one time, I did not think so: during my home edu-
cating years when I searched in vain for supporting resources for creative
arts learning in home education, I decided such a resource was needed
and began writing down my ideas. However, without important foun-
dations such as a rigorous understanding of the needs of families and,
more importantly—an external motivator beyond a personal whim—the
intended resource was soon abandoned. Having worked in academia for
eight years, I was aware of the hard work, complexity, and confusion
that awaited all who dared enter the research maze, and yet I recognised
how the complexity and challenges of the research maze were the very
aspects that could turn a straightforward but potentially banal arts sup-
port resource for home educators into something tested, something based
upon rigorous understandings of the home education community, and
something beyond a personal whim. I, therefore, made plans to enter the
research maze as a doctoral candidate.
118 K. BURKE
THE NEED TO NAVIGATE CAUTIOUSLY: (EN)COUNTERING

PARTICIPANT MISTRUST WITH SENSITIVITY
While I was convinced of the need for researched understandings regard-
ing arts practices within home education, my engagement with the home
education community and research literature raised my awareness of the
importance of navigating the research maze cautiously and sensitively. I
was aware of issues that are important to researching with this commu-
nity, most notably, the sentiment of mistrust some home educators hold
towards institutional authority, which can extend to educational research-
ers (Barratt-Peacock 1997; Martin-Chang et al. 2011). While Australian
home educators are required to be registered with their state or territory,
it is believed a majority remain unregistered (Sansom 2014; Sinnerton
2014), which Glenda Jackson, Director of the Australian Home Education
Advisory Service, believes stems from a sense of distrust held towards the
government (Townsend 2012). In addition, it is perceived by some that
legislative frameworks work against the development of openness between
the home education community and educational authorities, exacerbating
the problem (Home Education Association Australia 2015). Educational
research can then bring unwanted attention to the home education com-
munity, some of whom wish to avoid scrutiny and possible criticism (Smith
2014; Townsend 2012).
A significant consideration of this project from the outset was, there-
fore, how to ensure that I was deserving of home educators’ trust. In
order to manage potential mistrust, and avoid perpetuating marginalisa-
tion, and negative stereotypes of the home educating community, I recog-
nised the importance of two strategies that would positively contribute to
navigating the research maze ahead:
• Participants should be established as key stakeholders in the research,

whose knowledge and experience are genuinely valued and respected,
and who have agency in the research process; and
• Research outcomes need to be directly and visibly useful to partici-
pants and the wider home educating community.
While these strategies were aimed at developing a project that was gen-
uinely deserving of participant trust, they raised complexity: how could
I ensure that participants were genuinely afforded agency? How could I
ensure claimed research benefits would actually be in favour of intended
beneficiaries? Rowan (2004) explores this tension between the appar-
ent procuring of education benefits for participants and the hidden act
of researcher-as-“ventriloquist” who speaks from a position of power to
procure “benefits” that actually serve to perpetuate marginalisation. I was
aware that good intentions alone did not ensure that participants genu-
inely benefitted. The navigation of potential participant mistrust thus gen-
erated further complexities as I ventured further into the research maze,
most notably, the employment of a suitable research approach. In focusing
upon a useful outcome for participants, methodology needed to be cho-
sen with the intentional embedding of a focus upon benefits and agency
to research participants and the wider community through the enacting of
practical research outcomes.
JUNCTION: WHAT RESEARCH APPROACH TO CHOOSE?

Based upon my understanding of the significance of pragmatic research
for the home educating community, I sought an approach to my doc-
toral research that would go beyond merely developing new understand-
ings; an approach that had the potential to transform practice through
engaging in practical, beneficial action that gave voice to participants and
positioned them as co-creators of their own knowledge. Exploration of
educational research literature revealed my desire to bridge the theory/
practice divide and afford participant agency was not unique; educational
research has long been subject to criticism for its perceived lack of sci-
entific rigour and negligible impact upon teachers, students, and other
stakeholders in educational systems (Reeves et al. 2011) in addition to its
exclusion of participants from the “dialectic concerning their own lives”
(Levinson 2004, p. 109). It seemed that I was not alone in wanting to
explore alternative research pathways that went beyond the development
of new understanding.
The search for an appropriate research approach initially felt a little
like getting lost in the maze, as different approaches were considered
and I projected forward according to where each approach may lead
and whether it would facilitate participant agency and practical applica-
tion. However, in the middle of this wandering, I serendipitously heard a
colleague presenting on a research approach I had not encountered to that
point: design-based research (DBR). DBR is a relative newcomer in edu-
cational research and has evolved specifically in response to criticisms of
traditional educational research by focusing on bridging the gap between
research and practice, employing an approach to research that has both a
practical and theoretical focus (Reeves et al. 2011). It represents a means
120 K. BURKE
to understand how learning occurs that commences with the identifica-

tion and analysis of a recognised problem in consultation with key stake-
holders, followed by the design, implementation and iterative refinement
of a “design solution” to this problem. Importantly, design solutions are
not simply “made up”, but are rigorously developed by adapting existing
design principles for learning in related contexts which then inform the
development of the prototype design solution. The ensuing process of
iterative trial and refinement of the design solution with key stakeholders
not only stimulates the development of a targeted and workable solution
to the problem in context but also enables the generation of more specific
design principles and theoretical descriptions that identify why the design
principles work, which can then generate reliable, replicable descriptions in
related educational contexts in the future (Herrington and Reeves 2011).
Reading into DBR excited me: I recognised its potential to stimulate the
practical outcomes that were theoretically rigorous in a manner that hon-
oured home educators and afforded them agency.
This applied approach to research presented an excellent opportunity
for me to use the research process to develop and refine an empirically
robust arts support resource for home educating parents. Further, by
working collaboratively with participants, DBR would avoid appropriating
participant knowledge or using research outcomes in an unhelpful man-
ner to the community and would enable me to invite and honour home
educators’ perspectives into issues of immediate concern. Interestingly,
the very elements of my project that initially were appreciated as challeng-
ing—of overcoming participant mistrust, of seeking practical outcomes
and affording participant agency—ultimately provided the very conditions
to seek out a new research approach I would not have previously consid-
ered. It was thus by engaging with the complexities of researching home
education and a personal desire to engage in applied research that the
direction to take at first junction of the maze was decided.
IMAGINING A ROUTE: HEEDING THE ADVICE OF THOSE

WHO’VE GONE BEFORE
Armed with my enthusiasm for the potential for DBR to positively impact
home education and stimulate transformational research outcomes, it was
time to develop my imagined route—with full appreciation of the com-
plexities of planning for the unknown pathways ahead. The majority of
Fig. 7.1 Reeve’s (2006) four phases of Design-Based Research
DBR researchers who have traversed the research maze before have uti-
lised Reeve’s (2006) four phases of DBR (Fig. 7.1), and I appreciated that
each of the four phases did not represent an inflexible directive to follow,
but rather presented flexible guidelines that would enable the research
project to grow organically in response to emerging research outcomes
according to contextual needs.
After engaging with the work of other DBR researchers and consider-
ation of the appropriateness of this approach for my own project, I began
to envision my planned destination and specific goals for each of the four
phases, generating my own “map” for the research maze ahead. The over-
riding research question to guide this process was developed: How can
online learning environments for Creative Arts engagement be designed to
meet the specific needs of Australian home educators? and a basic map of my
four phases that would assist in answering this question was generated
(Table 7.1):
I recognised very early on in the process that this map was an organic
document, subject to change as I encountered each new junction. It would
not prevent me from taking wrong turns further into the research maze,
but it would certainly position me for a more successful and purposeful
journey. Careful planning of an intended route by heeding the advice of
those who had traversed their own research mazes was an important factor
in preventing aimless wandering deeper in the maze.
JUNCTION: TURNING INDECISION INTO TRANSFORMATION

Creating a support resource for arts learning in Australian home education
sounded like a great idea as I proposed my intended project, especially
given the understandings I had generated through my Masters research
122 K. BURKE
Table 7.1 A map of the research maze

Phase Focus Strategy
Phase In collaboration with home educators, Immersion in the research context as a

one identify specific issues regarding arts member of the home education
learning, including how arts learning community, large scale anonymous
occurs, existing strengths, challenges internet survey, and focus group setting
faced, and specific requirements will develop an understanding of the
issue in context that honours participant
experiences
Phase Using existing design principles, An extensive literature review to engage
two heuristics and theory from related with existing theory, design principles
contexts, develop draft design and heuristics will inform the
principles. These will inform the development of draft design principles
proposed solution to the problem Consultation with experts in related
identified in phase 1. It is anticipated fields will be used to refine the online
this proposed solution will take the learning environment prior to release
form of an online collaborative
learning environment
Phase Iteratively evaluate and refine the Interviews with home educating
three effectiveness of the online learning participants, observations of arts
environment in response to feedback learning in action, web log data and
from approximately 30 adult home anonymous surveys of participants will
educating participants be used to develop understandings of
the effectiveness of the website, future
improvements, and how learning most
effectively occurs in this context
Phase Generate both knowledge and Ongoing data analysis and engagement
four product outputs: design principles for with the literature will underpin the final
learning design for home educators/ identification of design principles and
online arts support and paths for thoughts on enhancement of the
future research in this field solution implementation
that some home educators desired support with teaching their children
about the arts, in addition to my belief that such a project would contribute
research benefits to the home education community. But what form this
support resource would take was unclear. I knew I wanted to make the
support resource freely available via an online platform, but beyond this,
I possessed no fixed ideas. The design of a singular learning environment
to successfully meet the needs of a vastly diverse population presented a
significant challenge. Research into pedagogical approaches within home
schooling indicates a complex and diverse reality: beyond their choice
to educate their children at home, home schooling families cannot be
grouped together in a single, unified, or homogenous group (Morton

2010; Taylor-Hough 2010). Likewise, descriptions of how home educa-
tors facilitate the learning of their children cannot accurately define such a
diverse and fragmented practice, which can range from structured instruc-
tion reminiscent of institutional classrooms, through to “unschooling”
approaches where children are given the freedom to follow their interests
without adult intervention (English 2012). The complexity of designing a
learning resource for such a diverse population was daunting, and the very
broad variety of feedback from participants in phase one of the project as
to specific needs regarding their arts learning only increased my anxiety
about which path to take for the design of the arts website for home
educators. Further, examples of other DBR projects highlighted that they
focused upon a much narrower context, such as a single classroom, leav-
ing me questioning if any design solution could genuinely be structured
to meet such diverse pedagogical and personal needs? Was my decision to
use DBR actually leading me to a dead end? The design of the project’s
design solution loomed ahead in the research maze, but the way ahead
seemed vastly unclear. I felt “lost” in the maze of possibilities, with no
clear and specific ideas for the website content; rather only a vague collec-
tion of possibilities.
Prior to commencing the research project, my thoughts for an arts sup-
port resource for home educators were to write a resource book. Following
the commencement of plans to enter the research maze, my thoughts
evolved to the design of an online repository of curriculum-linked arts
activities geared for the needs of the home environment. However, my
emerging data analysis, which demonstrated a diversity of needs and expe-
riences among home educating families, and my engagement with the
literature on home education (Barratt-Peacock 1997; Harding 2011;
Jackson 2008; Rothermel 2011) highlighted that such a transmission-
oriented model of learning was inappropriate.
The characteristics of home education, in which living and learning
are conducted simultaneously, have been identified as markedly different
to traditional institutionalised schooling and are described as a form of
sociocultural practice (Barratt-Peacock 1997). Sociocultural theory rejects
the notion of learning as an individualised, decontextualised activity
wherein instruction is broken into individual objectives of decontextual-
ised knowledge which are then transferred to the learner. Instead, learning
is appreciated as the process of a learner’s engagement with a commu-
nity of practice in which learning occurs as a feature of membership in
124 K. BURKE
that community (Lave and Wenger 1991). Home education reflects these
principles: children acquire fundamental cultural understandings naturally
through everyday social interaction (Thomas 1998); learning is related to
the whole person as intimately understood in the family, with the wider
sphere of everyday interactions coming to bear upon the focused interac-
tion regarding “school work”. Very early in the research process, I recog-
nised that my pre-research ideas for a learning repository did not promote
sociocultural approaches to learning founded in real world, social settings.
Further reflection and engagement with relevant theory to inform practice
was thus needed before I could make my way forward at this junction.
Similar to adventure films of my childhood in which the adventurer
in the labyrinthine cave would hold a candle up to the various tunnels at
some subterranean junction, waiting for the subtlest breath of fresh air
to feed the candle’s flame and point the way forward, I stood at my own
junction before venturing forward into the design process, waiting for the
spark of inspiration to ignite. Up to this point, I had been engaging deeply
with literature and theory, heeding the advice of those who had gone
before in other DBR projects, and engaging with research into home edu-
cation, arts education, and online pedagogy. For much of this time, I felt
like little was happening; like I was spending an inordinate amount of time
looking backwards into theory with no discernible forward momentum.
But as I continued to reflect deeply on the sum of this engagement with
literature and theory—the candle burned brighter! Connections between
the many facets of the project emerged and a cohesive theoretical frame-
work underpinned by sociocultural theory helped to illuminate a possible
way forward.
Given that sociocultural theory provided a relevant lens to explore home
education, I felt it followed that arts practices within home education are
best understood when approached as sociocultural practice. Research lit-
erature supported this: the arts form an integral element of sociocultural
practice by engaging learners with their cultural world, developing their
understanding of their place within and of the tools of their culture,
and establishing literacy in the various ways of cultural meaning-making
(Cornett 2011; Ewing 2010). An approach to arts learning that values
it as sociocultural practice provides opportunities to engage with, enact
and interpret artistic explorations of human experience in co-constructed
learning environments (Dinham 2014). Similarly, sociocultural theory
provides insight into what is now recommended as best practice in online
learning contexts, embracing a learner-centred pedagogy that facilitates
active learning through which learners construct their own knowledge via
authentic problems in a collaborative context (Finger et al. 2007; Ryman
et al. 2009).
It became clear to me that sociocultural theory not only provided an
appropriate theoretical framework for arts learning via online contexts
for home educators, but it also gave insight into how specific content for
the website needed to be developed. Rather than providing prescriptive
learning experiences, the design solution needed to develop flexible learn-
ing experiences that would assist participants in meaningfully integrating
arts learning into their unique culture and community of practice, building
upon authentic tasks in which they were already engaged. It needed to be
designed to encourage the exploration of cultural connections that were
relevant to individual contexts, and facilitate children’s unique capacities
of creativity and self-expression through negotiated tasks. Importantly, I
saw scope for the design solution to operate as an online community of
practice, generating a space for mutual encouragement, support, and shar-
ing of learning experiences via forums and virtual art galleries to which
participants could contribute examples of their own arts learning. Based
upon these understandings, I formed my draft design principles that would
inform the construction of my design solution. How far these ideas had
come from my initial plan on “writing an arts book” for home educators!
My experience affirmed the importance of the design process of DBR,
which goes beyond simply generating a solution that will hopefully work.
Instead, the design process is deeply grounded in existing theory, litera-
ture, and heuristics to formulate draft design principles that underpin the
development of practical action. In this instance, rather than blazing for-
ward in the maze with the hope that the “right” pathway was chosen,
the best course of action was simply to stand at the junction, waiting for
illumination and trusting that the advice and experience of those who
had travelled their own research maze before would provide assistance
with direction. Sometimes, standing still is the best way to actually move
forward.
DEAD END? RENEGOTIATING THE PLANNED ROUTE

When I initially advertised my proposed research project and arts web-
site to home educators, the response was immensely positive: 84 people
contacted me, asking to be involved, some expressing great enthusiasm
for the idea. With eagerness, I emailed the required participant consent
126 K. BURKE
forms that outlined both the ethical considerations of the project and the
details about the online arts learning environment, which was planned
to be hosted through my university’s community Learning Management
System (LMS). I then waited … and waited. A small number of completed
consent forms trickled in, but a number of friendly reminders yielded only
14 participants. If the planned website was to function as an online com-
munity of practice, I fully appreciated this number as insufficient. Unless
I renegotiated my pathway, this was potentially a dead end that would not
lead to my desired end point.
I reflected on why so few responded to the consent process when so
many had expressed a desire to participate, and questioned whether the
very formal consent process, replete with “academic jargon” may have
reinforced some home educators’ fears about educational bureaucracy,
especially for families who possessed suspicion towards the motives of
institutions such as universities? Similarly, the information outlining that
the learning environment would be run through the university’s LMS may
have provided additional cause for caution. Another consideration was the
number of steps participants needed to undertake in the informed consent
process: printing out the emailed consent form, completing their details,
and either posting or scanning the form and emailing it back. Perhaps
this posed too many steps for time-poor people? I recognised the need to
retrace my steps and traverse an alternative path, one that would simplify
the consent process, stimulate participant trust and interest in participat-
ing in the research, and highlight why completing the consent process and
participating in the research might be beneficial.
I recognised the need to present a stronger picture to home educators
of the potential benefits of being involved as a participant in a more entic-
ing fashion than a consent form, and to streamline the sign-up process.
What became apparent was that I needed to move beyond the univer-
sity’s LMS to a more accessible platform where a home page providing
a comprehensive overview and attractive user interface could be readily
viewed by the public and shared via social media to demonstrate the ben-
efits of the website, and thus participation in the research. Website pages
beyond the home page would only be accessible upon signing up and
agreeing to the informed consent process via a “tick box”; a similar pro-
cess to many other websites’ terms and conditions and thus a familiar
and far more streamlined process for obtaining participant consent. This
new plan represented more exciting possibilities: greater versatility and
aesthetic appeal—an important consideration for an arts learning envi-

ronment aimed at demonstrating concepts clearly and innovatively. Most
significantly, I began to envision the website’s scope for participants to
be able to easily upload their own videos, images, audio, and text files
directly to the site; an innovative feature that would allow for participants
to share their own arts engagement with others in the online community,
stimulating participant agency and a sense of shared ownership of the site.
However, this new direction also presented new challenges and complexi-
ties, most notably the significant increase in work and expertise required
in the initial setup, which would necessitate the employment of a web-
site designer proficient in coding. Nevertheless, feeling that the integrity
of the website and research would be enhanced by this new direction, I
moved forward. There was no way I could guarantee this would be suc-
cessful, but with a dead end regarding current participant response rate, I
headed down my new pathway.
The release date for the website was set to coincide with the com-
mencement of the school year; a date that worked well with my existing
research timeline and aligned with some home educating families’ calen-
dars for the start of their school year. A week prior to release, I created and
uploaded a short introductory video to YouTube which communicated
the story behind the website, its features, and the research that would
be conducted through the site. This was intended to generate interest
in the arts learning environment in a manner that was easily shared via
social media and email. On the release date, I shared a link to the website
via email with existing home educating contacts, and a number of home
education Facebook groups. Within two weeks, over 80 participants had
completed the informed consent process and signed up for website access.
Had it not been for the initial poor participant response rate, I would
not have considered exploring this new pathway for a website, which I
consider superior to my initial plans using the university’s LMS. The dead
end of the maze necessitated the retracing of steps and the renegotiation
of the new pathway, but in so doing, generated innovation and a welcome
transformation to my research project. Whether this renegotiated pathway
would successfully stimulate the desired online community of practice was
yet to be seen. Nevertheless, my experience to date within the research
maze had shown me that when I arrive at a dead end, it simply means a
better pathway is yet to be discovered.
128 K. BURKE
PONDERINGS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE MAZE: CONCLUSION

My initial idea all those years ago of simply writing an arts learning sup-
port resource for home educators would most likely have been a straight-
forward process, but how different and banal it likely would have been.
The research maze has certainly made the design of an arts resource more
complex, but far richer too! Taking this project into the research maze
has necessitated that I subject my own ideas to the needs of home educat-
ing participants, rather than my idea of what they may need. It has led to
the discovery of a pertinent “map”—Design-Based Research, which has
facilitated the navigation of potential participant mistrust and enabled me
to engage in research that aims at bringing genuine benefit to participants
and the wider home educating community. At the junctions of my maze,
I have learned the importance of not pre-empting the data or literature
and to explore theoretical underpinnings thoroughly prior to launching
forward. Finally, even in those moments when the best laid plans seemed
to bring me to a potential dead end, I can now appreciate how these led
to (hopefully continue to lead to) new, innovative pathways that enrich
the research.
As I ponder the metaphor of the maze and its relevance to my own
engagement with research, I am reminded of the board game Labyrinth.
In this game, the player must navigate his or her playing piece through a
maze to find specific treasures. The challenge exists in the unfixed nature
of the maze; the path continues to change throughout the game as each
player moves the tiles that generate the pathways. This seems an apt meta-
phor for the way I conceive my current research. Just like the board at
the beginning of the game, I have looked at my intended project and
have mapped out my trajectory and planned path, based upon the work
of those DBR researchers who have travelled the research maze before
me. The problem of course is that these plans are subject to the chang-
ing nature of the unique context in which I am operating. Even though I
have my map, the path ahead is nevertheless unknown, and will continue
to change. I must adapt, reconsider, and at times backtrack, and renego-
tiate my way forward. The thing is, in the board game of Labyrinth, the
sense of fun is in the challenge. Equally, it’s imperative to remain positively
engaged with “the challenge” of the changing dynamic of the research
labyrinth, where complexity is not avoided, but embraced, in order to
develop richer understandings and more beneficial outcomes.
NOTE
1. In the context of this study, home educators are considered to be
parents or caregivers who are responsible for developing and deliver-
ing their child’s educational content instead of relying upon the pro-
vision of education through external providers. This definition,
therefore, does not include families who use distance education,
where an external provider supplies the learning focus and content.
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Compressed.pdf
Barratt-Peacock, J. (1997). The why and how of Australian home education.
Unpublished doctoral thesis, La Trobe University, Australia.
Cornett, C. E. (2011). Creating meaning through literature and the arts: An inte-
gration resource for classroom teachers (4th ed.). Upper Saddle River: Pearson.
Dinham, J. (2014). Delivering authentic arts education (2nd ed.). Melbourne:
Cengage.
English, R. (2012). Schooling from home: An ad-hoc answer to low teacher num-
bers? Principal Matters, 93, 18–20.
Ewing, R. (2010). The arts and Australian education: Realising potential.
Camberwell: Australian Council for Educational Research (ACER).
Finger, G., Jamieson-Proctor, R., & Russell, N. (2007). Transforming learning
with ICT: Making IT happen. Frenchs Forest: Pearson.
Harding, T. A. (2011). A study of parents’ conceptions of their role as home educators
of their children. Unpublished doctoral thesis, Queensland University of
Technology, Australia.
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gogical practice and promote student engagement. Paper presented at the
ASCILITE conference 2011, 4–7 December 2011, Wrest Point, Hobart,
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newsletterstudio/pages/newsletterrender.aspx?nid=kDoVnut%2b8zc%3d&e=
LfZ5z1V3w8ndqeefuWk9A2v3orqTj2wW
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ended research. In P. Coombes, M. Danaher, & P. A. Danaher (Eds.), Strategic
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schooled students. Canadian Journal of Behavioural Science, 43(3), 195–202.
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news/2012-01-28/thousands-of-parents-illegally-home-schooling/3798008
CHAPTER 8
Meandering in the Maze of Mixed Methods:

Navigation Strategies of a Researcher into
the Influence of the Mass Media
on Children’s Science Understandings
Jennifer Donovan
INTRODUCING THE FIRST MAZE: THE LITERATURE

Mackenzie and Knipe (2006) and Jones and Kennedy (2011) indicate that
the first research maze most first time and early career researchers encoun-
ter is the confusion concerning paradigms, methodologies and methods,
often narrowly termed the “quantitative-qualitative debate”. This debate
began in the late nineteenth century with contrasting positivist (quanti-
tative) and idealist (qualitative) philosophies, reached fever pitch in the
1970s and 1980s, when the debate descended into confrontation border-
ing on warfare (Smith 1983), and continues in various forms today despite
concerted efforts in the 1990s to quench it. Smith (1983) reported the
use of derogatory terms such as “number crunchers” and “story tellers”
so it was little wonder that in 1989 Gage used the term “paradigm wars”
to describe the debate.
J. Donovan ( )
USQ – SoTEEC, Toowoomba, QLD, Australia

DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-39853-2_8
132 J. DONOVAN
The contrasting research paradigms are often termed “quantitative”

versus “qualitative” but this focus on one aspect fuelled much of the con-
fusion (Bryman 1984). These terms also refer to different types of data,
essentially numbers and words respectively. In several researches, both
types of data are collected, and pragmatists such as Trochim (2006) point
out that all quantitative data is based on qualitative assumptions, and all
qualitative data can be coded quantitatively. So was the debate only a tech-
nical issue about types of data?
No, according to those who fuelled the debate (termed “purists” e.g.,
by Firestone 1986; Johnson and Onwuegbuzie 2004). At its core, the
debate is not about data types but about ways of knowing or what counts
as knowledge, that is, epistemology (Guba and Lincoln 1994). Each para-
digm comes with its own philosophy of what is knowledge and what is
research with associated assumptions about methodologies, methods of
data collection, analysis, and reporting. Purists see the two paradigms as
incompatible at a fundamental level.
“Quantitative” or positivist research sought to adopt scientific methods
to make sense of the social world, given its burgeoning success in making
sense of the natural world (Smith 1983). Positivist research is also des-
ignated empirical, scientific, and deductive among other terms (Bryman
1984). Smith (1983) described two key elements of such research:
1. By thinking of objects of study in the social world as “things” just as

scientists do in the natural world, social scientists can adopt a role of
observer of an independently existing reality (ontology), and
2. Social investigation should be neutral, eliminating preconceptions,
bias, emotional involvement and move beyond common sense
beliefs.
The positivists (and later postpositivists) aimed to discover social laws

that would state relationships just as physical laws do (Guba and Lincoln
1994), in order to reveal causes, and enable predictions, ensuring a prac-
tical application for social research: to improve society (Smith 1983).
Essentially, the underlying epistemology is that ontological questions con-
cerning “what is” are separable from “how we come to know what is”
(Smith 1983).
By contrast, research termed “qualitative” or naturalistic sought to
understand the human condition in all its complexity. Such research
includes subjectivity, emotions, and values, or “what we know” is insepa-
MEANDERING IN THE MAZE OF MIXED METHODS NAVIGATION STRATEGIES... 133
rable from “how we come to know it”. Idealists, later also known as con-
structivists, ethnographers, and interpretivists (Bryman 1984), wanted to
yield rich data, and deep understandings, often by immersing themselves
in the situation to construct their own understanding of it (Smith 1983).
They eschewed all notions of social laws and predictability in favour of
hermeneutics (free movement between parts and the whole) and emer-
gent theory (Guba and Lincoln 1994).
At this deepest level then, the two paradigms are indeed fundamen-
tally different. This makes all thoughts of melding the two, often termed
mixed methods, anathema to some researchers (e.g. Smith and Heshusius
1986). Despite titling their paper, “Closing down the conversation: The
end of the quantitative-qualitative debate among educational inquirers”,
Smith and Heshusius (1986) argued that moves towards amalgamation
of the two approaches were ill-founded because of the epistemologi-
cal divide, so the debate would and should always remain open. They
further noted that established qualitative researchers such as Guba and
Lincoln and Miles and Huberman had at least acknowledged the epis-
temological divide in their writings, but had then described qualitative
methods and similarities between the two paradigms that made them
appear complementary. This was unacceptable to Smith and Heshusius,
and they suggested that this would lead to being “trapped in a never-
ending circle of descriptions” (1986, p. 10). In 1983, Smith had pointed
out that the epistemological differences had implications for peer review,
publication, funding, and tenure decisions as two standards for judg-
ing “good and bad research” would be required (p. 13), with which
Guba and Lincoln (1994) agreed. In 1984, Bryman also discussed dif-
ferences at epistemological and technical levels, pointing out contradic-
tions in prevailing attitudes. One example was that although qualitative
researchers wanted trustworthiness of their methods judged equivalent
to the validity of quantitative research, many also supported the notion
that qualitative research uncovered new ideas to be followed up by
quantitative research, implying that the latter was higher up the status
ladder (Bryman 1984).
In 1989, Gage used the artifice of apparently writing an historic account
of the aftermath of the paradigm wars from 30 years in the future—that is,
2009. He offered three possible outcomes:
1. The positivist, quantitative approach will have died out due to

wounds inflicted by its critics,
134 J. DONOVAN
2. Peace will have broken out, with quantitative, qualitative, and mixed
methods all working together harmoniously to generate theory that
fits together accounting for all perspectives, and
3. Nothing will have changed and the wars will be ongoing.
In 2011, Jones and Kennedy concluded that some semblance of peace

had broken out, achieved more by overlooking the epistemological divide
and adopting a pragmatic worldview rather than earnestly working on a
solution. How was this achieved?
Throughout the debate, reconciliatory attempts were made. In 1986,
Firestone proposed a third viewpoint; that the differences were more
aesthetic than logical. Firestone (1986) reiterated and elaborated Frye’s
(1957) conclusion that the detached method of reporting quantitative
research, intended to remove rhetoric (persuasive writing), is actually a
rhetorical device in itself. It aims to convince the reader of the detach-
ment of the writer, and thus is persuasive. Firestone then compared two
studies of a similar phenomenon, one quantitative, and the other qualita-
tive. He examined the rhetoric of both, explaining that by using almost as
much space to discuss the methodology as the findings, the quantitative
study aimed to convince the reader of its careful, detached approach. By
contrast, the qualitative study used 10 times as much space for its results
than its methodology, leading the reader through detailed findings to a
conclusion that the author’s viewpoint made sense. Both are, in their own
ways, persuasive. Firestone (1986) concluded that if a quantitative and
a qualitative study were both focused on different aspects of the same
phenomenon, they could be triangulated to gain greater confidence in
conclusions. In this respect, he followed Webb et al. (1966) who first
coined the term “triangulation”, although Denzin (1978) described how
to perform triangulation and specifically recommended between-method
triangulation to cancel bias and converge on truth.
Following Gage’s (1989) article, even more calls for peace eventuated.
Salomon (1991) exhorted researchers to transcend the debate, consider-
ing that the different approaches were suited to exploring different phe-
nomena. In 1992, Howe efficiently argued that positivism was untenable
and interpretivism incomplete, and proposed a move to a model of com-
patibilism, or critical social research. This model borrowed mechanistic
explanations from the positivist model and intentional explanations from
the interpretivist model. In 1999, Niglas conducted a small-scale study of
British educational journal articles, and discovered that strict adherence to
paradigms, methods and their underlying assumptions was not the norm.
The paradigm wars seemed to have been ignored, as more than one-third
of the articles combined quantitative and qualitative aspects (more than
just both types of data), and in terms of their claims, no clear line could be
drawn separating quantitative studies from qualitative ones.
Yet, in 2002, Sale, Lohfeld, and Brazil revisited the debate and
lamented that researchers were overlooking the philosophical assump-
tions underlying the two paradigms and were uncritically adopting mixed
methods research. They despatched Howe’s (1992) model and any sug-
gestions of triangulation by stating that the two paradigms do not study
the same phenomena. Their solution was to acknowledge the difference,
and to use both paradigms in a complementary way. That is, to note that
each is studying a different but related phenomenon, yielding an additive
outcome.
Despite such reoccurrences of the epistemological divide, many
researchers moved on to embrace mixed methods, ways of combining
quantitative and qualitative approaches. Defining mixed methods proved
slippery, with Johnson et al. (2007) finding 19 different definitions in the
literature. They offered this combined definition:
Mixed methods research is the type of research in which a researcher
or team of researchers combines elements of qualitative and quantitative
research approaches (e.g. use of qualitative and quantitative viewpoints,
data collection, analysis, inference techniques) for the broad purposes of
breadth and depth of understanding and corroboration. (Johnson et al.
2007, p. 123)
Five key themes explored by Johnson et al. (2007) were whether mixed
methods were only quantitative/qualitative or could apply to mixing of
methods within a paradigm; the stage at which mixing occurs; the breadth
of mixing (data, methods, and/or philosophies); why mixing occurs; and
orientation (top-down or bottom-up). They concluded that mixed meth-
ods studies could be located along various continua, and that this partly
depended upon where the researcher felt “at home”.
Mixed methods promised to illuminate by each component uncovering
“truth” that the other component could not (Johnson and Onwuegbuzie
2004). To that end, they developed a model for mixed methods research
and highlighted its strengths and weaknesses. However, this illumination
would only be the case if the mixing was done thoughtfully and in an inte-
grated manner, and some research indicates this is not always the case. For
example, Bryman (2006) found that many published “mixed methods”
136 J. DONOVAN
studies showed relatively little integration of the two approaches. In 2007,

Bryman set out to discover why this might be the case, and uncovered
nine barriers to effective integration. Three of these, structure of research
projects, ontological divides, and the role of timelines, reflect intrinsic
aspects of quantitative and qualitative research. Two issues relate to wider
institutional issues—that is, the need to write for particular audiences and
publications that focus on one paradigm rather than the other. Four issues
relate to the preferences and skills of the researchers, namely, methodolog-
ical preferences, skill specialism, nature of the data, and lack of exemplars
(Bryman 2007). Jones and Kennedy (2011) and Mackenzie and Knipe
(2006) both indicate that research training is at least partly to blame, in
that students are often trained only in the paradigms with which their
supervisors and department are familiar. Mackenzie and Knipe (2006)
further pointed out that research books present incomplete pictures of
research, often failing to adequately define all terminology, explore the
role of paradigm, and unhelpfully perpetuate the quantitative-qualitative
divide, returning us to the maze from which this literature review began.
These issues must be addressed for mixed methods to reach the fullness
of its potential.
What follows is a personal exposé of working with mixed methods for
my doctoral thesis. In this second maze, I will explain how I established
my new identity as a mixed methods researcher, left the maze behind,
and dealt with what I have termed “the 4 Ms”, that is, manipulating the
multiple data sets, maintaining a balance of focus, managing the cross-
referencing, and mastering the writing up to create a coherent story.
MEANDERING IN THE SECOND MAZE: MIXED METHODS

When I first entered this arena, I thought I was just in a maze; but, par-
ticularly now I have taken a step back, it seems I stumbled unknowingly
into a war zone. The image now clear in my mind is that I had wandered
into a maze in a medieval castle, which was under siege at the time.
Cannonballs and arrows were flying in both directions over my head, yet
my focus was on finding a way through the maze. I recall being aware
of the war but did not fully appreciate the depth of the epistemological
divide at the core of the battle. My focus was my research question, and
what information I needed to answer it. My interest was in the interac-
tions children aged 10-12 years have with the mass media, and whether
that was responsible for their knowledge about genes and DNA, top-
ics not yet encountered in school. Intuitively, I thought of quantitative

methods and data for the mass media exploration, and qualitative meth-
ods and data for the genetics understandings of the children. Therefore,
my decision to adopt mixed methods was determined by the nature of
my research interest. Firebaugh’s Rule No. 7 of social research (2008,
pp. 207–234) states, “Let method be the servant, not the master.” This
convinced me I could find a pathway out of the maze to at least a safe
refuge in the battle zone.
I soon encountered Creswell’s writings on the pragmatic worldview
(Creswell 2009). This immediately resonated with me, as, coming from a
scientific background, I have empathy with quantitative methods and gen-
eralisability, and yet I knew from previous research I had done (Venville
and Donovan 2005, 2007, 2008), I would obtain the best data about
children’s understandings through qualitative semi-structured interviews.
Pragmatism allowed me to do both: immediately comforting. However, it
was also clear that I had some thoughtful choices to make. Methods were
not mine to mix frivolously; they represent different ways of knowing, and
needed to be appropriate to the situation.
First choice: the overall design of the study. No prior research had
considered content knowledge children might acquire from the mass
media with which they freely engage. A few studies involved showing
particular examples of mass media to students and then ascertaining their
responses. I sought a broader view than this; I wanted to know what chil-
dren were possibly absorbing, perhaps unconsciously, from mass media
they encounter daily of their own free will. This lack of prior research
made my study exploratory; in essence, I was looking for signs of influ-
ence, rather than definitively showing what and how it influences chil-
dren. A pragmatic worldview and use of different methods seemed ideal
for an exploratory study.
Second choice: exactly what I was mixing. As I fleshed out my design,
I realised my research was essentially in three parts:
1. Quantitative examination of the children’s engagement with the

mass media followed by qualitative examination of the named mass
media examples for genetics content
2. Qualitative exploration of the children’s understandings of genes
and DNA, and their perceptions of the sources of their knowledge
with some quantitative content analysis and qualitative thematic
analysis
138 J. DONOVAN
3. Cross-comparison of these data sets would be where the real mixing

would occur, looking for patterns and trends between them to see if
there were any signs that children’s knowledge was influenced by
the mass media with which they reported engaging.
These realisations helped me navigate out of the mazes at last!
EXITING THE SECOND MAZE

My way around the epistemological divide was that I was not attempt-
ing to use the different methods to examine the same phenomena; I was
clearly looking at different phenomena or different aspects of the same
phenomenon (in the case of the mass media). In the third part of my
research, I would be looking at connections between the data sets, essen-
tially seeking convergence of different truths to create a coherent picture
if it existed. I stepped confidently out of the maze and marched forward,
the zing of arrows and the boom of cannons fading as I went. I was in my
new skin as a pragmatic mixed methods researcher.
MOVING ON
As my research proceeded, I encountered what I have come to call “the 4
Ms” of mixed methods research—that is, manipulating the multiple data
sets, maintaining a balance of focus, managing the cross-referencing, and
mastering the writing up to create a coherent story. This is my own con-
struct, discussed here from my personal situation, but having presented
these 4 Ms at a symposium, I sense they will resonate with other mixed
methods researchers.
1. Manipulating the multiple data sets
The first thing that rapidly became obvious is that mixed methods yields
a massive amount of data. The sheer volume was scary and I realised I had
to be very organised and diligent to maintain control of it all. Different
kinds of data needed different strategies; spreadsheets served me well for
the quantitative mass media data, but tables were better for the qualitative
data concerning the genetics content of the mass media. I also needed to
transcribe the relevant parts of my interviews with the children and tabu-
late relevant statements. Keeping all this data in one mind was a challenge.
However, it also had benefits. By administering the mass media ques-

tionnaires first, in situations with more participants than I could interview
in the time available, a quick analysis of the questionnaires guided my
selection of interview participants. This proved effective, as later analysis
showed that my subsample of interviewees were representative of the total
sample, adding weight to my ultimate findings.
I was greatly helped by visiting a statistics clinic for postgraduate
students before I began collecting data. Having explained my project,
I received helpful advice as to the choice of statistics package, and how
best to record my quantitative mass media data such that it was weighted
appropriately. This made the analysis so much easier and I would recom-
mend all students visit a statistician earlier rather than later in their mixed
methods project.
2. Maintaining a balance of focus
In the early stages of my data collection and analysis, I was “all about”
the quantitative data. This grabbed my attention and my early results sent
me back to the literature as they contradicted my intuitive ideas. I discov-
ered a new aspect of the literature that was pertinent, and that my unex-
pected results actually fitted with what was known from elsewhere. That
was a very exciting moment!
Then I became “all qualitative”, immersing myself first in the genet-
ics content in the hundreds of mass media examples the children had
named. Ultimately, I also subjected this to quantitative content analy-
sis, but initially I was entranced devising coding themes. I remember
the thrill of passing through Miles and Huberman’s (1994) reduction
phase to yield 12 themes. Then I spent long hours with the interview
data; more coding. Although there were minor differences, particularly
in the rank order of incidence (e.g. the mass media focused more on links
between genetics and disease than did the children), I was astounded
when the same 12 themes emerged from the student interview data. So
astounded that I searched through it all again, looking for observer bias
and disconfirming evidence. I did find some, which was almost a relief,
but ultimately this one exception served more to strengthen my argu-
ment than to challenge it.
Finally, I had to remind myself that this was a mixed methods study,
and that I had to balance my weighing up of quantitative and qualitative
data. Merely adopting that mindset led to new revelations within the data.
140 J. DONOVAN
3. Managing the cross-referencing
The next monumental task was to cross-reference, accurately and appro-

priately, the various aspects of the data sets. This was not just quantitative
with qualitative; it included cross-referencing within the quantitative data
sets and within the qualitative data sets. The details are not important
here; suffice to say, I performed 14 different cross-referencing processes
between the data sets. Some were brief; one was particularly lengthy, occu-
pying 30 pages of my thesis.
My biggest hurdle was how to keep track of all the new findings yielded
from the cross-referencing. My supervisor suggested the use of assertions,
confident statements of fact or belief. I wrote them for each separate
data set named appropriately as media assertions, genetics assertions, and
sources assertions. I wrote comparative assertions about the findings from
the cross-referencing. By the end, I had 78 of them in total. This con-
firmed that there was a LOT of data and many interesting findings.
4. Mastering the writing up—a third maze
Working out how to write this up coherently was perhaps the most
difficult part of my whole doctorate. I tried this way and that, but I kept
leading the reader in circles and repeating myself far too much. I was in
yet another maze. After several fruitless efforts, involving some months of
writing and rewriting (and trying my supervisor’s patience), I discussed
the whole thing with my long-suffering naive reader, also known as my
(non-academic) partner. It was he who suggested, “Why don’t you write
up each data set separately first, then do all the comparisons?” That was
a stroke of genius, and so my findings became two separate chapters.
Finally, it flowed, and the reader had a chance to digest each data set
before becoming embroiled in all the comparisons. Readers found they
were already making some comparisons of their own as they read the sep-
arate findings, so rather than becoming lost, they were eagerly looking
ahead to the next chapter.
There was still the matter of what to do with 78 assertions. My super-
visor was unfazed, “reduce them again, write meta-assertions”, she said
confidently. I was less than confident that I could distil it further, but, by
grouping them into tables, I was able to reduce them effectively into 20
meta-assertions. Final analysis involved putting meta-assertions about the
mass media and the students’ genetics understandings side by side in a
table where they told a compelling story. From here, the discussion sec-
tion just fell into place; it seemed ridiculously easy to write after all that
angst about the data. The meta-assertions made it easy to situate my find-
ings in the literature, and to come to strong conclusions. My supervisor’s
insistence on an “elegant thesis” with no loose ends ensured I checked
back to what I had “promised” in the early chapters. This revealed the
14th comparison that I had not yet done, so it was completed and
included relatively late.
Obviously, other students will face different difficulties with their data
sets and their write-up. However, I hope that my experiences may serve
as guidance for some and hope for others that they too will find the way
through the maze of the write-up. One lesson I would urge students
to consider: Never underestimate the value of the fresh eyes of a naive
reader.
DISCUSSION
Eventually I found my way out of the mazes and left them and the medi-
eval castle far behind. I now identify as a mixed methods researcher, but
do not yet consider myself expert in this approach. I am far more aware of
the need to mix my methods thoughtfully. My personal epistemology does
not go as far as the positivists, in that I do not believe the social world can
be examined in absolutes. However, I also do not go as far as the inter-
pretivists in that I believe some of what we know (e.g. about science) is
separable from how we come to know it. When I interview children about
their science knowledge, I believe the responses closely approximate the
truth of what they actually know and think, with less cloudiness than if I
was asking them about affective domains such as emotions and feelings or
intensely personal issues. By mixing my methods carefully, using quantita-
tive tools and data for what they do best (i.e. crunch numbers about mass
media usage), and using qualitative tools and data for what they do best
(i.e. allow the students’ voices to be heard), the study fitted my pragmatic
worldview and was extremely successful. This fits with some positions on
mixed methods research—for example, Greene (2007), who suggests the
aim is not competition but conversation to learn from both sides.
Each researcher must find their own way through the maze of the para-
digm wars and the mixing of methods. This involves searching one’s heart
and mind to see where you as a person identify and sit. There may be
some signs in how you express your ideas—ask a colleague or close friend
142 J. DONOVAN
if they find you talking about knowledge in terms of it being “out there”
or “in here”.
I concur with Jones and Kennedy (2011) and Mackenzie and Knipe
(2006) that research training is at least partly to blame, in that training
may be limited to supervisors’ comfort zones. I believe it is incumbent on
supervisors to upskill themselves to address the learning needs of their stu-
dents, or at the very least, put the student in contact with someone com-
petent in other methods. Mackenzie and Knipe (2006) further pointed
out that research books present incomplete pictures of research and that
was certainly my finding; they tended to be “all-quant” or “all-qual”.
However, treatises on mixed methods, such as Greene (2007) do exist.
CONCLUSION
Commencing a doctorate is a big step. Finding yourself lost in a maze
of methods with unfamiliar words such as “epistemology”, “ontology”,
“positivists”, “postpositivists”, “interpretivists” and the like is bewilder-
ing at best, terrifying at most. Doctoral students need guidance in their
reading to help them navigate this maze, see the paradigm wars for what
they are, and, most importantly, examine their own research problem to
identify the most appropriate method(s) through which to explore it. I
have come to believe that there is great truth in Firebaugh’s Rule No. 7
of social research (2008, pp. 207–234) which states, “Let method be the
servant, not the master”.
Students find their own way through the mazes, sooner or later. It is
my hope that insights offered in this chapter may help make it sooner for
some.
Acknowledgements My heartfelt thanks to my supervisor, Professor Grady

Venville, and my partner, Adrian Rice, for helping me navigate my way through
the mazes.
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CHAPTER 9
Navigating, Negotiating and Nullifying

Contradictions in the Research Around
School Curriculum Change
Wendy Fasso, Bruce Knight, and Ken Purnell
INTRODUCTION
The adoption of curriculum change in schools is a complex phenom-
enon. Research approaches aimed at understanding situational variables
and their influence on both the process and the outcomes of this type
of change have to consider and accommodate significant levels of com-
plexity. The research presented in the literature pertaining to curriculum
change has presented a diverse set of conditions and variables that influ-
ence not only the implementation and outcomes of change initiatives but
W. Fasso ()
School of Education and the Arts, Central Queensland University, Bundaberg,
QLD, Australia
B. Knight
School of Education and the Arts, Central Queensland University, Townsville,
QLD, Australia
K. Purnell
School of Education and the Arts, Central Queensland University,
Rockhampton, QLD, Australia

DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-39853-2_9
146 W. FASSO ET AL.
also more fundamental factors such as the motivation and willingness of

teachers to embrace the core intent of the change (Lingard et al. 2006;
Mulford 2007). Apart from change weariness, the motivation to change
is often drawn from variable individual and collective values and beliefs
about the nature of the change and how it influences current practice
(Lingard et al. 2006; Mulford 2007). The motivation to change has
been shown to lead to underlying dynamics and micropolitics, which play
a key role in the process and outcome of change (Edwards 2010), with
individuals as actors interacting with others with differing perspectives
in the manipulation of power and expertise to support their own inter-
ests (Christensen 2013; Flessa 2009). This micropolitical manipulation
is evidenced by both formal and informal, and top-down and classroom-
up, attempts at influencing, and therefore leading, curriculum change in
schools (Spillane 2015; Spillane et al. 2004). However, although mic-
ropolitics is mentioned in the research, there is still a current neglect of
this aspect in the school leadership and curriculum research owing to
its messiness, with few publications addressing the often-hidden aspect
of micropolitics and manipulation (Christensen 2013). Furthermore,
there have been few studies of the relationship between political interac-
tions and educational outcomes (Malen and Cochran 2008). It is critical
that research leads to a better understanding of the contextual response
to and uptake of change initiatives and this requires a responsive, flex-
ible and innovative approach, with a design and methodology capable
of untangling and understanding the way that reform is adopted in the
staffroom milieu.
This chapter firstly discusses the factors that can influence success-
ful change in schools to justify and support the selection of a research
methodology. Next, the chapter describes an eclectic methodological
approach that includes a combination of traditional survey and inter-
view methods with social network analysis (SNA) that is useful to navi-
gate the research maze created when attempting to understand the
complex micropolitics that influence the adoption of curriculum change
by teachers in schools. Finally, data drawn from a case study of cur-
riculum change in a secondary school science department illustrate the
use of SNA as a tool that can triangulate with other traditional methods
to reveal the multiple perspectives relating to curriculum change. This
approach is shown to be useful in research that attempts to navigate,
negotiate and appreciate the dynamics at work in the implementation of
curriculum change.
NAVIGATING, NEGOTIATING AND NULLIFYING CONTRADICTIONS... 147
NAVIGATING THE SCHOLARLY RESEARCH

The leadership of curriculum change in schools is very well documented
in the literature. Much of the literature examines the school’s leadership
model and the capacity of top-down and distributed leadership to model,
support and drive change through the initiation of conversations and action
(de Lima 2008; Harris 2013; Martinez et al. 2005). The role of teach-
ers as distributed leaders of change is commonly accepted, with some act-
ing in a formal, nominated capacity, and others acting as informal leaders
(Coldren and Spillane 2007; Millward and Timperley 2010; Spillane 2015;
Spillane et al. 2004; Timperley and Parr 2009). The research literature
pertaining to distributed leadership has commonly addressed the activity
of leaders, the influence of professional development and deep conceptual
understanding on the enactment of change and the practical distribution
of leadership among formal and informal leaders (Melville 2008; Millward
and Timperley 2010; Ritchie 2006; Spillane 2015; Spillane et al. 2004;
Timperley and Parr 2009). Research has also identified the power of socio-
cultural variables to influence the process and outcome of leadership of
change (Avolio 2007; Feeney 2009; Ritchie 2006), such as the existence of
isolationism and egalitarianism (Leithwood et al. 1997) that result in main-
tenance forces being activated (Timperley 2005, 2009) and relationships
that support or limit change leadership (Avolio 2007; Seashore Louis et al.
2009). It is these sociocultural variables and the associated interactions
among teachers that pose a significant problem for researchers as the imple-
mentation of change can be affected by micropolitics and manipulation.
Flessa (2009) strongly questioned the lack of a micropolitical focus
in the distributed leadership literature, given the politically charged
process of change leadership that can involve disputed decision-making
about resources, hierarchies and policy. While Flessa identified pockets
of research in which micropolitics was a focus, there were less than ade-
quate research initiatives aimed at uncovering the messiness of micropoli-
tics. The consequences of micropolitics can be the promotion of their
own views by leaders and fragmentation into conflicting groups (Flessa
2009; Johnson, 2004; Wright 2008); a normative focus by those in social
power (Christensen 2013); mistrust and suspicion (Seashore Louis et al.
2009; Willner 2011); and withdrawal by many who are qualified and able
to contribute to positive change (Edwards 2010). Finally, the need for
social integration and belongingness may lead to multiple, and potentially
conflicting, individual identities within the staff social network associated
148 W. FASSO ET AL.
with personal and friendship relationships as well as professional roles

(Mische 2003; Mische and White 1998). Given the disruptive potential of
micropolitics in relation to any change initiative, it is surprising that there
has not been a greater focus on this phenomenon in the more recent liter-
ature, which leads to questions about the research designs and approaches
that have been used. Youngs (2014) drew upon a review of studies of
distributed leadership in schools, critiquing the normative approach that
is still most common, and its lack of focus on power, micropolitics and
daily complexities in schools. A call has been made for research that can
support a greater understanding of the contextual nature of micropolitics
and in which the conditions that promote shifting and culturally relevant
teaching practice are a focus (LeChasseur et al. 2015). Given the strong
influence of micropolitics in mobilising staff to accept or reject change and
hidden issues such as compliance at face value with little attendant change
in the classroom, micropolitics is a crucial element in determining school
response to change. The next section identifies some of the key method-
ological issues associated with research in the area of micropolitics.
NEGOTIATING THE MICROPOLITICAL MAZE

Micropolitics and manipulation can pose challenges to the researcher, not
the least because they are generally hidden behind the organisational rou-
tines and structures and may undermine formal rules and directions in an
often destructive fashion (Willner 2011). This phenomenon may emerge
from ambiguity in organisational aims that are incompletely shared among
individuals and from an imbalance between the privileged and the non-
privileged actors in the organisation that is exerted on a daily basis as a
characteristic of social interactions (Willner 2011).
From a research viewpoint, understanding the complex cultures of edu-
cational contexts requires considered methodological choices. A balance is
important in gathering data that are sufficient to support deep insight into
the phenomenon being studied, in this case the often invisible micropolitics
and manipulations among teachers, without generating overwhelming num-
bers of data with associated problems with their organisation and analysis
(Baxter and Jack 2008). Qualitative case study emerges as a research method
of choice, given the bounded nature of the school context within which
leadership interactions occur and the need for deep insight into the context
and experience of leadership (Yin 2009). However, as Christensen (2013)
and Flessa (2009) stated, traditional and accepted research approaches have
failed to uncover adequately the micropolitics of staffrooms and school lead-
ership and there is a need for new ways to research this phenomenon. These
new ways include crossing the boundaries of a range of disciplinary research
approaches and drawing upon an eclectic range of methods to broaden the
scope and focus of the research (Flessa 2009).
The case study reported in this chapter negotiated these tensions in
selecting traditional data collection methods used in education research
such as survey and interviews, while drawing upon SNA, which is more
commonly used to study organisational networks. It was found that this
combination served to limit the number of qualitative data necessary to
understand the complex interactions among staff while also providing the
insight necessary to understand the micropolitics at work in the organisa-
tion. The inclusion of SNA is also shown to help to manage the ethical
issues associated with the reporting of relationships.
Methodologically Mapping the Research Maze in Curriculum

Change
A challenge in contemporary research is identifying and analysing multiple
perspectives in which personal, social and organisational realities may influ-
ence communication in networked communities and any implementation
of organisational response to change. This section outlines the selection
of instruments that were used in the case study presented in this chapter,
namely interviews, surveys and SNA.
Interviews
Qualitative interviews are able to support an understanding of explicit and
tacit knowledge and can probe the dynamics of relationships within a school
community. They are able to support the understanding of daily processes and
the underlying meanings that are attached to situations (Christensen 2013).
However, they are limited in that they are not always able to identify the
network, nature and frequency of interactions across the staff social network
that is able to lend understanding to individual and collective positioning.
Surveys
Survey research enables researchers to identify and explain the explicit
knowledge of teachers, professional learning and activity, but it can make
researchers overlook their tacit knowledge. Survey research is an accepted
quantitative element in case study with its multiple data sources and facili-
tates “reaching a holistic understanding of the phenomenon being studied”
(Baxter and Jack 2008, p. 554). It draws upon collective, formal knowl-
150 W. FASSO ET AL.
edge and practices; however, it may fail to identify informal behaviours

(Willner 2011).
In critiquing both snapshot surveys and interviews, Flessa (2009) main-
tained that they are unlikely to capture the give and take among school
community members as instructional reforms are attempted, particularly
when micropolitics is hidden as subversive and seedy behaviours (Datnow
2001). An additional, and important, challenge to the researcher is the
relationships among participants and the associated ethical issues that add
risk when probing micropolitics within an organisation (Datnow 2001).
Social Network Analysis

SNA maps and measures relationships and flows among actors (Marin
and Wellman 2011; Scott 2012). SNA interprets relationships through
nodes that characterise individual actors within the network. It also identi-
fies links that signify relationships between individuals and can be used to
identify the flow of knowledge in the network.
The addition of SNA to the mix of standard methods provides a tool
with which to navigate complex data sets and to link them in order to
develop a greater understanding of the interactions and flow of knowledge
through an organisation. It supports the construction of a representation
of relationships among participants without explicitly questioning any
individual’s role in the organisational network. Combining this method
of data collection and representation can reveal the existence of relation-
ships, the location of expertise and social capital, the intent to engage,
and evidence of politics (Edwards 2010). In social network research,
qualitative data about interactions are seen as being complementary
to quantitative analysis of the network that supports the answering of
sociological questions about the structure and processes, meanings and
perceptions of social networks (Crossley 2008, 2010; Edwards 2010).
In particular, it is able to position the potential influence of individual
teachers (or actors in any given context) on others through the advice
that they offer to their network connections, which is acknowledged by
Edwards (2000) to be powerful. Despite some forays into the use of SNA
in distributed leadership studies (Coburn and Russell 2008; Moolenaar
et al. 2009, 2010; Penuel et al. 2009), there is scarce evidence of the
use of this data source to support an understanding of the dynamics of
staff interactions and micropolitics in the context of curriculum change
in schools.
Nullifying Contradictions through the Triangulation of Survey

and Interview Data with SNA
A number of calculated measures of social network characteristics can be
used with other data to identify and explain interactions among staff mem-
bers that could be considered to be micropolitical in nature. Examples of
these have been drawn from more extensive data and are included below
to illustrate the potential role of SNA in researching and untangling the
complexities of micropolitics in the leadership context. These include
indegree and outdegree, betweenness centrality, density, eigenvector cen-
trality, and core and periphery membership. These measures are discussed
in this section with reference to the teacher data sets collected in the con-
text of school curriculum change. The context was the transition from an
existing to a new curriculum, and the participants were science teachers in
a regional secondary school.
In this case study, teachers were asked about their advice-giving and
receiving interactions with others around the curriculum change and plan-
ning. They were asked to identify the frequency and nature of the interac-
tion (planning and administration, resources and materials, and pedagogy
and philosophy of teaching science). From these data, a series of matrices
were drawn up and sociograms constructed.
Indegree and Outdegree are measures of the number of advice interac-
tions among actors in the network. In the school case study, they were
used to identify those who most frequently gave advice to others. While
advice givers may be formally nominated, this measure is able to identify
informal advice givers as well, who may be regarded as informal leaders
of conversations about curriculum and change. In the school case study,
three individuals, Paul, Mary and Jennifer, and to a lesser degree Holly,
emerged as the most frequent advice givers (apart from Adam, the Head
of Department [HOD]). When triangulated with survey data that assessed
relevant expertise to lead curriculum change, not all of these individuals
emerged as being necessarily the best to lead the process.
From the survey data, it emerged that if planning were the criterion for the
distribution of leadership, Matt and Paul were the most appropriate choices.
If classroom pedagogy were the criterion for leadership, then Jennifer and
Holly were appropriate leaders. Mary was rated as the least equipped to lead
in at least one of the categories. There was no clear individual best qualified
through expertise to lead the curriculum change. Questions emerge from
these data about the lack of knowledge of the new curriculum demonstrated
152 W. FASSO ET AL.
by Adam (HOD), and the qualification of Mary to give appropriate advice

to anyone. Mary was identified in interviews as being the curriculum leader
appointed by Adam. It would appear from these early data that Paul, Matt,
Holly and Jennifer were best positioned to lead informed change. Yet Matt
had one of the lowest in- and outdegrees, indicating that he had minimal
involvement with advice-giving conversations. It is clear that a sense of mic-
ropolitics had emerged already. Triangulation with interview data shed light
on these emerging ideas.
Despite his positioning, Paul was identified as not being a formal or
informal leader by all who were interviewed. He was replaced as curricu-
lum leader by Mary at the commencement of the initiation of the new
curriculum, and he was moved from the central staffroom to an outlying
staffroom at the same time. Contrary to the beliefs of those who were
interviewed, Paul appeared from the SNA still to be very active in the
advice networks, a phenomenon that would have remained invisible with-
out these data.
Matt was also identified as being inactive as a leader in the interview
data; this was affirmed by the SNA, and the interviews indicated that,
despite his expertise, he was change-weary and no longer had faith in
the school curriculum, and hence had withdrawn. In this case, SNA con-
firmed his general withdrawal. However, it also identified some close
bonds between Matt and a few individuals such as Charles and Adam—so
he appeared to have been selective about those with whom he interacted.
Charles identified a shared vision of school science curriculum, which indi-
cates that Matt interacted regularly only with those who shared his beliefs.
Interview data identified that Mary was the formally appointed curricu-
lum leader, yet she was a first year graduate. It begged the question as to
why a novice would have replaced an experienced teacher as leader. The
SNA indicated that Mary was, indeed, a key source of advice and informa-
tion in the school science staff social network. When data about the type
of advice were overlayed on the network, it appeared that most of the
advice given by Mary was involved with resources and classroom teaching
approaches—the one area in which she was most deficient was back-
ground knowledge. Adam identified that Mary was nominated by “people
in the staffroom” because she was organised. This view was reinforced
by Jennifer, who associated herself with “we” in the staffroom repeatedly
during her interview. The combination of all data sources could be inter-
preted as an indication that Mary was very active within the network but
provided advice that was not situated to pose a challenge to the status quo
of the beliefs of key players in the staffroom. During interviews, Jennifer

claimed strongly that she was not involved in any leadership activity, and
that Mary was the leader. Nonetheless, this was challenged by the SNA
data, which were able to add evidence to the perception that Jennifer was
manipulating the change process through Mary.
Betweenness Centrality is a measure of the indirect connections
through another in the network, and reflects the potential of individu-
als to link ideas in the network and to mediate information flow. With
Adam removed from the network, as shown in Fig. 9.1, it appeared that
Paul, Mary and Holly were potentially the most frequent brokers of cross-
network information exchanges.
Paul emerged as the individual who linked others together as
conversation-mediator most often, followed by Mary and Holly. Again,
without SNA, this would not have been evident. Clearly Paul was broker-
ing the exchange of information among staff, far more so than anyone
else. Despite claims in the interviews, Paul appeared to have been very
active in relaying information about curriculum change between groups
and individuals. Indeed, interview data confirmed that contacting Mary
and Jennifer with queries about any decisions or ideas was not always well
received, and conversation-brokers such as Paul and Charles were often
consulted before approaching Mary, the appointed leader, with ideas.
Again, insight into micropolitics has been developed through the use of
SNA.
Holly is a person of interest, who is discussed later, with the inclusion
of other data.
Eigenvector centrality is a measure of an individual’s connection to
those who are most important and well connected in the network. As
Fig. 9.1 Betweenness centrality—distance from the mean

154 W. FASSO ET AL.
expected, Adam had the highest score but emerging closely behind him
were Jennifer, Mary and Sarah. This indicated that these individuals were
tightly connected with one another as brokers of power. Sarah did not
emerge as an individual of interest from any other data set; yet she was
closely connected with the most powerful in the network. It would appear
that she was working with a selected group of individuals to promote her
ideas. Jennifer, although her advice-giving interactions did not rank highly
in the network, had one of the highest eigenvector centralities, indicat-
ing that, similarly to Sarah, Jennifer was promoting her ideas to those in
power. Jennifer reiterated in interviews that she was not involved in any
capacity as leader, and that Mary was the nominee. However, in her inter-
view, she used “we” to describe the initiation of the move to remove Paul
and replace him with Mary, citing the reason as being that of Paul’s poor
interpersonal skills. Again, while Mary reiterated Jennifer’s feelings about
Paul, she also claimed that he often stood in disagreement with her ideas,
which annoyed her. Jennifer appeared to emerge from these triangulated
data as being a manipulator of ideas and leadership from behind, while
claiming to be uninvolved.
Paul had a lower eigenvector centrality, indicating that he did not
engage significantly more in conversations with those in power, preferring
to maintain his networks outside the central circle of Jennifer, Mary and
perhaps Sarah and Holly (to a lesser degree).
Core and Periphery calculations grouped teachers into two groups—
those tightly bound through frequent interactions as the core, and those
with fewer interactions in the periphery. Figure 9.2 shows one of the
sociograms of the social network, from which the strongly connected core
and the less-connected periphery are able to be identified.
Using this sociogram, the positions of Paul, Mary, Charles, Jennifer and
Adam are visually reinforced.
The density of the core and peripheral advice networks shown in
Fig. 9.3 is quantified in Table 9.1, which shows the difference in interac-
tion within and between the core and the periphery.
The density of advice offered by members of the core to other core mem-
bers was 2.125, compared with advice to members of the periphery at less
than half the rate at 1.075. While members of the periphery offered some
advice to core members (density of 0.375), they interacted with their own
peripheral group far less (density of 0.150). It would appear that members
of the periphery were relatively isolated in the network. Indeed, as pro-
posed in the literature, micropolitics is shown here to lead to fragmentation
Fig. 9.2 The social network diagram (bold lines are reciprocal advice)
Fig. 9.3 Teacher curriculum expertise—distance from the mean for core and
periphery
156 W. FASSO ET AL.
Table 9.1 Density of core and peripheral networks

Group membership Advice getters
Group membership Core Periphery

Advice givers Core 2.125 1.075
Periphery 0.375 0.150
and division. Paul was shown as being a strong influence on individuals in

the periphery, while Mary and Jennifer were strongly featured in the core.
In fact, data showed that Mary had limited interaction with members of
the periphery, with most of her leadership activity being focused on the
core. Jennifer had almost no interaction with members of the periphery.
Paul emerged from the SNA as being the key source of information for
members of the periphery, bridging messages from the core leadership as a
conduit of information. The potential existed for the manipulation of these
messages in transition.
The process and outcome of the curriculum change process through
the social network led to fragmentation of the staff, as is shown in Fig. 9.3.
To the left are members of the core, with only Matt displaying a knowl-
edge and understanding of the curriculum intent greater than the mean.
To the right are members of the core, with Jennifer presenting as the
most knowledgeable, and surprisingly with Mary as the least knowledge-
able member of the core. With the limitation of information dissemination
between the core and the periphery, it is clear that close to half the staff
were under-informed about the nature of the curriculum change. Again,
without the metrics of SNA, this would not have been as clearly identified.
The Case of Holly

Holly was a new graduate, joining the staff alongside Mary, also a new
graduate. Holly had one of the highest scores for knowledge of the new
curriculum, perhaps because of the influence of her up-to-date university
studies. Holly appeared to be a relatively strong influence in the social
network. However, in a focus group, she did not contribute any unique
insights and was reluctant to engage in the conversation but presented
views that agreed in all cases with those of Mary and Jennifer through
passive statements such as “I agree”. None of the participants in inter-
views brought up Holly’s name in any leadership context. With only sur-
vey and interview data, Holly would most likely be categorised as one
with potential who was a follower of Mary and Jennifer. However, the
SNA presented new insights. Holly had a high in- and outdegree, indicat-
ing that she was, indeed, a participant in conversations about curriculum.

From the sociograms, Holly can be seen to be equally integrated in the
core and the periphery, which left her in a strong position to negotiate
ideas among them and to bridge understanding. Holly had a betweenness
centrality second only to Paul and Mary, which reinforced this notion.
Yet to all intents and purposes, in the interview data, she was a passive
participant who worked with the core leaders as a follower. Mary and
Jennifer repeatedly promoted the perception in interviews that the staff
was very cohesive, and that a priority was friendly relationships and inter-
action. Mische and White (1998) identified the multiplexity of identities
in social networks. Holly was not interviewed in this data collection, but
she was clearly involved in micropolitics of her own, taking a dual posi-
tion of leader of conversations among the periphery while maintaining her
friendship networks with Jennifer, Mary and others in the core.
Untangling the Maze

The aforementioned case study described briefly clearly shows the impor-
tance of gathering multiple forms of data. Each data source, analysed inde-
pendently of the others, led to an understanding of a unique perspective
on the leadership process. The survey data identified how expertise and
good practice were distributed across the staff, and the qualification of
individuals to lead. The social network data identified the positions and
roles of individuals and groups within the staff network and mapped their
interaction as it related to advice giving about curriculum. The qualita-
tive data provided details of the nature of relationships among key players
in the staff network, the reasons for these interactions and indications of
micropolitics and manipulations. The micropolitics and manipulations of
key individuals were able to be identified only through the triangulation
of all sets of data.
The survey and qualitative data alone would not have addressed the mic-
ropolitics data gained from SNA for a number of reasons. Interviewees were
reluctant to promote anything but a happy, unified staff. While the com-
ments of Mary and Jennifer made reference to dissent, it was not explicitly
addressed, and it was evaded in responding to questions. Furthermore, all
persons interviewed were unaware of the interactions taking place among
others on staff, Holly and Paul, in particular, through brokering and interac-
tion with peripheral staff members. Mary, Jennifer and Adam were unaware
of Charles’ role as a bridge of conversation and initiatives to initiate change.
Holly was typical of this multiplexity in the social network (Mische 2003;
158 W. FASSO ET AL.
Mische and White 1998), with her focus on relationships presented in the
focus group, but her curriculum knowledge role in the advice network being
clearly identified in the survey data and SNA. Certainly, the degree of frag-
mentation among the participants was not evident until the social network
was analysed, with participants like Matt and Sarah electing to withdraw
from the process and fence sit (Edwards 2010). Finally, linking quality of
information with the pattern of interactions led to a representation of the
social network that was able to qualify and quantify the leadership inter-
actions and manipulation through the attempted aggregation of ideas and
persuasion of others. There was a clear normative focus among many in
the core, Mary, Jennifer and Adam in particular, with leadership roles and
initiatives being designed to maintain current approaches to the curriculum
(Christensen 2013), with a cosmetic re-organisation of materials.
CONCLUSION
As can be seen from the case study described in this chapter, research
involving human participants is complex and akin to meandering through
a multifarious maze. To develop an understanding of such a complicated
network of data representing multiple realities requires considered meth-
odological choices.
SNA has been shown to be an additional useful tool to navigate complex
data sets and to link them with data generated from other sources. SNA in
particular helps to develop a greater understanding of the actual interac-
tions and flow of knowledge through an organisation. It lends insight into
the clustering of individuals into active groups into the content of the dis-
cussions, and it supports questions about the motivations of individuals in
formal and informal leadership positions through triangulation with other
data. The findings from all the data sources used in this case study have
aided the researchers in developing insights into the labyrinth as they navi-
gated, negotiated and represented an understanding of a multifaceted envi-
ronment responding to change. Despite SNA being a point of difference
from traditional research approaches, no data source (SNA, interview and
survey) is privileged in this approach—each provides valuable insights that
inform the other data sets through triangulation. This research methodol-
ogy is eclectic and responsive to the situation and context of the research. It
is suitable for research conducted in any context in which a rich understand-
ing of social interaction and change processes is necessary. As a research
approach, it is also able to support a rich understanding of the politics and
manipulations that characterise group responses to organisational change.
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CHAPTER 10
Research as a “Quest” through a “Maze”

of Representations: Understanding
Metaphorical and Image Constructions
in a Research Community
Rennie Naidoo
INTRODUCTION
Despite the unease that many researchers may feel about the role of met-
aphors in the research process, they often use metaphors to create and
transmit representations about their work (Grinnel 2009; Christidou et al.
2004; Berger and Luckmann 1991; Latour 1987; Pinch and Bijker 1984).
According to conceptual metaphor theory (CMT), these metaphors are
used to understand and communicate abstract concepts by using figura-
tive speech. This is achieved by projecting an image from a more famil-
iar domain in a consistent way onto a target (often unfamiliar) domain
(Lakoff and Johnson 2008).
Metaphors pervade all research disciplines. In the physical sciences,
nature often has this image of order operating from hidden laws that need
to be discovered. In the life sciences, Darwin’s analogy of “artificial” and
R. Naidoo ()
School of IT, Department of Informatics, University of Pretoria, Pretoria,
Gauteng, South Africa

DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-39853-2_10
164 R. NAIDOO
“natural” selection explains how species change. In economics, consum-

ers are assumed to be rational and calculating decision-makers. Morgan
(1980) found that organisational researchers use familiar objects as meta-
phors (machine, organism, brain, culture, political system, psychic prison,
flux and transformation, and instrument of domination). In the field of
computing, the “information processor” is often viewed as the human
brain. However, CMT provides an incomplete picture of the processes
by which knowledge, in the form of metaphorical constructions about
existing, new or unfamiliar research practices, becomes routinised into the
everyday discourse and common sense of researchers.
Social representations theory (SRT) is particularly effective at providing
insights about the processes that researchers employ when using meta-
phors to make the unfamiliar familiar. It supplements CMT by specifying
two main processes: anchoring and objectification. In this study, a cross-
fertilisation of concepts from CMT and SRT is posited as an analytical
framework to understand how researchers employ metaphors to represent
and communicate their work.
This study investigates the metaphors employed by a small commu-
nity of computing researchers. Computing researchers are involved in
the design of information technologies (IT) and belong to different sub-
disciplines ranging from computer science, software engineering, human-
computer interaction (HCI), informatics, information systems (IS) to
information science. The field is eclectic within and across the different
disciplines. For some, the image of a technology-oriented discipline with
fundamentals in mathematics and engineering dominates. For others, the
image of a sociological and organisational discipline that focuses on the
user dominates (Orlikowski and Iacono 2001).
In order to understand the ways that researchers advance and teach
research, this chapter investigates the metaphorical devices used among
a community of computing researchers. This research study is concerned
with the question of how a community of researchers use metaphors
to represent their research. More specifically: how does a community of
researchers objectify their understanding of their research practice by anchor-
ing it to familiar metaphors and images? An understanding of these meta-
phors can help to design better processes in learning and collaboration
efforts in research projects, and in research education efforts.
This study also aims to advance the use of visually led qualitative
research approaches to understand the metaphorical world of research-
ers. In the next section, this chapter presents the background of SRT and
RESEARCH AS A “QUEST” THROUGH A “MAZE” OF REPRESENTATIONS:... 165
elements of CMT, followed by the qualitative method used to gather and

analyse the data. The chapter then presents the findings using the data
analysis from a metaphorical and thematic perspective. Finally, this chapter
concludes with a discussion and recommendations for future research.
A SOCIAL REPRESENTATIONS AND CONCEPTUAL METAPHOR

THEORY ANALYTICAL FRAMEWORK
Conceptual Overview
This study assumes a dialogical view of social reality—more specifi-
cally, that attitudes towards a social object such as research are con-
ceived, constructed and communicated by social groups drawing from
a variety of sources and through dialogical relationships (Marková et al.
2007). The concept of social representations was introduced to the field
of social psychology by the French scholar Serge Moscovici in 1961
(Moscovici 1961, 1984; Voelklein and Howarth 2005). Moscovici was
interested in understanding how scientific knowledge is diffused into
common knowledge within society. The theory’s starting point is that
the relationship of a person with the world is invariably mediated by
a layer of socially constructed and continuously evolving symbols or
representations, which serve to render that person’s world meaningful.
In essence, social representations are people’s ways of constituting the
world (Moscovici 1988). Moscovici defines social representations as
‘a system of values, ideas and practices with a twofold action: first, to establish
an order which will enable individuals to orient themselves in their material
and social world […] and secondly to enable communication to take place
among the members of a community by providing them with a code for social
exchange and a code for […] classifying […] the various aspects of their world
and of their individual and group history’ (Moscovici 2001, p. 12).
Social representations (SR) enable people to make sense of their world

and to interact and communicate with other social actors. One of the
important characteristics of social representations is that they serve to
familiarise the unfamiliar (Voelklein and Howarth 2005). In particular,
new and unfamiliar events or phenomena that groups encounter in their
daily lives can be seen as challenges that need to be symbolically and col-
lectively coped with.
166 R. NAIDOO
Collectively Elaborating an Unfamiliar Research Object

There are instances when the perceived gap between what people know and
what they cannot understand leads to a lack of meaning and a point of unfa-
miliarity appears. Representational work is set in motion to re-establish a
sense of familiarity (Moscovici 2001). Social representations can thus also be
understood as “collective elaborations” of unfamiliar phenomena or events
(Wagner et al. 1999). Such phenomena or events become social reality by
virtue of the representations that the community holds. Only by being rep-
resented by a group by means of familiar conceptual devices can an event or
a phenomenon become a social object that can be perceived, characterised,
compared with other social objects and used in language and action.
Anchoring and Objectification

Anchoring and objectification are the two main processes through which
groups represent their reality (Orfali 2002). With anchoring, a new social
object is anchored to pre-existing knowledge and is assessed through the
lens of a familiar object. For example, a research study leader and a student
may anchor their understanding of a novel research problem by adopt-
ing a research approach that is popular within their research department.
Objectification is the process of integrating an object into social reality,
thus acquiring its own place in the group’s common sense reality. This
new object may be more concrete (like a statistical technique) or highly
abstract (such as an idea for a research project). These processes are dialec-
tical in the sense that anchoring relates new objects to pre-existing ones,
while objectification introduces new objects to social reality (see Table
10.1). Anchoring and objectification are mutually constitutive, in the
sense that a new object is usually first understood through anchoring and
only then acquires its own place in the common sense reality of the com-
munity, through objectification. Over time, through social interactions,
this becomes part of the common knowledge shared among members of
a community. This social representation then becomes a fairly stable prod-
uct of the community’s discourse.
Including Concepts from Conceptual Metaphor Theory (CMT)

The relationship between the source domain of the metaphor and
the target domain can help to explain how researchers acquire social
representations individually and collectively through the processes of
Table 10.1 A social representations and conceptual metaphor theory framework

for metaphorical analysis
SRT concepts Description
Anchoring Researchers are likely to anchor their understanding or research to

their personal or their community’s pre-existing knowledge and
beliefs
Objectification Researchers are more likely to use images, rhetoric and metaphors
to objectify complex aspects of research in relation to what is
already familiar, to make it more concrete or accessible to
themselves or their community
Source domain The source domain is a familiar domain that provides the individual
with the image and the concrete representation to make the
concept under discussion more comprehensible
Target domain The target domain is the domain that is presently unfamiliar,
complex or less comprehensible
Source-target The relationship between the target and the source domains refers
relationship to the process that the individual uses to “map” and “transport”
the iconic meaning of the source onto the target domain
Source: Adapted from Wagner et al. (1995)
anchoring and objectification. Wagner et al. (1995) assign three parts

to a metaphor: a target domain; a source domain; and the relationship
between the target and the source domain (see Table 10.1). The source
domain provides the image and the concrete representation to make the
concept under discussion more comprehensible. The target domain is
the domain that is less comprehensible. The relationship between the
target and the source domains refers to the process that the individual
uses to “map” and “transport” the iconic meaning of the source onto
the target domain (Wagner et al. 1995). Here the structure of the target
domain is understood as an everyday object to make the process intelli-
gible. The source domain for the metaphor is generally well understood
by members of a community and the selected images are also pervasive
and easy to understand (Lakoff and Johnson 2008).
SRT’s rich conceptual tools—such as the processes of anchoring and
objectification combined with concepts from conceptual metaphor theory
(CMT)—should help us to analyse more effectively how researchers use
metaphors to understand complex social objects within their research
practice. A summary of this integrated analytical framework appears in
Table 10.1.
168 R. NAIDOO
METHODOLOGY
A social representation-based analytical framework assumes that under-
standing is constructed through dialogue and social interaction. As such,
qualitative data were more suitable for this research. Although individual
interviews could also have been an effective method for collecting exten-
sive insights, it would have limited the researchers’ ability to provide
participants with a natural and congenial community setting in which to
interact (Marková et al. 2007). The use of group interaction to probe
the views of individuals via focus groups was a more effective approach
to understanding the dynamics of social representations within a research
community (Smithson 2000). Since social representations are rooted in
the collective and symbolic life of a particular community, it was appropri-
ate to investigate computing researchers in an interactive, natural social
setting where they had to take account of their colleagues’ views in order
to devise their own responses. Furthermore, dynamic group interaction
was more likely to generate data and insights about a wide range of views
and opinions not easily accessible using interviews, and the informal dia-
logical approach afforded by a focus group discussion was expected to
encourage group members to communicate their perspectives with others
more openly.
Data Collection: Focus Group Procedures

For the purpose of this research, it was important that participants were
not selected randomly and that they belonged to an existing community.
Many participants had prior history as group members of South Africa’s
computing research community and shared a common culture with regard
to their interests in computing research. Guests attending a research work-
shop conducted in Centurion, Pretoria on 15 October 2012 volunteered
to participate in the research. Overall there were 45 participants across
2 discussion groups, of whom 25 were female and 20 were male. The
participants were largely homogeneous, comprising computing academics
with an average of 15 years’ research experience. However, social units in
the group also consisted of PhD candidates, as well as computer science,
information systems and human and computer interaction researchers,
which helped to overcome slight concerns about the diversity of views.
Participants were divided into two groups and, on arrival at the discus-
sion group location, they were seated and presented with a folder contain-
ing a pen and two sheets of A4 paper. After a brief introduction by the
moderators of each group, participants were asked to turn to the first piece
of paper in their folder and to reflect on their everyday experiences and
to write and/or draw whatever words and/or images came to mind when
they read the words “research in computing”. This activity was the catalyst
for participant engagement and resulted in a subsequent verbal exchange
of views about their research practices using the different visual stimuli.
Moderators acted only when strictly necessary. The ensuing discussion was
allowed to flow so that the group members could decide on the relevant
issues, debate meanings and oppose or reach consensus with one another
as they saw fit. Since the conversational strategies and the processes of
interaction of the groups were relevant to the research, the moderators
made no special attempt to engage those group members who were reluc-
tant to speak. For the final step, the moderators waited for an extended
pause in the discussion before asking participants to complete a short (one
page) exit survey. The exit survey recorded socio-demographic information
about their experience in academic research and years involved in research.
Both focus group discussions were videotaped and later transcribed.
Data Analysis
The text sketches and the transcripts of the group discussions were both
subjected to analysis. The visual and metaphorical thematic analysis and
there textual metaphorical analysis were guided by a coding template
derived from Table 10.1 and an understanding of SRT processes of
anchoring and objectification. Each of the group transcripts and the indi-
vidual text sketches was subjected to a manual thematic analysis using
the coding template, with themes being defined as patterned responses or
meaning within the data set. A form of inter-rater reliability was sought by
identifying areas of agreement and disagreement about coding between
the researcher and independent judges.
Visual and Metaphorical Thematic Analysis

Gleeson’s (2011) guidelines for visual thematic analysis were adopted.
The author analysed the images iteratively, independently and jointly
with two researchers who had helped with data collection. To avoid
restricting interpretations in the initial stages, the visual data were ana-
lysed independently of the coding template and the textual data (both
170 R. NAIDOO
written and spoken—during the focus groups). Initially, a tentative set of

visual themes that seemed to portray the images was recorded. A short
descriptive note was also written for each theme that emerged. Only then
were the coding template, the illustrator’s comments and the focus group
transcripts revisited to help with refining the initial analysis. The remain-
ing images were scanned again to see if the theme of the image under
analysis applied to these as well. The search for themes concluded when
no more separate themes relevant to the research question emerged. The
elements from the different images that best described the theme were
eventually synthesised to form the study’s key visual themes. The descrip-
tions of the themes were examined to see if they captured any distinctive
features of the image. The remaining themes were examined to establish
their relationships with one another and to examine if they were con-
nected by a higher order visual theme. In the next part of the analysis, the
transcripts were read again to identify the use of metaphorical construc-
tions and the imagery deployed during the group discussions to objectify
the new representations.
Textual Metaphorical Analysis

The data gathered from two focus group discussions and the individual
text and drawings supplied by the participants were analysed using the
Pragglejaz Group’s [26] metaphor identification process. First, the entire
group transcripts were read to establish a general understanding. Second,
the lexical units of the transcripts were identified. Third, meaning was
assigned to each lexical unit identified in the text. Basic meanings were
assigned to those lexical units that were more concrete and precise for
this context. For example, the lexical unit “user” has a basic, concrete
and precise meaning in the context of the computing research practice.
Fourth, analogical meaning was assigned to those lexical units that had a
more basic meaning in other contexts than the given computing context.
These were assigned as a metaphorical unit. The metaphorical units were
further assigned to three parts: a target domain; a source domain; and the
relationship between the target and the source domains. For example,
the lexical unit “bridge” has a concrete and precise meaning in the civil
engineering context but was viewed as a metaphorical unit in the context
of computing research (see Table 10.2). The author then reviewed the
assigned lexical units independently and jointly with independent judges.
The researcher eventually came up with metaphors that characterised a
Table 10.2 Evidence of a maze of metaphorical constructions

SRT concepts Evidence of anchoring Examples of diverse metaphorical
and objectification images and text
Anchoring and Participants objectified Soul, recombination, production,

objectification using the computing research journey, learning, cycles, stages, steps,
metaphors practices using testing, scientific, spiral, fog, mist,
contradictory metaphors mixture, bridge, looking glass, steroids,
that depicted creativity system, sub-systems, social, feedback
and analogies that loops, building, making, boxes,
emphasised formality products, outputs, creations, “new”
artefacts, “new” theory, real-world
problem, innovation
computing scholar’s representation of computing research. Version 6.2

of ATLAS.ti—a qualitative research software tool—was used to store and
analyse all the documents.
RESEARCH: A MAZE OF IMAGES AND METAPHORICAL

CONSTRUCTIONS
This section reports the key findings of the metaphorical textual and
image analysis. The use of visual methods allowed the researcher to cap-
ture dimensions of meanings that may not have emerged through a textual
analysis.
Despite textbook formulations that present a uniform approach to
research, the following three drawings provided were exemplars of the
distinctive manner in which individual researchers interpreted and repre-
sented their conceptions of research. The first drawing (Fig. 10.1) shows
the spiral-like nature of the research process. The participant who drew
the second drawing (Fig. 10.2) drew an analogy of research to that of
building bridges. In the third drawing, a researcher shows a looking glass
used to examine a specific and bounded research problem (Fig. 10.3).
Similarly, a number of other participants related their research practice in
their diverse metaphorical terms (see Table 10.2).
A sample table of results, presenting the image, the source domain,
the target domain and the source-target relationship is presented in Table
10.3. Everyday objects are used to make the research process more intel-
ligible. These results are described in some detail next.
172 R. NAIDOO
Fig. 10.1 Research as a spiral
Findings: Textual Metaphorical Analysis

From the textual metaphorical analysis emerged the notion that many
researchers shared a common view about the central core of this applied
research community. For instance, the importance of prior knowledge was
seen to be vital in building new knowledge. One participant remarked: “...
real world problems need to be resolved and, in order to do that, we need to
go to the existing knowledge that is available”. For this participant, the aim
of knowledge is to address real-world problems contrasting this form of
knowledge with theoretical knowledge that serves no immediate practical
purpose. Another participant made a remark about the systematic nature
of the research process: “I’ve also marked that middle piece between the
problem and [the] solution as where the science comes from because of the
systematic scientific approach”.
Researchers were also aware of the value of rigour in the research
process. One of the key contradictions that emerged during the focus
Fig. 10.2 Research as a bridge
group discussion was around the rigour and relevance of research. The
evidence suggests that researchers often need to negotiate these seem-
ingly opposing relationships as they have constructed a meaning of
rigour that struggles with the tension of relevance. Despite the argu-
ably interdependent connection between these two goals, rigour in the
community appears to be privileging relevance. One of the participants
remarked: ‘I’ve had students where there tends to be too much focus on the
design of the artefact and some reviewers have come back and said that it
looks like they’re developing a tool rather than doing research. And I’ve
always said to my students, you know, “Research is not a software engineer-
ing project”.’
There was also evidence of diversity (Table 10.3). Given the diverse sub-
disciplines within computing research, it was not surprising that partici-
pants had distinctive perspectives that perhaps aligned more closely with
their sub-disciplines, but at the same time they were willing to acknowledge
174 R. NAIDOO
Fig. 10.3 Research as a looking glass
the existence of other representations. In this quotation, the researcher

acknowledges that there are different perspectives about the IT artefact,
some broader and some narrower, but was comfortable with his/her “nar-
row” conception: “Because my view of design research is always the IT arte-
fact, I perceive it to be the IT artefact. Some people view the artefact as much
broader than that”.
At the same time, computing research was also commonly described
albeit using distinct images and metaphors as being connected with cre-
ativity and innovativeness. For instance, a participant added: “I tried
drawing it as a process of where we’ve got a problem, working toward a solu-
tion on the other end. And then essentially I see three phases, understanding,
creating and evaluating, inside that … I tried drawing a brain to show that
innovation is really the creation part, but then I realized that I am not an
artist. All: {laugh}”.
Table 10.3 Applying the framework for metaphorical analysis

Image Source domain Target Source-target relationship
domain
Spiral Probably from Research The iterative software development lifecycle

iterative systems process (SDLC) approach is used as an analogy to
development describe the research process. Research is
lifecycle seen to involve a series of transformations
Also complexity from one phase through another,
theory and living progressively moving towards a planned or
systems theory emergent outcome. However, it repeatedly
passes through these phases in iterations,
with each phase building upon the baseline
spiral, until the finished product.
Soul Religion Research The research core in computing has been
core an issue of great debate. The religious
source domain is used as an analogy to
point to the sacredness of the IT artefact as
the research core. However, within some
fields in computing such as HCI and IS,
some researchers believe that the user is the
core of the research process.
Bridge Civil engineering Design Computing research has always emphasised
process the need for systems analysis and design
techniques and the use of design blueprints
to develop IT artefacts. The civil
engineering source domain is used as an
analogy to point to the importance of a
structured and systematic approach to
build “beautiful” IT artefacts.
Looking Detective work Research Computing research relies on deductive
glass rigour techniques that decompose the problems
into sub-problems to provide research
focus. The job of the computing researcher
is analogous to detective work. Small pieces
of the evidence are examined carefully. This
emphasises the rigour of the research
process. The overall drawing points to the
risk of researcher myopia in adopting such
an approach without considering the
“system” holistically.
176 R. NAIDOO
DISCUSSION
Despite the unease that many researchers may have about the role of meta-
phors in the research process, this study confirms that the use of rhetorical
and poetic language is used by researchers to construct and communicate
their understanding of research. The findings also confirm that research-
ers use novel and eclectic perspectives to discuss their research. This sec-
tion briefly discusses how researchers objectify their understanding of their
research practice by anchoring it to familiar metaphors and images, and
the strengths and limitations of doing so.
The study provides evidence of how researchers use images and meta-
phors from a source domain that is familiar to other researchers to pro-
vide a structural or symbolic mapping that clarifies complex issues in the
target domain. These findings have several implications for the practice of
research. First, by using metaphorical devices during the objectification
process, researchers can facilitate intra- and interdisciplinary collaboration
within a research project. For instance, the “bridge” metaphor may be
constructive in collaboration projects where disciplines are struggling to
depart from representations in which they are anchored and objectified.
The study finds that members belonging to communities from the dif-
ferent sub-disciplines working on a common research program can use
metaphors and drawings to promote understanding and effective commu-
nication among team members. Second, by using metaphorical and draw-
ing devices during the objectification process, researchers as educators can
foster improved classroom learning among novice computing research stu-
dents who are getting to grips with the complex and unfamiliar research
process. Educators and research mentors can use metaphors and drawings
to make the research process more concrete for their students. This study
also makes a methodological contribution by demonstrating how qualita-
tive research can benefit from the use of visual images instead of relying
on words alone.
Given the varied backgrounds of the participants in this study, it was
not surprising that rich and diverse metaphors were used to describe the
nature of computing research. While participants were generally sensitive
to the notion that the different sub-disciplines within computing have
worldviews characterised by unique ontological, epistemological and
methodological positions, they were also insistent on why they person-
ally, or as members of their respective disciplines, adopted a certain posi-
tion. The study found that the discussion among researchers abounds with
metaphors when they are faced with relaying complex ideas to members of
their own sub-disciplines or from across disciplines. However, researchers
also resort to popular metaphors such as a “bridge” and a “journey” to
reflect on the research process. One of the strengths of drawing on com-
parisons of the research process, for example, with intelligible concepts
such as a “bridge” and “journey” is that researchers are able to make the
research process more concrete—that is, more real and more tangible for
their colleagues and students. This understanding can be used to advance
research collaboration with colleagues, and for teaching the research pro-
cess to novice research students.
As educators, researchers should also use metaphors to help to improve
the novice research student’s understanding about the messiness and com-
plexity of research and to equip him or her with the conceptual tools to
help him or her to cope with this reality. For this purpose, metaphors such
as the “journey” or the “bridge” found in this study may be too limiting.
They may be too basic, too linear and too generic to convey adequately the
complexity of the research experience to students and consequently stu-
dents may be reluctant to raise concerns about their experience (McCulloch
2013). Metaphors such as the “soul” found in this study are also way too
abstract or esoteric to capture the many paths or passages that one has to
travel to accomplish a research project or to capture the complexity or
intricacy of the situations in which students may find themselves.
The metaphor of “spiral” found in this study is similar to a maze and
arguably conveys a more realistic image of research. The maze metaphor
depicts research as a series of puzzles, detours, deadends and unusual
paths (Eagly and Carli 2007). This metaphor is useful as it provides a
better understanding of complexity or intricacy for the student. However,
the maze metaphor reveals little about student agency and the social-
ity involved in research. McCulloch’s (2013) research offers the quest
metaphor to capture this sense. McCulloch (2013) suggests that meta-
phors should, apart from understanding, capture a sense of meaning for
the student. The research experience should be an authentic one and so
the student—our quest hero—should be at the forefront of the research
experience striving to work his or her way through those alternative and
contradictory meanings and feelings (anxiety and exhilaration) towards a
goal. However, other actors will also emerge during this experience and so
our quest hero should be aware of the importance of sociality in surviving
this quest. This combination of a quest and maze metaphor offers a more
178 R. NAIDOO
nuanced and appropriate approach to convey the sociality as well as the

complex and intricate nature of the research process to students.
The cross-fertilisation of concepts from SRT and CMT in this study
contributes to the literature by demonstrating yet again the effective-
ness of the anchoring and objectification processes in understanding how
researchers use metaphors to go about sharing their perceptions of the
research process (Wagner et al.1995). In particular, the study demon-
strates how researchers go about using specific images or metaphors as
objectification devices for socially representing the research process.
CONCLUSION
Research can play an important role in developing knowledge that advances
society. The choice of metaphors that researchers use in their everyday
research practice has great influence on the way that researchers contem-
plate and investigate problems and design solutions for the broader society.
An understanding of these metaphors can help towards designing better
processes in learning and collaboration efforts in research projects, and in
research education efforts. This research applied concepts from SRT and
CMT to analyse the metaphors and images that computing scholars used
in their research practice during a focus group workshop. The metaphorical
units were assigned to three parts: a target domain; a source domain; and
the relationship between the target and the source domains. Visual meth-
ods and image-making through drawing and association tasks, and verbal
discussions, indicated that scholars anchored and objectified computing
research as a rigorous, creative, problem-solving way of doing research. The
present research has identified the salient metaphors that these researchers
used to depict and discuss their research practices. Not surprisingly, it sug-
gests that their understandings are rooted in a number of diverse metaphor-
ical constructions. This chapter proposes that a quest and maze metaphor
provides a more fruitful avenue to convey the sociality and complexity of
research to students. Without these kinds of explorations in future studies,
it will be difficult to understand the strengths and limitations of metaphori-
cal constructions that researchers use when conveying their understanding
of the research process to their colleagues and students.
Acknowledgements My gratitude is extended to the South African National

Research Foundation (NRF) for supporting this research through the Knowledge
Development Fund (KFD). Thanks to Professor Alta van der Merwe and Professor
Aurona Gerber for their help during the data collection and analysis activities and
to Professor Nixon Ochara for his involvement as an independent judge to verify
the data analysis.
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PART 3
Navigating Mazes in and with

Specific Research Tasks and
Technologies
Dolene Rossi
INTRODUCTION
The authors within this text have, thus far, explored and described a
range of political, ethical, philosophical and theoretical challenges expe-
rienced in the conduct of contemporary research. Contributors have also
shared methodological insights based on diverse research experience with
particular research methods. In this section authors engage with a number
of contextual challenges that may be encountered during the conduct of
research in the 21st century and consider how these challenges may be
harnessed or addressed to improve future research opportunities.
In Chap. 11 Ramsay and Williamson draw attention to the increased
volume of scholarly publications. The authors assert that prolific publica-
tions have contributed to a dispersed research landscape, and they observe
that researchers are responding to this challenge by undertaking more
frequent systematic reviews of pertinent research literature. A review of
this type requires the use of technological tools such as search engines and
electronic databases that provide access to both published and unpublished
literature. Looking ahead, the authors express concern about a potential
skill gap in a “Google Generation” of researchers who currently favour
D. Rossi
Central Queensland University, North Rockhampton
Queensland, Australia
182 D. ROSSI
single line search engines and who are less familiar with more advanced
search tools and approaches to data retrieval.
The work of Nargis et al., in Chap. 12, identifies similar concerns, draw-
ing attention to the increasing use of technologies by researchers now in
a position to access large secondary data sets. In this example technology
not only presents opportunities to access vast quantities of electronic infor-
mation but also challenges researchers to consider carefully the validity,
reliability and relevance of the data that they retrieve from open sources.
In Chap. 13 the contribution by Gacenga extends the discussion in
respect of technological advancement, emphasising the procedural sup-
port that today’s technology affords researchers, specifically in relation
to data collection, data storage and the processing of large sets of data,
as well as the ability to share research knowledge through collaboration
and publication. A recurrent theme can be discerned within each of these
chapters and it concerns the ability of researchers to utilise contemporary
technological tools, to engage with others and to apply extant knowledge
to construct new knowledge and understandings. Gacenga suggests that
within a contemporary research maze there is growing dependence on
advanced networks and large databases.
Rossi, in Chap. 14, lends support to Gacenga’s view as she describes
the journey of a group of researchers who are required to navigate a num-
ber of situational, contextual and methodological challenges during the
course of a cross-institutional, multidisciplinary, collaborative research
project, highlighting the need for researchers to access and develop tech-
nical, interpersonal and professional networks.
The final contribution, by Jensen-Clayton and Murray, Chap. 15, chal-
lenges the reader to consider how the metaphor of research as a maze can be
used to extend our understandings of the character and significance of con-
temporary research and the work and identities of contemporary researchers.
In this regard they describe their conceptualisation of the maze as a construc-
tion of neoliberal thinking and managerial practices to achieve institutional
goals, and they posit that the successful navigation of such a maze results
in academic outputs that are specifically designed to meet the institution’s
economic goals. They argue that these outputs serve the objectives of govern-
ments’ and institutions’ internationalisation agendas, but they assert that the
cost, both locally and globally, is the loss of linguistic and cultural diversity, as
a consequence of Westernisation of the global academic community via the
predominance of Academic English. The aim of the authors is to stimulate
reflection on, in and of the product, process and power of research and what
it is that we may be a part of as we navigate, negotiate and nullify the oppor-
tunities and challenges that are present within the research maze.
CHAPTER 11
Many Paths to Discovery: The Increasingly

Complex Literature Maze
Lindy Ramsay and Moira Williamson
INTRODUCTION
The research journey can be considered a systematic process of confirm-
ing existing knowledge and creating new knowledge. Confirming exist-
ing knowledge is achieved through the literature review process. Whether
undertaking a quantitative, qualitative, or mixed methods research project,
researchers must first review the available literature relevant to the research
topic. Information seeking is, therefore, a key aspect of a researcher’s work
and can be complex and challenging. Searching the literature can be lik-
ened to entering a maze. At each search “junction” researchers are faced
with multiple and complex choices. Researchers may take the “wrong”
junction and retrieve literature of no benefit to the research intention. At
the same time, opportunities for discovering the “right” path out of the
maze are lost. The Internet and mobile technologies, despite improving
our access to information, have also contributed to a growing and increas-
ingly dispersed body of literature navigable by a number of discovery
L. Ramsay ()
CQUniversity, Brisbane, QLD, Australia
M. Williamson
CQUniversity, Noosaville, QLD, Australia

DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-39853-2_11
184 L. RAMSAY AND M. WILLIAMSON
options. Faced with a range of choices, researchers will question which

tools are appropriate and for what purposes.
In addition to the complexities of locating useful information among a
potential sea of irrelevant information, a traditional narrative review may
no longer be sufficient for confirming existing knowledge within some
disciplines. Researchers in the sciences, social sciences, management, com-
puting and education may increasingly be asked to consider undertaking
a systematic literature review of their topic. A systematic literature review
frequently requires a complex and exhaustive search strategy which must
be carefully documented and thus be reproducible and potentially scru-
tinised by other researchers. In order to rigorously defend such a search
strategy, what skills will researchers require to systematically search the lit-
erature? Which discovery tools will be the most appropriate for systematic
literature searching?
This chapter will begin by examining the differences between tradi-
tional narrative and systematic literature reviews and consider some of the
issues surrounding literature searching in the context of systematic litera-
ture reviews. The challenges of searching for information in a dispersed
scholarly publishing landscape which is becoming increasingly “open
access” will also be examined. The suitability of Google Scholar (GS) as
a tool for systematic literature searching will be studied. The chapter will
conclude by contrasting the increasing requirement that systematic and
scientific searching has occurred with the information-seeking behaviours
of a new generation of emerging researchers who demonstrate a prefer-
ence for free text single search box searching such as that provided by
Google.
THE LITERATURE REVIEW: TRADITIONAL AND

SYSTEMATIC APPROACHES
The literature search enables the researcher to identify knowledge gaps,
avoid duplication of other researcher’s work, and helps to shape the direc-
tion of new research by locating it within the ongoing literature dialogue
(Creswell 2009; Jesson et al. 2011; Rees 2011). The literature review can
represent a distinct phase of a research journey that helps to shape and
inform the developing research project. The literature review may also
be considered a research method in its own right (Jesson et al. 2011) as
evidenced by a growing body of reviews within scholarly publishing. Thus
the literature search becomes “the research project”.
MANY PATHS TO DISCOVERY: THE INCREASINGLY COMPLEX LITERATURE... 185
The literature review was traditionally understood in terms of a narra-

tive review. A narrative review is a written appraisal and critical analysis of
what is already known about a topic. Narrative reviews are not character-
ised by methodical or exhaustive search protocols guiding the inclusion or
exclusion of literature for the review (Garg et al. 2008). Thus a narrative
review may explore a topic partially, exhaustively, selectively or subjec-
tively. The researcher, while searching the literature, may depart from the
original research question and the research project may change direction
as a result. There is an inherent risk of bias in narrative reviews due to
the selection of literature based on availability and/or author subjectivity
(Harris 2005; Uman 2011). Despite the risks, narrative reviews are very
useful for providing an in-depth understanding of a topic. Indeed, this
chapter follows a narrative format and draws on both primary research
articles and secondary sources.
A systematic literature review, as the name suggests, involves a systematic
and methodical search of the literature and a clearly articulated and repro-
ducible search strategy which is defined before the research commences to
reduce bias (Uman 2011). Systematic reviews have been defined by Petticrew
and Roberts as “a method for making sense of large bodies of information,
and a means of contributing to the answers to questions about what works
and what does not” (2006, p. 2). It is important to note that a systematic
search of the literature does not in itself constitute a systematic review. The
distinguishing feature of a systematic review is that it is method or protocol
driven. That is, there is a clearly defined question to be answered before
research commences (often guided by the PICO framework of patient prob-
lem or population, intervention, comparison and outcomes); an exhaustive
and documented search strategy which aims to collect all of the relevant
literature pertinent to the research question; clear and justifiable inclusion
and exclusion criteria for studies which may include limits on the levels of
primary research included (e.g. studies of randomised controlled trials on
the topic under investigation may be an inclusion criteria); and a synthesis of
the literature (Jesson et al. 2011). In addition, the literature search strategies
employed are generally included in the appendixes of systematic reviews so
they may be reproduced by other researchers (Harris 2005).
A systematic literature review often also includes a meta-analysis com-
ponent. Meta-analysis involves using statistical methods to quantitatively
synthesise and summarise the data collected from numerous studies (Aoki
et al. 2013; McGowan and Sampson 2005; Uman 2011). It may be help-
ful then to understand a systematic review with meta-analysis in terms of a
researcher undertaking a “scientific experiment on the literature” (Jackson

2014, December). While it is possible to undertake a systematic review of
the literature without a meta-analysis component, it is improbable that a
researcher would incorporate a meta-analysis component into a narrative
review. However, in a narrative review an author may discuss systematic
reviews that have been included in the study. Systematic reviews of qualita-
tive research that explore the same topic may also be undertaken.
Systematic reviews emerged in the health sciences in the 1970s and
1980s in response to the need for comprehensive collations and summa-
ries of all the relevant clinical trials around a particular health issue in
order to provide clinicians and researchers with the evidence base required
for clinical decision making (Bastian et al. 2010). However, a systematic
approach to a critical review of all the relevant literature on a topic is
increasingly being adopted in other fields where a clearly defined research
question may be answered through conducting a thorough search of the
primary literature on the topic. Systematic reviews are being undertaken
in such disciplines as the pure sciences, the social sciences, management,
computing and education. Proponents of systematic reviews argue tradi-
tional narrative reviews lack transparency of method, are non-repeatable,
and are too undefined and flexible allowing authors to potentially make
unsubstantiated claims (Petticrew and Roberts 2006).
CHALLENGES OF LITERATURE SEARCHING IN THE CONTEXT

OF SYSTEMATIC LITERATURE REVIEWS
There are several challenges to literature searching in the context of sys-

tematic literature reviews including the demands of retrieving all of the
relevant literature when the body of literature is large, increasingly dis-
persed, and navigable by a range of discovery tools, each with its advan-
tages and limitations. The complex search strategies required may also
represent a challenge to researchers who have traditionally over-estimated
their searching ability, have not considered developing these skills to be a
priority, or those researchers who have come to favour a single search box
over the advanced search functions of library databases.
The Literature—Published and Unpublished

In recent decades, the exponential growth in scholarly publishing and the
ready availability of unpublished material via the Internet presents a signif-
icant challenge to those researchers undertaking a systematic search which

requires identification of all relevant literature on a topic. It is becoming
increasingly difficult to establish a comprehensive knowledge base on a
given topic when the relevant body of literature may in itself be quite
substantial and steadily growing. Bastian et al. (2010) demonstrate this
growth by historically examining and estimating the number of clinical
trials and the subsequent systematic reviews of trials published since 1950.
They found, for example, that in the mid-1970s, there were approximately
14 reports of medical trials published daily. By 2010 when the study was
published, this had grown to 75 trials and 11 systematic reviews of medical
trials published per day. Often the demand for systematic reviews is greater
than the time required to produce a review, hence the development of
a streamlined version known as “rapid reviews” (Ganann et al. 2010).
Where a number of systematic reviews are already available on a particular
topic, systematic reviews of systematic reviews are now published.
With a growing body of literature readily accessed electronically, sig-
nificant time and skills are required to identify relevant literature from
the mass of possible items (Best et al. 2014; Metzendorf et al. 2014).
Depending on the topic, the initial searches undertaken for systematic
reviews may yield thousands of results (Harris 2005; McGowan and
Sampson 2005). Each of these articles must then be screened using the
predetermined exclusion and inclusion criteria. For very large bodies of
evidence, researchers may need to set further limits on their searches and
clearly articulate these limits in their reviews, such as only including the
first 200 relevant studies located.
Although bias is significantly reduced in a systematic literature search
due to the scientific and exhaustive approach to searching, some issues
remain around impartiality. If only the published literature is searched via
library databases, then this may result in publishing bias. An example of
publishing bias is a tendency for journals to publish those clinical trials
with positive outcomes (McGowan and Sampson 2005). Consequently,
researchers will also need to undertake a comprehensive search of the
unpublished literature (referred to as “grey literature”) relevant to the
topic. This may necessitate modifying search strategies to accommodate
Internet searches for the scattered grey literature such as unpublished
primary research, conference proceedings, and government and non-
government organisation reports, as well as contacting researchers in the
field. Another bias in systematic literature searches that is difficult to avoid
is an English language publication bias (Garg et al. 2008).
The shift towards open access scholarly publishing has also impacted on
literature searching. The Budapest Open Access Initiative (BOAI) defines
open access to mean:
Free availability on the public internet, permitting any users to read, down-
load, copy, distribute, print, search, or link to the full texts of these articles,
crawl them for indexing, pass them as data to software, or use them for any
other lawful purpose, without financial, legal, or technical barriers other
than those inseparable from gaining access to the internet itself. (2012)
This is a significantly different publishing model to the traditional

subscription-based content available through library databases. Harzing and
Alder (2014) argue we are currently in a world transitioning from conven-
tional scholarly publishing to one that is increasingly open access. For exam-
ple, according to Xia (2010) in 2009 the Directory of Open Access Journals
(DOAJ; www.doaj.org) listed 4220 open access journal titles. At the time of
writing, the DOAJ site indexed 10,120 open access journal titles.
The turn-around time from author submission to publication is gener-
ally much faster in open access publishing models compared to traditional
scholarly publishing, thus helping to fuel the pace of new publications
(Harzing and Adler 2014). While some library databases index some open
access journal articles, researchers may need to consider Internet searches
to locate additional open access resources within their overall search
strategy.
Databases, Google Scholar and Library Discovery Tools

An additional challenge for researchers undertaking systematic literature
review searches is acquiring the skills to perform the kinds of complex
searches that will be documented and included in the review. A flawed
search strategy may render a systematic review open to criticism (McGowan
and Sampson 2005). While formal systematic reviews such as those under-
taken by the Cochrane Collaboration and the Campbell Collaboration
have the advantage of employing medical librarians or “expert searchers”
to assist with formulating and documenting the search strategy (Harris
2005; McGowan and Sampson 2005), researchers undertaking a system-
atic literature search without the benefit of an “expert searcher” will need
experience and knowledge in search building and literature retrieval using
a range of databases and discovery tools.
Unfortunately, when undertaking any kind of literature review there

is no one unified and easy-to-use entry point to locate all of the relevant
information on a topic. Traditionally, library databases with their advanced
search capabilities have been utilised for literature searches. Databases are
particularly useful for systematic reviews because they can support highly
complex search strategies using such features as logical or boolean opera-
tors (AND, OR and NOT searches), truncation and wildcards (where a
symbol is used to capture variations in word endings or spelling), and
limiters (where limits are applied to the search results including date, lan-
guage, peer-review status, subject terms etc.), all of which can be saved
and stored for later search strategy refinement. Articles in library databases
are also indexed using controlled vocabulary such as MeSH terms (the
National Library of Medicine’s controlled vocabulary thesaurus), provid-
ing researchers the option of free text searching, controlled vocabulary
searching, or a combination of both. Controlled vocabulary searching will
generally optimise the number of relevant results.
A disadvantage of database searching is that individual databases are
limited in their comprehensiveness and cannot provide complete cover-
age of a topic on their own. The databases searched will therefore impact
upon the literature retrieved. This is demonstrated by Best et al. (2014) in
their comparison of results from the same search string across eight well-
known databases. The number of results retrieved ranged from 59 to 573,
depending on the database used. The number of results retrieved is not
necessarily an indicator of the best database to use, as the relevance of the
items retrieved must also be considered. Best et al.’s study also found that
of the 2004 total items retrieved across the eight databases searched, only
43 items were identified as unique (not duplicated) and relevant to the
research question. This demonstrates the need to repeat searches across
more than one database to obtain sufficiently comprehensive results, and
that replicating searches across databases will by necessity involve some
redundancy or duplication of results.
The success of database searching is also highly influenced by the skills
and experience of the user. Many researchers are overwhelmed by the
technical features of databases, especially in comparison to the ease of use
of a single search box, as evidenced by GS. Jamali and Asadi’s (2010)
study of the research behaviour of scientists which found many are increas-
ingly relying on GS for finding scholarly literature. Likewise, Gehanno
et al. (2013) argue that Google and GS now lead more users to biomedical
journal websites than does Medline via PubMed.
Since the beta version of GS was released in November 2004, the

information-seeking behaviour of students, academics, researchers and
librarians has significantly changed (Howland et al. 2009). The single
search box is gaining preference over complex search strategies but is it
questionable how suitable GS is for systematic searches of the literature.
While numerous studies have been undertaken around GS’s suitability
for literature searching, most have focused on the comprehensiveness and
scholarliness of GS content and in this context it rates well as a research tool.
Howland et al.’s (2009) study found that there was no statistically signifi-
cant difference between the scholarliness of materials found in GS across dis-
ciplines and that the content of GS was, in fact, on average, more scholarly
than library databases. Other studies have found that GS demonstrates very
high coverage when searching for known citations. For example, Gehanno
et al. utilised the results of systematic review searches to individually search
for each citation and retrieved 100 % of the citations in GS, going so far as
to state that “if the authors of the 29 systematic reviews had used only GS,
no reference would have been missed” (2013, p. 1). Similarly, in Giustini
and Boulos’s (2013) study of GS’s comprehensiveness, 95 % of the articles
cited in a recent systematic review were retrieved in GS. Contributing to
the comprehensiveness of GS is the inclusion of open access articles, some
of which may not be indexed in library databases.
Others argue that such studies on the comprehensiveness and scholarli-
ness of GS fail to take into account “real-world” searching scenarios and
that the question remains—is GS a suitable tool for systematic literature
searching and retrieval? (Boeker et al. 2013; Giustini and Boulos 2013).
In order to answer this, a brief summary of what the GS search interface
provides is warranted. GS currently supports the use of boolean or logi-
cal operators on a simple level. AND is represented by a space between
words, and OR can be used within the single search box (represented as
“OR” and enclosed in parenthesis “[… OR…]”). The boolean NOT can
also be used and is represented by the minus sign directly before the term
to be excluded (“−…”). Truncation is not supported, but GS does auto-
matically apply stemming to words where the stem is recognisable (Boeker
et al. 2013). Phrase searching is also supported and, as in databases, is rep-
resented by double quotation marks around phrase terms (“…”). Using
GS’s advanced search screen, researchers can currently limit searches by
author, journal title and publication date.
However, the lack of a visual search box builder means GS cannot easily
accommodate the kinds of very complex queries often required for system-
atic reviews. For example, Harris’s (2005) case study on systematic review
searches analysed a review that incorporated 15 separate search strategies
ranging from 33 to 77 lines in length. Using GS, these kinds of lengthy
search strings could not be supported. GS currently limits the length of
search strings in both the single search box and the advanced search inter-
face to 256 characters (Boeker et al. 2013). GS also lacks indexing or con-
trolled vocabulary features, enabling only keyword or free text searching
which greatly increases the risk of retrieving irrelevant results. This is to
some extent mitigated by GS’s relevancy ranking algorithm which displays
the most relevant results first. Howland et al.’s (2009) study of researcher
behaviour found that most researchers using GS did not go beyond the
third page of results, suggesting there is considerable satisfaction with the
relevancy of results achieved in GS searching.
While most criticisms of GS focus on a general lack of advanced search
features, other specific criticisms include no peer-review filter (Allen and
Weber 2014), no search history function to store searches and retrieve
results for later refinement, the inability to export large numbers of refer-
ences simultaneously into reference management software (Boeker et al.
2013), and the unreliability of search results over time and place suggest-
ing other researchers may not be able to replicate the search consistently
(Giustini and Boulos 2013).
Boeker et al.’s (2013) study of GS’s suitability for systematic reviews,
in which the search strategies of 14 Cochrane reviews were translated
into a search suitable for the “limited capabilities” (2013, p. 3) of GS’s
interface, found that although comprehensive, the search interface limi-
tations severely undermine GS’s suitability as a tool for systematic and
scientific literature searching and retrieval. Likewise, although GS was
proven to be comprehensive, both Giustini and Gehanno’s studies into
whether GS is sensitive enough to be used alone for systematic reviews
found that it was not (Gehanno et al. 2013; Giustini and Boulos 2013).
These findings are not surprising given GS’s own mission statement
which is to provide “a simple way to broadly search for scholarly litera-
ture” (Google n.d.).
Unlike GS, library discovery tools were designed with both profes-
sional searching and ease of use in mind. In response to the popularity
of Google’s single search box, library discovery tools such as Ex Libris
Primo, Proquest Summon, and EBSCO Discovery Service were devel-
oped in the late 2000s (Asher et al. 2013; Howland et al. 2009; Mussell
and Croft 2013). Library discovery tools operate much like GS by pro-
viding a single search box to search across a number of host institutions’

databases simultaneously, thus reducing to some extent the silo effect of
searching individual databases.
Library discovery tools also provide many of the features of library data-
bases including an advanced search screen with visual search box builder
and the ability to search using controlled vocabulary. Other advantages
include the ability to filter results to “peer reviewed”, save search and
search alert functions, and the ability to export large numbers of cita-
tions to citation management software. As with GS, keyword (free text)
searching using the single search box will typically return a large number
of results, many of which may be irrelevant. Library discovery tools also
employ relevancy ranking to display results.
To what extent library discovery tools are being used for systematic
literature review searching is uncertain as no studies were located at the
time of writing on the suitability of library discovery tools for undertaking
systematic literature searches. Like GS, library discovery tools are unlikely
to be suitable on their own for systematic reviews as they rarely index all
of a host institution’s electronic content. Internet searches will also be
necessary to locate the scattered grey literature relevant to a topic. In addi-
tion, hand searching, cross-checking references, networking and contact-
ing experts in the field may all be required for a completely comprehensive
literature search on a topic.
NAVIGATION STRATEGIES AND THE “GOOGLE GENERATION”

This chapter has highlighted some of the current challenges around lit-
erature searching, and in particular systematic literature searching. The
information-seeking behaviour of the next generation of researchers
may further impact upon effective literature searching. The “Google
Generation” is a term used to describe those born after 1993 and who
grew up with the Internet (Spring 2010). At the time of writing, early
Google Generation researchers will already be undertaking higher
degree research. Studies indicate this generation, while perceived as
being confident users of technology, are not necessarily sophisticated
searchers or evaluators of information (Best et al. 2014; Rowlands et al.
2008; Spring 2010). Spring’s (2010) study found Google Generation
researchers typically underutilise advanced search functions of search
engines, display a preference for single search box natural language
searching, and have limited understanding of the use of synonyms and
controlled vocabulary in searching. Consequently, they rely heavily on

search engines rather than databases to find and retrieve information.
Best et al. (2014) also argue many are lacking the critical and analytical
skills to evaluate the suitability of information they find on the Internet
because “it’s always been there”.
Interestingly, a British Library study of the information-seeking behav-
iour of Generation Y doctoral students (those born between 1983 and
1994 and just prior to the Google Generation), found Generation Y doc-
toral students to be sophisticated searchers who are well aware of authority
and authenticity issues in research. In growing up without the Internet, it
is argued they “acquired information-seeking and enquiry skills without
learning ‘to get by with Google’ and that the nature of this early start may
have had an impact on their research behaviour and information-seeking
skills as doctoral students” (Carpenter 2012, p. 3).
Increasingly then, Google Generation students may enter university
without information seeking and enquiry skills (Judd and Kennedy 2011).
The best way that students can become proficient in literature searching is
through experience or “informed practice” (Borbasi and Jackson 2012).
Over the course of undergraduate programs, some students may have lit-
tle opportunity to develop these skills if they regularly gravitate towards
Google for familiarity and “ease of use” (Jamali and Asadi 2010).
Studies on the information-seeking behaviour of Google Generation
researchers raise a number of concerns in the context of a scholarly pub-
lishing landscape increasingly requiring evidence that a systematic and
methodical search of the literature has been carried out. Primarily of con-
cern is the skills gap that may emerge between the kind of search strat-
egies required for scientific searching and a generational preference for
free text single search box searching. Closing the skills gap may also have
its challenges as, perhaps not surprisingly, Google Generation researchers
have been found to display high-confidence levels in their searching ability
(Rowlands et al. 2008) and may not recognise the need to develop these
skills.
In disciplines beyond the health sciences, systematic literature
reviews offer researchers the opportunity to make sense of large bod-
ies of information and find solutions to problems using the existing evi-
dence base. These opportunities will not be fully realised unless Google
Generation researchers recognise the need to invest time in developing
skills in search building and refinement and gain experience using a range
of discovery tools beyond Google.
CONCLUSION
The literature review represents a significant phase of a research project
and enables researchers to identify knowledge gaps, avoid duplication of
other’s work, and helps to shape the direction of new research by locat-
ing it within the ongoing literature dialogue around a topic. Literature
reviews can also be considered research projects in their own right, as evi-
denced by a growing body of literature and systematic reviews in scholarly
publishing.
The literature review process is becoming increasingly challenging
for a number of reasons. First, the traditional narrative review is being
displaced by systematic literature reviews in a number of disciplines.
Systematic literature reviews require complex and exhaustive search strat-
egies which aim to capture all the relevant literature on a topic. Unlike
narrative reviews, the methods used to obtain results, the search strate-
gies, must be transparent and documented in the review and replicable
by other researchers. Ill-conceived or poorly executed searches may lead
to the retrieval of many irrelevant results and render literature search-
ing purposeless and time consuming at best, and at worst deliver flawed
results in the context of systematic literature reviews. Thus in order to
rigorously defend search methodologies employed, researchers will
increasingly need to be skilled and experienced practitioners in informa-
tion searching and retrieval.
Second, the exponential growth in scholarly publishing, combined
with a range of tools which may be utilised to navigate the literature
(each with its advantages and limitations), has arguably complicated the
literature review process. Library databases have traditionally provided
researchers with the kinds of advanced search features necessary for sys-
tematic and scientific literature searching. However, these same techni-
cal features may make database searching appear overwhelming to some
researchers, particularly younger generations of researchers with a life-
time of Google use. The ease of use of the single search box provided
by Google Scholar and library discovery tools is becoming the preferred
search option.
Studies undertaken on Google Scholar demonstrate that although it
is very comprehensive and the content is sufficiently scholarly, Google
Scholar’s current lack of advanced search functionality makes it an unsuit-
able tool for systematic literature searches on its own. Google Scholar is a
useful complementary tool when undertaking reviews.
Whether undertaking a narrative or systematic literature review, search-

ing should be carried out deliberately and requires experience in building
searches as well as knowledge of the scope and features of the various
databases and search engines available. With a scientific world increas-
ingly requiring evidence that a systematic and methodical approach to
information seeking has occurred, the challenge for young and future
researchers, librarians, and doctoral supervisors may be the impact a life-
time of Google use will have on the information-seeking behaviour of
future researchers.
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CHAPTER 12
Food for Thought: Managing Secondary

Data for Research
Nargis Pervin, Rohit Nishant, and Philip J. Kitchen
INTRODUCTION
Social science researchers are strongly motivated to understand the world
of business and its associated phenomena. In contrast to pure science
research, social science studies combine strong narratives with empirical or
analytical investigation. Such research is enticing, invigorating, and essen-
tial in current academic and practitioner domains, but it resembles a maze.
Researchers must navigate diverse paths to identify appropriate theory,
concepts, data sources, and knowledge for analysing and understanding
social science phenomena. Each aspect is challenging.
N. Pervin ()
Indian Institute of Information Technology Design and Manufacturing
Kancheepuram, Chennai, TN, India
R. Nishant
Supply Chain/ESC Rennes School of Business, Rennes, Brittany, France
P.J. Kitchen
Department of Marketing, Salford University and ESC Rennes School of
Business, Salford, UK
Department of Marketing, Salford University and ESC Rennes School of
Business, Rennes, France

DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-39853-2_12
200 N. PERVIN ET AL.
For the most part, a strong theory provides the framework for
understanding complex phenomena; subsequent data collection and
statistical analyses test the key tenets of theories. Datasets are broadly clas-
sified as primary or secondary, depending on how the data are collected.
Researchers collect primary data tailored to their specific research needs
through experiments, surveys, and interviews. Primary data collection is
very expensive and often requires funding. Researchers must also obtain
participant consent in consideration of ethical factors when required.
Consequently, researchers often use secondary data already available from
other researchers or research organisations (Atkinson and Brandolini
2001). However, a researcher cannot be certain of the quality of such sec-
ondary data (Smith 2008). There may also be a need to augment the data
with further empirical studies. Also, the researcher may need to gather
additional data (Bamberger et al. 2004).
In this chapter, we explore some new sources of data and the challenges
of using them. We draw on our experiences as empirical researchers to
make recommendations for using secondary data.
Rapidly evolving technology is bringing drastic changes. In less than
a decade, smartphones and tablets have replaced desktops and laptops in
multiple settings. Research is also subject to technological change, for
example, through the World Wide Web, our gateway to information. The
era of static web pages has given way to more animated, dynamic pages.
In technical parlance, the so-called Web 2.0 era has magnified the avail-
ability and quantity of publicly available data sources. Researchers can
peruse web pages, social media sites, and publicly accessible databases that
increasingly share open data.
In the subsequent section, a review of the available secondary data
sources is given, followed by discussion on associated challenges in sec-
ondary datasets at the micro and macro level. Social networking datasets
are classified as secondary data sources. Nonetheless, these tend to be
very attractive to researchers mainly for the amount of data that is avail-
able for research consumption. Next, the nuances in handling such data
sources are discussed further, following which are the challenges in han-
dling a specific social networking dataset, namely Twitter data source will
be presented.
In the subsequent section, we discuss how to navigate the research
maze in social network mining, specifically research pertaining to
FOOD FOR THOUGHT: MANAGING SECONDARY DATA FOR RESEARCH 201
Twitter. This section presents a detailed discussion with the associated

challenges in every phase starting from data collection to experimen-
tal validation. Thus, the overall challenges in managing secondary data
sources are discussed and then we draw the strands together into the
conclusion.
In our discussion of challenges associated with secondary datasets, we
focus on large, complex Twitter data, which differs from many other data-
sets in that Twitter datasets, cannot be simply downloaded from different
websites.
DATASET REVIEW
Social science research is broadly classified as either macro studies focused
on relatively large units of analyses such as countries, or micro studies
focused on smaller units such as individuals or groups. The unit of analysis
determines the researcher’s approach in terms of theory and study impli-
cations. Fortunately, researchers have access to databases for conducting
macro and micro studies. Table 12.1 provides a list of databases used in
Information Systems (IS) research.
Different disciplines use appropriate databases. For example, learn-
ing studies use Trends in International Mathematics and Science Study
(TIMSS) and Progress in International Reading Literacy Study (PIRLS)
databases. Studies relating to specific demographic segments often use
Longitudinal Study of American Youth (LSAY). The Pew Research data-
set on various topics is publicly available. Researchers are advised to con-
duct an online search to check the availability of secondary databases
in their area of interest. Knoema, a public data platform, also provides
access to datasets that focus on distinct units of analysis, despite some
variation.
It was once difficult and expensive to collect country-level data
for macro studies. Now, researchers can use World Bank Open Data
and the World Telecommunication/ICT Indicators Database. Micro
behavioral studies can use data from social networking services such
as Twitter. Nevertheless, researchers must understand and appreciate
the nuances and intricacies of such datasets. Consequently, we provide
an overview of datasets and suggest potential issues investigators must
consider.
Table 12.1 Dataset overview

Dataset name Macro or micro Description
level data
World Bank Open Data Macro Provides public access for global data
(http://data.worldbank. in categories such as agriculture and
org/) rural development, aid effectiveness,
climate change, economy and growth,
and education. IS researchers can find
IT data of particular interest at World
Bank ICT website (http://www.
worldbank.org/en/topic/ict)
World Telecommunication/ Macro Now in its eighteenth edition, the
ICT Indicators Database database provides subscription-based
(http://www.itu.int/ access to researchers seeking annual
pub/D-IND-WTID. data from 1975 to 2013 for about 140
OL-2014) telecommunication/ICT statistics,
such as fixed telephone network,
mobile-cellular telephone
subscriptions, quality of service,
Internet, traffic, staff, prices, revenue,
investment and statistics on ICT access
and use by households and individuals
for over 200 countries
Governance Databases Macro Includes Global E-Government
Report (available at http://www.
insidepolitics.org/policyreports.html),
Worldwide Governance Indicators
(http://data.worldbank.org/
data-catalog/worldwide-governance-
indicators) (http://info.worldbank.
org/governance/wgi/index.
aspx#home), and UN E-Government
Development Database (http://
unpan3.un.org/egovkb#.
VBl-8BC9x5J)
Twitter Data Micro 140 characters called tweets provide
information on users’ location,
sentiments, and perceptions
Tumblr Micro The service allows its users to post text
and multimedia data on dashboard
FriendFeed Micro FriendFeed allows aggregating all
social media (Twitter, LinkedIn,
Facebook, etc.) content into one
platform
POSSIBLE USE OF MACRO-LEVEL DATABASES

AND ASSOCIATED CHALLENGES
As discussed, researchers can utilise data from macro-level databases to

investigate research questions involving nations as the unit of analysis, or
more specifically to examine phenomena related to ICT development.
However, while datasets are readily available and save collection time, they
pose challenges related to recency and the relatively crude nature of the
data, although some are continually updated.
Conventional research approaches, such as surveys focus on psychomet-
ric properties of measures, such as validity and reliability. Validity refers to
how well the dataset measures what it was intended to measure. Reliability
signifies that the data will be consistent under retesting. Researchers must
choose data relevant to the construct or concept under study. However,
testing validity and reliability of country-level data is relatively difficult.
Hence, such measures are often called crude (Katsikeas et al. 2000). Since
researchers often use crude measures without the rigorous statistical tests
used in conventional research, they must be wary when they interpret
findings from an analysis based on crude datasets. Most important, stud-
ies should be strongly grounded in theories to judge whether findings
are meaningful (Marti and Scherer 2015). Without theory, noise pres-
ent in the data might be perceived to indicate meaningful empirical find-
ings. Although researchers are tantalised by the availability of data and the
numerous opportunities afforded, they must have a theoretical foundation
for their studies if they are to successfully navigate the research maze. We
discuss this issue in detail later.
SOCIAL MEDIA DATASETS AND THEIR NUANCES

Apart from publicly available secondary databases, a new stream of data
sources has recently emerged: social media datasets collected from social
networking websites. As of today the two main social networking sites are
Facebook and Twitter. Though the acceptance of Facebook is astounding,
gaining access to the data is hard due to privacy reasons. Twitter is one
of the popular social networking sites and we have chosen this particular
dataset for discussion for several reasons. The popularity of this microb-
logging site, extent of data and availability of data for public consumption
are the main rationale for this focus. On Twitter, users from all geographic
locations communicate through “tweets” that could and often do provide
abundant information regarding social phenomena. However, Twitter

poses new challenges for researchers. Undoubtedly, prior experience often
provides guidelines for how best to access and use the data while avoiding
or decreasing some of the challenges.
Why Should Researchers Use Twitter Data?

Twitter, one of the most popular microblogging sites, has garnered much
attention for its success in advertising products (Jansen et al. 2009; Shi
et al. 2014), and publicising political causes (Abel et al. 2011). Although
secondary data sources have limitations (such as quality of the data,
inability to collect additional data etc. as discussed earlier), social science
researchers are attracted to Twitter data for its socially rich and publicly
accessible data. A plethora of research has been conducted on trending
topic detection (Pervin et al. 2013), product advertising (Jansen et al.
2009; Shi et al. 2014), disaster communication (Hughes and Palen 2009;
Vieweg et al. 2010; Zook et al. 2010), influential user identification
(Boyd et al. 2010; Shuai et al. 2012; Suh et al. 2010; Watts and Dodds
2007), and users’ social behaviour (Ha and Ahn 2011). Thus, social sci-
ence researchers find Twitter data immensely important for investigat-
ing offline phenomena in online communities. For new researchers in
the promising field of Twitter research, we next give an overview of the
Twitter architecture and entities.
Twitter Entities
Twitter messages, called “tweets”, are limited to 140 characters. Users can
instantly broadcast any thoughts about their personal experiences, their
views about current events or controversies, basically anything that comes
to mind. Consequently, Twitter is a free, real-time, global short-text-
messaging service. Despite the character limits, tweets can contain much
additional information through two metadata-entities and places. A tweet
entity can contain a shortened URL that links to external news, blogs, or
even photos. The entity can mention users’ Twitter handles (Abel et al.
2011), hashtags, or locations.
Moreover, Twitter’s follower-following architecture (Jansen et al.
2009) allows instant proliferation of tweets to thousands. Information is
diffused mainly through the retweet mechanism: the user shares some-
one else’s tweet by adding RT@ before the handle of that Twitter user. A
Twitter user first introduced the hashtag feature, which refers to a word or
a non-spaced phrase. A hashtag, #hashtag, collates related tweets discuss-

ing that hashtag. The popularity of hashtags has increased enormously,
encouraging other social media such as Facebook and Instagram to adopt
the idea.
Twitter Data Analysis: A Research Maze

Next we discuss Twitter data collection, processing, analysis, challenges,
and solutions for navigating the maze. Some challenges and solutions are
specific to Twitter data, but many pertain to big data in general, which
includes both macro and micro level data.
Data Collection
Acquiring Twitter Data

Twitter’s total global audience of monthly active users reached 227.5
million in 2014 (Forbes 2014). Recently, however, Twitter’s growth has
started declining. Theoretically, academics can use Twitter’s Application
Program Interface (API) tools to accumulate data for a million-user base
on an international level. Using large datasets and selecting appropriate
sampling frames for studies are key challenges for empirical study.
Twitter Application Programing Interface (API) (or any general API)
has internal functions that allow developers to access limited Twitter data.
Although Twitter’s API is clean and well documented, the limit is cur-
rently 15 requests per window per leveraged access token (nb… refer to
Twitter’s REST API v1. 1 for more information). Thus, a boundary is
placed on accumulating a representative sample for a research topic. (For
more details about Twitter API, refer to https://dev.twitter.com/rest/
public). The search API, which is part of the Twitter REST API 1.1, is
also limited to 180 queries per minute, and the researcher can access only
recent tweets related to the search terms.
By the time you as the researcher choose a research problem, you miss
out on a large portion of the data even when you have access to Twitter’s
search API. For instance, say you are interested in tweets that talk about
the upcoming election in the USA to predict who will win the election.
You need a considerable amount of tweets that contain election-specific
keywords. By the time you decide what data you actually need, you will
have missed out on many tweets. Your frustration compounds because you
want to collect historical data as well. Perhaps you want to investigate the
evolution of a phenomenon as reflected in historical and current tweets,

but you can collect only seven days back tweets through API. To mitigate
such limitations, it is advisable to the researchers exploring Twitter data to
collect real-time streaming data on a daily basis and archive the old data via
storage device at regular intervals. This effort is no doubt advantageous
when the researcher’s focused dataset is Twitter. Otherwise, depending
on the available dataset, you might need to reframe your research aims
according to the collected dataset you can obtain.
Selecting the Appropriate Sampling Frame

Researchers often ask the age-old query: “Do the sampled data represent
the population?” Along with that, investigators must carefully identify and
remove spammers and fake Twitter accounts from the sampling frame.
Twitter spammers use Twitter as a tool to post malicious posts and hijack
Twitter trending topics (these are the topics which are mostly discussed
on Twitter on that time interval). A study (Analytics 2009) has shown that
about 3 % of tweets are basically spams. This huge amount of spam tweets
is nothing but noise in the data and possibly adds bias to the findings.
Fortunately, this is a well-researched problem and efficient methods are
available (Wang 2010; Mccord and Chuah 2011) to handle or circumvent
such cases.
Data Processing
Real-Time Processing
Big datasets such as Twitter are often conceptualised in terms of the “3
Vs”: the volume, velocity, and variety of data. A Hadoop-based system
can handle the volume and variety of the data, but the velocity of big
data is challenging. Specifically, Twitter tweets flow at 6000 tweets per
second. Real-time processing of such a huge volume demands intelligent
data-mining techniques that can filter out unnecessary information and
reduce the time needed to process incoming tweets. Moreover, parallel
processing algorithms must be applied to divide the overhead on sev-
eral machines. High-profile companies such as Alibaba and Groupon use
open source stream processing systems such as Apache Kafka (http://
kafka.apache.org/design.html), a distributed messaging system, and
Storm (http://storm-project.net/), a distributed stream-processing
engine.
Data Analysis
Data visualisation provides a visual snapshot of the data. However, for
big data, data visualisation requires sophisticated yet flexible tools. Several
tools such as TweetXplorer, TwitInfo, and Twitcident provide tar-
geted visualisation that allows Twitter data to be specifically visualised.
Therefore, we must build our own customised visualisation tool according
to the research question.
Validation of Experimental Results

Studies often analyse tweets to analyse groups or classes of people who
tweet or retweet posts (Hong et al. 2011; Tinati et al. 2012). Analysts face
the so-called classification problem of devising a training set to train the
model and a test set to verify the efficacy of the proposed model. Unlike
classification in social network analysis, we cannot divide social network
graphs because all nodes are interconnected, adding complexity to the
validation approach.
One way to deal with the challenge is to use out-of-time validation
rather than out-of-sample validation. This means the network is con-
structed at one time point and true behaviour is used to predict the next
time unit and validate results. As mentioned, researchers can acquire sec-
ondary data such as big Twitter data online, but they face challenges in
collecting and analysing it, despite the potential for gaining rich insight
under rigorous analysis.
Although we often mine big datasets such as Twitter data, we must
remember that all studies stand on theories as their foundation. Hence, we
must always use appropriate theoretical lenses to understand patterns in
any dataset. Although data may be abundant, the fundamentals of research
remain the same: theory is key to successfully navigating the research maze.
OVERALL CHALLENGES IN MANAGING SECONDARY DATA

We have provided an overview of secondary datasets, illustrated datas-
ets that could be used for micro- and macro-level analysis, and suggested
specific operational guidelines for using Twitter datasets. We now focus
on general challenges encountered while using secondary datasets for
research. We relate the specific steps in a research endeavour and the chal-
lenges that secondary datasets bring.
As discussed, disciplines such as marketing now use secondary datas-

ets extensively to acquire faster access to data with minimal data collec-
tion efforts. Although secondary datasets can provide huge amounts of
data, they have great limitations and associated challenges that must be
recognised.
Will Data Meet the Research Objective?

Specific research objectives or research questions guide all research. For
example, marketing researchers often strive to understand consumer
behaviour in different settings and contexts. Their choice of research
questions dictates their choice of independent variables that could result
in outcomes and dependent variables that are the outcomes, as well as the
unit of analysis. Theoretical lenses also determine the choice of variables
in empirical studies. Although using secondary datasets allows researchers
to avoid efforts to collect data, the data were not collected for the specific
research question being investigated. Thus, the researcher must decide
whether the secondary data sources are appropriate; specifically, whether
they include the variables required for investigating the research question.
If they are inadequate to fulfil the research goal, the researcher should
consider collecting primary data.
Given the availability of secondary data sources, researchers often focus
on data-mining to investigate contemporary phenomena. Several disci-
plines shift their approaches to “let data tell the story”. However, that
approach is fundamentally flawed. Sometimes, data reveal illogical pat-
terns, as documented in websites such as Spurious Correlations (2016).
If we simply let data tell the story, we often hypothesise after unravelling
the data results, a process called HARKing (hypothesising after the results
are known). Social science researchers often object to HARKing because it
can lead to studies that lack deliberation or counter-arguments regarding
conflicting findings (Kerr 1998).
The data-driven approach has both proponents and opponents, but
key scholarly articles such as Whetten (1989) and Byron and Thatcher
(2016) reiterate that theory is essential. We agree that theory should
guide arguments and data analysis. If results are inconsistent with the-
ory, ensuing debates will extend the theory. Consequently, knowledge
is increased to fulfil the key objective of social science research. Journals
are also increasingly requiring more theoretical rigour in submitted
manuscripts.
Are Data Accurate and Reliable?

When researchers do not collect the data themselves, they cannot easily
determine the accuracy. Some published works fail to report standard errors
and standard deviations. Researchers might solve the problem by talking
with the primary data collectors to understand how the data were collected
and what measurement errors occurred (Liu and Koirala 2013). They must
examine dependability and time of collection. Moreover, the same unit of
analysis should be used for the research goal and the primary data. Another
alternative is to use secondary data sources from prior research. We provide
a list of some secondary sources in this chapter. One advantage of reusing
data is that past research has often documented the strengths and limita-
tions, so the researcher can consider the limitations when analysing the data.
Are the Data Contemporary?

If the collected data are outdated, researchers must be cautious. For exam-
ple, the census is collected every 10 years and may be useless in less than
a decade as contexts change. Researchers are advised to consider the time
aspect of their data sources.
Are the Data Representative?

Debates are increasing about whether secondary data sources represent
the data universe. For example, macro-level studies that use country as
unit of analysis must consider whether the data are from specific regions.
Are the data characteristic of countries in OECD or Euro zones? Are the
sampled countries developed or rising economies?
Micro-level studies are uniquely concerned about whether Internet
sampling represents the universe. For example, do tweets represent gen-
eral behaviour? Did the sample come from a publicly available online sur-
vey? What about the population without Internet access? Every study and
sample will have some empirical limitations and associated context. Thus,
researchers are advised to highlight the context and consider empirical
limitations when interpreting findings.
How to Operationalise Research Questions Using Large Datasets

Questions regarding data representativeness present unique empirical
challenges. In some secondary datasets, findings may be biased because
some subpopulations are oversampled or overrepresented (Thomas and

Heck 2001). Agencies that collect secondary data often transform it to
enhance its interpretability (Beaton and Johnson 1992). However, trans-
formation may conceal useful insights. Researchers should check the sam-
ple’s representativeness and use statistical techniques, such as weighting.
They should also analyse complete or raw datasets wherever possible. If
they cannot do so, they should be cautious about making claims on the
basis of data interpretation and should explicitly state the limitations.
Secondary datasets also pose ethical challenges. Using secondary data
sources that provide no access to identifying information or codes is harm-
less, but if the data are not fully anonymous, participant consent is needed.
Twitters are not generally anonymous, but the dataset is freely accessible
on the Internet. To use it, researchers should protect confidentiality when
publishing results. In keeping with our focus, we next illustrate unique
challenges in the context of Twitter data.
Associated Challenges in Using Twitter Data

Using Twitter data presents specific ethical, methodological, and legal
challenges.
Ethical Challenges
In general, using secondary data poses ethical challenges in that obtaining
participant consent is difficult. Online Twitter data is even more challeng-
ing because of the huge number of Twitter users. Researchers who are
studying sensitive topics must be particularly cautious about disclosing
Twitter user IDs or about getting proper consent.
Legal Challenges
Most social network sites such as Facebook restrict data access to maintain
privacy for social network users. Twitter provides access to only 1 % of its
limited Twitter streaming API. In addition, Twitter’s terms and condi-
tions prohibit sharing Twitter data publicly. Researchers can share tweets
with the tweet IDs provided by the API and use them to retrieve the rel-
evant tweets. Before researchers publish the data, they must adhere to the
terms and conditions provided by the Twitter API (2010).
Data Access
Gaining access to the data is critical for most social networking sites.
Using API external developers build technologies which rely on Twitter
data. There are three APIs available for accessing the Twitter data,
namely Twitter search API, Twitter streaming API, and Twitter fire-
hose API. Through streaming API Twitter provides a limited 1 % of the
sampled data, however, the researcher must verify whether the sample is
appropriate for the research analysis. Moreover, Twitter’s sampling tech-
nique is unknown. On the other hand, Twitter firehose data provides full
access to the data. Morstatter et al. (2013) provides a key analysis on both
datasets to understand whether the sampled 1 % Twitter data represents
the entire population.
Twitter’s search API allows researchers to search tweets that contain
specified keywords, useful for focusing on specific topics. However, only
week-old tweets are available; historical tweets are archived. In addition,
the choice of specified keywords is critical. Users might discuss the same
topics but use different keywords or abbreviations, and keywords can vary
in different languages. Therefore, the list of keywords must be exhaus-
tive or the analysis will be systematically biased. Twitter search API can
have truncated and biased data for additional limits. Having full access to
Twitter data through firehose can be a solution, but these data are quite
expensive. Hence, the researcher must choose between the freely available
but inadequate 1 % Twitter data and the costly full-access firehose data.
Spam Identification
Many Twitter accounts are spam. Researchers must use spam identifica-
tion algorithms (Benevenuto et al. 2010; Yardi et al. 2009) to eliminate
them. Otherwise, using raw data from the API might add significant bias
to interpretations.
Sampling Techniques Used in Twitter Data

Empirical research is especially challenged in using social media data col-
lections. Data collected from Twitter and Facebook may fail to include
the entire population. Social science research has discussed sampling tech-
niques (Bryman 2012; Ritchie et al. 2013), but techniques for gathering
online social network data need further exploration. Sampling practices in
quantitative sociology and social network research overlap considerably,
but have some vital differences needing further study (Gerlitz and Rieder
2013). First, Twitter data pre-exists online, so it differs from surveys that
produce data for analysis. Second, tweets have a special structural form
in that they are limited to 140 characters. Third, the entire population of
tweets is used for sampling.
The most likely sampling techniques for studying Twitter data are topic-
based, marker-based, non-probabilistic, and snowball sampling (Gerlitz
and Rieder 2013). For topic-based sampling, pre-defined keywords or
hashtags are used to search API.
For snowball sampling, the researcher selects and starts with a set of
Twitter seed accounts to collect their friends and followers. The process
is repeated until enough user accounts are collected to derive the relevant
information.
For the marker-based sampling technique, Twitter streaming API
provides the option to specify metadata such as location, language, date-
range, and Twitter user identities.
Those sampling techniques do not assure that the sample properly rep-
resents the population. One solution is to use the Twitter streaming API
data which supposedly follows random sampling. However, Twitter does
not disclose the actual sampling procedure.
Sampling Twitter users randomly is quite challenging. If Twitter stream
data is used, random user samples will be biased to active users (Bruns and
Liang 2012). Often researchers must add the users who interact with the
collected users to construct an interaction graph. Consequently, the data
might experience a snowballing effect. Depending on the research goal,
investigators must critically check bias that might come with the analysis.
CONCLUSION
In this chapter, we have provided an overview of secondary datasets. We
have listed and discussed specific datasets that social science—specifically
the Information Systems researchers are using. We discuss challenges spe-
cific to secondary datasets. In addition to discussing nuanced approaches
to operationalising popular datasets such as Twitter, we have suggested
challenges and possible strategies to address them.
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CHAPTER 13
The Compass, Navigation and the Journey:

A Role for eResearch in Navigating
the Research Maze
Francis Gacenga
INTRODUCTION
Research journeys though unique have a common aspect of the experience
being akin to navigating a maze. As researchers navigate the metaphori-
cal maze, the research defines the experience as much as the experience
defines the research. The researcher in the middle of the research journey,
like a sailor navigating his ship on the seas, finds that he constantly changes
direction and ideas and relies on a research compass to stay the course or
find a new course. Aspects of the journey like the sea or the context of
research are ever changing as new knowledge is added and as new research
leads to boundary shifting discovery and improvements on conducting
research. Some aspects of a research journey are fixed and provide guiding
principles and reference points for navigation, much like the boundaries of
the seas there are principles of research that are accepted reference points.
To effectively navigate the journey, researchers are reliant on tools and
F. Gacenga ()
Office of Research Development, University of Southern Queensland,
Toowoomba, QLD, Australia

DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-39853-2_13
218 F. GACENGA
technologies that aid them in the entire research cycle through iterations
of design, analysis, synthesis, and communication.
The sea and reference points like the sky such as the context of research
simultaneously provide challenges and solutions. The research context
includes the subjects and the objects of the research, as well as the data and
the tools to manipulate and make sense of the data. This chapter addresses
some opportunities and challenges facing researchers in the twenty-first
century. The chapter does so by describing the eResearch context and by
narrating the journeys taken by two researchers harnessing eResearch to
improve research outcomes and take advantage of opportunities. It has
been stated that the twenty-first century presents the fourth paradigm of
research which is described as data intensive research “consisting of three
basic activities: capture, curation, and analysis. The discipline and scale
of individual experiments and especially their data rates make the issue of
tools a formidable problem” (Hey et al. 2009). In this paradigm, research-
ers are faced with a maze that at times appears contradictory and the choice
of research problem, paradigm, methods, and tools can be confounding.
This chapter applies the classification of research tools and technolo-
gies along four research paradigms proposed in Hey et al. (2009) sum-
marised in Table 13.1. Researchers navigating research journeys encounter
a variety of research tools and technologies and tend to apply the pre-
dominant paradigm to address the research problem. Though research in
the classical period was predominantly recorded and conducted through
paper-based media that have been largely surpassed by computing tech-
nology, paper-based research is still used in the twenty-first century. New
research computing tools and technologies co-exist with older research
computing tools and technologies much as old research paradigms persist
even after new ones are introduced.
The growth in the application of computing in commerce and every-
day consumer electronics is also seen in research with the importance of
research computing applications in desktop computing, high performance
computing (HPC), research data management, and research collabora-
tion. This chapter uses the contextualised definition of eResearch offered
by O’Brien (2005) that states “the term e-science has been used to describe
large-scale, distributed, collaborative science enabled by the Internet and
related technologies. E-research is a broader term that includes nonsci-
entific research but that also refers to large-scale, distributed, national, or
global collaboration in research”. Growth in eResearch is evident in the
establishment of eResearch organisations in universities and other research
THE COMPASS, NAVIGATION AND THE JOURNEY: A ROLE FOR ERESEARCH... 219
Table 13.1 Navigating research computing: four paradigms based on Hey et al.
(2009)
Research Beginning Research object Research Inter-relation (how the
paradigm research technology paradigms co-exist,
period contradict and interact)
First Classical Theory Paper based Theory based hypothesis
period that can be tested by
experiments
Second Classical Experimentation Paper based/ Experiments identify
period Mainframe phenomena requiring
computing theoretical explanation
Third Mid- Computational Desktop Simulations can be used to
twentieth Simulation computing create virtual experiments
century and test theory
Fourth twenty-first Data-intensive Cloud Massive amounts of data
century computing collected overtime and
across disciplines analysed
and synthesised into
knowledge
institutions. There are eResearch organisations in North America, the UK,

Australia, Asia, New Zealand, and Africa, and eResearch conferences are
found in most regions.
This chapter shows the diversity of research computing tools and
technologies and navigation in research journeys. Old research prob-
lems, methods, and tools continue to be applied and reapplied even as
new research problems, methods and tools emerge. The use of eResearch
tools is “dependent upon the sort of research they are involved in. For
example: genomics researchers will be interested in having large compute
capacity available on demand; an international collaborative educational
research project will be interested in collaboration tools and file sharing;
and another researcher will be looking for a specialist research data man-
agement service” (Holewa et al. 2015). The nature of research problem
drives the creation and adoption of research tools and technologies, which
in turn drives the scope, and nature of research problems that can be
addressed. An example is seen in research computing technologies where
advances in storage and computing capabilities have improved resourcing
and capacity resulting in growth in data and compute intensive research.
A discussion is presented with conclusions drawn on the interdependence
of eResearch infrastructure and tools on eResearch services.
220 F. GACENGA
RESEARCH METHOD
This chapter presents reflections of journeys taken by researchers as
well as the reflections of an eResearch analyst supporting their jour-
neys. The research presented uses an action research method relying on
reflective practice. The chapter provides perspectives on the research
navigation, research tools, and research journey based on the defi-
nition of practice-based research as “an original investigation under-
taken in order to gain new knowledge partly by means of practice
and the outcomes of that practice” (Candy 2006). The chapter applies
the consensus on reflective practice described in Finlay (2008) where
“reflective practice is understood as the process of learning through
and from experience towards gaining new insights of self and/or prac-
tice. This often involves examining assumptions of everyday practice.
It also tends to involve the individual practitioner in being self-aware
and critically evaluating their own responses to practice situations”
(Finlay 2008).
The author applied the three-step cycle of reflective practice offered by
Schon (1983) entailing:
• reflection-on-action: looking back at accomplished actions and

reviewing the actions, thoughts, and outcomes.
• reflection-in-action: reflecting while undertaking a task.
• reflection-for-action: reviewing what has outcomes and identifying
constructive guidelines to follow to succeed in the given task in the
future.
The chapter begins with an introduction of the key concept of eRe-

search and presents research computing paradigms followed by a descrip-
tion of the reflective practitioner research methodology applied. A detailed
exposition of eResearch is provided followed by example cases of research
projects navigating the eResearch maze.
APPLYING ERESEARCH FACILITIES AND INFRASTRUCTURE

TO NAVIGATE RESEARCH
Researchers today predominantly use Information and Communication

Technologies (ICTs) in conducting part or all of their research spanning
early stages of research conceptualisation and design through the collec-
tion, storage and processing of data to the eventual publication and com-
munication of the research results. The ICTs mostly used are computers
connected to a network and the Internet and installed with word pro-
cessing, spreadsheet, email, and on occasion specialist research software.
Research use of computing in this model relies on a desktop process-
ing model where the processing and storage of research data occurs at
the researchers’ desktop computer. Technology advances in business and
enterprise are marked by a shift from processing using desktop computing
to remote processing using data centre computing that has resulted in the
growth of big data and cloud computing. The use of remotely located
data centres for computing and data storage enhances the capabilities
of desktop and handheld (tablets and smartphones) computers. A simi-
lar shift has been occurring in research from around 2000. In Australia,
universities have pulled together funding coupled with funding from the
commonwealth and state governments to invest in research data centres
providing facilities and support to researchers. All six states in Australia
have a research data centre eResearch services provider as summarised in
Table 13.2.
The state and national-based eResearch facilities and services are pro-
vided to researchers free of charge as the Australian universities cover costs
through collective membership fees supplemented by commonwealth and
state government funding. In some instances, the state-based eResearch
organisations act as brokers for the national level services as well as for
services and resources provided by the other eResearch organisations. This
collaborative framework for delivering research tools and services ensures
that collectively universities enjoy economies of scale as well as better bar-
gaining power resulting in cost savings and sustainability.
The eResearch service providers run research data centres that pro-
vide a shift from the desktop computing model of research to a cloud or
remote computing model of research where research data processing and
storage occurs in large and remotely located data centres away from the
desktop. The motivation for the shift from desktop computing in research
to remote data centre computing for research is to facilitate data and
compute intensive research as well as enable research data management
and collaboration in all research.
222 F. GACENGA
Table 13.2 Australian eResearch service providers

eResearch eResearch services State Website
organisation
Intersect Computing, data NSW http://www.intersect.org.au/eresearch

storage, software
development, training,
consulting
QCIF Computing, data QLD http://www.qcif.edu.au/
management, data
storage, collaboration,
tools, consulting
V3 Alliance Computing, data VIC http://www.v3.org.au/
storage, collaboration,
data visualisation,
decision support tools
TPAC Computing, data TAS http://www.tpac.org.au/
storage, data
publication
eRSA Computing, data SA https://www.ersa.edu.au/
management, data
storage, training,
consulting
Pawsey Computing, data WA https://www.pawsey.org.au//
management, data
storage, data
visualisation, tools,
training
NeCTAR Computing, tools, AUS https://nectar.org.au/
virtual laboratories
AARNet Networks, data storage AUS https://www.aarnet.edu.au/
NCI Computing, data AUS http://nci.org.au/
management, data
storage, data
visualisation, tools,
virtual laboratories,
training
AAF Identity access AUS http://aaf.edu.au/
management
CAUDIT Research ICT AUS https://www.caudit.edu.au/
governance
AeRO eResearch governance AUS http://www.aero.edu.au/
NAVIGATING RESEARCH JOURNEYS WITH ERESEARCH

SERVICES
Information and Communication Technologies have been used to sup-
port research by enhancing and facilitating processes and outcomes
through services such as data collection, processing, storage, sharing, and
publication. The use of computing (desktop and/or remote) is ubiqui-
tous and most researchers use computers at some point in their research
journeys. Navigation tools such as a compass are necessary but not suf-
ficient for successfully completing a journey and the same can be said of
eResearch tools. Researchers’ ability and experience in applying eResearch
tools vary and the usefulness of the tools is enhanced through the delivery
of eResearch services (O’Brien 2005). The power of eResearch tools can
only be fully achieved when researchers are competent at using eResearch
infrastructure and facilities. Australian universities research, ICT, and
library functions working in concert with eResearch service providers are
engaged in providing support and platforms for the delivery of eResearch
services. For example, ICTs enable research and provide the opportunity
for storing, sharing, and reusing data over very long periods of time and
across disparate disciplines but researchers are required to overcome the
challenge of describing the data in meaningful ways and having processes
to guarantee the quality of the data. Researchers have the opportunity to
focus their skills on data already collected by others instead of having to
go out and collect the data themselves. This opportunity comes with the
challenge of researchers needing the support of eResearch services and
acquiring skills to be able to use the technologies available to work with
the existing sea of data and do so within research codes of conduct such as
(Studies 2012) and (Australian Government 2007).
In the last two decades, there has been a shift in focus in IT from
technology to service delivery. Research computing technology requires
to be delivered in a service model for it to achieve the desired outcomes.
Researchers are experts in their domain disciplines and vary in knowledge
and skill in using technology. A service model is used to contextualise the
technology to match the needs of the individual researcher. The eResearch
service model applies the service model in the delivery of research tools
and technologies to researchers. The service model has the customer of
the service at centre and the starting point and aims at integrating com-
ponents to deliver solutions to researchers devoid of complexity. Focus is
given to the user experience and eResearch service providers endeavour to
224 F. GACENGA
encapsulate research tools and technologies as a vehicle to deliver services

to researchers. There are variations of the service delivery models used
by the different eResearch service providers. Commonalties are found in
the service portfolios but there are differences in the service architecture
applied varying from managed service provider models to internal ser-
vice providers to hybrid models. In managed services provision, as seen in
electricity suppliers, the provider is an external organisation that supplies
and maintains the infrastructure and delivers the services. Internal service
providers, such as most IT departments, are located in the organisation
and supply services to other parts of the organisation. The hybrid model
predominantly used to deliver eResearch services employs both managed
and internal service provision to deliver efficient and effective services.
The next section focuses on the main services included in the service port-
folios of eResearch service providers in Australia followed by a discussion
on the architecture of the service delivery models applied.
Research Computing—HPC, VMs

Advances in supercomputing in the form of grid and high performance
computing (HPC) have allowed researchers to access more computing
power that can be applied to computationally complex problems. Compute
intensive problems have the characteristics of being complex and require a
large number of CPUs and benefit from HPC that allow for using CPUs
to undertake tasks in parallel (QCIF 2014). Parallel CPU processing in
HPC results in a significant reduction in the amount of time required
to complete computing tasks as well as a significant increase in ability to
process the complexity of tasks and their interaction. HPC is applied in
compute intensive research mainly in analysis, simulation, modelling, and
visualisation. Traditionally, the mathematical and computational sciences,
engineering, climate science, and genomics have been the biggest users of
HPC. This is changing, as application programs exploiting parallel CPUs
are developed to address problems in disciplines such as archaeology, lin-
guistics, and literature.
A second area of research computing is in the provision of virtual
machines to researchers. Most research is not data intensive and com-
puting tasks can be completed using computers with desktop character-
istics and not require the power of HPCs. Data centres remotely located
have the capability of being scaled to suit the size of the researcher’s com-
puting need and can be provided as a virtual machine that can be accessed
at no cost to the researcher and dedicated to processing research tasks and

freeing up valuable and, in many cases, scarce computing resources at the
researcher’s desktop. In Australia, “the national research cloud empowers
researchers with new self-service abilities to publish research data, share
knowledge and rapidly deploy and access software applications without
the burden of operating their own computer servers” (NeCTAR 2011).
Researchers typically use virtual machines for applications such as running
websites as well as post and pre-processing. Virtual Machines can be used
to build research tools and deployed as virtual laboratories that can be used
by entire disciplines or communities of researchers. These are a form of
research tools that have enjoyed success and are made available to a wider
audience to allow for the advancement of research within a discipline.
Research Data Management—Storage, Exposure, Re-Use,

Preservation
The responsible conduct of research requires demonstrable management
of research data from its collection, storage, publication, preservation, and
disposal (Australian Government 2007). Data management is described
as “all the activities associated with the organisation, security, storage and
preservation, publication and sharing of data” (SA 2015). Researchers are
increasingly being required by funding and regulatory bodies not only to
consent to abide by best practice research data management but to also
demonstrate application of best practice by documenting and implement-
ing a research data management plan. Research data requirements exist
in a continuum from data light to data intensive research. Data comes
in all sizes and shapes, covering large international experiments; cross-
laboratory, single-laboratory, and individual observations; and potentially
individuals’ lives.
The value of raw data collected by research is gaining importance and
there has been growing interest in not only the publication of research
results but also the research data used to generate the results. Researcher
impact is increasingly being measured through data citations as well as
publication citations resulting in the need to publish research data along-
side research results. Data publication enables data re-use and has the
potential to lead to new discoveries and reduce the time and cost needed
to make these discoveries.
High performance computing capabilities have enabled the visual pre-
sentation of data that was previously accessible only in numeric or tex-
226 F. GACENGA
tual form. The visualisation of data is a powerful way to communicate

research results and the visual presentation can improve understanding of
complex phenomena. Visualisation is described as “the process of apply-
ing advanced computing techniques to data in order to provide insight
into the underlying structures, relationships, and processes” (iVEC 2015).
Visualisation is applicable across disciplines specifically in research using
large data sets with complex relationships; for example, the visual repre-
sentation of gene sequences in genomics, climate and weather patterns in
climate science, planets and galaxies in astronomy, and reconstructions of
ancient flora and fauna in archaeology.
eResearch Service Management—Training, Consulting, Account

Management
A major challenge for the effective use of eResearch infrastructure and
tools is a lack of technical skills and knowledge, such as programming
skills. A number of the eResearch service providers engage in consultancy
and training resources to address this need.
Identity Access Management (IAM) is a key service that makes cloud
computing possible. The Australian Access Federation (AAF) provides
researchers and eResearch service providers with a means of verifying the
identity of parties seeking access to services and resources for collabora-
tion. The AAF “provides the means of allowing a participating institu-
tion and/or a service provider to trust the information it receives from
another participating institution” (Australian Access Federation 2015).
This provides seamless access to resources and secures communication by
removing most of the roadblocks to collaboration and sharing at both the
institutional and end-user levels.
The next section of the chapter will present reflections of example cases
answering the chapter focus questions:
• What are the contextual challenges in research in the twenty-first

century and how might these challenges be addressed and/or har-
nessed to improve research opportunities?
• How might transformational research outcomes be applied in prac-
tice to implement those outcomes?
• How can the metaphor of research as a maze to be navigated extend
our understandings of the character and significance of contemporary
research and the work and identities of contemporary researchers?
AN ERESEARCH JOURNEY—SAMPLE CASE ONE

The first case presents a journey taken in a research collaboration com-
prising two universities: a national government research centre and an
industry partner. The research project team was faced with the chal-
lenge of delivering research outcomes within the project time relying on
limited desktop computing resources. The solution in this case was to
introduce the research project to scalable compute, storage, and collabo-
ration eResearch services that enhanced the capacity, speed and scope of
analysis, modelling and simulation for the project. Following eResearch
consultations, the lead researcher and research team members from across
Australia successfully employed a network of high performance comput-
ers and virtual machines via cloud computing for their research project.
The Australian Research Council (ARC) funded research team is using a
scalable, customisable NeCTAR (National eResearch Collaboration Tools
and Resources) Virtual Machine (VM) and 15TB QRIScloud data storage
within Australia’s secure Research Cloud to help them understand severe
storm patterns in Australia. This critical research provides Australia’s agri-
cultural and insurance sectors with detailed probability maps of hot spots
for severe storms.
The severe storms research project analyses archived RADAR data
obtained from the Bureau of Meteorology’s (BoM) network of 75 coun-
trywide RADARs capturing data every ten minutes in a year round cycle.
The project faced the challenge of obtaining sufficient computational
resources and big data storage for the large amounts of data, projected at
12TB. The research project found a solution by using eResearch services.
The project secured a scalable, customisable NeCTAR VM and 15TB
QRIScloud data storage accessible via Australia’s secure Research Cloud
at no direct cost to the researcher. Conceptually, the setup is depicted in
Fig. 13.1.
The VM and attached Network File System (NFS) mounted 15TB
QRIScloud storage depicted in Fig. 13.1 provide secure cloud computing
architecture that makes global access and collaboration easy. The eResearch
solution eliminates the expense and need to purchase a powerful desktop
PC. Following consultations with QCIF eResearch analysts and technical
support, the research project has also developed a research data manage-
ment plan and is on track to provide Australian Agriculture and Insurance
sectors with detailed probability maps of hot spots for severe storms, to
guide decision-making. Research impact will be further enhanced through
228 F. GACENGA
Fig. 13.1 Research cloud—using NeCTAR VM and QRIScloud storage
collaboration, data publication, preservation, and re-use. The eResearch

journey is depicted in Fig. 13.2.
On reflection, the research project journey described in this case ben-
efited from the service-oriented delivery of research computing infra-
structure. The eResearch services provided an orchestration of underlying
components that delivered usefulness and usability to the researchers. The
delivery of the services ensured that the researchers were able to engage with
the infrastructure at their level of ability and received support that ensured
Fig. 13.2 An eResearch Journey—using NeCTAR VMs and QRIScloud

optimal use and successful outcomes. In the initial phase of engagement,

the researchers were not familiar with or aware of the available potential
solutions on offer and having access to a hybrid service provision model
increased their chance of finding a solution that was a good fit.
AN ERESEARCH JOURNEY—SAMPLE CASE TWO

In the second case, climate scientists had the challenge of completing
complex calculations and generating simulations to build climate models
requiring parallel processing, large memory, and data storage space. The
University of Southern Queensland (USQ) research team with collabora-
tors from Central America are developing the world’s first Robusta coffee
model that will improve the management of risk and potentially the effi-
cient pricing of coffee and sugar. The researchers had used internal service
providers in past research projects and had experienced slow response times
and significant delays in processing as well as limited data storage space. A
requirement analysis of the research project helped identify that an exter-
nal service provider would be needed to supply the computing capacity
for the research project. The climate modellers at USQ’s International
Centre for Applied Climate Science (ICACS) are utilising QCIF HPCs at
USQ and Central Queensland (CQ) University alongside NeCTAR VMs
to process the data, collaborate, and host the modelling solutions. Access
to managed services with a wider range of more powerful resources on
cloud computing gives the research team a wider perspective that was pre-
viously hard to achieve. The researchers are no longer confined to limited
local institution resources but have access to a pool of compute, data, and
collaborate resources delivered through eResearch services.
The research project process described in Fig. 13.3 begins with the
collection of raw climate information in Network Common Data Format
(NetCDF)(Unidata 2015) 3D and 4D data files from Australia’s Bureau of
Metrology (BOM) (Bureau of Meteorology 2015), UK Met Office(Met
Office 2015), European Centre for Medium-Range Weather Forecasting
(ECMWF). The data is uploaded into QCIF QRIScloud (QCIF 2015)
big data storage primarily in NetCDF machine independent data format.
The Australian Research clouds allow for data transfer across the data cen-
tres connected via 10GBps network links enabling faster transfer of big
data sets. The next stage in the process involves pre-processing of the data
into formats to be used in modelling. Pre-processing is done on NeCTAR
VMs that connect to QRIScloud big data storage via a network file sys-
230 F. GACENGA
Fig. 13.3 Research cloud for integrated climate modelling
tem enabling the remote virtual machines to run compute pre-processing

operations on the projects data. The VMs run Ubuntu server, R, Python,
Climate Driver Operators, R Shiny, and PHP software.
Relevant information from the NetCDF files is extracted at pre-
processing, collecting regional information from the global data sets as
well as capturing variables of interest. The pre-processed files are converted
into formats ready for the next step that require parallel processing using
QCIF HPCs at CQ University and USQ running Red Hat Enterprise
Linux (RHEL) and MATLAB. The CQUni HPC is used to build agricul-
tural models using Agricultural Production Systems sIMulator (APSIM)
(DAFF 2014) on key coffee and sugar production factors. The developed
agricultural sugar and coffee models are used as input for the next stage of
statistical analysis run at USQ’s HPC (USQ 2010).
The output from the innovative combinations of climate and agricul-
tural models is ported back to the VMs which double as web servers that
present the modelling outputs in the form of GIS and probability distribu-
tions displayed in maps, graphs, and charts.
The project teams’ innovation and expertise is in linking seasonal cli-
mate outlooks with agricultural production resulting in models providing
crucial information for coffee and sugar farming, milling, and trading. The
project is developing targeted, seamless weather/climate forecasting sys-
tems for critical early season sugar harvest periods. On reflection and from
feedback from the research project team requirements analysis and access
to managed services from external providers enhanced research outcomes
and made the research journey easier to navigate. Drawing on the compe-
tencies from other disciplines as well as collaborating with other eResearch
service providers from other universities led to quicker service delivery
that proved pivotal to the research project. A major challenge faced by the
researchers was navigating the maze of computing architecture and tools
which was alleviated by having access to a service model involving consul-
tations, advice, and ongoing support.
The two cases show the role of eResearch services in providing much
needed navigational aids to researchers navigating their research journeys
as well as having to navigate the research computing landscape which in
attempts to provide solutions has resulted in a complexity of options and
architectures. A solution to navigating the research computing maze is
presented using a reflective practitioner method. The eResearch service
provision hybrid model supplements internal and external service provid-
ers orchestrated by an eResearch lead at the organisation led to successful
outcomes in the two cases.
RESEARCH OUTCOMES FROM ERESEARCH NAVIGATION

The chapter explores the role of eResearch in navigating the research
journey. The chapter considers how researchers use eResearch tools and
technologies to enhance research outcomes as they seek to make signifi-
cant contributions to knowledge. The chapter introduces research para-
digms and eResearch and uses the maze metaphor to demonstrate how
eResearch services assist researchers in applying computing tools and
architecture. The chapter presents example cases based on reflections-on,
reflections-in, and reflections-for using eResearch services in navigating
research journeys. The chapter shows the interdependence of eResearch
services, computing infrastructure, and tools in supporting knowledge
discovery in research projects.
The chapter provides reflections that can inform the decisions and
improve experiences of the future journeys of other researchers. In the
two sample cases in this chapter, the research projects found eResearch
services provided time and cost benefits in research and facilitated the
journey by providing fit for purpose resources that enhanced research pro-
cesses. The eResearch services will increase the research projects impact
through improved research data management enabling the publication of
citable research data alongside research results. Using eResearch helped
the researchers achieve outcomes that were not previously achievable such
232 F. GACENGA
as the innovation of integrated modelling of climate and agricultural pro-

duction. Researchers can use eResearch to achieve significant cost savings
and address twenty-first-century contextual challenges, such as competitive
funding environments. In both cases in the chapter, the researchers
achieved significant savings by using virtual machines and avoiding pro-
hibitive costs of acquiring, setting up, and administering physical servers.
Large research data storage is being used to improve research opportuni-
ties such as providing an integrated repository of organised data that can
be reused in subsequent research. This confirms the finding in O’Brien
(2005) that “research is changing dramatically. It is becoming more mul-
tidisciplinary, more collaborative, more global, and more dependent on
the capabilities offered through advanced networks and large data stor-
age”. The reflections presented in this chapter can be used to inform the
delivery and support of research computing by internal and external ICT
service providers. The cases presented show some of the challenges faced
by researchers navigating the maze of computing tools and architectures.
The overall impact of eResearch services as a navigational aid can be
measured using the Research Impact Principles Framework offered by the
Australian Research Council (ARC) (2015). The metaphor of research as
a maze to be navigated extends our understandings of the character and
significance of contemporary research and the work and identities of con-
temporary researchers. The chapter presents an interpretation of a twenty-
first-century fourth paradigm lens to understand and navigate research
that is data and compute intensive. Researchers have little control over
the research maze or the research compute maze but can use navigational
aids, such as eResearch services to select appropriate research computing
technologies in their quest to understand phenomena under research as
well as explain and present their findings and the new knowledge created.
The investment by governments and universities in eResearch infrastruc-
ture, such as the Australian research cloud is testament to the importance
of eResearch in navigating research as well as its value.
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CHAPTER 14
Collaborative Research: A Partnership That

Seizes Opportunities, Navigates Challenges
and Constructs New Knowledge and Shared
Understandings
Dolene Rossi
INTRODUCTION
There can be many barriers to overcome when a group of individuals
come together to undertake a collaborative research project. The number
and range of challenges that may present have the potential to increase
when such partnerships are formed between organisations with diver-
gent policies and processes and when each institution is represented by
researchers from multidisciplinary backgrounds with diverse philosophies
and research agendas. Collaboration is promoted as an effective means of
addressing complex, multifaceted research problems (Derry and Schunn
2005; Spoehr et al. 2010) and as a consequence multidisciplinary, cross-
institutional partnerships are well supported by governments, research
D. Rossi ()
Central Queensland University, North Rockhampton, QLD, Australia

DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-39853-2_14
236 D. ROSSI
centres, and individual organisations (Bukvova 2010). However, while

joint research ventures may be considered necessary, pragmatic, and
benevolent ways of working, they are, in practice, acknowledged to con-
stitute complex and contradictory social phenomena (Cardini 2006).
Indeed, evidence from research literature suggests that despite financial
incentives and personal and organisational motivations to form collab-
orative research groups it is not unusual for these coalitions to fail (Eddy
2010; Farrell and Seifert 2007).
Although a substantial number of research projects are collaborative,
very few studies have investigated the advantages, disadvantages, experi-
ences, and outcomes derived from the process (Katsouyanni 2008). The
need to better understand collaborative partnerships, including the rea-
sons for failures and the structures and processes that promote success,
is acknowledged within contemporary education literature (Eddy 2010).
This chapter endeavours to contribute to current knowledge by offering
a personal account of a journey undertaken by a group of researchers
who negotiated a number of situational, contextual, and methodologi-
cal challenges during the course of a collaborative research project. The
investigators utilised a collective case study design and an action research
approach to reach cross-institutional, multidisciplinary, understand-
ings of the patterns, processes, and consequences of learner-content,
learner-learner and learner-teacher interaction in online courses. In this
contribution the journey is conceptualised as a research maze. By re-
entering and mapping the process, the author engages with the enact-
ment of collaborative research and reveals the lived reality of externally
funded research.
First literature, which offers an overview of the cross-institutional,
multidisciplinary research landscape, is presented. This is followed by a
synopsis of the research opportunity researchers encountered. A visual
representation of the action research and collaboration process is then
made available. The graphic is utilised as a “guide”, throughout the chap-
ter to illustrate the processes associated with cross-institutional, multidis-
ciplinary collaboration, to identify the challenges that presented and to
elucidate the strategies that researchers employed to overcome them. The
focus of this contribution is upon collaborative research and, as a con-
sequence, the substantive project is discussed only as far as necessary to
highlight particular aspects of the collaborative process.
COLLABORATIVE RESEARCH: A PARTNERSHIP THAT SEIZES OPPORTUNITIES... 237
CROSS-INSTITUTIONAL, MULTIDISCIPLINARY RESEARCH:

AN OVERVIEW OF THE TERRAIN
What
Collaborative partnerships often bring together different parties each with
different structures, constraints, and assumptions about the world, that
connect with each other to work on matters of mutual concern (Brew
et al. 2013). As a consequence, collaboration tends to be a dynamic, inter-
active, evolving process, one that is complex, developmental, and sub-
ject to change (D’Amour et al. 2005). Although there is recognition of
the multifaceted nature of collaboration, definitions fail to differentiate
between determinants, processes, and results. This leads to significant
variations in the ways collaboration is perceived (D’Amour et al. 2005).
However, a number of commonalities have been identified which have
led to collaboration being theorised as the interplay of five key concepts
which include sharing, partnership, power, interdependency, and process
(D’Amour et al. 2005). Despite recognition of these important elements,
the process of collaboration remains poorly understood. D’Amour et al.
(2005) contest that if we are to increase our knowledge and understand-
ing of collaboration we must draw finer distinctions between the underly-
ing concepts and examine the activity as a professional endeavour and a
human process. Katsouyanni (2008) lends support for the need to further
investigate the process, observing that although a substantial component
of research is collaborative, very few studies investigate the advantages,
disadvantages, experiences, and outcomes that occur as a result of the
process. This assertion is supported by research literature. Some authors
suggest that agreement on joint collaborative goals is required for success
(Ansell and Gash 2008), while others presume that collaborative success
will continue to rely on the ability to bring together individuals and organ-
isations with similar and disparate goals and manage the different expecta-
tions that these partners bring (Connelly et al. 2006).
Why
In academia, interdisciplinary research is often recommended as an
approach to understand complex research topics (Forman and Markus
2005). This is because collaborations are believed to bring different per-
238 D. ROSSI
spectives to the investigation of multifaceted research questions (Forman

and Markus 2005). Debates around the process and outcomes of collabo-
ration are ongoing and for the most part centre on a number of partially
contested assumptions. First, there is the view that collaborative knowl-
edge production is intrinsically superior to unrestrained competition.
Second, collaboration offers greater efficiency and value for the money in
the use of public and private sector research funds. Third, collaboration
can add real tangible value in scholarly research. Fourth, through collabo-
ration, research outcomes, which are not possible with solo or single-team
scholarship, can be delivered (Pettigrew 2004, p. xvi).
The nature and rate of change in technology use in Australia’s tertiary
sector remains unrelenting. Calls for educational reform combined with
limited resources make collaborative responses to this problem an attrac-
tive option. Research in this area has, for the most part, been dispersed
among disciplines and institutions and diverse in its theoretical and meth-
odological orientations (Rossi et al. 2013). Current trends in research-
funding policy emphasise interdisciplinary and cross-institutional research.
Yet, the rhetoric encouraging collaboration has outstripped the study of
such undertakings, as little has been written about academic research that
crosses disciplinary (Forman and Markus 2005) or institutional lines.
Who
Collaborative research may be conducted by individuals from different
disciplines, between faculties and across institutions. The terms multi-
disciplinary and interdisciplinary are frequently used interchangeably to
refer to individuals from different disciplines or backgrounds who come
together to respond to a common problem or achieve a common goal
(Rodgers and Rizzo 2005). There is, however, a distinct difference in
the approach adopted by collaborative research groups. Multidisciplinary
teams tend to assume a discipline perspective employing the skills and expe-
rience of each individual in order to examine the phenomenon of interest.
In this way, multidisciplinary teams offer more knowledge and experience
than disciplines operating in isolation. By contrast, interdisciplinary teams
bring together the same diverse group of individuals but their expertise is
used to collectively create new instruments, models, or approaches that
couldn’t be produced individually (Klein 2005). It is extremely difficult
for disparate disciplines to achieve successful integration; instead, most
groups begin as multidisciplinary with the potential to become inter-
disciplinary over time (Klein 2005). If sustainable multidisciplinary and

interdisciplinary bridges are to be built, there is a need to understand
the research challenges that present and the contribution that different
disciplines can make to collaborative innovation, process, and outcomes
(Spoehr et al. 2010).
How
In cross-institutional research, it is not uncommon for two or more
researchers within each organisation to work separately while collabo-
rating on a research project. When collaborative research is funded by
external sponsors, a written agreement will be completed to formalise
the relationship, document the terms of the collaborative agreement, and
delineate responsibilities within the research partnership (Erickson and
Muskavitch n.d.). These contracts can take the form of binding agree-
ments or memoranda of understanding (MOU). At a university level, the
arrangements may provide a cooperative framework for a broad range of
purposes and often when an MOU is in situ there is an opportunity for
researchers to focus on building relationships and establish a foundation
for sharing facilities for the duration of the project. At the faculty or
school level, these agreements can provide a framework for professional
development opportunities for staff. At an individual level, informal rela-
tionships may develop which facilitate data sharing and the development
of mutually beneficial expertise (Techera 2014). However, collaborative
partnerships often conceal a range of inter and intraorganisational ten-
sions (Cardini 2006), particularly when these relationships involve the
transfer of tangible material. Difficulties arise when individual organisa-
tions wish to protect their own intellectual property or financial interests
(Erickson and Muskavitch n.d.) and while there may be many benefits
associated with collaborative research the complexity of institutional
interfaces may have a negative impact on collaborative research projects
(Liao 2010).
A number of frameworks have been identified as having some value in
the analysis of collaboration; however, most focus on issues which relate
to the structure of the team and the context of collaborative activities not
the collaborative process itself (D’Amour et al. 2005). This is a criticism
raised by others who share the view that the lack of this type of evaluation,
combined with reports of failed collaborative research initiatives, indi-
cates that there may be value in exploring past experience. This may help
240 D. ROSSI
determine what transpires during collaborative research projects and what

occurs between researchers while investigations are underway (D’Amour
et al. 2005; Katsouyanni 2008; Spoehr et al. 2010).
ENTERING THE RESEARCH MAZE AND MAPPING

THE PROCESS OF COLLABORATION
This contribution utilises the concept of a maze to map the journey of a

group of investigators who negotiate a number of situational, contextual,
and methodological challenges while undertaking an externally funded
research project. For the purpose of this discussion, collaborative research
is defined as a partnership that seizes opportunities, navigates challenges,
and constructs new knowledge and shared understandings.
Seizing Opportunities for Collaborative Research

Towards the end of 2010, the author and a number of colleagues responded
to a call for expressions of interest (EOI’s) to undertake a research proj-
ect within the field of distance and blended learning. The call had been
circulated by the DEHub Research Institute, which had been established
as a central agency for the development, facilitation, and dissemination
of information and best practices in distance education. DEHub was
financed through a diversity and structural adjustment fund provided
by the Australian Government’s Department of Education Employment
and Workplace Relations (DEEWR). It consisted of a consortium of five
leading distance education providers in Australia and New Zealand. The
need to adopt a collaborative research approach was explicit in the selec-
tion criteria for funding and applicants were also required to demonstrate
how they proposed to build research capacity; develop resources to sup-
port and promote research, practice and development in distance educa-
tion; demonstrate leadership through collaborative and future-focussed
research activities; and disseminate research to inform and influence policy
and improve practice (Tynan and Wylie 2011).
The study, reported here, was undertaken by a partnership of six
researchers who constituted a multidisciplinary group of researchers from
information technology, nursing and midwifery, and education depart-
ments within two regional Australian universities. A number of connec-
tions already existed between the two institutions and among various
individuals within the research team. In addition to being members of the
DEHub consortium, the collaborating universities were also members of

the Regional Universities Network (RUN), which is a network of six uni-
versities, established in 2011. As a collective, this group undertakes joint
projects to advance educational, research, and the management outcomes
of member universities. Various professional, personal, and research rela-
tionships had already been formed within the multidisciplinary team and
the EOI was founded on the knowledge individuals had of the work and
research interest of colleagues within and across disciplines and educa-
tional institutions.
METHOD: ACTION RESEARCH

Action research is an approach designed to improve practice in specific
contexts. Participants are expected to involve themselves in all aspects
of the research process including data collection, data analysis, planning
and implementing action, validating evidence, and critical reflection. As
a result, the process is acknowledged as participatory and collaborative
(Roberts and Taylor 2002). The general framework consists of four steps
which are often depicted as a repeating spiral. These are planning, action,
observation, and reflection. The process is recursive and dynamic and has
been viewed as developmental over time (Vallenga et al. 2009). Reflection
may take place during action in order to make decisions about the next
move (reflection in action) or later to evaluate actions and decisions previ-
ously made (reflection on action) (Schon 1983). In this contribution, a
graphic which integrates the processes of action research and collabora-
tion is used as a navigational tool (Fig. 14.1). The illustration incorporates
each of the four steps associated with action research and three cycles
Fig. 14.1 The collaborative action research process (Rossi et al. 2013)
242 D. ROSSI
which reflect the enactment of the collaborative research project reported

here. These cycles are identified as engagement, mixing methods, and case
stories. Within each cycle, researchers were confronted with a series of
opportunities and challenges and the situational, contextual, and meth-
odological nature of these are discussed as they relate to each cycle. Also
discussed are the actions and interactions of the project team who brought
the project to a successful close.
CYCLE 1: ENGAGEMENT
The Research Plan

The initial cycle involved sharing knowledge about learning analyt-
ics (which involves the use of sophisticated analytic tools to inform and
enhance learning and teaching) and the formation of learning relation-
ships within online learning management systems. This knowledge was
derived from two studies previously undertaken by three members of the
research team. The indicators project, which used academic analytics to
examine the adoption of the features of a learning management system
(LMS) and staff and student engagement within online courses (Beer et al.
2009); and a grounded theory study of learner–learner interaction and
knowledge construction in an online undergraduate course (Rossi 2010).
Critical reflection on the outcomes of these works led to consolidation of
the design framework for the collaborative project.
Actions and Interactions

Ethical considerations and legal issues comprised the first part of the plan-
ning process. Attention then moved towards the design of substantive
research tools that would be used in subsequent phases of the research
project. Thus a range of intra and interinstitutional activities were under-
taken. These included:
• obtaining access to the data sets from five courses across two univer-
sities (three at one and two at another);
• setting up a glossary of the analytics codes and their specific defini-
tions for both quantitative and qualitative data analysis moments;
• writing interrogative scripts to analyse quantitative patterns and con-

sequences of learner–learner, learner–teacher and learner–content
interactions;
• establishing the code book for qualitative analysis of the processes
and consequences of learner–learner, learner–teacher and learner–
content interactions; and
• ongoing review of relevant literature. (Rossi et al. 2013)
Contextual Challenges: Trust, Technology and Time

In addition to the organisational agreements that had been reached by
both universities through their membership of the DEHub consortium
and RUN, a contractual agreement between the funding body and each
university and project specific MOUs were completed. Each of these doc-
uments received endorsements at managerial, faculty, and school levels.
Applications to the Human Research Ethics Committees in both organ-
isations were submitted and approvals for the proposed project were
received. Despite these authorisations further negotiations were required
to gain access to, and extract data from, two of the five courses selected as
cases within the study. Technical issues were also encountered as the soft-
ware was not standardised across courses. Negotiations among members
of the project team were also necessary. These were in response to the
geographical distance between institutions, time delays in the need for fur-
ther approvals, and individual differences in research paradigm, research
experience and other work commitments.
Navigation: Outcomes and Strategies for Future Research

Collaboration
By the end of this cycle, data had been collected and analytical frame-
works established and tentative decisions had been made about the
direction and actions within the next cycle. Researchers had underesti-
mated the time that would be required to gain access to data after ethi-
cal clearances had been obtained. The team was also unprepared for the
degree of commercial sensitivity exhibited by one of the two universities
given the agreements that were already in place. In this partnership,
institutional trust presented as a significant issue, one that could have
brought the project to a premature end (Cardini 2006). Fortunately,
244 D. ROSSI
relationships among the research team were not negatively affected by

the concerns of the institutions they represented. Subsequent comple-
tion of a confidentiality agreement by project members secured the
necessary access to electronic data. However, in future it may prove ben-
eficial to explore, in some detail, any agreements that may be in place
between organisations, as these could provide the leverage necessary
to expedite and support cross-institutional collaboration. As educators,
we were cognisant of the technological differences, which affected only
one of the five courses and as a consequence we were able to mitigate
the impact this had on the study as a whole. Contextual conditions are
clearly an important factor in collaborative research as they have the
potential to either promote or restrict possibilities for action and inter-
action (Böhm 2004).
CYCLE 2: MIXING METHODS
The Research Plan

Researchers proposed to use a collective case study design to address
two research questions: How do learners interact in online courses?
What are the patterns, processes, and consequences of learner–learner,
learner–teacher, and learner-content interaction in online contexts? The
plan was to undertake a two-stage process. First, select cases that could
be analysed for learner interactions and collect data from each course
from the electronic repositories at each institution. Second, prepare the
data for quantitative and qualitative analyses. Five online courses were
selected as cases and researchers proposed to examine each case in the
same way.

A complete data set was collected from course archives within each univer-
sity. Data analysis procedures included:
• a review of LMS data related to user activities, student results, and

demographics;
• analysis of the content of course profiles and other related course
materials, such as handbook entries and assessment marking criteria;
• the conduct of a statistical analysis of LMS systems logs and course

statistics, and;
• qualitative analyses utilising a contemporary constant comparative
approach. (Charmaz 2006)
Team members worked to their strengths—in either learning analytics

or qualitative methods. Both groups examined the content of all docu-
ments for the patterns, processes, and consequences of interactions. To
this point, there was concurrent implementation of data collection and
analysis in which quantitative and qualitative processes were equally prom-
inent (Leech and Onwuegbuzie 2009). Researchers remained in contact
via regular videoconferences, occasional teleconferences, regular emails,
and the project team participated in two two-day face-to-face meetings
once at each university. Investigators also utilised contemporary software
to create, manage, share, and disseminate individual and collective knowl-
edge (Rossi et al. 2013).
Challenges and Opportunities: Philosophical and Paradigmatic

Diversity
By working within their areas of expertise, the team adopted a multi-
disciplinary rather than an interdisciplinary approach (Klein 2005). The
decision was, in part, determined by the work investigators had previ-
ously undertaken. This strategy made it possible for researchers to share
the same journey but explore different analytic paths. Concerns have
been raised about the potential for a negative impact to arise from philo-
sophical and paradigmatic differences in collaborative studies (Forman
and Markus 2005). Although the process of accommodation was chal-
lenging, in this case, the overall outcome was constructive. Initial find-
ings were subjected to ongoing critique and reflection and correlations
between patterns and consequences of learner interactions proved to
be thought-provoking. Researchers acknowledged that it may be dif-
ficult to combine learning analytic data with the qualitative analyses of
electronic forum posts and discussions transcripts; however, they also
recognised the value in adopting a dual approach. Individually and col-
lectively, they arrived at new insights about the different potentialities
of each type of analysis and together they considered alternate ways of
interpreting and presenting the mixed method activities in respect of
246 D. ROSSI
each case. The deviation was challenging as none had considered the
proposed approach before. Concerns revolved around the effectiveness
of the new strategy and the value in making a change of this kind at this
point in the study. Cognisant of the opportunity to contribute towards
methodological knowledge the team considered the risk worth taking
and the plan to develop each case study in the same manner was revised
(Rossi et al. 2013).

Collaboration
In mixing methods researchers had engaged in a process of symbiotic
learning. Learning analytics was recognised as a powerful tool for diag-
nosing patterns of interactions and revealing the nature of some of the
relationships among learners, teachers, and content. It also gave some
indication of when students were struggling and at risk of not complet-
ing a course. Yet, it could not explain the value or significance of those
patterns for teaching and learning. To develop insights about the reasons
for patterns of interaction, associated processes, and consequences that
arose from learner interactions in online contexts, researchers required the
richness of the qualitative analyses (Rossi et al. 2013). This data provided
a descriptive basis for interpretation and led to category construction
in respect of learner-learner, learner-teacher, and learner-content inter-
actions, and conceptualisation of the relationship between each of the
categories was identified (Charmaz 2006). The adoption of a multidis-
ciplinary approach enabled researchers to capitalise on the knowledge of
individual team members. At the same time the dynamic, recursive, reflec-
tive characteristics of the action research approach offered opportunities
for individuals to develop new understandings and construct collective
knowledge. The communication strategies employed by the team ensured
that despite their geographical and philosophical distance investigators
did not “lose sight” of each other. The action research process together
with the personal and professional relationship among project members
engendered trust and enabled researchers to take a risk and devise a new
way of interpreting and presenting mixed method case study results. A
hallmark reported by Klein (2005) to be characteristic of an interdisciplin-
ary team. With consensus in the group the project moved forward into
the third research cycle.
CYCLE 3: CASE STORIES
The Research Plan

In the third cycle, researchers re-engaged with the purpose and the
intended outcomes of the project.

The findings from individual cases were subjected to cross-case analyses.
As determined by the revised strategy in Cycle 2, Cases 1 and 2 were
analysed using a, primarily, quantitative lens, with less emphasis on the
qualitative analysis, while Cases 3, 4, and 5 comprised of an even distribu-
tion of quantitative and qualitative analysis. Each case included a course
description, student demographic information, and an outline of the
contextual conditions which impacted the course; this was followed by a
detailed quantitative analysis using learner analytics. For Cases 3, 4, and
5, learner analytics were followed by a detailed qualitative analysis (Rossi
et al. 2013). Each case and the cross-case analysis concluded with a sum-
mary of key points uncovered by the analysis.
Challenges and Opportunities: Which Story to Tell

When preparing cases for reduction and display, it is important to ensure
that the essence of each case is preserved, that the case is not stripped
of context and that the cases compared are appropriate. The actions and
interactions outlined earlier indicate the extent to which this was achieved.
However, during the process it became evident that some findings were
more informative than others and on occasion the process was complicated
by the fact that the qualitative analyses varied in depth and breadth. As a
result, researchers were faced with a dilemma about what case “stories” to
tell (Rossi et al. 2013). Through a process of negotiation, compromises
were made and researchers reached agreement about which data to present.

Collaboration
Upon completion of the analyses researchers constructed a model to
explain the relationships among course design, interaction, and learning in
248 D. ROSSI
online courses and produced a set of guidelines which identified curricu-

lum design and delivery conditions conducive to interaction and effective
learning in online courses. A detailed report of the study and its findings
can be viewed online (Rossi et al. 2013). Although the project fulfilled its
contractual requirements, it is the author’s view that the significance of
this journey resides in the knowledge and understandings constructed as a
consequence of the recursive actions and interactions that occurred within
the research maze and the reflexive dynamic among researchers whose
learning was enhanced rather than obstructed by the obstacles they found
in their way.
DISCUSSION
Critiques of previous research studies indicate that our understanding of
the process, the challenges and the outcomes of collaborative endeavours
is limited and that our knowledge of the factors that positively or nega-
tively affect collaborative partnerships is poor. The author’s reflection on
and illustration of the action research and collaborative process, within this
project, expose a number of complex, dynamic, and related components.
The narrative reveals that no matter how clear the plan may be on entry,
there are always challenges to be navigated, negotiations to be under-
taken, and compromises to be made in order to resolve the difficulties that
arise. Within Cycle 1 of this study, different institutional boundaries had
to be bridged in order to gain access to essential data. In Cycle 2, it was
the researchers’ diversely different theoretical and methodological frame-
works, which had an impact on data collection and analysis that needed
resolution. In Cycle 3, the challenge was to construct cases, guidelines and
a model that engaged with the problem of drawing and verifying conclu-
sions responsive to the project brief (Rossi et al. 2013).
Perceptions of partnership, power, sharing, interdependence, and pro-
cess, acknowledged as key concepts in collaborative undertakings, were
important in this project. While multiple partnership agreements existed
between the two educational institutions, these proved insufficient to
facilitate access to course information within one organisation. In this
case, the university had the power to prohibit access to data held within
its electronic repository. Investigators navigated the challenge by agree-
ing to sign a confidentiality agreement, an action which resulted in access
to and collection of the required data. However, there is no doubt that
an obstruction of this kind could have led to a premature end to the
project as researchers were reliant on this information. Trust was not a

concern among the project team as individuals demonstrated their willing-
ness to share personal knowledge, experience and findings from previous
research, which enhanced the understanding of others in the group. In
addition, investigators worked individually and collaboratively to collect,
analyse, and present results. As a group, the researchers were dependent
on the motivation and commitment of individuals to meet project aims
and objectives within the designated timeframe. In this regard, two of the
five investigators demonstrated their commitment by completing project
tasks outside working hours, due to workload commitments. It is possible,
of course, that the personal and professional relationships, formed prior to
commencement of the project, had a positive impact on the success of this
particular partnership.
It is accepted that knowledge may be created at any point in an action
research cycle and that results derived from the process may be neither
conclusive nor absolute (Koshy et al. 2011). The recursive cycles and
reflexive dynamics that characterise action research and the collaborative
process, within this project, reflect a socio-constructivist view of learning.
Through this educational lens, knowledge and understanding are consid-
ered the appropriation of socially derived forms of knowledge internalised
over time and transformed in idiosyncratic ways during the appropria-
tion process (Merriam 2009). In many respects the project, subsequent
publications, and this contribution represent the embodiment of these
perspectives as they draw from and build on previous work to develop
new understandings about the processes, challenges, and outcomes of col-
laborative research.
CONCLUSION
This chapter utilised the concept of a maze to map the journey of a group
of investigators who negotiated a range of situational, contextual, and
methodological challenges while undertaking an externally funded, action
research project. A visual representation of the action research and col-
laboration process is utilised as a “guide” to illustrate the processes associ-
ated with cross-institutional, multidisciplinary collaboration; to identify
the challenges that presented; and to elucidate the strategies that research-
ers employed to overcome them.
Five interrelated concepts were found to be important in this case: part-
nership, power, sharing, interdependence, and process. The challenges
250 D. ROSSI
encountered related to issues of trust, technology and time, philosophical

differences and a dilemma about which “stories” to tell. Key strategies
included the development of effective relationships and the adoption of a
research approach robust yet flexible enough to facilitate the construction
of individual and collective knowledge and the inherent capacity to sup-
port the adaptation of that knowledge in diverse ways.
Acknowledgements Support for the original work was provided by the Australian
Government Department of Industry, Innovation, Science, Research and Tertiary
Education (DIISRTE) through the DEHub Project. Also acknowledged are the
members of the collaborative research team: Colin Beer, Damian Clark, Patrick
Danaher, Bobby Harreveld, and Henriette van Rensburg.
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CHAPTER 15
Working Beyond the Research Maze
INTRODUCTION
This chapter follows our previous contribution, chapter 2 as per this
book. In this chapter, we seek to extend the local focus of our previous
chapter—that is, the experience of Western researchers to the experiences
of non-Western researchers by bringing to light the implications of the
increasing influence of the Western academic system across the globe. In
this discussion we seek to offer opportunities for ways in which Western
researchers might operate within the knowledge economy with increased
integrity (Deblonde 2015), by illuminating what is difficult to see, or hid-
den in the day-to-day experience of researchers (yet felt as contradiction
or compromise). In order to achieve this, we begin with a brief review
of some of the key points raised in “Working in the Research Maze: At
What Price?”
C. Jensen-Clayton () • A. Murray

Lifelong Conscious Living, Brisbane, QLD, Australia

DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-39853-2_15
The Knowledge Economy, Neoliberalism and Academic

Capitalism
In chapter 2, we identified that the contemporary Western researcher,
working within a university context, works within a larger context—the
knowledge economy; a broad global force that has been constructed by
institutions, NGOs and world governments to facilitate the commodifica-
tion of knowledge (Miszczyński 2012; Olssen and Peters 2005; Peters
2007; Robertson 2014). That is, to create knowledge as a product that can
be marketed and sold. In addition, the Western researcher works within
a neoliberal context, a philosophical, social and economic system that
extends capitalist thinking (the notion of excellence through competition)
into most aspects of life (Davies et al. 2005; Harvey 2005). According to
neoliberalism, liberal ideas of freedom, equality and fair distribution of
resources is enacted through the “equalising” forces of market competi-
tion (Harvey 2005). In the context of the university, research and research
output is maximised (i.e., “excellence in research practice” is achieved)
by linking academic output with financial gain, a move facilitated by the
knowledge economy (Altbach 2013). This new way of conceptualising
academic output has been described as academic capitalism, the com-
petitive conditions within which researchers presently work (Billig 2012;
Hackett 2014). Neoliberal thinking also extends beyond facilitating a link
between academic output and economics, influencing the ways in which
the workplace relationships of academics are constructed, through the
mechanism of managerialism (Kauppinen 2012; Lynch 2014; Mendoza
2012), as shown in Fig. 15.1.
Managerialism’s focus on outcomes and efficient economic production
also brings with it a particular language, a language that is designed to
facilitate this way of working (Davies 2005). However, this language, in
focusing on outcomes, is limited in its capacity to support innovation,
which focuses on process. Consequently, the rise in managerialist lan-
guage, which also influences thinking (Davies 2005), leads to reduced
quality in research.
In addition, academic capitalism, through its focus on economic gain
through knowledge production, has prioritised certain ways of conducting
research and certain fields of research (Basken and Voosen 2014; Deblonde
2015; Hackett 2014; Kauppinen 2012). Areas that have been prioritised
are those that are clearly linked with what is marketable—that is, what
research can be sold to industry or government to address identified areas
WORKING BEYOND THE RESEARCH MAZE 255
Fig. 15.1 The research maze: The local context (© Vesilvio | Dreamstime.com—
Hedges Labyrinth Photo)
of need. This has resulted in a devaluing of research that does not lead
directly to economic gain (Deblonde 2015).
In reviewing, very briefly, what was covered in chapter 2, we have stated
that the Western researcher is constructed in a particular relationship
with academic institutions. This relationship is built upon an academic
system, driven by the goals of academic capitalism (i.e., neoliberalism in
the knowledge economy) and implemented by managerialism (neoliberal
management practices) (Connell 2013; Lynch 2014). This academic sys-
tem, although now conscripted by neoliberalism to serve economic pur-
poses within the knowledge economy has been developed over many years
and is a tight system that has in place mechanisms for the tendering for
and distribution of funding grants, mechanisms for the development of
knowledge (e.g., research practice frameworks, including research ethics
frameworks), mechanisms for the distribution of knowledge (e.g., online
journal systems for all stages of publication—submission, review, edit-
ing, preparation, publishing) and increasingly complex metrics for evalu-
ating research, even comparing dissimilar research content, across fields
of research. In this chapter, we identify that this academic system, the
Western academic system is being increasingly adopted across the globe.
This is being presented to developing nations as a means to success,
more specifically, as a means to overcome social and economic problems
(Hénard et al. 2012). However, it is not just this well-developed system
that is being increasingly adopted, it is this academic system in its current

form, reframed by neoliberalism to work within the knowledge economy.
In the previous chapter, we identified that this reframing has negative con-
sequences for both researchers and the quality and integrity of research
itself. In chapter 2, we also identified that Western researchers are part of
this system as they have been positioned as knowledge workers who con-
tribute to making this system work (Bastalich 2010).
However, what is not as visible is how this academic system is being
intentionally imposed upon non-Western researchers (Hénard et al. 2012).
This colonising force has a clearly described history, which has recently
become more obvious in its explicit use in International Education, which
relies on English, in particular academic English and Western academic
traditions. While it is beyond the parameters of this chapter to develop
fully the role of international education in the spread of academic English
and Western academic traditions, it is necessary to point out the role that
Western educational institutions play in the spread of academic English
and Western academic traditions in the world, which can be argued to
amount to the rolling out of Western culture.
Internationalisation is a significant factor in this rolling out of Western
culture. To see this clearly how this is being enacted through academic
capitalism, it is necessary to understand that there are benefits for gov-
ernments and educational institutions (Knight 2013; Olssen and Peters
2005). Some benefits are outlined in the OECD’s guide for higher educa-
tion institutions (Hénard et al. 2012). Internationalisation enables gov-
ernment to “develop national university systems within a broader, global
framework; produce a skilled workforce with global awareness and multi-
cultural competencies; use public higher education funds to promote
national participation in the global knowledge economy; benefit from
trade in education services” (Hénard et al. 2012). Internationalisation
benefits educational institutions in that it enables educational institutions
to “increase national and international visibility; leverage institutional
strengths through strategic partnerships; enlarge the academic community
within which to benchmark their activities; mobilise internal intellectual
resources; add important, contemporary learning outcomes to student
experience; develop stronger research groups” (Hénard et al. 2012). As
educational institutions are involved in global competition that provide
access to social prestige and income-earning (Marginson 2006, 2014),
internationalisation provides them also with a dynamic oriented towards
economic growth. Internationalisation in these ways can be seen as both
a mechanism and a technology in that “internationalisation is not an end

in itself, but a driver for change and improvement” (Hénard et al. 2012,
p. 8).
Increasingly, through internationalisation the Western academic system
is being adopted by researchers across the globe, and at the same time,
more insidiously is intentionally being imposed upon researchers across
the globe. Therefore, we have an ethical obligation to understand what
it is (of which we are a part), the research maze that is being “rolled
out” across the globe. It is necessary to understand the personal nature
of this new academic system, that is how it is directly influencing, not just
the work of the Western researcher (and increasingly the non-Western
researcher) but also the way in which Western researchers understand
themselves.
INDIVIDUAL RESEARCHERS AS NEOLIBERAL SELVES

Raw competition was identified in chapter 2 as being at the heart of aca-
demic capitalism. It is our assumption that not all researchers want to be
compelled to work in this way, and might want to resist or even change
their present ways of working. It would seem necessary for researchers
then, as far as possible, to be aware of the ways in which they have been
interpellated to work within the knowledge economy through the influ-
ence of neoliberalism (Springer 2015). What we offer here in this section
is an outline of the internalisation process, outlining differing conceptu-
alisations of self as well as a description of the conditions by which the
conscription as a neoliberal self into academic capitalism takes place, often
without researchers being aware as to how this conscription has happened:
neoliberalism by stealth.
To understand this process, it is necessary to understand the seduction
at work when neoliberalism is deployed as a political philosophy—that
is, as a system of values (Lynch 2014) that acts as a process purporting
to advance the freedom and autonomy of individuals within society. This
process is a largely enacted through government policy, where freedom
and autonomy is epitomised in the concept of entrepreneurship, as Olssen
and Peters (2005, p. 314) state, “In neoliberalism the state seeks to create
an individual that is an enterprising and competitive entrepreneur”. This
shift in individuals’ conceptualisation of self, this adoption of a neoliberal
self means that neoliberalism has been spread through the conscription of
individuals, not nations (Gao and Park 2015; Gershon 2011; Gray 2010).
However, despite the seduction of the illusion of freedom, what has been
adopted is not a self that is free and autonomous, at least not in the way
freedom and autonomy of the liberal self has been understood (Davies and
Bansel 2005; Gershon 2011). More specifically, the traditional liberal self,
the civic self of the time since Adam Smith, has been switched, changed
to a neoliberal self (Bonefeld 2013; Olssen 2006). Understanding the dif-
ference in these conceptualisations of self is instructive. Since the time
of Adam Smith, the liberal self has been conceptualised within a social
contract—that is, within democracy. In this way, a liberal self is “based
upon the natural freedom of the individual that will develop by itself of
its own volition” (Olssen 2006, p. 218). This conceptualisation of self has
been changed through the intentional conceptualisation of self by govern-
ments and other elites outside of a social context—that is, within a context
of competition (Davies and Bansel 2005). The individual who previously
understood themselves as a subject within a democratic context, while
now perhaps still understanding themselves as free, may not realise they
are now constructed within the freedom of the market, not the freedom
of the state; the state having drawn back from its social responsibilities
to take on a managerial role (Olssen and Peters 2005). This conceptual
move was not announced by governments, rather it was done through the
adoption of neoliberal policies that have gradually re-shaped society over
numerous decades (Connell 2013; Flew 2014; Piller and Cho 2013). Yet,
this shift has been intentional—hence, neoliberalism by stealth.
For individuals, neoliberalism has become an epistemology, with its
“pervasive effects on ways of thought to the point where it has become
incorporated into the common-sense way many of us interpret, live in, and
understand the world” (Harvey 2005, p. 3). The rationality of neoliberal
performativity presents itself “as the new common sense, as something
logical and desirable” (Ball and Olmedo 2013, p. 89). Neoliberalism, once
accepted as a common sense view becomes the only logical view. In this
acceptance, neoliberalism becomes invisible, no longer seen as only one
option from a range of possible views; consequently, individuals become
neoliberal selves, who act in neoliberal ways. The effects of neoliberalism
through the mechanism of managerialism then place demands of efficient
economic production upon the researcher (Olssen and Peters 2005), not
industry or institutions. In this new order, the researcher must be continu-
ally producing marketable knowledge products that add financial value
to the institution. This is combined with the demands of maintaining a
competitive edge against rival researchers in order to maintain one’s career
trajectory and tenure, a positioning that forces the researcher to act as a

neoliberal self.
This neoliberal researcher is described by Gershon (2011, p. 537) as a
flexible bundle of skills reflexively managing the self as though the self was
a business. This self-as-entrepreneur is a corporatised self, an enterpris-
ing-self that is “an autonomous, flexible, and innovative subject … able
to adapt to the rapidly changing contexts of our sociohistorical period”
(Flores 2013, p. 503). These “neoliberal technologies are designed to
shift individuals’ performances toward higher levels of flexibility and end-
driven productivity” (Bansel et al. 2008, p. 48). The neoliberal self is
required to perform in particular ways in order to achieve outcomes and
it achieves this performativity most effectively in us “when we come to
want for ourselves what is wanted from us, when our moral sense of our
desires and ourselves are aligned with its pleasures” (Ball and Olmedo
2013, p. 89). Thus, the invisible and very personal nature of neoliberalism
is its dark genius.
Researchers, as managers of their careers (i.e., business) are therefore
compelled to be responsive to prevailing conditions that have been set up
in competition with others (within the university and between universi-
ties) towards outcomes that must be predictable in order to meet uni-
versities’ projected corporate interests (Davies and Bansel 2005). These
practices as technologies “work to identify, valorise and reward successful
and productive subjects and target for exile or for reform, the ‘irrespon-
sible’, those who fail to re-make themselves in the image of the market”
(Ball and Olmedo 2013, p. 91). For those who are valorised, “the lan-
guage and practices of neoliberal managerialism are seductive: they lay out
the grounds for a new kind of success and recognition”; however, they are
also destructive in that “they open up a contradiction, an impossibility,
for those who are passionate about the life of the intellect” (Davies 2005,
p. 8). This impossibility for the researcher—the conflict between meeting
the demands of academic capitalism as a neoliberal self while meeting per-
sonal needs as an academic (e.g., time to reflect)is a product of the forces
of neoliberalism and the knowledge economy.
Within the maze, the researcher is constructed to absorb and inter-
nalise this contradiction between neoliberalism and the knowledge econ-
omy. Miszczyński (2012, p. 7) asserts that “people generating knowledge
and ideas are the biggest assets for growth, the knowledge economy
being a context in which innovation is permanently pursued”. Within
the knowledge economy, the importance of innovative and influential
research cannot be overstated (Bastalich 2010). Thus, within the uni-

versity, the researcher as a knowledge worker and a knowledge producer
is required to generate knowledge and ideas on behalf of the university
(i.e., utilisation as an asset in the knowledge economy) permanently pur-
suing innovation. However, the neoliberal construction of self and its
subsequent loss of rich conceptual language and creative thought work to
negate the ability/capacity to access and pursue originality/innovation.
Managerialism, with goals of efficient economic production, holds no
interest in the professionalism or aspirations of the individual researcher
(i.e., the source of innovation). Rather, managerialism demands flex-
ibility (not integrity)—flexibility to address the shifting nature of what
is marketable, and therefore, profitable. Thus, managerialism positions
researchers as economic assets to be manipulated for financial gain.
Acceptance of this form of management inscribes the researcher as a neo-
liberal self and this inscription creates researchers as docile bodies always
open and flexible, responsive to the elements that construct the maze. As
we suggested earlier and develop later, there is a need for researchers to
resist the maze’s seductive illusion of success and its dark side of loss of
intellect.
In this section, we have extended understandings of neoliberalism’s
influence on the experience of the Western researcher by identifying the
subtle and stealthy ways in which neoliberalism has conscripted the selves
of researchers. As we described earlier, the purpose of this elaboration
was not only to illuminate this in terms Western researchers’ experiences
but also to understand what it is that, as researchers who are part of this
Western academic system, a system that is shaped by neoliberalism, we are
“sharing” with the rest of the world. We have suggested that this shar-
ing—both a process of non-Western adoption and Western colonisation—
has happened through the rolling out of the Western research maze. We
have also suggested that this Western maze, in addition to being con-
structed by academic capitalism and neoliberalism depends upon academic
English. In the following section, we identify how the rolling out of the
Western research maze furthers the conscription of neoliberal selves, tak-
ing in non-Western researchers, and through the colonising force of aca-
demic English threatens cultural and linguistic diversity. In addition, for
nations looking to the West for mechanisms of success, academic English
stands out as an obvious means to gain access to the wealth, status and
success seen in Western academies.
PUBLISHING IN ACADEMIC (MONOCULTURAL,

MONOLINGUAL) ENGLISH
English is the medium by which the virtual reality of the knowledge
economy is created. As researchers, academic English is the air research-
ers breathe and the water in which they swim. It is so natural that in an
Australian Western context, the language of use is not generally consid-
ered. In the past, there was no expectation that researchers consider the
monocultural/monolingual nature of the language they used to commu-
nicate their work. On the other hand, the monocultural and monolingual
nature of English, its problematic capacity as well as its history of colonisa-
tion has not been hidden from view. The nature of English and its nega-
tive implications for non-Western people has been a site of lifelong work
for numerous scholars (Kachru 1985, 1992; Kumaravadivelu 2006; Lin
and Luke 2006; Pennycook 1994, 1998, 2006, 2007, 2010; Phillipson
1992, 2008, 2009a, b, 2013). This capacity of English to colonise and
assimilate is well known to non-native speakers of English1 (Brutt-Griffler
and Samimy 1999; Shin 2006; Sung and Pederson 2012; Waseem and
Asadullah 2013): the indictable potential of English is described by Lin
(2013, p. 12), who assesses English as a “killer language”. This sober-
ing view of English from the perspective of non-native users of English,
becomes even further problematic when considering the English language
as the language of knowledge production in the knowledge economy, and
when considering academic English as a convention, a construct, a noun-
based technical language (Billig 2012). Further to this, academic English
as the medium of academic capitalism “not only determines the conditions
under which academics are working but it affects the way that they are
writing” (Billig 2012, p. 7).
Western researchers in the neoliberal/managerial maze communicate
their work through their use of English—that is, academic English. English
as the language of neoliberalism, the language of global competitiveness
is the means by which neoliberalism is westernising/colonising the world.
As Piller and Cho (2013, p. 24) explain: “The global spread of neoliberal
free-market doctrines naturalizes the use of English”. This imbued natu-
ralness compounds the colonising effect of English as monocultural and
monolingual, creating English as a hegemonic force, a force that contrib-
utes to the facilitation of global inequalities. Marginson (2006, p. 1) high-
lights these aspects of the maze for the work of researchers, when he notes:
“Global competition is vectored by research capacity. This is dominated by

English language, especially US universities, contributing to the pattern
of asymmetrical resources and one-way global flows”. On the other hand,
English is being spread across the globe through globalisation and interna-
tionalisation (Phillipson 2013; Piller and Cho 2013). Internationalisation
in this way can be seen as a context in which English acts to ensure a return
of value to Western enterprises (Hénard et al. 2012).
This section that problematises academic English by raising linguistic
and cultural concerns for research on a global scale will now turn to exam-
ine academic English in more detail, as a rolling out of Western culture,
and in turn a rolling out of the neoliberal/managerial maze. This is cap-
tured in Fig. 15.2.
What is intrinsic to understanding the role of academic English, is that
English or any language has the capacity to be (or is) a hegemonic force,
because it communicates and relies upon (for mutual understanding) a
cultural alignment.
Fig. 15.2 Rolling out the maze and its implications (image © Vesilvio |
Dreamstime.com – Hedges Labyrinth Photo)
Academic English at Work in a Global Context

To understand something of the part that academic English plays in
research work within the global context, it is necessary to explore some-
thing of the breadth of meaning we draw on when thinking, speaking
and writing about language. To appreciate the slipperiness involved, it is
necessary to see the connections between language and culture, a situation
whereby “language imposes a system of relational distinctions upon the
world, creating culture from the real” (Prince 1993, p. 18). This work of
language invites us to appreciate the mysteriousness of language, of how
it can and does encapsulate the meaning systems of a society. Conversely
this mysteriousness and potential of language is hidden when thinking and
speaking of language as an abstract concept. When reduced to a single con-
cept—that is, essentialised, language is usually conceptualised as an abstract
entity and a homogenous whole, with the parts of language making up the
whole (Pennycook 2010). In everyday understanding of language, people
are mostly unaware of its multiple layers of its functioning—that is, the
performativity of the language they are using. For example, when speak-
ing, in addition to the superficial level of the message conveyed through
words, this use of language as communication positions the speaker and
the hearer in a particular way, and in a particular relationship, the language
used to communicate being underpinned by conventions, expectations,
values and beliefs which come from the culture. In short, communicating
effectively is the result of a cultural alignment of individuals. If this were
not the case, the speaker would have to provide an enormous amount of
information in order to be understood. It is these elements and others not
described here that are mostly beyond the consciousness of the speaker
(and listener) that are the aspects of mystery in language. These elements
are mysterious because all of this happens at a meta-level, and the ways in
which we use these aspects of language are diverse, idiosyncratic, and can
shift, even within the same individual, depending on time, place and other
contextual factors (Cook 1999). It is only through careful analysis of the
effects of language, analysis of the ways in which language can be appro-
priated by individuals and how language can work, that what is hidden can
be discovered (Fairclough 1999, 2002, 2005, 2006; Pennycook 2010).
What can be implied from what has been described here is that language
can be conceptualised in multiple ways, with each way (language as words,
as communication, as positioning individuals in interaction) constructing
a different worldview/perspective as well as achieving a different purpose.
Having established that language is more than words, and that it con-
veys cultural knowledge or assumptions as well as other elements, an exam-
ple of this occurring in academic English is described by Trahar (2007, p.
section 10) who writes about “the cultural embeddedness of some other
culturally inviolable western academic traditions such as critical thinking
and plagiarism”. When language is reduced to a single concept and con-
ceptualised in this positivistic way, language can be used for multiple pur-
poses and function at different levels as a political tool. How this plays out
within society reveals this propensity of language for political exploita-
tion. For example, in popular thought, language is generally thought of in
terms of “words”—that is, they exist as “more or less autonomous entities
that possess meanings” (Kravchenko 2010, p. 677). However, as the pre-
vious paragraph has begun to describe, language is broader than words,
and includes other conceptions such as social practice, symbolic systems,
or as a vehicle for communication. Within Western culture, this positiv-
istic Eurocentric view of words as having fixed meanings is enshrined in
academic systems, evidenced by reliance on encyclopaedias, dictionaries,
as well as school and college texts and other such linguistic forms in the
education systems of Western culture (Kravchenko 2010). This aspect of
the English language, that is, its propensity to colonise is well represented
in the literature, where English as a colonising force has been closely and
thoroughly examined by numerous scholars over an extended period
(Kumaravadivelu 2006; Phillipson 2008, 2013). In addition, this positiv-
istic view of language, and specifically English in this present discussion,
can be seen as a hegemonic force.
Widening the Gap: Dividing Researchers into Haves

and Have-Nots
Research and researchers are also caught up in this directional flow and it
is not clear whether they are aware of their participation in this trajectory.
When this cultural view is presented as the view, it demands the compli-
ance of the listener to adopt the view of the speaker. Or in another way, to
write in academic English you must also accept concepts of critical think-
ing and plagiarism (or put in more politically correct terms—academic
honesty) as being “normal”—that is, the “right” way to do things (Biber
and Gray 2010). In this way, academic English acts as a colonising force.
Demanding one way as the “right” way is a stance which some scholars
would refer to as a supremacist ideology leading to global inequalities
(Phillipson 2008). Phillipson’s (2008, p. 38) understanding of this is that

“linguistic neoimperialism entails the maintenance of inequalities between
speakers of English and other languages, within a framework of exploit-
ative dominance”. It is this stance of privileging and exploiting that is of
most concern.
The irony of the dominance of academic English is that while there
are many Englishes that are developing across the world, these do not
receive the same status as academic English, which is held within Western
academic traditions (Trahar 2007). Furthermore, most of the people in
the world using English are non-native English speakers (Ellis et al. 2010),
outnumbering native speakers (Ruecker 2011). What we researchers the
West may not be sensitive to is that “there is a world of publishing that
does not operate in English or emanate from English-speaking countries”
(Salager-Meyer 2014, p. 79). However, the majority of publications are
in English (Koyalan and Mumford 2011; Salager-Meyer 2014; Schluer
2014). The implications of this are that in order to remain current in one’s
knowledge of thinking and discovering within one’s field, a researcher
must be able to read and understand the language of academic journals,
which clearly advantages those who are fluent in academic English.
Similarly, scholars wanting to submit manuscripts to English language
journals are required to submit manuscripts written in English that fol-
low Western academic traditions of citation, referencing, grammar forms
and so forth (Waseem and Asadullah 2013). They receive reviews written
in English that make Western assumptions about the nature of scholar-
ship and critique manuscripts from a Western perspective (Salager-Meyer
2014). This clearly advantages scholars who are fluent in academic English
and Western academic traditions and disadvantages those who are not.
Those who are not fluent in academic English and Western academic tra-
ditions have several options: (i) submit to journals written in languages in
which they are more fluent; (ii) give up hope of publishing; or (iii) learn
the conventions of the Western academy (i.e., “get with the strength”).
All of these options are problematic. Non-English journals have limited
circulation, tend to be short-lived and thus opportunities for disseminat-
ing knowledge, and opportunities to collaborate (Jeong et al. 2011) are
severely limited in comparison to opportunities available to native English
speakers. A discovery that is extremely telling in this scenario is that the
success of academics in non-English-speaking countries is more strongly
linked to their fluency in English, not the level of funding their faculty
receives (Salager-Meyer 2008). While the problem of the second and third
options is their orientation to loss for linguistic and cultural diversity, what
is also being lost is access to new and different conceptualisations held
within languages other than English.
It is also important to recognise that non-native English speakers may
not be unaware of the colonising effect of English. Non-native speakers
often see Western culture quite differently to how we might imagine they
do and see the rolling out of Western culture as “an attempt to assimilate
world languages and cultures; a sort of ‘Macdonaldization’ of the cultural
and linguistic diversity that presently exists in the world” (Waseem and
Asadullah 2013, p. 805). For non-native speakers of English, this creates
a conflicted relationship. On the one hand, it is obvious that English is
the means by which research findings are more widely communicated,
however, on the other hand doing so risks a loss of integrity for research-
ers in non-Western contexts; potentially a devaluing of their own cultural
and linguistic knowledge, experience and thinking. As a further complica-
tion, and from a practical perspective, a monolingual level of competence
in academic English takes many years of concentrated study to achieve, a
level of competence that few reach (Cook 1999).
What we have sought to do throughout this chapter, and particularly
within this section, is to bring forward some of the huge ethical challenges
we face in the twenty-first century. In raising these concerns, it has not
been our intention to solve these issues or even to make suggestions that
might provide solutions. What we have sought to do is to raise these issues
so that in concluding, we might offer researchers further ways of working
more ethically in the present until solutions to these larger problems are
within reach.
FINDING HOPE
We have described our conceptualisation of the maze as a construction
of neoliberal thinking and managerialist practices to achieve institutional
goals. We have also suggested that the successful navigation of this maze
results in academic outputs that are designed to meet the institution’s eco-
nomic goals. We have identified that these outputs also serve the objec-
tives of governments’ and institutions’ internationalisation agendas but
that the cost, both locally and globally is the loss of linguistic and cultural
diversity through the westernisation of the global academic community via
academic English. Our aim, in drawing this chapter to its conclusion is to
spark researcher’s imaginations by offering some ways in which researchers
in the West and beyond the West might resist these colonising agendas
and in doing so, promote greater innovation, creativity and life available
through diversity.
In order to create greater opportunities of rich, creative and innovative
research that are relevant to an increasingly complex world, researchers
in universities must stand against neoliberal forms of governance, value
research as a public good rather than as a means to an economic end,
embrace greater diversity by shedding monolingual mindsets and facilitate
ways to access research from developing countries. This is not to suggest
that collaboration with non-Western countries is easy or readily accessible
(Chevan et al. 2012). It will take time and effort and much background
research to make connections with scholars from these countries. What
we are suggesting is that the rewards could be worthwhile for individual
researchers and for research projects of the future. New ways of thinking
and operating require a long-term approach—that is, a significant invest-
ment of time by researchers is needed to explore nuances of meanings
within other cultures, nuances that have the potential to provide access to
new and different innovations of thought and research practice.
One of the most important things that we suggest is that collective
resistance is required. Muijs and Rumyantseva (2014) identify that syn-
ergistic collaboration is important in developing new and innovative
research. Our suggestion is that we apply this understanding to cross-cul-
tural/cross-linguistic collaboration by resisting the institutional/cultural
drive towards Western superiority, and in all this, finding an integrity that
is inspired by a desire for beneficial outcomes for all stakeholders.
One approach might be to develop an understanding of research con-
texts, research problems and ways of approaching research that may be
foreign to Western ways of thought. This might be achieved by attend-
ing conference presentations that focus on contexts other than ones that
are familiar, or by applying for grants, fellowships or exchanges that are
offered by non-Western universities. Looking more locally, it might be
possible to resist what is familiar, by looking for non-Western wisdom,
non-Western systems of thought and learn new ways of thinking, con-
structing arguments or voicing knowledge. Intentional reading of texts
written by non-native speakers is a helpful way to incorporate the voice of
the dispossessed researcher in Western articles as is the longer-term project
of learning a non-Western language.
Another viable and achievable project to push beyond Western normal-
ity is that of collaborating with professional English language teachers.
These teachers in facilitating student learning often deploy strategies for

learning through which new forms of knowledge are constructed. This is
something that Rivera (1999, p. 485) notes: “Through the use of their
own vernacular, the students produced new forms of knowledge that they
made accessible to the community. They produced this knowledge by
engaging in investigations—called popular research projects—of the issues
that affected their lives and their positioning in society”. We suggest that
these new forms of knowledge be collected, analysed and used as possible
starting points for innovative thinking and development. Also what often
happens in this scholarly engagement with linguistic expressions of other
cultures is that we adopt their point of view, thus able to identify as well as
write from their perspective.
In all of these suggestions, forming a professional group, or drawing
together others who share these concerns is important. Such engagements
can provide support and encouragement to get beyond the habitual think-
ing and behaviour that confines researchers to Western contexts. On the
other hand, monolingual Western researchers are disadvantaged by the
dominance of English, which not only has colonising effects for those
beyond the West. The dominance of English also has colonising effects for
those in the West. This chapter has presented the argument that the possi-
bilities for a relevant, vibrant and innovative academy are in our hands, not
in the hands of institutions or governments. The goal has been to chal-
lenge researchers to move towards further choices—to resist from within
the maze, or to take a more global view, negotiating our work from mul-
tiple positions. For research and for researchers, moving beyond the maze
is necessary for stimulating the development of rich innovations as well as
creating new futures both locally and globally.
NOTE
1. We have made a decision to use this term in the cause of expediency,
while at the same time acknowledging its positioning of speakers of
languages other than English as problematic (Kachru 1985, 1992;
Pederson 2012).
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AFTERWORD: CONTEXTUAL, CONCEPTUAL,
METHODOLOGICAL AND TRANSFORMATIONAL
CHALLENGES AND OPPORTUNITIES
FOR RESEARCHERS
D. Jean Clandinin
As I sit at my desk writing this afterword, snow begins to fall gently on

what is already a snow-covered landscape. The evergreen trees begin to
shade white as the snow covers them and I am reminded of the writing of
Mary Catherine Bateson. I frequently return to Bateson’s soft words as I
stare out at wintry landscapes, admiring the ways that what I see shifts as
I continue to watch.
I wonder, in a pause between paragraphs, about the many meanings of water,

and then how the metaphor of streams would shape our thoughts differently
than the metaphor of roads. I muse on the rarity, in the Philippines, of
metaphors of binary choice, so common in the West. (Bateson 1994, p. 95)
I too have wondered how different metaphors shape my thinking and,

watching the snowfall, I return again to Bateson’s (1994) wonder about
how a metaphor of streams shapes our thoughts differently from a meta-
D. Jean Clandinin
University of Alberta
Edmonton, Alberta, Canada

DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-39853-2
276 D. JEAN CLANDININ
phor of roads. A metaphor of streams seems to allow so much more pos-

sibility, the possibility for wondering, for wandering, for turning back on
itself, for branching out and for perhaps rejoining in new and unexpected
ways. I remember playing with my son and later my grandson as we floated
small twigs and branches down the swiftly flowing spring streams, calling
out to each other in surprise at the twisting paths they followed.
As I reflect on the task that the researcher/authors have taken up in this
book, I am drawn to their offering of a new metaphor–that is, one of a
maze for characterising the research process and their own research experi-
ences. They draw my attention to how a maze metaphor “evokes several
different and sometimes contradictory elements of research, including
complexity, confusion, messiness, multiplicity and risk”. They do so in
order to help themselves and other researchers to “be able to articulate
and implement effective strategies for engaging with these attributes – for
navigating the research maze”. I think again about how the metaphor of
a maze shapes our thinking about research differently from more com-
mon metaphors of research such as problem framing and solving with
patterns of linearity, of binary choices that attempt to take the messiness
and multiplicity out of research so that certainty in processes and products
is created.
By drawing forward the metaphor of a maze, the authors are able to
“explore the contextual, conceptual, methodological and transformational
challenges and opportunities presented in and by the conduct of research”
and to build on their own experiences “in order to elicit broader les-
sons for enhancing the impact, quality and significance of such research”
(p. ix).
Taking on the task of developing a metaphor to challenge the design
and carrying out of research draws me back to my first reading of Lakoff
and Johnson’s (1983) Metaphors We Live By. I was still a doctoral stu-
dent when I read their book, drawn as I was to the title and to their
opening words describing that, in many philosophical views and in stud-
ies of everyday language and thought, “metaphor has traditionally been
viewed…as a matter of peripheral interest”. As a doctoral student, I read
with fascination their words about metaphor:
We have found, on the contrary, that metaphor is pervasive in everyday life,

not just in language but in thought and action. Our ordinary conceptual
system, in terms of which we both think and act, is fundamentally meta-
phorical in nature. The concepts that govern our thought are not just mat-
AFTERWORD: CONTEXTUAL, CONCEPTUAL, METHODOLOGICAL… 277
ters of the intellect. They also govern our everyday functioning, down to the
most mundane details. Our concepts structure what we perceive, how we
get around in the world, and how we relate to other people. Our conceptual
system thus plays a central role in defining our everyday realities. If we are
right in suggesting that our conceptual system is largely metaphorical, then
the way we think, what we experience, and what we do every day is very
much a matter of metaphor. (p. 3)
As a neophyte researcher I was at first much more interested in how

thinking with metaphors in the ways they suggested shaped teachers’ cur-
riculum making practices, both how teachers thought about, and conse-
quently lived out and enacted, their practices, and how researchers, policy
makers and others thought about teachers and their practices (Clandinin
1986; Connelly and Clandinin 1988). This was all pretty heady stuff for
a doctoral student and Lakoff and Johnson’s (1983) ideas shaped my
doctoral work and my subsequent research in powerful ways. Imagining
new metaphors that might help us to understand more about schools’
contexts using a knowledge landscape metaphor (Clandinin and Connelly
1995) was one such consequence of my early introduction to Lakoff and
Johnson’s (1983) conceptual work on metaphors.
Revisiting Lakoff and Johnson (1983) as I thought about what the
authors/researchers in this book were doing helped me to think again
about the human conceptual system as “metaphorically structured and
defined. Metaphors as linguistic expressions are possible precisely because
there are metaphors in a person’s conceptual system”. And I know now
that it matters just what metaphors are structuring our thinking when we
are interested in imagining otherwise in what counts as research and in
how we imagine engaging in research. What becomes visible about our
thinking when we attempt to adopt a new metaphor? Sometimes we see
how constrained our thinking has become; sometimes we see what was
invisible or only partially visible.
The authors/researchers wonder about how the “metaphor of research
as a maze to be navigated extends our understandings of the character and
significance of contemporary research and the work and identities of con-
temporary researchers” and it is this wonder that most captured my imagi-
nation. Rossi, Gacenga and Danaher elaborate the research maze as an
accurate and illuminating metaphorical representation of current research
endeavours. More specifically, their chapter articulates three possible
approaches to engaging with research mazes on three fronts: navigating
278 D. JEAN CLANDININ
(by identifying and heading towards and/or away from selected points of
scholarly reference); negotiating (through interacting with research par-
ticipants, gatekeepers and other stakeholders); and nullifying (in the sense
of understanding and where appropriate diminishing what is puzzling or
troubling about the research).
I wonder too, though, about how deeply engrained metaphors are in
our conceptual understandings. I wonder how easily we can begin to think
with a new metaphor of streams rather than one of roads as Bateson (1994)
did. I wonder how difficult it is to move away from binary thinking about
research that tends to shape research towards certainty of processes and
outcomes. How do we hold open spaces that resist what Jensen-Clayton
and Murray call “the managerialist mechanisms and language and aca-
demic capitalism” and thereby make visible its “consequences: a loss of
academic freedom and ideals that results in reduced capacity for innova-
tion and a shift of focus from public good to economic gain”. I wonder
about what structures need to be in place to invite other researchers to
think with new metaphors of research that leave behind their conceptual
frameworks and help them to live by new metaphors. I wonder, as does
Trimmer, about the ethical issues around inviting others into our concep-
tual frameworks, into trying to live by our metaphors.
In the book, the authors/researchers begin to open up ways that using
a metaphor of a research maze can help us to make sense of contextual
changes that shape our research landscapes. How does a metaphor of a
research maze help us to negotiate the task of literature reviews when
there is so much more to review, with new digital tools, and with a push
for systematic literature reviews? Ramsey and Williamson hold these
wonders open. Pervin, Nishant and Kitchen make the questions of data
more complex with their focus on secondary data sets such as Twitter
and again ask us to consider how a new metaphor structures how we see
the task. Gacenga explores the use of e-research as researchers navigat-
ing new terrain and Rossi explores how the maze is a useful metaphor
for understanding collaborative research and its promise and possibilities.
Thinking with new metaphors opens up what is just now becoming visible
in our research landscapes, and the authors/researchers in this book have
begun to paint the contours of this new research landscape, drawing new
features into sharper relief and leaving readers with new wonders about
who we are as researchers and what metaphors we can live by in these
changing knowledge landscapes.
AFTERWORD: CONTEXTUAL, CONCEPTUAL, METHODOLOGICAL… 279
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scapes. New York: Teachers College Press.
Connelly, F. M., & Clandinin, D. J. (1988). Teachers as curriculum planners:
Narratives of experience. New York: Teachers College Press.
Lakoff, G., & Johnson, M. (1980). Metaphors we live by. Chicago: University of
Chicago Press.
NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS
Katie Burke currently lectures at the University of Southern Queensland,

Australia, where she teaches arts education and educational philosophy courses for
pre-service teachers. Her research focuses on the arts in education and alternative
education.
Patrick Alan Danaher is Professor of Educational Research in the School of
Linguistics, Adult and Specialist Education at the Toowoomba campus of the
University of Southern Queensland, Australia, where he is currently Associate
Dean (Research and Research Training) in the Faculty of Business, Education,
Law and Arts. He is also currently Adjunct Professor in the School of Education
and the Arts in the Higher Education Division at Central Queensland University,
Australia. His research interests include the education of mobile learners and edu-
cation research ethics, methods, politics and theories.
Jenny Donovan is Lecturer in Education at the University of Southern Queensland,
Australia, teaching science to pre-service primary teachers and teaching doctoral
students how to write literature reviews. Her research interests include the influ-
ence of mass media on children’s learning in science and revolutionising primary
science by including atomic theory. She has many articles and book chapters pub-
lished and she is currently working on converting her doctoral thesis into a book.
Wendy Fasso has conducted postgraduate studies through the University of
Southern Queensland and Central Queensland University, Australia. She is Senior
Lecturer in Education at the Bundaberg campus of Central Queensland University.
Her research interests are in learning design and pedagogy, and leadership of cur-
riculum change.

DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-39853-2
282 NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS
Francis Gacenga is Queensland Cyber Infrastructure Foundation’s (QCIF) eRe-

search Analyst at the University of Southern Queensland (USQ), Australia, and
he has significantly increased eResearch services uptake and usage at the University.
He has championed research development at USQ by advancing eResearch com-
pute, storage and collaboration. Dr Gacenga was key to securing QCIF funding
for the USQ’s High Performance Computing (HPC) upgrade, and he has pro-
vided pivotal input into the development of cloud computing, enterprise architec-
ture and research data management policies and procedures at the University. He
has a doctorate in information technology service management from USQ and an
MBA from the University of Nairobi.
R.E. (Bobby) Harreveld is a professor and deputy dean (research) in the School
of Education and the Arts at the Rockhampton campus of Central Queensland
University, Australia, where she is also foundation director of the Learning and
Teaching Education Research Centre. She was awarded life membership of the
Vocational Education and Training Network (Australia) for services to vocational
education and workplace transitions nationally and internationally. Professor
Harreveld’s research interests include capability development for learning and
earning, the brokering of knowledge production, and creating education pathways
and workplace transitions.
Prue Howard is Senior Lecturer in Engineering at Central Queensland University,
Australia. She currently teaches professional practice and sustainability courses.
Her research interests lie in professional practice skills and safe design. She is
currently President of the Australasian Association for Engineering Education.
Cecily Jensen-Clayton is presently finalising her doctoral study at the University
of Southern Queensland, Australia. Her research in international education focuses
on the issue and effects of acculturation. Ms Jensen-Clayton is also presently
engaged in training in psychoanalytic theory as part of her business partnership
with colleague and co-author Mr Atholl Murray. Their developing business,
Lifelong Conscious Living, aims to meet the needs of people in our complex age
by supporting personal and professional growth through greater consciousness
and embodied living.
Philip J. Kitchen is an affiliated research professor at ESC Rennes School of
Business, France, and visiting professor at four other universities in the European
Union and Israel. His research interests lie in marketing communications, corpo-
rate communications, branding, globalisation and marketing theory. He has a doc-
torate from Keele, UK.
Bruce Allen Knight is Professor of Education at Central Queensland University,
Australia. His research interests are in learning design and pedagogy. He has more
than 200 publications and he has worked on large research projects worth more
than AUD$5 million from such granting bodies as the Australian Research
NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS 283
Council. In 2006 he was honoured with a Fellowship of the International Academy

of Research in Learning Disabilities.
Bernadette Meenach has extensive experience as a theatre practitioner. She is cur-
rently the Lecturer in Voice at the University of Southern Queensland, Australia.
Her research interests include actor training, theatre making, the spoken voice and
biographical theatre. Bernadette’s original biographical theatre works have been
performed at both state and regional venues.
Atholl Murray’s work includes doctoral study at the Australian Catholic
University, Australia. His research is exploring men’s experiences of intimacy and
how these vary according to the development of self. With his colleague (and co-
author) Ms Cecily Jensen-Clayton, he is also developing a research-informed
counselling and professional development business, Lifelong Conscious Living,
focused on supporting personal and professional growth through greater con-
sciousness, embodiment and understanding of self in relation to other.
Rennie Naidoo is Senior Lecturer in Informatics at the University of Pretoria,
South Africa. He currently lectures in Information Technology (IT) Project
Management and Research Methods in Information Systems (IS). His research
focuses on IS use, design and investment decisions. His works have been published
in journals such as The Information Society and the International Journal of
Healthcare and Healthcare Informatics.
Rohit Nishant is an assistant professor in the Department of Supply Chain at the
ESC Rennes School of Business, France. He currently teaches modules on infor-
mation systems and sustainability. His research interests lie in sustainability, green
IT, business analytics and the business value of technologies. His articles have been
published in journals such as IEEE Transactions on Engineering Management, the
Journal of Business Research and MIS Quarterly Executive.
Nargis Pervin is a visiting faculty member in Computer Science and Engineering
at the Indian Institute of Information Technology Design and Manufacturing,
Kancheepuram, India. Her research interests focus on the areas of data mining,
social network analysis, big data analytics and recommender systems. She has a
PhD from NUS, Singapore.
Ken Purnell is Professor of Education at Central Queensland University,
Australia. He has research interests in neuroscience and learning and in particular
brain-based education. Professor Purnell has over 120 papers and reports pub-
lished. He has worked with the state curriculum and assessment authority as an
external expert for a quarter of a century. Professor Purnell was awarded the
Outstanding Alumni Prize 2014 from Western Michigan University in the USA
and he is a graduate of the University of Sydney and the University of New South
Wales, Australia.
284 NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS
Lindy Ramsay is a senior librarian at Central Queensland University, Australia.

Her research interests lie in literature searching and information seeking behaviour
in the Google Age.
Rob H. Reed is former Pro Vice-Chancellor (Learning and Teaching) and current
emeritus professor at Central Queensland University, Australia.
Dolene Rossi is a senior lecturer in the School of Nursing and Midwifery, Central
Queensland University, Australia. Dr Rossi supervises doctoral students. Her
research interests include innovative education, the nursing workforce, and qual-
ity and safety in health care. Dr Rossi is currently a member of the Central
Queensland Hospital Health Service ethics committee.
Yvonne Salton is a lecturer at the University of Southern Queensland, Australia.
Her background is in secondary and vocational education. Her expertise lies in
learning and teaching within the areas of SOSE (history), legal studies, business
and accounting. Ms Salton’s academic interests are in personal philosophy, teach-
ing self, critical thinking and inquiry pedagogy. Her current PhD research is
focused on “The Shared Self: Reflected Images of the Teacher Self”. Previous
research for a Master’s thesis, which was a forerunner to the PhD, considered the
impact of a personal philosophy on teaching identity.
Jay Somasundaram is retired from the workforce, having worked (and studied)
in several disciplines, across several organisational types, including a university. His
primary research interest is in education engineering, in which he is currently
undertaking a PhD in the School of Engineering and Technology at Central
Queensland University, Australia.
Karen Trimmer is Associate Professor and Postgraduate Program Coordinator–
Education in the School of Linguistics, Adult and Specialist Education at the
University of Southern Queensland, Australia. Her research focus is educational
leadership for community capacity building to impact on social justice policy and
governance. She has conducted reviews and authored reports evaluating the out-
comes of government initiatives, with impact on legislation and policy, for the
Parliament of Western Australia and the Department of Education and Training.
Her most recent publication is Trimmer, K. (Ed.) (2016) Political Pressures on
Educational and Social Research: International Perspectives, Routledge,
978-1-13-894712-2.
Moira Williamson is Associate Professor and Head of Midwifery at Central
Queensland University, Australia. Associate Professor Williamson has extensive
experience as an academic, midwifery clinician, educator and manager. She has a
variety of research interests, including teaching and learning, midwifery practice
and curriculum development.
INDEX
A C
academia, 23, 117, 237 capital, 36, 91
academy, 21, 37, 102, 105, 111, 265, cultural, 36
268 human, 36
action research, 220, 236, 241, 246, knowledge, 36
248–249 social, 150
agency, 4, 74–75, 118–120, capitalism, 28, 32–33, 39–40, 91,
127, 177 254
anonymity, 18, 57, 61–62, 75, 110, academic, vi, 17, 28, 30–31,
122, 210 37–39, 254–257,
assimilation, 261, 266 259–261, 278
autoethnography, 69 knowledge, 25
autonomy, 18, 35, 54–55, 59, 61–62, neoliberal, 32
91, 257–259, 264 case study/ies, 9, 98, 104–105, 146,
axiology, 68, 82, 84 148–149, 151, 157–158, 191,
236, 244, 246
cloud computing, 8, 219, 221,
B 226–227, 229
bias/es, 86, 132, 134, 139, 185, 187, collaboration/s, viii, 8–10, 102,
206, 209, 211–212 105, 109, 116, 120, 122,
biculturalism, 87 125, 164, 176–178, 182,
big data, 8, 205–207, 211, 227, 188, 218–219, 221–222,
229 226–229, 231–232, 235–249,
binary/ies, 73, 275–276, 278 265, 267, 278

DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-39853-2
286 INDEX
communication/s, 3, 8, 29, 61, E

111–112, 127, 149, 163–165, empathy, 111, 137
168, 176, 203–204, 218, 221, empowerment, 54, 106, 225
226, 246, 261–264, 266 epistemology, 31, 34, 68, 82, 84, 90,
confidentiality, 18, 57, 59, 61–62, 93, 106, 132–136, 138,
210, 244, 248 141–142, 176, 258
constructivism, 133, 249 equality, 33, 54, 254
cross-disciplinary research, 10 equity, 12, 50–52, 62
cross-institutional research, viii, 8–9, eResearch, vii, 8, 217–224, 226–229,
182, 235–239, 244, 249 231–232, 278
culture/s, vi, 1, 3, 34, 51, 56–57, 79, ethics, v–vi, 3–5, 9, 11–12, 17, 38–39,
81, 85, 87–88, 92, 117, 49–50, 62, 84, 86, 88, 101, 126,
124–125, 148, 164, 168, 182, 149–150, 181, 200, 210,
256, 260, 262–264, 266–268 242–243, 255, 257, 266, 278
ethnography, 133
exclusion, 35, 119, 185, 187
D experiment/s, 8, 186, 200–201, 207,
data analysis, 10, 74–75, 102, 109, 218–219, 225
122–123, 132, 135, 139, 165,
169, 179, 200, 203, 205,
207–209, 211, 241, 243–245, F
248 focus group/s, 122, 157–158,
data collection, 10, 73–75, 102, 110, 168–170, 178
132, 135, 139, 148–150, 157, freedom, 18, 32–33, 37–39, 49, 91,
165, 168–170, 179, 182, 123, 254, 257–258, 278
200–201, 203–205, 208–211,
219–221, 223, 225, 230, 241,
243–245, 248 G
data management, vii, 199, 201, 207, gatekeeper/s, 6, 278
218–219, 221–222, 225, 227, generalisability, 137
231 governmentality, 32, 34
data storage, 8, 182, 221–223, 225,
227, 229, 232
design-based research (DBR), vii, H
115–116, 119–121, 123–125, hegemony, 23, 32, 35–36, 39,
128 261–262, 264
dialogue/s, 165, 168, 184, 194
disability/ies, 11, 60
discourse/s, v–vi, 13, 28, 32, 35–36, I
39, 72, 86, 107, 110–111, 164, identity/ies, 71, 86, 97, 102–103,
166 112, 136, 147, 157, 182, 212,
discrimination, 2, 60 222, 226, 232, 277
INDEX 287
inclusion, 2, 70, 149, 153, 185, 187, method/s, v–vii, 8–9, 12, 18, 48,
190 67–76, 80–81, 88–90, 97–99,
inequality/ies, 25, 54, 261, 264–265 102, 104–107, 111, 131–135,
information and communication 137–138, 142, 146, 148–150,
technology/ies (ICT/s), 8, 165, 168, 171, 178, 181,
220–221, 223 183–186, 194, 206, 218–220,
(informed) consent, 4, 58, 62, 231, 241, 245
125–127, 200, 210, 225 methodology/ies, v–vii, 1, 6–10, 12–13,
interdisciplinary research, 81, 89–90, 17–18, 57, 67–76, 90, 97–99,
176, 237–239, 245–246 101–102, 104, 106–107, 119,
interpretivism, 133–134, 141–142 131–132, 134, 136, 146, 148–149,
interview/s, 55–59, 72, 89, 122, 158, 168, 176, 181–182, 194,
137–139, 141, 146, 149–154, 210, 220, 236, 238, 240, 242,
156–158, 168, 200 246, 248–249, 275–276
mixed methods research, 2, 98, 131,
133–139, 141–142, 183,
K 245–246
knowledge economy, vi, 17, 23, 25–31, monoculturalism, 261
36–39, 253–257, 259–261 monolingualism, 261, 266–268
multiculturalism, 87
multidisciplinary research, viii, 8–9,
L 81, 89–90, 182, 232, 235–241,
learning analytics, 242, 245–246 245–246, 249
literature, vii, 3–4, 6, 8, 23–25, 38,
58, 67, 69, 71–72, 93, 98, 103,
106, 108, 110–111, 117–119, N
122–125, 128, 131, 135–136, naming, 35, 68
139, 141, 145, 147–148, 154, narrative/s, vi, 28, 80, 82, 104–105,
178, 181, 183–195, 224, 108–110, 184–186, 194–195,
236–237, 243, 264, 278 199, 248
neoliberalism, vi, 17–18, 23, 25–26,
30–40, 182, 254–262, 266–267
M
managerialism, vi, 17, 23, 30–31,
34–36, 39, 51, 182, 243, O
254–255, 258–262, 266, 278 objectivity, 92
marginalisation, 118–119 observation/s, 122, 132, 139, 235,
metaphor/s, v–vii, 1–4, 7, 11, 13, 21, 241
30, 38, 81, 85, 88, 97–99, 110, ontology, 68, 72, 132, 136, 142, 176
128, 163–167, 169–172, open access, 184, 188, 190
174–178, 182, 217, 226, open data, 200–202
231–232, 275–278 open source/s, 182, 206
288 INDEX
P reflexivity, 248–249, 259

paradigm/s, vii, 6, 8, 51, 70, 86, reliability, 12, 120, 169, 182, 191,
102–103, 106, 131–133, 203, 209
135–136, 141–142, 218–220, replicability, 120, 194
231–232, 243, 245 research cloud/s, 225, 227–230, 232
participant/s, 6, 48, 50, 57, 62, 72, resistance, 39, 257, 260, 267–268,
75, 98, 101–102, 117–120, 278
122–123, 125–128, 139, rigour, v, 13, 102, 105–106, 117,
150–151, 156–158, 168–174, 119–120, 172–173, 175, 178,
176, 200, 210, 241, 278 184, 194, 203, 207–208
participation, 10, 48, 58, 62, 126,
256, 264
phenomenology, 18, 70–73, 111 S
policy/ies, 2, 8–10, 25, 27–28, 32, 37, sampling, 205–206, 209, 211–212
47–48, 50–59, 61–62, 87, 92, 147, (scholarship of) integration, vii, 19,
235, 238, 240, 257–258, 277 79, 81, 84, 88–89
positivism, 131–134, 141–142, 264 social network analysis (SNA), 98,
postpositivism, 132, 142 146–147, 149–158, 200–201,
post-qualitative research, 73 203, 207, 210–211
power, vii, 2, 8, 11, 28, 30, 34, 53–55, stakeholder/s, 6, 26, 28–30, 32, 39,
80, 82–83, 91, 111, 119, 50, 52, 54, 61, 82, 84, 118–120,
146–148, 150, 154, 182, 221, 267, 278
223–224, 226–227, 229, 237, statistics, 85–86, 93, 139, 166, 185,
246, 248–249, 277 190, 200, 202–203, 210, 230,
practice-led research, 101–112 245
subjectivity/ies, 28, 72, 75, 132, 185
survey/s, 58–59, 61, 109–110, 122,
Q 146, 149–151, 156–158, 169,
qualitative research, 10, 72, 97–98, 200, 203, 209, 211
102, 104, 131–141, 148–150, systematic review/s, vii, 181,
157, 164–165, 168, 171, 176, 183–195, 278
183, 186, 242–247
quantitative research, 10, 97–98,
131–141, 149–150, 183, 186, T
211, 242–245, 247 transdisciplinary research, 81, 83, 85,
questionnaire/s, 58–61, 139 89–90
transformation/s, v–vii, 1, 3, 6, 10,
12–13, 23, 33, 97–99, 120–121,
R 127, 164, 175, 210, 226,
reflection, 11, 18, 74, 80, 90, 99, 275–276
106–107, 109, 124, 182, 220, triangulation, 87, 90, 93, 134–135,
226, 228, 230–232, 241–242, 146, 151–152, 154, 157–158
245, 248 trustworthiness, 133
INDEX 289
V W
validity, 33, 35, 81, 133, 182, 201, worldview/s, 70, 134, 137, 141, 176,
203, 207, 241 263
variable/s, 85, 145–147, 208, 238

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PALGRAVE STUDIES IN

EDUCATION RESEARCH METHODS

Edited by Dolene Rossi, Francis Gacenga

More information about this series at

Palgrave Studies in Education Research Methods

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016956418

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s) 2016

Cover image © Jennifer Borton / Getty Images

Printed on acid-free paper

This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by Springer Nature

R.E (Bobby) Harreveld

Gandalf: “I am looking for someone to share in an adventure that I am

readers to think about the transformational aspects of the research process

Trimmer in Chap. 3, suggests that embarkation points for navigating the

• Mr Andrew James and Ms Eleanor Christie and their colleagues at

– Professor Peter Albion, University of Southern Queensland,

– Dr Ali Black, University of the Sunshine Coast, Maroochydore,

1 Navigating, Negotiating and Nullifying Education

Part 1 Navigating the Politics, Ethics, Philosophies and

2 Working in the Research Maze: At What Price? 21

3 “Have You Been Non-compliant?” Dilemmas of Decision-

4 Navigating the Terrain of Methodological Uncertainties

5 Navigating the Scholarship of Integration: Insights

Part 2 Navigating Mazes in and with Specific Research

6 Practice-led Research: Creating, Embodying and

7 Investigating Creative Arts Practices in Australian Home

8 Meandering in the Maze of Mixed Methods: Navigation

9 Navigating, Negotiating and Nullifying Contradictions

10 Research as a “Quest” through a “Maze” of Representations:

Part 3 Navigating Mazes in and with Specific Research

11 Many Paths to Discovery: The Increasingly Complex

12 Food for Thought: Managing Secondary Data

13 The Compass, Navigation and the Journey: A Role

14 Collaborative Research: A Partnership That Seizes

15 Working Beyond the Research Maze 253

Afterword: Contextual, Conceptual, Methodological and

Notes on Contributors 281

Fig. 1.1 Theorising and conceptualising the education research

Fig. 13.2 An eResearch Journey—using NeCTAR VMs and

Table 5.1 Changing patterns of usage 89

Navigating, Negotiating and Nullifying

Patrick Alan Danaher, Dolene Rossi, and Francis Gacenga

P.A. Danaher ()

© The Author(s) 2016 1

2000) to the accounts of families in biological species (Mindell 2013) and

• A necessarily selective review of literature pertaining to education

rent efflorescence of Massive Open Online Courses (MOOCs) traversing

… duplication of research ethics procedures across institutions; feelings

Clearly, considerable diversity characterises the ways in which education

NAVIGATING, NEGOTIATING AND NULLIFYING RESEARCH

framework, a conceptual model and the constructs (Garrison et al. 1999).

ILLUSTRATING THE THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK

Challenges & Opportunies

The Research Maze g

Challenges & Opportunies Na

Fig. 1.1 Theorising and conceptualising the education research maze

In pursuing his research, Gacenga acknowledges a range of contex-