An Ethnographic Approach

As some observe, ethnography, with its roots in mostly anthropology but also sociology (see Van Maanen, 1988; Neyland, 2008), is growing increasingly popular in organisation studies (e.g. Yanow, 2009; Cunliffe, 2010), whilst practice-based studies are said to have given ethnography a new ‘breath of life’ (Rouleau, 2014). Indeed, as I pointed out in Section 3.1 and as this section shall also demonstrate, ethnography appears to be a tremendously fruitful approach when studying sociomaterial practices, since at its core ethnography is a “written representation of culture” (Van Maanen, 1988: 1), with an interest in notions such as rules, norms, practices, language, beliefs, traditions etc. In other words, corresponding well with my philosophical research stance and research questions, ethnography is a means of understanding how and why things are done the way they are in a particular place (Van Maanen, 2011; Watson, 2011). Ethnographers thus not only study organisations, they study in organisations (Van Maanen, 2011).

Ethnography thereby I perceive as a methodological approach (Neyland, 2008; Van Maanen, 2011); a practice, in fact, considering that it is an inherently active enterprise (Emerson et al., 1995; Van Maanen, 2006, 2010, 2015). It should be acknowledged though that traditionally an ethnography is defined rather as a written text, a cultural account of the organisation, community or tribe of interest; i.e. the

product of the methodological approach of fieldwork (Watson, 2011, 2012; Yanow, 2012). As I stress towards the end of this section, ethnography thus is a style of social science writing. In other words, many studies (e.g. Nicolini, 2011; Contu, 2014) use ethnographic methodologies, such as fieldwork, but do not necessarily have an ethnography as their final product (Czarniawska, 2007). This reflects in the way I treat ethnography in this thesis. The final product (the thesis) therefore is not an ethnography as such, yet the approach taken in order to arrive at the product borrows from fundamentally ethnographic ways of doing social science research (see e.g. Orr, 2014) – hence I follow the authors above calling ethnography a methodological approach, or an ‘ethnographically-inspired’ approach. As such, ethnography involves ‘fieldwork’, describing the efforts of gathering data in the field (discussed next); ‘headwork’, analysing and interpreting data (Section 3.3); and ‘textwork’, i.e. writing up the ethnography (this section) (Van Maanen, 1988).

Fieldwork describes the core method of ethnography (Cunliffe, 2010). Yet what exactly constitutes fieldwork is diffuse, diverse and mostly undefined, which affords ethnography a great deal of flexibility regarding the tools that the researcher may deploy (Van Maanen, 1988, 2006; Yanow, 2009; Watson, 2012). According to Emerson et al. (1995), ethnography involves two main things. First, it is about studying people as they go about their daily lives; and, secondly, taking notes in a systematic way based on one’s observations. Indeed, as is commonly agreed, observations are the bedrock of ethnography – although interviews, as discussed below, are an overly common technique as well (e.g. Van Maanen, 1979; 1988, 2011; Agar, 1980; Emerson et al., 1995; Davis, 2008; Neyland, 2008; Down, 2012; Watson, 2011, 2012). I therefore followed these scholars in adopting observations as the primary mode of inquiry. Fieldnotes, which describe a record of observations, conversations, and interpretations, hence are the primary data used in my study (see Agar, 1980; Emerson et al., 1995). Over the course of my time in the field, I accumulated 250 pages of notes in a Word Document. As a guideline I took the notion of banality. That is, I noted down anything I heard or saw, following the idea that fieldwork, and hence ethnography, should be grounded in everydayness (Yanow, 2012). Indeed, as Van Maanen urges, “the universal seems to be found in the particular” (2011: 227; Neyland, 2008; Ybema et al., 2009; Down, 2012). Here, an ethnographic approach works particularly well with the practice concept, since the mundane and seemingly trivial are at the core of activities and hence the site for social aspects such as leadership or power (see Chapter 2). Taking notes, then, was largely intuitive (Emerson et al., 1995).

In order to do fieldwork and develop a sense for the particular rather than general, however, my immersion in the local setting was pivotal. Fieldwork, derived from the anthropological tradition, in fact, means living with and like those studied. In other words, the fieldworker continuously participates (discussed below), interacts, and socialises with his ‘participants’ in ‘their natural habitat’, over a prolonged period of time. Since immersion in the local and at best unfamiliar setting is necessary to understand ‘what is really going on’ and ‘how things work’ in an organisation (Miettinen et al., 2009; Van Maanen, 2011; Watson, 2011), it constitutes an unsubstitutable, if not defining, element of ethnography (Agar, 1980; Van Maanen,

perspective of ethnography follows particularly from the engaged rather than detached philosophical view I maintained in Section 3.1. As the researcher, I hence made an effort to not be a ‘fly on the wall’ (Emerson et al., 1995) – reflected in the degree of my participation.

The ways in which a researcher may participate indeed varies. In the ethnographic literature, most scholars (e.g. Van Maanen, 1979; Emerson et al., 1995; Watson, 2011) simply refer to the term ‘participant observations’ as the standard type, though not necessarily specifying the meaning and extent thereof. Bryman and Bell (2011) offer four different types of observations:

Figure 3 – Degree of participation (adapted from Byman and Bell, 2011: 437).

On a scale from being a complete participant or being a complete observer, my role as a researcher at TexCo, thereby, is best described as ‘participant-as-observer’, i.e. participant observation. Watson (2011), for example, defines participant observation in terms of the researcher joining a community as a partial or full member, observing and participating in daily activities, asking questions and partaking in conversation. Participation, as a pivotal element of ethnography, in fact cannot be avoided since “ones mere physical presence and human decency requires participation” (Czarniawska, 2007: 55). I hence participated and immersed myself in the working lives of the ‘natives’, overtly observing their daily affairs and continuously interacting with them (as described above), in order to “learn from them their view of reality” (Agar, 1980: 114; Van Maanen, 1979; Watson, 2011). In meetings, moreover, my role is more adequately described in terms of an observer-as-participant, since in these instances I acted rather as silent observer, though occasionally commenting or being asked for my opinion on matters – reflecting more in what Czarniawska (2007) describes as shadowing.

The time spent in the field, meanwhile, is not necessarily specified (Agar, 1980; Van Maanen, 1988) – although the general rule is the longer the better (Czarniawska,

2007). While some scholars tend to look for ‘theoretical saturation’ (e.g. Nicolini, 2011), others suggest that ethnography is characterised by the idea that one could spend time in the field indefinitely and would still learn new things (Czarniawska, 2007). Yet, ethnographers do concur that the fieldworker’s learning curve ultimately declines after a certain amount of time spent in the field, and that observations and interviews become narrower given the focus of the study (Agar, 1980; Van Maanen, 1988; Emerson et al., 1995). I therefore started at TexCo in the beginning of November 2014, and ceased fieldwork after five and half months in mid-March 2015.

Although exit is largely arbitrary (Van Maanen, 2011), the reasons for leaving the field were threefold. Firstly, towards the end of my time in the organisational ‘bush’ I noticed the amount of notes I took daily to decline steadily from about 12-15 pages a day in the beginning to about 3-5 eventually – indeed reflecting a declining learning curve. Secondly, as I discuss in this section vis-à-vis the role of theory in ethnography, because I worked iteratively whilst in the field utilising Nicolini’s (2013) toolkit approach to go back and forth between theory and data, I determined that I had gathered a sufficient amount of data to have something interesting to say about my research questions (see Nicolini, 2011 for a similar approach). Thirdly and importantly, pragmatic reasons prompted me to exit the field, considering the time constraints of the PhD and since my access was initially negotiated to be for five months.

As indicated earlier in this section, I supplemented my daily observations with semi-structured interviews (n=24), with a cross-section of employees; from the CEO, managers, to technicians and assistants. These interviews lasted between 45 and 90 minutes and were subsequently transcribed verbatim. I also conducted unstructured, ethnographic interviews (n=15) resembling ‘naturally occurring conversations’ that were not recorded but documented by taking notes, as common practice in ethnography (Van Maanen, 1979; Davis, 2008; Yanow, 2009; Nicolini, 2011; Endrissat and Arx, 2013). Particularly in the beginning of my fieldwork, I asked participants to talk to me about their remits and daily working lives in order to get an overview of the organisation. Over time then, through said deep immersion, fieldworkers normally make friends in the field, so-called ‘key informants’ (Agar, 1980; Van Maanen, 1988). Building long-term relationships is indeed critical for conducting a successful

al., 1995; Watson, 2011). This is why I conducted my semi-structured interviews after having been in the field for several weeks, so that participants were accustomed to me as a researcher and perceived me as reasonably trustworthy, hence increasing the likelihood of interviewees talking more openly (see Van Maanen, 1988, 2011; Czarniawska, 2007; Davies, 2008; Neyland, 2008).

As Davies (2008) recommends, the quality of observations is likely to be increased if one has previously discussed meanings and interpretations with research participants. I thus used these observations and interviews in an integrated fashion, for three particular reasons: firstly, in order to enhance the richness of the data, considering that at times what actors say might differ from what they do (Agar, 1980); secondly, since, as I established in my research philosophy (section 3.1), there is no one truth, utilising multiple methods helps to get a more nuanced understanding of organisational life (Van Maanen, 1988, 2011); thirdly, observations and interviews may guide each other in the sense that observations and interpretations of events can be clarified and discussed further in interviews, whilst interviews in turn possibly highlight aspects the researcher was not aware of before to then further investigate observationally (Nicolini, 2009a, 2009b).

Importantly, however, through interviews, as representational or ‘manufactured’ data, one learns not how things are but how they are accounted for (Van Maanen, 1988; Czarniawska, 2007). Whilst this can, or in fact should be seen as an important limitation (after all, observations constitute the primary method), this at the same time creates an opportunity. That is, considering sociomaterial practices, foregrounding how and what needs to be accounted for can be a useful endeavour to shed light on moral and normative dimensions of practices (Nicolini, 2009a). A particular interview technique I utilised (n=3) to shed light on these dimensions, therefore, was the ‘interview to the double’ (ITTD), which is associated, although still rather uncommon, with practice- based studies (Nicolini, 2009b) instead of ethnography. The ITTD requires the interviewee to imagine a doppelgänger, preferably the interviewer, to come into work the next day instead of the interviewee herself. For the ‘ploy’ not to be unmasked, the interviewee has to give as detailed as possible instructions to the double, resulting in an articulation and representation of her practices – particularly in regards to concerns and norms.

While this interview technique is derived from theoretical interests, the researcher is generally faced with a critical choice when conducting fieldwork that pertains to the role of theory. As the ethnographic literature advises, theory normally does not play a very prominent role (see Van Maanen, 1988, 2011; Watson, 2012; Yanow, 2012). An ethnographic approach, in fact, derives its flexibility not only from the incorporation of multiple investigative techniques, but also from being emergent

rather than rigid. That is, as a researcher one should be adjusting to ‘what comes up in the field’ rather than merely looking for aspects prescribed by a particular theory (Gherardi, 2011; Watson, 2012; Yanow, 2012). At the same time, this is not to suggest that ethnography can or should be theoretically irrelevant. In other words, there needs to be a balance in the sense that one should neither work exclusively deductively nor inductively, but iteratively instead (Watson, 2012; see e.g. Nicolini, 2011). Theory becomes a “resource for guiding fieldwork and as an outcome of the thinking process which is stimulated by the interplay in the researcher’s mind of theory and field experience” (Watson, 2012: 19). This constitutes the way I approached my fieldwork. In line with ethnographic tradition, I embraced a commitment to exploration (Neyland, 2008) and hence took a largely inductive approach to data gathering. Simultaneously though I began reading transcripts of observations and interviews whilst still in the field, going back and forth between data and theory, in order to ensure relevance to my research questions and to guide exit from the field – particularly using Nicolini’s (2013) toolkit approach as a heuristic (see Nicolini, 2011 for a similar approach). Importantly, I worked iteratively not to determine the direction my fieldwork, but to work reflexively. I worked reflexively in order tomake myself aware of my own assumptions, beliefs and theoretical convictions that ultimately affect the ways in which ethnographic research, including analysis and writing, is conducted (Cunliffe, 2003; Sandberg, 2005; Yanow, 2012).

Assuming reality to be socially constructed through participation in practices, my philosophical positions (Section 3.1) suggest me to partake in making sense of and constructing the world of which this thesis is a product (Alvesson et al., 2008; see Yanow, 2012, world making through writing ethnography).Therefore, said aspects that may affect the researcher’s interpretations need to be identified and understood. In that

(Cunliffe, 2003; Nadin and Cassell, 2006; Alvesson et al., 2008), and given the subjectivity of ethnographic research it is stressed as a vital element frequently (e.g. Davis, 2008; Neyland, 2008; Cunliffe, 2010; Rouleau et al., 2014).

It should be noted that there is no all-encompassing definition of reflexivity, whilst in quite general terms it may be defined as “research that turns its back upon itself” (Alesson et al., 2008: 480). Moreover, there are multiple ways the concept can be approached – Cunliffe (2003), for instance, suggests three: reflexivity as a philosophy, method, or technique. I utilised the idea of reflexivity in terms of the latter, and

practiced it in terms of two different but related ways. Following Cunliffe’s (2003) insightful paper, I engaged in ‘radical reflexivity’, which means critically assessing and questioning my own assumptions and how they may affect the research conducted – a type of reflexivity stressed frequently by the literature (e.g. Cunliffe, 2004; Cunliffe and Jun, 2005; Nadin and Cassell, 2006; Alvesson et al., 2008; Hibbert et al., 2010; Alvesson and Sköldberg, 2011). Moreover, I also engaged in ‘endogenous reflexivity’, which means critically questioning the taken for granted assumptions of the ones studied (Cunliffe, 2003), which is particularly helpful for bringing to the fore the often unspoken and barely noticeable aspects of practices (cf. Nicolini, 2009a). For instance, practicing reflexivity led me to question discourses of empowerment that permeated everyday life at TexCo. Reflexive practice, thereby, benefited all three major aspects of ethnography, my fieldwork, primarily discussed here, but also my analysis (headwork), discussed in Section 3.3 in terms of my sensitizing framework; as well as my textual presentation of findings (textwork), also indicated in this section (see also Alvesson et al., 2008).

In order to assess my own research practice critically, I kept a reflexive diary,

which aids the process of self-reflection, noting down and making explicit feelings, impressions, ideas for methodological and theoretical implications, contradictions and tensions, or dominant themes – all of which may impact my interpretations (Nadin and Cassell, 2006; Hibbert et al., 2010). In order to avoid a self-absorbed and never-ending cycle of reflection; I followed Cunliffe’s (2003) advice of one loop of self-inspection. Critically assessing and altering my own practice as a researcher, for instance, helped me to be aware of and minimise the influence of theory that, as mentioned, ultimately affects research. It also led me to realise that the less I prepared and structured

interviews in advance, the more interesting I found the interview to turn out. I thus made an effort to let interview conversations flow more freely to get ‘better’ results in the sense of more interesting insights vis-à-vis how things work in the organisation, or for instance power dynamics that were not easily accessible by deliberately talking about them.

Moreover, as I indicated in Section 3.2.1, I had a close relationship to TexCo’s chief executive, Jack. In our regular car rides, therefore, I discussed possible meanings and my interpretations of events with him in order to learn about his perspective – which, as it turned out, was often very different from that of ‘ordinary staff’ who had different views and certainly were concerned about different things (e.g. machinery that staff found too old, whilst Jack was more concerned about the company’s financial situation). My relationship to Jack, therefore, can be seen as a double-edged sword. On the one hand he offered valuable insight, whilst on the other it was at the same time important for me to reflexively assess how my own interpretations of meanings were influenced by my close access to him. To deal with the possibility of being ‘biased’ through Jack, in the field and analysis I made an effort to listen to other voices. In other words, I embraced the fragility of ‘truth’, and thus followed the reflexive guideline of evaluating things from multiple angles, and that no account is privileged over another (Latour, 1988; Cunliffe, 2003; Alvesson et al., 2008). Moreover, regarding analysis, I had to be careful not to develop themes based solely on the insights of particular actors, or a group of actors that exhibit similar characteristics (such as all being managers).

At the same time, this highlights that practicing radical goes hand in hand with practicing endogenous reflexivity; i.e. not only questioning my own interpretations and taken for granted assumptions, but those of all other participants involved as well. I did so for example through ‘otherness’ (Cunliffe, 2003). That is, meaning is not only created through what is said, but also through what is not said. Doing so particularly influenced interpretations of data in terms of my analysis, as the concept, Cunliffe adds, may reveal contradictions and tensions. For instance, together with incorporating multiple perspectives, this led me to evaluate suspiciously the notions of staff empowerment and inclusion – two fundamental themes of my analysis that revealed inherent contradictions. According to a reflexive stance, such tensions and

contradictions, meanwhile, should not be sought to be removed, but to be embraced instead so that deeper insight might be achieved (Alvesson et al., 2008).

Finally, as mentioned, practicing reflexivity also translates into textwork. Namely, given the subjectivity stipulated by my research philosophy and embraced by reflexivity, my experiences and interpretations are clearly present in the writing. As indicated previously in this section, writing is a, if not the, vital aspect of ethnography, which is why I outline the ways in which I wrote this thesis to conclude this section.

In order to invoke a sense of immersion and participation I used notions such Geertz’s (1973) ‘thick description’ or Van Maanen’s (1988) tales (see Miettinen et al., 2009; Contu, 2014; Orr, 2014). Considering Van Maanen’s tales specifically, I situate my writing within his ‘impressionist’ style. Impressionist tales are a “representational means of cracking open the culture and the fieldworker’s way of knowing it so that both can be jointly examined” (p. 102), and “reconstruct in dramatic form those periods the author regards as especially notable and hence reportable” (ibid.). These tales are mostly written in the form of vignettes (see e.g. Orr, 1996) based on observations mainly and recollections of events, whilst I regularly supplement these with interview