“The thrill of research resides precisely in the way in which we
muddle through and puzzle out aspects of our research project. We come in with possible ideas, and we quickly become disillusioned with our preconceptions and fascinated by all the
ways in which the field operates “all wrong.” We return to the
theory, and back to the field, and slowly piece together a theoretical account that can explain our observations,
potentially illuminating a broader point that we couldn’t have even guessed at when we began our work.”
Tavory and Timmermans (2014: 7)
It has become somewhat paradigmatic for qualitative researchers to engage with
‘grounded theory,’ to say that they ‘collected’ data (See Section 3.3 above), and that, if that data is analysed concurrently with collection, then the data reached a
point of ‘saturation,’ at which point no new themes emerged. If data collection
and analysis take place in different, non-concurrent phases, then the untainted data is inductively coded for themes which also ‘emerge’ apparently spontaneously. As Barbour (2001: 1116) proposes, however, the widespread mention of grounded theory can be problematic, often simply conferring
“academic respectability”:
A sleight of hand produces a list of “themes,” and we are
invited to take it on trust that theory somehow emerges from the data without being offered a step by step explanation of how theoretical insights have been built up.
In spite of its popularity, I have harboured a similar suspicion that the reporting of such an approach can be a case of box-ticking, more than a justified reflection of how knowledge is produced. Grounded theory appears to betray a naïve
perception of the research process and how it ‘purely’ represents and recounts
what participants say, with the authors of the approach, Glaser and Strauss (1967: 37), going so far as to state that “An effective strategy is, at first, literally to ignore
the literature of theory and fact of the area under study, in order to assure that the emergence of categories will not be contaminated by concepts more suited to
different areas.”
However, when I wrote field notes after a long day in the workshop, for example, it was often difficult to discern plain description from ‘contaminated’ preliminary
analysis. Such an account would do an injustice to my data, my respondents, the irrepressible flux of daily life, not to mention the difficulty with which a researcher
can simply say ‘I’m learning no more. My research questions have been answered’.
Certainly, I did engage in concurrent analysis, with field notes uploaded to NVivo, for the sake of management, and interviews transcribed and preliminarily analysed immediately after their completion. Also, as outlined above, the field work was prolonged and adapted according to certain uncontrollable exigencies, allowing more space for continuous emergent analysis.
However, my approach to analysis fell somewhere between ‘data-driven’
induction, and ‘theory-driven’ deduction. In the event, I had immersed myself in
relevant theoretical readings in the year prior to commencing field work and to pretend to ignore the impact this has had on the final result would not be adequate. As Timmermans and Tavory (2012: 181) note, “successful qualitative researchers are voracious consumers of substantive sociological theories, who use their reading as a touchstone for research. Not taking current scholarship into consideration risks not only ignorance but also the rediscovery of a well-developed domain.” Only with literature reviewed and theoretical interests outlined, did I digitally code for themes and sub-themes across the numerous data sources, including my field notes, interview transcripts and discussion list archives, though these themes were fallible and tentative, variously driven by the data and by changing theoretical concerns, and often both simultaneously.
Due to such concerns, Brinkmann (2014: 722) focuses on the image of the
“abductive tool-user, the bricoleur, the craftsperson” as the ideal qualitative
researcher, in preference to the inductive “collector” andthe deductive “framer”
(See also Rosiek, 2013; and Mills, 1970 on research as craft, rather than discovery).
A term drawn from Pragmatist epistemology, ‘abduction’ seems particularly
apposite for a study on craft skills and making, with John Dewey (1925: 13) also recognising that social scientists, in researching human experience, are first
confronted by “the tangled and the complex” and cannot simply deduce or induct.
As Shank (2008: n.p.) has written, “whereas deductive inferences are certain (so long as their premises are true) and inductive inferences are probable, abductive inferences are merely plausible.” Often summarised as ‘inference to the best explanation’, Blatter (2008: n.p.) notes that “the quality of a case study…does not
depend on providing detailed evidence for every step of a causal chain; rather, it depends on a skilful use of empirical evidence for making a convincing argument within a scholarly discourse that consists of competing or complementary
theories.” Sitting much more easily with notions of positionality, reflexivity and epistemological modesty (all dealt with in the next section), my assertions are therefore made, through abductive analysis, not to speak to a literal truth ‘out there’ in the world, but to respond to, and join in with, the conversations of a (scholarly) community (Timmermans and Tavory, 2012).