Using visual methodology and analysing photography

Rose (2007) and Banks (2001) argue that the meanings of photographs are ‘arbitrary and subjective’ and that they also depend on who it is that is doing the looking (Pink, 2007: 67). One photograph may be viewed differently by other audiences simply

118

because they are situated in ‘diverse temporal historical, spatial and cultural contexts’ to the one I am located in. As an ethnographer, my aim in Chapter 5 entitled ‘The use of space and environment in child protection practice’ is therefore to use photographs to understand ‘the individual, local and broader cultural discourses’ which surround these pictures, in both ‘field work situations and academic discourses’ with the support of the written word (Pink, 2007: 68).

Flanders was the setting in which I first started taking photographs. On reflection, I think this was because as soon as I arrived I realised that visually the Flemish agency appeared so very different to the Fenton Department where I worked. I knew that trying to explain this verbally to my colleagues, or future readers of this thesis, would not have the same impact as it would if I were to show them

photographs. I had, therefore, no pre-planned schedule or research strategy of what exactly I was planning to take pictures of. But after being shown around the building by a Flemish participant one day, I later found myself returning to the places which I had found particularly interesting and taking photographs accordingly. When I came back to the Fenton department, after having been away, it was easier to then see the contrasting differences between these two cultures. My strategy in England was, therefore, to take pictures of similar objects or areas to the ones I had taken in Flanders in order to create a visual comparative element and capture, in my opinion, the diversity of the two settings.

I do believe that visual materials in ethnography are important and agree with Rose (2007: 12) when she argued for ‘a critical approach to visual culture’. This entails researchers taking the images they are exploring seriously by examining them carefully as these representations of a culture do have ‘their own effects’.

119

‘social inclusions and exclusions’ of particular cultural practices and a critical account is therefore needed to address these meanings and effects. The photographs used in this study do, I believe, connect the themes I have developed and, I hope, give the reader a sense of context for each of the settings studied.

In order to understand the locations in which I carried out this research I have followed Emmel and Clark’s (2011) example of using visual methodologies in

research by adapting and developing five reasons for why I feel it is important to include photography in this ethnography. These are firstly, to recognise and identify the difference between two child protection settings; secondly, to consider the impact of the environment on the identity of those who may be working in the place or visiting the place; thirdly, to look for ways in which the environment might be experienced by those who visit or work there; fourthly, to explore how the services provided are delivered and received there and finally, to understand the motivation behind the selection of each setting. The photographs that have been selected to appear in Chapter 5 represent different aspects of the micro cultures which I observed. They also show ways in which child protection professionals’ work.

Recently, at a conference I attended, I used the photographs in this chapter in a presentation I gave as a means of creating a form of visual dialogue between myself and the audience in order to try and convey my experience of two different child protection settings within a small time slot. One critic, in particular, voiced his

concerns about whether there was “any point” to using photography in research. It is, perhaps, a valid point, and one I have dwelled upon and analysed ever since, for what is the point of using photographs in ethnography when we have the written word?

Therefore I would like to make it clear that Chapter 5 focuses exclusively on images, this is not planned in a way as to suggest that the written word is less

120

significant but rather the opposite. My aim in using these photographs has been to add to the written word as ‘visual representations bear an important relationship to, but cannot replace, words in theoretical discussion’ (Pink, 2007:6). By using visual evidence in ethnography I instead want to demonstrate how the two can go hand in hand and be employed as a ‘pedagogical tool’ to analyse, and eventually become, data (Phillips and Bellinger, 2011: 87). I also want to show how even the most mundane photographs can bring ethnography alive.

3.6. Writing

Ethnography is that form of inquiry and writing that produces

descriptions and accounts about the ways of life of the writer and those written about.

Denzin, xi (1997)

Van Maanen noted (1988: 46) that the most striking characteristic of ethnographic text was ‘the almost complete absence of the author from most segments of the

finished text’. Writing up the analysis chapters has been the most difficult task for me, as both an intimate insider in one setting and as an outsider in another. Most

ethnographies, like Van Maanen commented, lose the author as soon as the analysis chapter begins in order, I think, to appear objective and instill a sense of rigour and validity into their accounts of others (cf. van Luitgaarden, 2011). However, Hicks (1998: 149) has argued that by ignoring the researcher within the text, readers cannot interrogate them and the ‘biggest lie’ that can be told is ‘to absent this self through notions of objectivity’.

As Denzin’s quote clarifies in the introduction of this section, the method of ethnography is not just about the lives of those who have participated in the study but also about the life of the writer. And so, after much angst and turmoil, I finally decided

121

to follow the sage suggestions of these authors. I have therefore included in my writing my own self reflections and analysed myself, when I appear, in the extracts from interviews and naturally occurring contexts. My aim has always been however, to keep my text anchored in the worlds of my participants’ lived experiences and through writing about their lives, I have learned not to ignore myself, but to accept my own interpretive position as part of that data.

Derrida (1981) commented that the theory of the social is also the theory of writing. Theory, writing and ethnography are separate practices which have become entwined to create the conditions needed in order to locate the social inside the text. For ‘those who write culture also write theory’ (Denzin, 1997: xi). As an interpretive ethnographer I have entered settings that have been both very familiar and also very strange and attempted to link together the different biographical experiences of the participants. When I was carrying out the data collection, I was constantly looking for that ‘golden nugget’, that extra special bit of data that would make my thesis different. At that time, I had no idea what would be used in the final thesis nor did I know what themes might emerge. The extracts that do appear in this final edition have, therefore, not been selected to suit a predestined aspiration but been carefully chosen to try and reflect the experiences and poignant moments of some professionals’ lives in order to understand how they construct their identity.

3.7 Validity

Hammersley and Atkinson (2007: 182) have suggested that ‘the value of respondent validation’ rests on the fact that the participants involved in the events may have access to supplementary knowledge of the context that is not available to the

122

ethnographer. Yet they also warn that there are limitations to respondent validation for no one can assume that there is ‘a privileged commentator on his or her own actions’, in the sense that there is no other truth but theirs. Schutz (1964) argued that meanings are constructed on the basis of memory, meaning that participants’ actions were often grasped retrospectively. I would add that we, as researchers, can not always assume that our participants are fully aware of that which goes on around them; or why certain people behave the way they do and why particular decisions which affect them are made by others whom they work with.

Although all the above points relate to the issues I faced in this study, it is the latter that has troubled me the most. As I have discussed earlier, some of the

participants that took part in this comparative ethnography held very strong views about why some of their superiors behaved the way in which they did. Some thought that their behaviour was underpinned by a degree of personal maliciousness and that this then influenced the belief that their actions were generated from malevolence. As I was in the rather unusual position (which I have discussed in depth throughout this chapter) of having information from all tiers within an organisation, I recognised that much of my data was that of ‘personal’ views, all of which were pertinent but not representative of the bigger picture.

This is not to say that my view is therefore more valid or more true but that it does have the benefit of having heard the ‘other side of the story’, an element which has consequently created a different picture of certain events that took place in all the settings. This matter, therefore, presented me with a yet another dilemma to consider when it came to validating my material, a predicament which Morriss (in

123

health professionals Morriss found that she was not just betraying the social workers she interviewed by subjecting their words to her critical analysis but that she was also opening them up to the scrutiny of people they had never met before.

In this context, my dirty secret involved not wanting to show participants my analysis of their words for fear (or shame) that I would disappoint them or fail them in some way. Most of those who spoke with me wanted to do so so that I could convey to others, outside of their world, what it was they were experiencing. Yet my analysis has involved taking a meta-view of their experiences and subsequently I have formed different conclusions to those which they hold. Hence showing my participants the analysis of their data has been a complex step for me to take.

Validation of the data in this study has therefore involved different techniques, other than just seeking substantiation from my participants. As well as asking some of those involved, I have also asked new members post data collection, who have joined the organisations involved in this study, to read through my analysis. The response from the participants in this study has been positive but some have said they found it “difficult” to read. One said it made him/her want to leave and another said that he/she hoped this research would change the future of social work in child

protection. New members to the organisation confirmed that they were unable to recognise participants from the extracts used. They also identified with some of the themes I have highlighted but then added that they had come from other agencies where similar practices were taking place so they were not surprised by what they had read.

124

Given these sensitive issues, it is important to highlight that the analysis of the data is only my interpretation of that which I have observed, read and listened to throughout this study. I recognise that ‘there is no way in which we can escape the social world in order to study it’ (Hammersley and Atkinson, 2007: 16), therefore in order to be as transparent as I possibly can where there has been disagreement or divergence between the participants I have included all conflicting data to give both views. I have employed Weinberg’s theory (1993) relating to blame cultures to support my interpretations and I have also used photographic images to give the reader a clearer picture of my representation of that data. Moreover, to conclude, I have included two full transcripts in the appendices from both settings, England and Belgium, so that others may have the opportunity to read the interviews in their entire form and develop their own interpretations and opinions of the data I have collated.

Validation has, in addition, involved presenting my work to audiences at conferences and seminars both here in the UK and internationally. In some cases the feedback has been positive and productive, mainly from British listeners who have a strong understanding of the child protection culture and the way the system works. In one instance, however, it was quite critical. A Flemish academic, who I have referred to previously, was overtly disparaging about this study and unsympathetic towards its intentions. His rationale was that there was little point to such a project and argued that it did little to contribute to what the Flemish would call research. Whilst this feedback was difficult to ingest initially, it has been useful during the analysis when trying to understand certain Flemish attitudes towards qualitative research (see section 7.3) and it has also enabled me to focus upon my aims and

125

objectives, more of which will become apparent to the reader in the subsequent analysis chapters.

3.8 My own biography and the research

The aim of this ethnography was to explore what being a social worker actually meant to those working within this context. As a practising child protection social worker it is important to recognise that it is my own positioning and biography which is what inevitably drew me to the study in the first place. This section will explore certain aspects of my own biography that have been relevant to particular

dimensions of this study, namely field relations and limitations.

Taylor (2011: 8) acknowledges that being an ‘intimate insider’ does not mean the position will be entirely unproblematic. But, as Labaree (2002: 102) described, it is the key to delving into the crevices of an organisation, and using your position to gain access ‘to hidden truths that the public is unaware of’. It is my social work background and experience on the job that has undoubtedly affected the way this research has been carried out. When data collection in England began I had been working for the agency for two years and been qualified as a social worker for five years. Prior to working for this local authority, I had worked for two other agencies, however it is important to note that it was only when I started practising in this agency that I became acutely aware of how my decision making was often controlled by the fear of reprisal from another. I recognised that being blamed for my actions and possibly leaving a child at risk had become elements of my practice that were restrictive, stifling my experience and not allowing me to use my skills effectively.

126

I am not sure, nor do I wish to infer, that it is because of this agency that I started to feel ‘differently’ about my profession. There are other factors that need to be considered such as the post graduate study I began part time alongside my work after having been qualified for two years as well as the ongoing changes to policy legislation and continuing child protection debates that were occurring socially and politically. However, whatever the nature of this catalyst, the more I considered my own trajectory within the profession of child protection the more interested I became in understanding how my colleagues within the field not only perceived themselves as professionals but attempted to construct their own identity within a ‘powerful blame culture’(Ferguson, 2011: 34).

Strangely, in my experience, how a social worker feels about their profession and their identity is not often the focus of discussions amongst professional

colleagues. Of course it does happen, but not consciously so, and I have therefore never experienced a situation where we have all decided to go and sit down and share with one another what social work means to us individually. Nor have we ever

collectively considered how we might go about constructing our own identity, or reflecting upon those interactions with certain agencies which may have affected our thoughts and feelings.

My own identity and what it would mean to this research was therefore also not an issue that was overtly discussed with my colleagues. However, it only became apparent when starting this fieldwork just how important my own biography actually was as a white, married woman with children in her late 30s who was doing her PhD, living in a more affluent borough to the one observed in the English part of this study. It had never occurred to me, previously, that I may be different to my colleagues, the majority of whom lived in the same borough as they worked and some of whom had

127

struggled academically. It was only when other outsiders joined the authority that it emerged in conversation, that some had seen my arrival as a quest by senior

management to bring in “new talent” to an authority which was struggling with certain cultural and organisational issues (more detail of this observation will be explored within the analysis section). Therefore some people did not feel entirely happy about my arrival to the authority initially. But as I became more accepted by the Fenton department, over time this view of me changed as the following extract demonstrates: