Many moons ago, my thesis supervisor uttered words of great wisdom, which I have carried with me and shall endeavor to pass on to any unsuspecting research student who doesn’t run away fast enough.
“No plan survives first contact with the enemy.”
He was speaking in the aftermath of my first foray into data collection. I had begun with such optimism, but my plans had gone awry. A key gatekeeper for an organization I wanted to work with had withdrawn her support for the project. She was the final interview of a specific set and had previously given the green light for others on the group’s Board of Trustees to participate. The evening prior to the day of her interview I received an email from her. She had just read the information sheet and had some concerns.
I was surprised to hear this, as of course she’d had the information sheet for well over a month by that point, and it was (supposedly) the basis on which she had given me access to the Board of Trustees. We eventually agreed that I would meet her at the time we had arranged for the interview and discuss her concerns together.
Even now, looking back, I do not understand her reasoning. The main issues seemed to be that a) she was concerned that participants would be identifiable in the final thesis and any subsequent publications, and that b) she couldn’t understand why I wanted to talk to people from the group about the topic of my thesis. She just couldn’t seem to grasp the concept of anonymity. She didn’t want the group to be identified with the topic of my study.
I explained the processes researchers use to anonymise their datasets. I showed her the section of the consent form dealing with participant data protection and anonymisation. I explained that I wouldn’t be presenting a ‘group’ perspective, that I was just looking for perspectives from the sort of people who would affiliate themselves with that kind of group. I explained that I could not tell her who had already participated as that would break the confidentiality agreements that she was so sceptical of.
The worst was yet to come. In my earliest (cordial) communications with her I had mentioned that I would like to explore the possibility of placing an advertisement in the magazine published by the group on a monthly basis, in the hope of attracting a few of the ordinary members to participate. I didn’t want the whole sample to be relatively elite perspectives. I would give a brief explanation of the project and provide my email address so that anyone interested could contact me to arrange an interview.
I discovered that my recalcitrant gatekeeper had twisted this idea and had told the CEO of the group that I had requested access to members contact information. As a result, the CEO had decreed that my access to the group had been summarily revoked. I was also told that the Board of Trustees would be asked to withdraw from the study, meaning that all my data would become void.
I walked home in tears. Data collection had to pause while I recovered from what I now realise was an encounter with a manipulative bully. The mental health crisis that every doctoral student encounters started early (yaaaay) and all in all, my PhD took five years to complete instead of four.
The rest of the Trustees didn’t withdraw from the study, despite the pressure from the gatekeeper – in fact, it seems there was a minor mutiny. The point of the story isn’t “bullies never prosper” (because they do, frequently), but that the step-change from planning how you will interrogate and investigate reality and actually being an actor out there IRL is quite large.
So, back to the beginning. I recalled my supervisor’s dry comment this week when I had a couple of challenging interviews. It’s become clear that the interview protocol I designed is not working as intended. I will have to adapt or change my plan of attack. And that’s okay! We all need a plan, but it’s important to remember that reality is messy. People are messy. Even supposedly ‘organised’ organisations are messy, because they’re made up of people and the routines and practices of those messy people.
It’s good to have a plan. But it’s also good to assume your plan may have to change. Making those changes and adaptations doesn’t mean you planned poorly: it shows reflexivity, critical thinking, self awareness and intellectual humility. I’m sure those are qualities we all would like to see more of in this world.
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