Alice Goffman, ethics, and advising

Originally posted at www.21stcenturyscholar.org

A few years ago, as a graduate student at USC, I visited the American Sociological Association’s website. A name grabbed my attention. “Goffman,” I thought, “She can’t be related to the Goffman.” Alice Goffman, as it turns out, is the daughter of renowned sociologist Erving Goffman. I hurried to Google. She received her Ph.D. from Princeton. She conducted ethnographic research. She won ASA’s dissertation of the year. And, she became an Assistant Professor at Wisconsin.

So, here we are a few years later. This spring, she published On the Run, an account of her dissertation research. She is embroiled in a scandal (or witch hunt, depending on your perspective). At the center of the controversy is a scene in which the “rogue sociologist” drives a young man around the neighborhood in order to avenge a friend’s murder. The man has a gun and wants to use it. Reviewer Steven Lubet noted that the researcher, by driving the car, engaged in conspiracy to commit murder according to Pennsylvania statute. Goffman denies it, claiming the ride was about catharsis, not murder. I believe her; however, the case isn’t simple. As my lawyer wife has reminded me before a few trips to collect data, ignorance of the law is not a defense. In other words, if I am arrested while conducting a participant observation with a teenager selling drugs on a street corner, I can’t say, “But officer, in the name of science, I’m a researcher!” 

Several academics have commented about the tricky and contextual nature of ethics and ethnography. For an informed discussion, see anthropologist Paul Stoller’s take in the Huffington Post. I could go on about the book and design, but I will save that for another time. I read the ethnography. I was underwhelmed. The focus—the impact of surveillance and over-policing on black men in low-income neighborhoods—is important and necessary. However, agreeing with Patrick Sharkey’s observation, the argument lacks empirical support. She often presents statements without evidence.

Although she received high praise—the front- and back-cover include blurbs, which verge on unctuous, from superstars like Cornel West, Carol Stack, Elijah Anderson, and Malcolm Gladwell—it’s still dissertation research. That does not absolve a researcher from creating a sound research design and upholding high ethical standards. But, a number of conditions—including quality mentoring and prolonged engagement with scholarship and practice—are necessary to become a skilled qualitative researcher. One study does not an expert make. She deserves the benefit of the doubt, at least until proven otherwise.

I assume Alice Goffman is well-meaning and didn’t willfully commit conspiracy to commit murder. I know she is an early career faculty member and has the right to learn and improve. I also know that research is subjective. It depends on countless factors, including research experience and researcher / participant positionality. Critics who assert that there is an objective roadmap about how to conduct and judge research (and that Goffman ripped it up) are wrong. Last, I assume that Goffman has a lot of important scholarship ahead of her. I look forward to reading it.

Research rarely receives so much attention or stimulates so much dialogue. Conversations about ethics and research are important. So too are exchanges about two of the most pressing policy issues in our country: the increase of concentrated poverty and its negative effects. So far, discussions have focused on whether or not Goffman messed up. I get the sense that a number of people would rather vilify her than engage in productive dialogue about underlying issues, like how we train scholars to conduct ethical research; how social position influences factors such as who conducts research and where; and, how we develop policies to improve pathways from school to career, not school to prison. That’s unfortunate.

As a postscript, last week, The Chronicle published a comprehensive review of the case. At the end of the article, the author includes a surprise detail:

Ms. Goffman’s graduate-school adviser at Princeton, Mitchell Duneier, also defends her work — mostly. She crossed an ethical line in the episode that Mr. Lubet argues was a crime, Mr. Duneier says, and she left herself open to criticism with her thin discussion of it in her text. But he vouches for the credibility of her book. One reason is that he has met some of her subjects himself.

While Ms. Goffman was working on the dissertation that she would ultimately develop into On the Run, Mr. Duneier conducted independent interviews with some of her subjects. Ethnographers, in his view, should identify the people and places in their studies when possible. The sensitivity of Ms. Goffman’s research made that standard of transparency impossible, Mr. Duneier says. So, while he trusted Ms. Goffman, he also took steps to ensure his own comfort with her story. "I feel confident in the research that I supervised as an adviser and that our committee approved at Princeton," he says.

Just as ethics and quality of research are inextricably linked, the care, time, and expertise of an advisor is critical to the training of his or her advisee. Mitch Duneier—an accomplished Princeton professor, the skilled ethnographer who wrote Slim’s Table and Sidewalk, and an extremely busy person, I’m sure—took the time to interview his advisee’s participants in order to ensure the quality of her research. Think about that for a moment.

Update: Steven Lubet wrote a follow-up article.

Using qualitative research to contest stereotypes

Originally posted at www.21stcenturyscholar.org

How are black men portrayed? After Freddie Gray’s death due to the brutality of six Baltimore police officers, newscasts focused on Gray’s criminal record and suspect behavior. When city residents protested, the media became more interested. Reporters searched for provocative stories and trolled for increased viewership. They showed dehumanizing videos of wild mobs looting and rioting.

Mainstream media ignored the peaceful protests of informed residents who understand the intricate factors that contribute to distressed neighborhoods in the city; a city where one out of four individuals live below the poverty line; a city where more than three out of four low-income households are headed by single women; and, a city where nearly one out of three children live below the poverty level. Of course, we know these figures underestimate poverty. Federal poverty lines are notoriously unrealistic. The qualifying amount for a one-person household is $11,770. The amount for a three-person household is $20,090.

I could go on. I could mention that, while most research indicates the multiple benefits of homeownership—from health to upward mobility—nearly eight out of ten low-income families rent, not own. I could talk about the failure to provide living wages, the lack of food security, the disproportionate number of dismal public schools, and a robust school-to-prison pipeline. I could criticize reports about exorbitant amounts of money spent on failed public policies to revitalize Baltimore neighborhoods, reports that imply residents somehow refuse to improve their economic standing despite the good deeds of politicians.

We know that healthy neighborhoods rely on five pillars—quality health, safety, education, employment, and institutions. One-dimensional reforms rarely account for interconnected factors that reproduce concentrated and generational poverty. They disregard a history of corrupt institutions and prejudiced politics, facts that have significant implications for policy implementation. When politicians do introduce comprehensive reforms—think of Promise Neighborhoods—they are woefully under-funded. When they fail, critics use them as evidence to quell future anti-poverty efforts.

Distorted media coverage has wide-ranging effects. It informs public discourse and policy discussions. It’s also divisive. How do reactions while watching the nightly news differ between a middle-class 50-year-old in Loveland, Colorado versus a low-income teenager in Baltimore? I imagine the two might have drastically different interpretations. No one likes to be misrepresented. In this case, news organizations misrepresent entire groups on a national stage.

So, what’s the function of qualitative research? Thoughtful research has the potential to contest negative stereotypes, to show why poverty is rarely a choice, to illustrate how living in poverty is not the same thing as being poor. Skilled ethnographers, for example, have the ability to present the complexities of local conditions and connect them to overarching social and economic conditions. Such insights are critical to creating more productive public dialogue and designing more just social policy.

Indiana, Duke, Yik Yak, and the purpose of education

Originally posted at www.21stcenturyscholar.org

The news has been full of lamentable examples of bigotry and discrimination.

The governor of Indiana signed the Religious Freedom Restoration Act, legislation that permits businesses to discriminate on the basis of religion—a restaurant, for instance, could refuse service to a gay couple. The politician posed the law as a moral argument; and yet, any logical person recognizes how wrong the legislation is. Either he didn’t think or care about the signals such a decision sends to a gay teenager who lives in a small town in Indiana and struggles with identity issues.

At Duke University—just before the men’s basketball team won its fifth national championship—a student hung a noose from a tree. A few weeks earlier, a group of white men shouted racist chants at a black woman as she walked on campus. The examples illustrate that universities are not safe or inclusive places for many students. Would you feel safe as a black woman walking home from class at Duke? 

Sadly, the bigoted and discriminatory acts are occurring on campuses across the country. Yik Yak, a social media platform, permits users within a particular geographic range to post anonymous “Yaks.” Think about a bathroom stall or dormitory bulletin board where anyone can write anything, even the most racist, sexist, and homophobic comments. Only Yik Yak knows the identities of users. Universities have requested the names and emails of offenders; the social media company—citing a privacy policy that guarantees complete anonymity, except for cases that involve the law—has not complied.

The inappropriate uses reveal where we are as a society. Some critics argue platforms like Yik Yak should not be permitted on campuses. I’m not sure censorship addresses the real issue. Bigotry and discrimination, however masked, are insidious. Sure, cyber bullying exists, but what happens in dorms and on campuses everyday. Have you heard the language of some students as they walk to class? Even if the social media platform didn't exist, people would still find venues and ways to express hate speech and commit violent acts, whether physical or symbolic. Duke illustrates that.

What’s the purpose of education? In No Citizen Left Behind, discussing the importance of civic education, Meira Levinson writes, “Part of the beauty of democracy, when it functions effectively and inclusively, is its ability to create aggregate wisdom and good judgment from individual citizens’ necessarily limited knowledge, skills, and viewpoints. To exclude citizens from this process is to diminish the wisdom that the collectivity may create” (p. 49). Examples like Indiana, Duke, and Yik Yak illustrate uncritical and intolerant responses to deeply rooted and complex issues. They are indictments of our current educational system and one-dimensional approaches to reform.

Standards, assessments, and school choice are important issues. We need to improve graduation rates and prepare students for college and career. But, we also have an obligation to nurture young men and women to be caring, healthy, and empowered citizens. That point is too often absent from public discourse. If we are serious about allaying intricate and enduring issues like intolerance and discrimination, policymakers have to widen the scope of educational reforms. Inclusivity is a precondition—not an accidental byproduct—of successful teaching and learning. Otherwise, instances like Indiana, Duke, and Yik Yak will continue.

Re-reading old posts

I was searching for some articles about Carol Stack's All Our Kin, and I found an old blog I published for www.21stcenturyscholar.org. I started re-reading some of the blogs I wrote during graduate school. As I progress from year to year, the topics become more and more focused on my current research interests. I thought it'd be fun to repost a few.

Social movements 2.0

Originally posted on November 11, 2011

Technology is changing the ways in which people communicate their thoughts and experience their surroundings. Augmented reality apps, for instance, add layers of information to places like museum exhibits and sporting events. Twitter connects individuals to trends. Social networking sites provide quick access to information about nearby places including parks and movie theaters.

In their new book Net Locality: Why Location Matters in a Networked World, Eric Gordon and Adriana de Souza e Silva explore the implications of location-based technologies and information. They write, “The street is no longer limited to the perceptual horizon of the person walking down it. A network of information that is accessible through a mobile device augments it. The provinciality of the small town, physically isolated from the rest of the world, is potentially cosmopolitan because of the integration of information into its streets” (p 3). In short, we are now living in a blended world of physical and digital realities.

In high school, my history teacher described globalization as a sweeping force. The economies of nation-states intertwined. Capitalistic forces subsumed entire political and cultural systems. And, McDonalds restaurants ended up in once-rural African villages. Sitting at my desk with a textbook that stopped at the fall of the Berlin Wall, I remember thinking that the globalization process seemed to contain equal parts mystery and magic. I couldn’t connect my small-town experiences with the reality of a globalizing world.

Technology and connectivity, however, have transformed everything. We live in a world where the relationship between local and global is changing. Need proof? Consider the rebellions in the Middle East or Occupy movements across the globe. Social media now makes social movements both possible and effective; control of information flows equates to social, cultural, and political power.

Net Locality is a timely book that reimagines the relationship between the physical and digital and highlights the promise and peril of location-based technology. Just think: The same technology that allows you to know your friend just checked-in at a nearby restaurant may facilitate a widespread social movement to end concentrated poverty.

Adaptive strategies and underground economies in the 21st century

Originally posted on November 01, 2011

I.

In 1974, Carol Stack published All Our Kin: Strategies for Survival in a Black Community. The groundbreaking ethnography chronicled the adaptive strategies of poor African American families. Stack provided thick descriptions of women struggling to raise their children. In doing so, she indicted poverty as pathology and inadequate public policies.

Since then, ethnographers have continued to explore adaptive strategies, including underground economies. Sandra Smith’s Lone Pursuit: Distrust and Defensive Individualism Among the Black Poor, for instance, studies the affects of joblessness among African Americans in Michigan. Sudhir Venkatesh’s Off the Books: The Underground Economy of the Urban Poor examines the creative methods residents in the Southside of Chicago use to make money. These books, and many others, illustrate the effects of social inequality on marginalized populations.

But, considering adaptive strategies, what is the role of technology? From my current study, initial findings indicate that teenagers from low-income households are using technology in sophisticated, entrepreneurial ways. I present two snapshots to illustrate my point.

II.

Chuck, a seventeen-year-old senior at a traditional high school in South LA, lives with his grandmother. He has a 1.9 grade point average. He loves skateboarding and dancing. Every few weeks, he invites his “cameraman,” who is also his friend, to tape him as he jerks in the driveway. Chuck, with tattoos covering his arms and chest, moves rhythmically with the music. Afterwards, they upload the video to YouTube. Chuck, who has over 2,300 friends on Facebook, later tells me, “I have my friends advertise for me, especially the girls. It’s important to have a big network.” By the end of the week, the video has over 5,000 hits. Chuck meets his quota. In a few weeks, he will receive shirts and shoes from his sponsor.

Mario, an eighteen-year-old senior at a continuation high school in South LA, lives with his mom and dad. He has a 2.0 grade point average. He loves drawing and tagging. At night, he cleans office buildings with his father. On weekends, he travels from house to house to groom dogs. He received a credential from a local community college. I ask him if he will come out to Culver City: “Yeah, no problem. I’ll go wherever. It’s $10.” Mario also plans and promotes parties. He finds a house, gets a DJ, and then advertises on Facebook. His profile picture is the latest party he’s promoting. I ask how much he makes. “A lot,” he says.

III.

Chuck and Mario receive free or reduced lunch and live in a low-income neighborhood. They are average to below average students. Chuck may gain acceptance to a California State University campus through the Educational Opportunity Program (EOP). Mario, who has not met all of his high school requirements, will have to attend community college or a trade school. By most standards, their academic achievement has been lackluster. And yet, both are digital entrepreneurs. They exploit the creative possibilities of technology to earn goods or money. They re-define adaptive strategies in the 21st century.

After-school activities improve college access and save lives

Originally posted on October 04, 2011.

Last Friday, I sat in a trailer at Madison Continuation High School, one of my field sites in South Los Angeles. Teachers and administrators in the district call the school an “emergency room.” “Once the students get to us,” said the principal,” they’re in desperate need of some love and care.”

In front of me was a thick binder with student schedules. For the past 15 minutes, I received bad news as the teacher’s assistant reported that student after student was absent. Mrs. Rainard, an all-purpose administrator, said, “Oh, I should have told you: A lot of students don’t come on Fridays. Who’s next on the list?”

“Alberto Morales,” I said.

“That boy is a pot-head. He’s also as old as water,” joked Mrs. Rainard.

A few minutes later, Alberto walked through the door. I met Alberto once before to explain my study. He was skeptical of me and in a daze. As I began the interview on Friday, however, he was friendly and lucid.

I asked Alberto, whose GPA was around 1.8, about college: “Oh yeah, I want to go to college. I take classes right now. Silk screening. I made this shirt.”

He excitedly took his backpack off to show me the back: a woman smoking a bong.

Over the next 30 minutes, he told me about his life. I heard stories about fights, tagging, and beefs with gangs: “My crew, we do graffiti,” he said. “Sometimes gangs get pissed when you tag in their spots.” Throughout the interview, Alberto never mentioned after-school activities like soccer, academic decathlon, or student government. Silk screening, as it turned out, was his only extracurricular. “I’ve been trying to make something of myself,” he admitted. “I don’t want to get in any more trouble with the cops.”

I’ve conducted nearly 30 interviews for my dissertation. I’ve met a lot of amazing young men. I count Alberto in that group. One fact, however, is alarmingly clear: after-school activities are critical to success for teenagers in low-income neighborhoods.

All students benefit from after-school activities. That’s true. But, all students don’t need after-school activities to keep them off the streets and save their lives. These young men do.

Across the country, reformers are creating extended-learning opportunities to keep young men engaged. Get students in early. Keep them late. Charter schools, for instance, often have longer school days. USC’s Neighborhood Academic Initiative (NAI) is another example. The pre-college program supplements the school day with classes before and after school.

Unfortunately, without external funding or the support of universities, such reforms are unlikely to occur in money-strapped urban school districts. After-school activities, however, offer a cheap alternative. Often, with at-risk students, administrators and teachers require less, not more, when the students begin acting out. For instance, they go from honors to general level classes. That’s wrong. At the moment students disengage, schools need to demand more. If we are serious about getting teenagers like Alberto to college, we need to offer more after-school activities and we need to make them part of their required coursework. Otherwise, we have no chance against, what Alberto called, “the pull of the streets.”

Whose culture matters? Part II

Originally posted on September 27, 2011.

A few weeks ago, I discussed culture in classrooms. While some scholars argue for a core curriculum using a standardized canon, I suggested a focus on student literacy and critical thinking, reading, and writing skills. This week, I address a similar question:  Whose culture matters in neighborhoods?

I have pondered this question often since beginning my academic career. First, as neighborhood-based reforms such as Harlem Children’s Zone (HCZ) replicate across the country, their successes also raise some questions. In particular, consider HCZ’s Baby College. During this nine-week parenting seminar, parents learn how to read and discipline their children. Anyone versed in early childhood development literature will attest to the value of proper literacy and disciplinary practices. The question I often ask relates to the basic assumptions of the program. How does this program differ from the acculturation programs that occurred at the turn of the 20th century in New York? To be sure, there are differences. But, reformers cannot take for granted that, because they have some technical knowledge, it is the right knowledge.

Second, my dissertation relates to the diversity of cultural beliefs and practices in low-income neighborhoods. As such, I am always asking, “Whose culture matters, and how?” In particular, I investigate the role of culture to education outcomes in the short term and social mobility in the long term.

Renowned French theorist Pierre Bourdieu provides one answer: culture reproduces class positions. In other words, there is a dominant culture, and an individual’s knowledge and deployment of dominant culture will correlate to and maintain his class position. For instance, a teenager from a middle-class family will know to shake someone’s hand at an interview for an internship. Even more, he will know (or his parents will tell him) to apply for an internship rather than work at McDonalds.

Bourdieu’s argument is compelling and controversial. His goal as a theorist was to undress commonly accepted beliefs about society. In the United States, he shows that meritocracy is not the whole story. Although his writing is sometimes long-winded and sometimes confounding, the success of his theoretical argument—which is supported by his popularity—is that, after hearing only a brief description of social and cultural capital, most people will nod their head and murmur something like, “Ok. I get it. That’s interesting.” Not all scholars, however, agree with Bourdieu. If a dominant culture exists, they argue, so too does a non-dominant culture. If you recall my last blog, the argument is similar. Shakespeare is great, but so is Anansi. Why don’t we respect both?

Community cultural wealth is one response to Bourdieu’s singular focus on dominant culture. Each low-income neighborhood, the argument goes, has a unique set of non-dominant cultural practices. In relation to schools, educators ought to build on the capabilities of the students. The concept is particularly useful for developing policies and curriculum for school districts. It is also a response to the deficit-model of schooling. Instead of looking at what students’ lack, let’s look at what they have.

Both perspectives are helpful for understanding culture in neighborhoods; however, I suggest a hybrid solution. Like last week, literacy and critical thinking, reading, and writing are crucial. E.D. Hirsch’s most popular book is entitled, Cultural Literacy: What Every American Needs to Know. In the spirit of Bourdieu, it should probably read, “What Every American Needs to Know to Know to Be Socially Mobile.” Admitting the flaws of dominant culture makes it no less important to success. While not fair, students from non-dominant cultural backgrounds need to be conversant in a number of cultural styles to be successful. As a result, the most successful students are, what Prudence Carter terms, culturally flexible.

We will not solve the culture riddle anytime soon, if ever. The question, “Whose culture matters,” depends on who is asking and who is replying. However, educators can provide students with the literacy skills to read and write in a number of cultural registers.

Whose culture matters? Part I

Originally posted on September 06, 2011

Whose culture matters in classrooms? Since I began teaching English at a school with a diverse population of students, I have thought about this question often. While reading difficult, centuries-old English literature, students frequently asked, “Do we have to read this?” Or, “Why are we reading this?” To the first question, I invariably responded, “Yes!” To the second question, I usually paused and thought. Why do students have to read Canterbury Tales? If you are E. D. Hirsch, the answer is because the bawdy tales are part of a canon that “every American needs to know.”

It doesn’t take long to realize Hirsch is wrong on two levels. First, to say there is a stock of cultural knowledge that all should know, sounds like a worthy claim. The problem occurs when one group tries to define that core. Classical texts do not occur a priori. Their creation and the possibility of their creation is sociohistorically determined. So too are the criteria used to judge them. I have an irrational love for Shakespeare’s writing; however, who’s to say there was not a woman with equal talent during Elizabeth’s reign (for a richer discussion, read Virginia Woolf’s thought-provoking essay, “Shakespeare’s Sister”). Even more, we know there were rich oral traditions occurring on continents across the globe during the 16th century. I’m not arguing that Romeo and Juliet isn’t beautiful. Mercutio’s monologues are nonpareil. I’m arguing that beauty is subjective. By legitimizing one work of art, we de-legitimize another. Beowulf is great, but so are Anansi and Ramayana.

Second, and possibly more to the point, the core knowledge argument is misplaced, especially in the 21st century. Students don’t need to have read a list of books. They need to be literate and critical. Literacy includes print and non-print sources. Being critical includes thinking, reading, and writing skills. In essence, the text—whether it’s Shakespeare or Bashō or a YouTube video—is just a venue for literacy practice. By emphasizing student literacy, we empower them to become better consumers, critics, and producers.

Next week, I will continue this blog, asking “Whose culture matters in neighborhoods?”

On issues of trustworthiness in qualitative research

Originally published on May 03, 2011.

Trustworthiness–frequently referred to as validity and reliability–in qualitative research involves two intertwined parts: process and product. What are the strategies necessary for a researcher to conduct rigorous research? And, how does a researcher present data in order to maximize trustworthiness?

Reflexivity performs a central task to both process and product. In other words, where is the researcher situated in relation to the study, subjects, presentation, and readers? Even more, what are the researcher’s own beliefs and experiences in relation to the topic of study? For instance, if I was adopted as a child and am now studying foster care youth, should I reveal that to the youth? Should I mention it in the final text? There are few steadfast rules. The answer may be yes or no, but the point is that the researcher is constantly engaged in thought about these issues.

Because strategies to improve trustworthiness during data collection–triangulation, member checks, multiple researchers, prolonged engagement, audit trails, multiple coders, and multiple and varied interviews and observations–are so well-known, I am going to focus today on trustworthiness in writing, acknowledging that most of my points also apply to the process of research.

The author’s presence in a text varies and depends on two factors–both critical to trustworthiness. First, presentation is slave to paradigm. What you have studied and what you like explains much of your stance on writing. I was raised in the humanities and grew up in the qualitative side of social science. My mentor and fellow blogger Bill is an accomplished life historian. As such, I’ve received exposure to and training with the method. I am also particularly fond of ethnography. For me, the lived experiences of marginalized individuals are a central concern; my influences inform my views on writing and how I view the world and my place in it.

The second factor is an author’s personal style. While style certainly relates to an individual’s training and chosen discipline, the voice of an author in either a life history or ethnography can differ considerably. The narrative strategies I employ are a matter of choice, depending on the style, voice, and tone I hope to achieve.

Why are paradigm and personal style critical to issues of trustworthiness? To be rigorous, qualitative researchers have to be transparent. Where do they stand in relation to the research? What did they do during the project? And, why should the reader believe him or her? A reader should always feel as though the researcher has given him or her the time and also taken apart the watch to show the gears inside and the process involved. Research is subjective, situated, and dated. It is the researchers job to grapple with these issues during the process and presentation of research.

Technology and the interstices of qualitative research and policy

This post was originally published February 22, 2011

Now is an exciting time to be a researcher. Technology and digital media allow quantitative and qualitative researchers to explore new territories. The internet allows qualitative researchers to interact with research subjects in new spaces as well as collect and present data in new ways. With new methods comes new data. But, is new always better? The answer is yes and no.

At one point, technology was going to save education. Millions of dollars spent on computers later, most acknowledge that technology is not a replacement for teachers; it’s a tool to help. The same point applies to research. Technology is another way to increase the rigor of research. It is also a way to persuade audiences and convey immediacy. I, for instance, can spend 15 minutes at an AERA symposium discussing a paper about a high school student living in poverty. Depending on my presentation, I may convince some people of something. Alternatively, I can show a 60 second clip  of that student’s neighborhood that was captured and narrated by him with a Flip cam. It’s not a stretch to believe that the video would be far more compelling and moving than my talk. That’s an application of qualitative research and technology that can also inform policy.

Qualitative researchers, for good reason, have not always pursued a life in public policy. Certainly, exceptions exist. But, if we take a wide view of the qualitative landscape we see a lot of activity in a lot of different directions. Much of it is creative, inspired, and progressive. It also has little currency in policy design. The reasons for this are legion, but since my space is limited, I will leave the explanation for another day. Needless to say, quasi-experimental methods have been the favored child of funders and other highly influential people; qualitative methods have been the ignored step-child. And, like most ignored children, qualitative methodologists have gotten used to doing things on their own.

What’s my point? First, I believe qualitative research has a central role in policy design. Qualitative and quantitative research are complimentary, not incompatible. Second, to qualitative researchers, use technology to fill the spaces between research and policy and to create joint spaces for quantitative and qualitative researchers. There are at least two directions qualitative researchers using technology will go. First, methodologists will disappear down a rabbit hole, exploring the limits of and deconstructing research and knowledge. This direction conforms with much of the avant-garde work that has already been done, which is interesting to some qualitative researchers and irrelevant to most policy-makers. Second, methodologists will use technology to make research more significant to policy design. This direction creates a new path for research and policy design; one that I hope becomes a reality sooner rather than later.