Coherencia local y global

Section 1.5 has already noted the ontological presuppositions underlying this research, the key principle being that the social world does not simply exist ‘out there’, waiting to be discovered, but is rather discursively produced. That is not, of course, to say that material reality does not exist; rather that its ‘meaning’ cannot be said to lie outside the horizon of human meaning-making (Laclau and Mouffe, 1987). In this sense, this project takes a post- rather than anti- foundationalist approach, arguing not for an idealism in which there are no foundations, i.e. there is no ‘natural’ world, but rather for an approach that views an understanding of any foundation as fundamentally ‘contingent, partial and political’ (MacGilchrist, 2014a: 388). Given this ontological basis, it follows that I oppose positivistic conceptions of truth and instead draw on insights from the broad tradition of critical qualitative inquiry to foreground an interpretative approach to social inquiry in which knowledge is not discovered but rather constructed (Howarth and Stavrakakis, 2000: 7; Crotty, 2003: 9).

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On this account, meaning does not inhere within the object of study, waiting to be drawn out by the neutral researcher; rather, the knowledge ‘produced’ through the research endeavour is contingent, situated historically, spatially, and culturally, co- constructed through interactions between actors operating within complex social contexts. Taking this epistemological position, this project eschews claims to objectivity and truth, rejecting Hammersley’s (2008: 11) contention that acknowledged subjectivity is ‘damaging’ both to qualitative research and to the social sciences in general, and arguing instead that all social research is, inevitably and inherently, value-mediated (Guba and Lincoln, 1994: 110), that there can be no neutral, de-contextualised base from which to make any ‘truth-claims’ (Jørgensen and Phillips, 2002: 186). As Wetherell (2001: 384) usefully puts it, the research process is, on this account, ‘always interpretive, always contingent, always a version or a reading from some theoretical, epistemological or ethical standpoint’.

Certainly this approach has a number of significant implications. Firstly, it requires an explicit acknowledgment of the researcher’s own positionality, a clear recognition that I, as the researcher, cannot be seen as an objective, detached bystander positioned outside the research object, but am instead fundamentally

positioned within the research, ‘complicit […] and framed’ (Tierney, 1988: 139)

within the making of the research endeavour. As Usher and Edwards (1994) then argue, this philosophical commitment necessitates reflexivity on the part of the researcher, both in terms of considering the ways in which the methods used may work to construct a version of reality, but also, and perhaps more deeply, in interrogating the epistemic community/ies in which the research is located. That is not to say that the researcher must become so absorbed in contemplating the complexities of their own positionality that they fail to see how any substantive contribution can be made which is not somehow ‘flawed by the contaminating influences’ of their own institutional contexts (Humes and Bryce, 2003: 182). However, it does require an awareness of the ways in which the particular assumptions, practices, and logics of British academe inevitably shape the research process, the knowledge that is deemed to be ‘worth knowing’ (Wetherall, 2001:

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397), and the power relations constructed throughout the study. I will comment on my own positionality in particular in section 3.3.

Secondly, alongside this reflexivity, the ontological and epistemological principles underpinning this project also have implications for the criteria by which it is judged. For research endeavours – both qualitative and quantitative – which ‘cling to the guardrail of neutrality’ (Kincheloe and McLaren, 2005: 323), their ‘success’ or otherwise may be measured through the lens of validity, replicability, and falsifiability; and yet, these are concepts which cannot reasonably be applied to a project which rejects positivistic principles and the notion of objective truth. Indeed, as Gubrium and Holstein (2001: 15) point out, a study cannot be said to be ‘inaccurate’ if it is subjectively and dialogically co-constructed, with the account not so much found as ‘narrated into being’ (Wetherell, 2001: 396) by the analyst.

However, that is not, of course, to say that such studies cannot be evaluated; rather that the criteria for this judgement will be different. On this point, Tracy (2010: 839) proposes eight markers of quality in qualitative research, including ‘a) worthy topic, b) rich rigour, c) sincerity, d) credibility, e) resonance, f) significant contribution, g) ethics, and h) meaningful coherence’. Certainly, these end goals may offer a useful set of guidelines; however, as Tracy herself admits, any attempt to conceptualise universal criteria is controversial; indeed, a research project may be powerful and relevant without satisfying all eight conditions. For Jørgensen and Phillips (2002: 186), research in a constructionist paradigm could instead be judged by the degree to which it is ‘solid’, ‘comprehensive’, and ‘transparent’, and this may indeed be a less restrictive approach to assessing quality. However, perhaps the most convincing argument is Howarth’s (2000: 130) simple contention that it is the community/ies of scholars to which the work is addressed that will ultimately judge its ‘validity’. For Howarth then, a study’s adequacy can essentially be judged on the basis that it engenders a ‘plausible account’ of social phenomena which is persuasive to the community/ies it addresses.

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Finally, in terms of overall research aim, and again in accordance with the philosophical framework underpinning the study (and indeed much qualitative research (Dörnyei, 2007), this project does not seek to make generalisations across the population, nor to suggest that the participants within the study are somehow ‘representative’ of a particular community; rather, it looks to develop a ‘thick’ (Geertz, 2003) description of a complex and multi-faceted social issue; to focus on an in-depth understanding of the ‘meaning in the particular’ (Dörnyei, 2007: 27). Methodologically then, it seeks to privilege grounded perspectives, looking to provide an analysis of the contextualised practices of the actors involved, the logics and justifications they espouse, and the meanings they give to their actions. As such, and in keeping with these central principles, this project is informed by the case study approach (Yin, 2009; Dooley, 2002), to which the following section now turns. 3.1.2 The research approach: case studies and ethnographic insights

Although there is some debate as to whether the case study approach should be regarded as a methodology, a method, or rather as a choice of what is to be studied (Yin, 2009), one of its most widely-published proponents, Yin (ibid; 2012), views it as a distinct research method with its own particular methodological and procedural considerations. He defines the case study as an empirical inquiry which ‘investigates a contemporary phenomenon in depth and within its real-life context’, noting its relevance particularly for situations in which ‘the boundaries between phenomenon and context are not clearly evident’ (Yin, 2009: 18). Both Luck et al (2006) and Dooley (2002: 335) similarly comment on the case study’s relevance for ‘detailed contextual analysis’ of a specific, complex issue. Central to the case study approach then is the commitment to an in-depth, thorough exploration of a complex and multi- faceted social phenomenon, not necessarily in order to produce generalisations, although this may be an outcome for some, but rather to focus on the particularities of the case itself (Stake, 2003: 140).

Looking practically to the research design, the majority of scholars appear united in the view that the case itself must be an entity of some description (a person, an

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institution, a programme), which has clearly defined boundaries (Dörnyei, 2007; Yin, 2009). For Yin (ibid), these boundaries may be spatial, or temporal, or may refer to some other ‘concrete’ bounding features which delineate, for instance, a specific programme, or a particular event. Within this bounded case, there may of course be one, or multiple, units of analysis. From this description, the core principles of my research project are compatible with the case study approach. I describe the phenomenon under investigation as the broad subject of citizenisation practices in the contemporary UK and the case as the City in which the research is conducted. The units of analysis then include the individual participants, the official documentation, and the ceremony and testing sites in which naturalisation ‘events’ take place. Temporally, the study restricts its specific focus to the time period 2012- 2015, thereby excluding those who acquired citizen-status before the coalition government came to power and further legislative changes were introduced, and those who began their application process post-Brexit. In this sense, the case is bounded both spatially and temporally.

The literature on case studies is therefore a useful body of work on which to draw. However, it is important to acknowledge several complexities in this comparison. Firstly, the spatial, and in fact temporal boundaries of this research project cannot be as clearly delineated as case study scholarship may dictate. While I restricted my research sites to those which fell within the borders of the City, the individual actors involved were inevitably less static. As such, although I identified participants that were currently living in the City, certain participants had completed part of their

application process in a different location, and occasionally at a point prior to 2012. This does not detract from my interest in interrogating the specifically local decisions and practices that constitute citizenship practices in the City; it does however, highlight the inevitable complexities in bounding ethnographic research projects such as this.

Further, along with the difficulties in bounding the case, I am also doubtful about the efficacy of defining the approach to case study research in terms of certain fixed

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characteristics. Yin (2009) for instance differentiates between exploratory, descriptive, and explanatory case studies, arguing that the former is particularly useful for the pilot stage of an investigation, the second aims to provide a detailed description of a case, and the latter is relevant for a causal analysis. Stake (2003) on the other hand, notes the difference between intrinsic and instrumental case studies, viewing the former as relevant to a researcher with a particular interest in a case in and of itself, and the latter as relating to a case which is examined in order to provide an insight into a wider issue or concern. On this point again then, I would choose to blur the boundaries somewhat, seeing the particular context of my own project as both relevant and interesting intrinsically, and as significant on an instrumental level for the exploration of the wider phenomenon of citizenship. Further, while description certainly plays a part in my project, I have also taken an exploratory approach in which findings and analysis informed the theoretical framework as the project progressed. In doing so, I found that the processes of gathering data, interpreting, reflecting, and writing took place in an iterative manner (MacGilchrist and van Hout, 2011). This iterative approach will be considered in more detail in section 3.4.

Finally, as Lincoln and Guba (1990: 54) note, one of the most notable strengths of the case study approach is its commitment to the use of a number of different methods through which to capture a ‘thick’ description; in fact for Yin (2009: 18), the method ‘relies’ on the collection and interrogation of multiple sources of evidence. However, for many scholars, the purpose of this approach is to ‘triangulate’ the findings: Dooley (2002: 341) sees this as significant for the increased ‘validity’ of case study research, while Yin (2012: 13) notes the importance of triangulation in order to ensure consistency. And yet, in my own case, the purpose of employing a number of qualitative methods was not to triangulate in order to ascertain the most ‘truthful’ account; indeed this is clearly incompatible with the philosophical assumptions on which the project is based. Rather, I used a number of methods in order to establish detail and to allow space for the complex, ‘messy’ (Law; 2003; Jackson, 2011: 58), polyphonous voices of the participants to be explored. I note here that in employing the term ‘mess’ I was influenced by

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Law’s (2003: 9) rejection of the ‘common-sense realism’ he sees reproduced in research which seeks to elide the necessarily ‘ephemeral’ and ‘elusive’ character of the everyday; indeed, I found his call for ways of ‘enacting non-coherence’ (ibid: 11) on the research method fitted well with the ontological presuppositions informing my own research approach. In this sense, the project still operates within the central tenets of the case study approach, upholding Yin’s (2009: 2) aim to investigate ‘the holistic and meaningful characteristics of real-life events’, and Stake’s (1995: 12) intention to ‘preserve the multiple realities’ of a particular case, but without following the potentially problematic methodological commitment to triangulation.

Adopting a comparable research design, Jackson (2011) sees her approach as following the principles of mixed methods research. Certainly, the phrase ‘mixed methods’ is typically associated with studies which combine both qualitative and quantitative approaches – Morse (2003: 190) specifically defines mixed methods as the incorporation of ‘various qualitative or quantitative strategies’ within a project that is oriented principally in one or other direction. However, Jackson’s project adopts a broader understanding of the term, moving away from the traditional focus on qualitative versus quantitative methods, and instead following Greene’s (2007) conceptualisation of mixed methods as a way of exploring the social world which ‘actively invites us to participate in dialogue about multiple ways of seeing and hearing, multiple ways of making sense of the social world’. Elwood (2010: 95) takes a similar approach, looking to disrupt ‘traditional groupings’ of techniques as inherently qualitative or quantitative, and instead defining mixed methods as referring to ‘some degree of integration across data types and modes of analysis’. For Elwood, as for Jackson (2011), employing a mixed methods approach involves the use of a number of methods to answer the same research question(s) in a way which facilitates ‘multi-faceted and multi-scalar explanations’ (Elwood, 2010: 96), thus enabling the complexities and contradictions of voices to be expressed.

Given the commitment to affirming the ‘messiness’ of social practice, the avowed recognition of researcher positionality, and the construction of a number of different

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data types, my approach to this project can be said to draw on ethnographic principles. I am not claiming here that the study should be described using the noun form ‘ethnography’, as, although I recognise that this term itself has somewhat ‘fuzzy semantic boundaries’ (Hammersley and Atkinson, 2007: 1), I share Swales’ (1998) and in turn MacGilchrist and van Hout’s (2011) concerns about applying this label to projects outside the discipline of cultural anthropology. Indeed, I did not immerse myself in a particular field over a significant period of time in order to produce a representation of a specific culture or cultural group, as ethnography is typically described (van Maanen, 2011: 1). In fact, I am reticent to make the assumption that the individuals involved in this research should be described as a collective with a ‘shared conceptual world’ (Smart, 2014: 147). However, I am seeking to interpret a particular set of situated discursive practices, to explore what these practices mean to the people directly involved, and to construct a ‘thick description’ of the research object in its complexity; thus, I have drawn on insights from a range of scholars who have applied ethnographic principles to their discourse research, for instance MacGilchrist and van Hout (2011), Tsui (2014), Cassels Johnson (2011), Oberhuber and Krzy_żanowski (2008), and Krzy_żanowski (2011).

As such, and in the reflexive spirit of ethnographic work, the next section will give a brief outline of the main decisions I took in terms of research focus from the PhD’s inception. It will then introduce the research questions before moving on to the ‘hows’ – the individual methods employed to collect, or rather construct, the data.