This study was conducted with the approval of the Tasmanian Social Sciences Human Ethics Research Committee (University of Tasmania). The ethical requirements for social work researchers are to ensure that:
Participation is both voluntary and informed;
There is provision of confidentiality and anonymity; and
There is a commitment to the research principle of non-maleficence or ‘Doing no harm’ to participants (Alston & Bowles, 2003, p. 21).
This section outlines the procedures undertaken to address these issues, with particular focus on maintaining the physical and emotional safety of both the participants and the researcher when interviewing in the area of domestic violence.
101 Informed consent
Participation in this research was entirely voluntary. Each woman self-selected after reading one of the pamphlets that invited participation in the study or talking with someone who had been interviewed already. Further information was provided when potential participants contacted me. If they met the sampling criteria and decided to participate, an information package comprising an introductory letter, information sheet, and two copies of a consent form was sent. The information package also included details outlining the right of participants to withdraw at any time over the duration of the research without any duress, which was also reiterated at the beginning and end of the interview.
The participant was requested to bring both copies of the consent form to the interview so that they could be signed. One copy was filed in a secure location and the other was returned to the participant.
Confidentiality and anonymity
Confidentiality and anonymity are influencing factors in a person’s decision to participate in research, particularly research of a sensitive nature (Patton, 2005). Given the small regional nature of communities in Tasmania, there is an increased risk of participants being identified by individuals or audiences privy to the findings after completion of the thesis. To complicate the issue of interviewing in a small state was my acquaintance with the ex-partners of three of the participants. Details of the steps taken to ensure confidentiality and anonymity were outlined in the information sheet and again at the beginning of the interview.
Confidentiality and anonymity were achieved using the following strategies: Only the researcher, chief investigator and supervisors and two transcribers had access to the raw data collected;
All identifying information (for example consent forms) was kept in a locked cabinet in the researcher’s office at the University of Tasmania, separate from interview transcripts;
102 Demographic data was de-identified and kept separately from transcripts. Such data was only presented in aggregated form to prevent links being made to individual women;
Pseudonyms were provided or chosen by the participants;
Interviews were transcribed, in the main, by the researcher in a private location on the Launceston Campus of the University;
The participants were informed of the possible employment of a transcriber; The researcher was provided with a confidentiality agreement from the employed transcriber;
Identifying information was deleted from the transcripts;
Participants were invited to read their interviews once transcribed in order to edit and verify it, or omit further data that they felt would be identifiable;
Identifying information was deleted from the reporting and analysis of findings; In the presentation of findings, whether in the thesis or at a conference, no individual accounts were used but a list of core themes selected, with the richest being reported;
Examples or quotes used in the presentation of the findings or for an article or conference paper were short and had all identifiable information such as events, names, people and places removed;
Participants were provided with the contact details for both the chief investigator and for the ethics committee on the information sheet. This provided the
participants with a point of contact if there were: concerns or points they wished to clarify before the interview process began; concerns for the way in which the research was conducted; or concerns for my actions as a researcher;
Extensive legal advice was sought regarding my legal/ethical responsibilities for reporting battering or child abuse disclosed in research interviews in Tasmania. Whereas at the time there was apparently no legal mandate for me to do so, I also had an ethical responsibility as a social worker. On one occasion I decided to
103 report the treatment of a child by one of the women’s ex-partners to Child
Protection; and
Legal advice was obtained from the University Legal Office regarding the risk to the data for subpoena in Tasmania.
Safety protocol
This section addresses the procedures undertaken to protect the participants and researcher from physical or emotional harm arising from any part of the research process. The safety of the women and the researcher needs to be addressed in order for research in this field to meet the ethical requirement of non-malificence.
Protecting participants from physical harm
Workers within the domestic violence field are familiar with the safeguards required to protect workers and female clients from retaliatory violence from male partners or ex- partners. However, the potential for creating a dangerous research environment for both participant and researcher is less well known (Langford, 2000; Padgett, 1998; Patton, 2005). Langford (2000, p. 138) believes that because of the need to talk about their abuse, some women may not adequately assess their own risk or consider the safety of other participants or the investigator when agreeing to participate in a research study. Patton (2005, p. 110) and Power (1998, p. 54) both refer to the safety issues that became apparent on two occasions when interviewing women in their own home.
Even though the participants in this research were mothers who had been separated for at least two years, it was possible that their ex-partners could still pose a risk to their safety with interfering or stalking behaviours. Therefore a framework developed by Langford (2000) was used to guide the assessment of physical safety for this study. This framework included the following questions:
1. What are the safety risks to participants in this study?
2. How can the researcher safely initiate contact with women to arrange interview times without being detected by an abusive partner or violating confidentiality?
104 3. What are the safety risks to the investigator and participants in a group interview
if one of the participants was followed?
4. What is the investigator’s legal and ethical responsibility for reporting cases of women battering or child abuse that are disclosed in interviews?
5. What precautions need to be taken to protect the participant’s identity or protect the data from subpoena? (Langford, 2000, p. 134).
Guided by these questions, I made every effort to obtain sufficient information from participants prior to carrying out interviews about the possible danger from an ex- partner. This was particularly the case if the interview was to take place in the participant’s home. I discussed with participants any possible risks to their safety or the safety of the researcher if their ex-partner were to discover they had participated in a study on their experiences of post- separation life and parenting in the aftermath of domestic violence. I believed this was necessary even after long periods of
separation. Patton also comments on this, finding that safety issues were a concern despite the women having been separated for longer than a year (Patton, 2005). If there was any risk at all, the interview was carried out at a public venue.
Decisions were also made between myself and the participants about a safe procedure for telephone contact and receiving the information package, completed transcripts and the summary of results, in order to avoid detection. If the ex-partner was
particularly dangerous or intrusive and there were potential negative ramifications for participating, it was decided that the interview would not proceed at all. As noted by Bancroft and Silverman (2002), some men who use domestic violence are non- threatening for a period after the relationship ends but become threatening and use intimidation when they become aware that their former partner has begun a new relationship. There were three women in this situation where extra care was taken because their ex-partners had become more intrusive in response to the fact that the women had re-partnered. No interview failed to proceed because of safety reasons.
105
Protecting participants from emotional harm
I was also concerned to address the emotional distress participants may experience during the interview process. The recounting of their experiences and the reading of the transcripts could potentially exacerbate the effects of the trauma of their abuse. To minimise the risk of emotional harm:
1. I contracted at the beginning of each interview that participants could ask for a break, refrain from answering questions, and terminate the interview or their involvement in the research at any time. Most of the women requested a break but none of the women took up any of the other options.
2. I asked permission to audiotape the interview but also demonstrated the ‘off’ button and gave the explanation and invitation to turn the tape off, or ask me to, if they felt uncomfortable or overcome with emotion. Several women took up the option of turning off the tape for certain sections of their interview and then allowing the content to be included in their transcripts after it was edited. 3. I prepared a list of relevant referral agencies and specific people with whom the
women could make contact for debriefing and counselling support if needed. This proved unnecessary.
4. I informed each participant of my counselling work and experience in issues of domestic violence. I discussed my ability to interview with sensitivity,
awareness, respect and support for participants, particularly if they were feeling strong emotions. Clearly, however, of greater importance than the words I spoke was the ability for me to convey with my attitude and demeanour the ability to stay present to, contain and be empathic towards strong emotions as they arose. This in itself reduced participant anxiety.
5. I included the types of questions I might ask in the interview process in the information sheet. I was going to reiterate these at the beginning of the interview so that the participant was fully informed and comfortable rather than taken by
106 surprise, but it soon became evident that this was unnecessary. It was clearly more useful for the participants to let the story unfold in their own way.
Protecting the researcher from physical harm
Through my counselling work I was well aware of the potential for vindictive and revengeful behaviour towards women by men who use abusive and violent
behaviours. I had witnessed it as a counsellor and I knew the risks and the relevant literature. However, my own physical and emotional well-being as a researcher became just as important for me to address as that of the participants (Skinner, Hester & Malos, 2005, p. 15).
I took several steps to minimise detection by a violent ex-partner. Although participants were informed of my identity, I used a false name for all public
documents such as the information sheet and pamphlet. I established a new university email address that matched the false name, to prevent my surname being used to obtain my address from the phone book. I also obtained a pre-paid mobile for participant contact and for use as an answering machine for participants during the research. This number was used on the information sheet and pamphlet. The answering message also used my false name.
Protecting the researcher from emotional harm
I had not anticipated the immensity of the process I would undertake at a personal level as a result of interviewing 30 women whose stories would feature multiple and ongoing victimisation. I had told myself I was focusing on the women’s strengths and resilience and how they had resisted oppression and were redeveloping their lives. I was prepared for the idea that ‘the ethics of commitment exposes feminist
interviewers to stress, particularly in studies of traumatised women’ (Reinharz, 1992, p. 34). I understood and had reflected upon the fact that, despite my best intentions, intense stress reactions to stories of pain could negatively affect my interviewing capacity. I had counted on my counselling skills and work in the area of domestic violence to mitigate this possibility and to be of benefit to both myself and the participants.
107 However, despite being a counsellor, I was unprepared for the potential of this
research to be such an overwhelmingly stressful and emotional experience. Power (1998) discusses a similar experience: ‘this ideal of the researcher as dispassionately distanced from the researched has increasingly been called into question by feminist researchers … my preparation for my own emotional responses proved to be
insufficient …’ (Power, 1998, p. 53).
The research process elicited intense emotional reactions in me that have also been identified by other feminist researchers (for example, Thompson, 1990; Gordon & Riger, 1989; Kelly, 1988; Kirkwood, 1993; Power, 1998; Patton, 2005). The whole research process, including the preliminary reading, designing, recruitment,
interviewing, transcribing and analysing phases, ‘guaranteed exposure to endless waves of pain’ (van Dernoot Lipsky, 2009, p. 263).
Post-interview effects such as anxiety and depression were also been noted by feminist researchers. Reinharz (1992) surmised that this was the result of uncovering more pain in the women’s lives than the researchers had suspected and that ‘the shock of such discovery may eventually force her to confront her own vulnerability’
(Reinharz, 1992, p. 36). I would agree with this. My experience was also of intense stress reactions both during and after the interview process, as well as whilst transcribing, analysing and writing up. Not only did I notice deterioration in my emotional equilibrium, I was concerned for the way I felt my research skills were affected. I learned to refrain from interviewing more than once a week and I reduced my exposure to abuse and violence as a counsellor.
Thompson (1990) reflects on how she found herself using various means with which to escape the pain of multiple forms of victimisation contained within the women’s stories. This occurred both within the interview and whilst transcribing. I also found myself struggling with unconscious avoidant tactics. I recall resisting the temptation to exit several interviews prematurely, as the last half hour was often when the women would raise their experiences of sexual abuse within their relationships. It seemed that the women felt safe enough by then to speak of this sensitive and private
108 area of their lives. Paradoxically, this was often the hardest abuse for me to listen to, as the levels and layers of assault on their sexual dignity, needs and boundaries appeared to be such an inevitable but repugnant outcome of the way the women had described being treated in their relationships. During the transcribing process, I would, like Thompson, fall asleep or become agitated and restless.
The transcribers also experienced the emotional impact of listening to the interviews. It was an important duty of care to debrief them both carefully, as they found the tapes disturbing and depressing.
Recovery or transformation
At every stage, however, I can now see that being shaken to my core by my despair and outrage at the trauma and injustice contained within the women’s stories did more than just culminate in particular cognitive, physical and emotional changes within me. These, I note, have been variously referred in previous research as: an ‘unmanaged heart’ (Power, 1998, p. 53); burnout or compassion fatigue (Figley, 1995); countertransference (Sabin-Farrell & Turpin, 2003; Dunkley & Whelan, 2006); secondary stress syndrome (Baird & Kracen, 2006); vicarious traumatisation (McCann & Pearlman, 1990; Morrison, 2007) and its attendant stigmatisation
(Brescher, 2004). Campbell (2002) makes the observation that there is no provision in research norms for such effects on the researcher. Whereas I knew I was enduring the emotional hard work out of deep respect for the participants and in the hope that contributing to research in this area may instigate change, I gradually realised there was a deeper, more transformative process possible than hoping to simply recover from this research experience.
At various stages within the research process, the disorientation I experienced, or ‘inner disequilibrium in which the harmony of the self is disturbed yet the problem is neither understood or satisfactorily named’ (Keane, cited in Mezirow, 1991, p. 177) was mitigated by ‘one of the best antidotes to vicarious traumatisation’ (Pearlman & Caringi, 2009, p. 215). Pearlman and Caringi remark that by ‘opening oneself to the darker aspects of human experience’, which this research continually demanded of
109 me, one can undergo a process of ‘vicarious transformation’ (Pearlman & Caringi, 2009, p. 215). This five year process has contributed to my personal and professional development as a woman, a social worker, a teacher and in particular as a counsellor. I have grown and changed on many levels that defy and are perhaps minimised by description.
The process of vicarious transformation resonates with the transformation process of learning described by Mezirow (1991). Mezirow believes that: ‘any major challenge to an established perspective can result in a transformation. These challenges are painful; they often call into question deeply held personal values and threaten our very sense of self’ (Mezirow, 1991, p. 168). A major area of contention in the
learning transformation literature is Mezirow's emphasis on rationality. For example, Boyd (1989) describes transformation as not so much a rational process but a
‘fundamental change in one's personality involving [together] the resolution of a personal dilemma and the expansion of consciousness resulting in greater personality integration’. Grabov (1997, p. 90) suggests that it is more of an ‘intuitive, creative and emotional process’. Whilst I was unable to see this in the earlier stages of this research, going through the immense discomfort and distress of realising the suffering the participants had endured was a grief process as much as a learning process. Such a process was not necessarily a conscious choice. I gradually became aware of it as a result of positive, constructive feedback at different stages of the journey.
The role of feedback
As with other feminist researchers (for example, Schwartz, cited in Skinner et al. 2005, p. 16) I was acutely aware that non-feminist colleagues would be quick to ridicule my work and that I was in contact with professionals who were quick to scapegoat women who were having trouble with post-separation shared parenting arrangements, despite the presence of domestic violence. However, presenting the research findings to my supervisors, the University of Tasmania School of Sociology and Social Work Seminar Series, regional, state and national conferences, committees and a subsection of participants provided critical, astute and positive feedback which
110 greatly contributed to my growing self-awareness. Lincoln and Guba (1985, p. 308) also argue that a valuable process for enhancing trustworthiness is to present one’s