HEERS – LA NOCION DE PARTIDO EN LAS CIUDADES DE ITALIA El estudio de las palabras permite aprender y captar una noción compleja,

Conducting research on the governance of foreign national spaza shopkeepers raises a number of ethical concerns. The most pressing ethical concern for me was the potential for my field research to incite latent antagonism towards foreign national spaza traders in my field sites. I was warned early on by a community mediator in Kraaifontein about this possibility. When I asked him how conditions where in the neighbourhood a few months after a spate of murders of Somali shopkeepers had taken place, he laughed and commented that ‘things are quiet, that is until people like you come along wanting to do research’.92 My fieldwork assistant in Philippi who worked at a local NGO in the area also shared the mediator’s concern. This was the most important ethical advice I received during the course of my fieldwork. It warned me that researchers are actors in a field irrespective of how scientific or neutral they attempt to be, and that the simple task of asking questions can lead to a person’s life being taken.

Unfortunately their fears were shortly thereafter illustrated to me in practice. In early 2011, a researcher contacted me requesting my assistance towards a research project on crime affecting Somali shopkeepers in the Eastern Cape. I gave her the details of my Somali research assistant and advised her to ask him whether he could put her in contact with a Somali community leader in the Eastern Cape. A few weeks later I found out that a Somali national who was assisting her with her research in the

Eastern Cape had been murdered. Another Somali national had allegedly stabbed him under the mistaken impression that the researcher worked for the UNHCR, and that her Somali assistant was preventing the accused’s clan from making contact with her.

I never heard from the researcher again so I have only a sparse and second hand account of the events that occurred. However, the experience affirmed what I had been warned in Kraaifontein, namely that researchers like myself can inadvertently cause fatal harm. With the awareness that I was inadvertently a causal link in a chain of events that led to someone’s murder, I took a cautious approach when it came to my own research. In particular I avoided interviewing South African spaza shopkeepers, who were frequently the instigators of attacks on foreign national township businesses. The murder in the Eastern Cape also illustrated the importance of informed consent to ensure that all participants understand the nature and purpose of the research. Thus prior to conducting interviews, I informed interviewees via my Somali interpreter as well as in writing of the intention of the study, and the terms on which the interview was being conducted. These terms set out:

• The organisation for whom the research was being conducted (i.e. the ACMS);

• That participation was voluntary;

• That interviewees were free to not answer any questions they were not comfortable answering or to stop the interview at any time;

• That interviews would be kept anonymous and that the names of interviewees would not be included in any public documents;

• That the name of the interviewees’ firms or institutions might be known in public documents.

• That the interviews were confidential, and that only my project co-ordinator and myself would have access to the notes and recordings.

• That I might take notes of the interview and/or tape record the interview.

Key to ensuring the safety of respondents was ensuring their anonymity. Publications therefore referred only to residents’ neighbourhoods, the date of the interview, and

the area in which the interview took place. References to interviews with Somalis would only make mention to the townships where their shops were located, the date of the interview, and the suburb where the interview took place (e.g. Bellville). In this way it would be very difficult for anyone to specifically identify the individual interviewees, as hundreds if not thousands of residents lived in the respective neighbourhoods, which also housed between upward of fifty to over a hundred spaza shops.93

Where interviewees described having been victimised by crime, were suffering psychological trauma, or required social assistance, I felt that it was not sufficient to offer basic referral advice on where they could seek assistance. This was because many foreign national interviewees mentioned in interviews that they had been unable to receive help from various organisations that they had approached including NGOs, hospitals and the UNHCR. This had caused them great disappointment, inconvenience and sometimes secondary trauma, as they felt ignored and overlooked. It was especially problematic because most foreign national spaza shopkeepers preferred to visit organisations’ offices in person rather than make enquiries telephonically – possibly due to language barriers. As a result they would often commute long distances from Bellville or outlying townships to the city centre to seek assistance, which could take up an entire day. To make matters worse it was common for organisations that were unwilling or unable to help them, would then refer them once more to a different organisation, which also would be unable or unwilling to assist them. This would use up even more of traders’ time and resources, often with little or no success.

To avoid the above risks I did not simply provide interviewees with the names and contact details of organisations that I thought could help them. Instead I offered to contact relevant organisations myself and make enquiries on interviewees’ behalves. Usually telephonic correspondence with organisations was enough to assist interviewees (or at least find out whether organisations had the capacity to help them). Sometimes when an issue affected a number of foreign spaza shopkeepers I would attend consultations with interviewees, as I felt that my knowledge of the field

93 _{For example, Philippi East police station stated that there were 82 foreign national spaza shops in their} jurisdiction, almost all of which had experience violent crime. Spaza shops in Khayelitsha likely number in the hundreds (see Mandla Mahashe ‘Partnership rears hope’ News24, 29 September 2015, available at http://www.news24.com/SouthAfrica/Local/City-Vision/Partnership-rears-hope-20151028, date accessed 3 March 2017.

would be useful. In this way I was able to better ensure that interviewees needing assistance were actually helped, rather than sent on a potential wild goose chase that could cause more harm than good.

Many Somali spaza shopkeepers spoke of traumatic events that they had experienced during the course of their interviews including being shot, beaten or observing their friends and relatives being killed. Conducting research on such traumatised and vulnerable subjects raises the question of whether I had an obligation to actively address and fix their conditions. Because the topic of my research was on ‘access to justice’ there was also an expectation – no matter how hard I tried to play it down - amongst interviewees and community leaders that my research would be of some benefit to their community. Yet, there was little I could immediately do to help traders, as I could not conduct police investigations or prosecutions myself. Furthermore, being a researcher, rather than an activist meant that I could not guarantee that my research and its recommendations were going to be taken up by relevant actors such as police and civil society. I therefore could not be certain that my work would make any direct positive impact on any of my research subjects, or the Somali community in general.

I tried to address the potential one-sidedness of these interactions, by making myself available to assist research participants in whatever reasonable and non-financial ways that I could. Interviewees frequently contacted me for advice and favours, particularly relating to university matters. This advice included requests about what different academic disciplines entailed, and requesting feedback on Masters theses. In one instance a trader asked me to find out how the University of Cape Town discarded its old computers. I also referred traders to a personal injury lawyer (for instances of police brutality), and the Legal Resources Centre (when it came to regulatory issues). I attended court cases to assist prosecutors to argue sentencing (in a murder and robbery case) and also advised prosecutors about invalid police fines. I realised that as a result of widespread prejudice that Somali community members encountered when dealing with South African institutions, I became seen as an intermediary for them. For example, I found that if I made enquiries with universities, NGOs or hospitals – I would obtain a quicker and more willing response than they would. By making these small efforts I felt that I was giving something back to the people who volunteered their time and emotional energy to assist me.

What I avoided however was acting as or being perceived as an activist or advocate for the Somali community. One of the first points I that I would press in my introductions was that I was a researcher, not an activist. My problem with engaging in direct advocacy and activism arose from two concerns. First, I felt that as a researcher I had to maintain a degree of neutrality, so that diverse research participants would not feel as though I vigorously represented a particular side. Second was that in any case it was better for Somali community representatives to represent themselves and their causes, rather than myself appropriating their struggles and speaking on their behalf. Instead I tried to play a facilitative role by connecting people I had met during the course of my research with organisations and individuals who could provide direct assistance. I was less active in assisting South African interviewees because my interviews focussed mostly on their perceptions of foreign spaza traders, rather than their own problems. Also because my interviews in townships were dispersed and randomised, I did not experience the same community immersion as I did with the Somali community.

Apart from availing myself to research participants, I also hoped that the research itself would influence state policies and assist activists. I published three policy reports subsequent to my research that related to crime affecting foreign national spaza shopkeepers, the regulation of their businesses, as well as the economic dimensions of their business activities. My reports were furnished to the SAPS, Somali community leaders, and NGOs such as the Legal Resources Centre. The research was also used to make submissions to the Department of Trade and Industry and to the Competition Commission.

I also tried to be of support to Somali and NGO activists. On completion of my research I held a workshop with various Somali community leaders about my findings and recommendations, as well as a separate workshop for civil society. In the aftermath of my workshop with Somali community activists, they set up a committee made up of representatives from different Somali community organisations to work with police, monitor criminal cases and support victims. In sum I would have been deeply uncomfortable conducting research with victims of violent crime and xenophobia knowing that the research was simply for academic or philosophical

purposes, with no intention to try and influence policies and strategies to improve their condition.

This is not to say that one should not at all reflect on the deeper political and philosophical implications of traumatic phenomena. One scorching hot afternoon, while driving with my South African research assistant in Philippi, he interrupted me in mid-conversation and asked ‘why do you care so much about what happens to Somalis’? Strangely I could not provide a clear answer. Of course Somali spaza traders in the neighbourhood had suffered a great deal of violence and prejudice in Philippi, but so had almost all residents there. I ended up simply telling him in a confused and muffled way that I believed that Somali spaza shopkeepers’ experiences in the neighbourhood signified something important about the country – what it was I did not know.

The discomfort of not understanding the deeper reasons for why I had been drawn to the research topic lingered with me. When the research project for the ACMS ended in October 2012, I therefore felt that the data that I had collected needed deeper reflection. By carrying out a PhD on this material I hoped to understand why I had found certain phenomena particularly disturbing by examining the underlying political themes and dynamics that were manifesting in governance efforts. As a result I re- examined the research material from a theoretical rather than a policy perspective. Disengaging from the imperative to act and do something was important as it enabled me to engage in a more honest analysis. While it is important to use one’s research in the sphere of action to assist victims of trauma, it is also important to reflect on traumatic incidents to understand their greater meaning and implications for society. Otherwise the more fundamental lessons and warning signs of such phenomena could remain overlooked.

In document Resumenes (página 49-52)