In the last three weeks Part I, II & III of this article were presented. Now here is Part IV:

•  COLLABORATION AND AUTHORITY: ISSUES OF VOICE, INTERPRETATION, AND REPRESENTATION IN ORAL HISTORY

In 1990 Michael Frisch coined the term shared authority, which put a name to an issue of particular salience in the oral history process: the extent to which oral history is collaborative. Frisch used the term shared authority to denote the collaboration of the researcher and narrator during interpretation and representation (Thomson, 2003, p. 23). While the last chapter of this book details the broad issues of interpretation, analysis, and representation that are central to qualitative research, given the particulars of the oral history method, it warrants its own discussion of interpretation.

When using the oral history method the data collection component of the research process is collaborative. The researcher and research participant create knowledge together through the creation of a life narrative. The researcher initiates the process and facilitates the narrator’s telling of his story. Typically, the researcher then transcribes the interview(s) and may add his or her memo notes to the transcript in order to account for the performative aspects of the narration and/or add his or her own feelings, thoughts, questions, and so forth. So in the end, put simply, the researcher and narrator work together to produce the raw data: the oral history transcript (and any additional material). But what happens once the interview has been collected?
Does the collaborative process that shapes data collection continue during analysis and representation? Who gets to put their mark on the story that emerges out of this process? Who has authority over the narrative? What does shared authority mean in practice? Is it always possible or even desirable? What are the ethical considerations involved when determining the scope to which a project will be collaborative? What impact does collaboration have on the researcher, narrator, and, the research? Generally speaking, how do we think about interpreting oral history data? These are just some of the questions the oral historian must consider. Thinking about the qualitative research process holistically requires the researcher to consider issues of interpretation during research design and continue to revisit these questions throughout the research process, since qualitative research often involves an openness to change.

At its core questions regarding collaboration beyond the data collection stage are really questions regarding authority and what we refer to as the oral history matrix: the intersection of method, ethic, and politic. Who has authority over the data? Is this authority shared between the researcher and narrator(s)? The complex question of authority is where the oral history matrix of method, ethic, and politic is most clearly seen. Due to its historical development and current uses within the social sciences and humanities, oral history merges a research tool with a particular set of ethical considerations and social justice politics. When writing about the phrase shared authority, Shopes says:

...this resonant phrase neatly captures that which lies at the heart of both the method and the ethic—or perhaps one should say the politics—of the oral history enterprise: the dialogue that defines the interview process itself and the potential for this dialogue to extend outward—in public forums, radio programs, dramatic productions, publications, and other forms—toward a more broadly democratic cultural practice. (2003, p. 103)

This raises important questions about the extent to which the knowledge that flows from the oral history storytelling process is collaborative in terms of development and subsequent availability and use. The collaborative potential of oral history is not simply a choice about methodology but also carries with it a set of politics and a host of ethical considerations. Central to these issues is the question posed by Frisch: “Who is the author of an oral history?” (2003, p. 113). In fact Frisch goes on to call our attention to the connection between the words author and authority demonstrating how representation is imbued with power (2003, p. 113). The person who interprets, formats, and presents the narrative has a certain authority over the data— this person controls the construction of knowledge. So what does it mean for a researcher to “author” another person’s story? How involved can the narrator be in this process? What options do qualitative researchers have?

As with all research projects, we recommend that the particular goals of the research project dictate the extent to which the interpretive phase is collaborative. Some projects will lend themselves more to sharing authority during all phases, while other projects will make this impossible or undesirable. Your epistemological beliefs about the relationship between the researcher and researched will help frame these decisions, as will your ethical and political motivations, but ultimately the research process must mesh with your goals and resources. All oral history interviews contain collaborative dimensions; however, interpretive strategies can employ a variety of perspectives. It may be helpful to think of oral history as existing on a collaborative continuum—projects can vary from being collaborative exclusively during data collection to being thoroughly collaborative from initial research design through representation. In this regard Frisch makes an important point:

...sharing authority is an approach to doing oral history, while a shared authority is something we need to recognize in it. (Frisch, 2003, p. 113)

Let’s examine some of the pros and cons of using a shared authority approach to oral history by looking at various oral history research projects and how researchers have theorized and negotiated collaboration and authority in diverse ways.

De-centering Authority and Democratic Practice

Holistic collaboration, that which engages the researcher and narrator during all phases of knowledge production, is often appealing to those working from critical theoretical perspectives, including the feminist and multicultural frameworks. Likewise, this approach may be appropriate for research projects with the objective of creating social change or prompting social activism. Accordingly, as critical perspectives and social movement research are both on the rise, we are seeing an increase in collaborative research. This raises the question: Why are these folks particularly attracted to sharing authority?
Oral history is unique because it has the potential for decentering authority (Frisch, 1990; Shopes, 2003)[AUTHOR: we’ve got Frisch 1989 but not 1990]. [should be 1989, I made an error] As discussed in Chapter 1 historically the researcher has been privileged as the knowing party and he has had control over the research process and resulting knowledge. The researcher’s authority over the data included analysis, representation/writing, and the dissemination of the resulting knowledge. For example, will the results be published? Where? How will they be used? Oral history assumes that the research participant has life experiences, thoughts, and feelings that can help us to better understand social reality or some aspect of it. In other words, the research participant has unique and valuable knowledge. The narrator alone has access to their own story and accordingly assumes the role of narrator. This method thus allows the research participant to maintain authority over their knowledge during data collection. The oral history method inherently challenges positivist and postpositivist conceptualizations of the researcher/researched relationship, and, moreover, necessarily shifts at least some authority to the research subject. Scholars working from critical theoretical perspectives are committed to destabilizing relations of oppression and making those historically at the peripheries of the social order the center of the knowledge construction process. Feminist and multicultural scholars are interested in decentering authority as well so that women and people of color are given a central and authoritative position within the knowledge building process. Furthermore, feminists are concerned with accessing women’s voices. By changing the locus of knowledge and constructing engaged researchers and narrators, oral history lends itself to collaboration and the oppositional possibilities inherent in a collaborative knowledge-building process. The resistive dimension of sharing authority is also inextricably linked to ideas regarding democratic knowledge production which may be particularly resonant for social movement scholars.
The use of collaborative approaches to oral history bears traces of the earlier paradigm shift that prompted the development of qualitative research and wide-ranging changes in our conceptualizations of knowledge and

the knowledge-building process. Some oral historians working in the area of social movements, public policy, and social activism advocate sharing authority during all phases of the research project in order to create democratic knowledge production, which can most effectively benefit those groups for whom we often conduct our research. This is because collaboration allows us to speak with our participants instead of for them. This democratic approach to knowledge construction relieves some of the questions of social power that permeate traditional research while allowing those we wish to empower to teach us how to accomplish our goals. Kerr (2003) argues that sharing authority “can play a significant role in movement building” (p. 31). Referring to Frisch’s work, he writes:

He argues for “a more profound sharing of knowledges, an implicit and sometimes explicit dialogue from very different vantages about the shape, meaning and implications of history.” He argues that this dialogue will “promote a more democratized and widely shared historical consciousness, consequently encouraging broader participation in debates about history, debates that will be informed by a more deeply representative range of experiences, perspectives and values.” I would add that the dialogue built on this basis needs to go beyond the way we view history, but also influence the way we view history[AUTHOR: something wrong here?] [it is correct as is—it is poorly worded but quoted properly], but also influence the way we design public policy and more importantly, the way we reproduce the social organization of the communities we live in. (p. 31)

In this vein, a collaborative approach to oral history analysis and representation extends beyond incorporating multiple voices and visions into our writing of history and can help shape the organization of our communities and the formulation of public policy. In this way oral history can promote multidirectional change. It is not surprising that social movement scholars have embraced this approach.

Kerr (2003) designed an oral history research project using collaborative analysis in order to study homelessness. As a part of his dissertation research Kerr spent years working on the Cleveland Homeless Oral History Project. This research, which involved multimedia interviews, is an excellent example of applying a shared authority approach holistically because it effectively enables the research objectives of an investigation. Kerr wanted to conduct research that could create meaningful dialogue among homeless people in Cleveland, which could foster the development and implementation of public policy changes aimed at reducing homelessness in U.S. urban centers. Kerr argues that traditionally the research on homelessness has failed to create conversations on a street level and, thus, without substantive input from the homeless themselves, resulting data hasn’t garnered the support needed to both create and execute effective social policy.

Advocates and academics studying homelessness in the United States have primarily sought an audience of public officials, civic leaders, and middle and upper class progressives, who they believe have the power to create change. In part this focus has been structured by the public officials themselves who have encouraged this approach, seeking advice on the homeless problem almost exclusively from social service providers and academic experts. There is little incentive for academics to work collaboratively with the homeless. Those who have had the most success having their voice heard at the national policy level . . . have devised solutions without the input and oversight of the homeless and have done little to generate support for their solutions among the homeless. (p. 28)

The failure to produce knowledge that has successfully been used to alleviate homelessness is largely a result of two factors: (1) researchers cannot study misery from a neutral and detached position of authority, and, (2) homelessness has a structural dimension supported by powerful interests who benefit from maintaining the system (Kerr, 2003, p. 30). Accordingly, Kerr had to give up the traditional privileged position of the “researcher as knower” and work collaboratively with the homeless in order to reveal trends, generate theory, advocate sensible policy changes, and, effectively implement them.

By broadening the scientific community through the process of sharing authority with the homeless, one does not give up objectivity; rather one produces more objective and effective research. Theories and solutions that garner support are effectively implemented, and successfully address common problems [that] are objectively better than those that do not [AUTHOR: something’s wrong with this sentence.] [inserted missing word above]. (p. 32)

In this circumstance, sharing authority was clearly the logical approach to the oral history process and promoted the integration of the researcher’s ontological, epistemological, theoretical, and methodological choices, creating a robust and layered body of applicable knowledge. This knowledge cannot be separated from its democratic process of production and, thus, in every way signifies the issues it implicitly raises about who gets to participate in the construction of our communities.
Additionally, Kerr reported that the research participants were empowered through their participation. The process helped the homeless to become agents for social change in an arena that is directly relevant to their daily lives rather than remain victims of a reified system.

Empowerment, Ethics, and Conflict Within Collaboration

It is not difficult to understand how sharing authority has the effect of narrator empowerment. Certainly people are more likely to feel empowered when they are fully included, valued, and are operating on an even playing field. Rickard (2003) writes that the research participants in her collaborative study of British sex workers also felt empowered by the oral history process. Rickard’s work is important because it raises key ethical questions about empowerment, advocacy, and sharing authority.

Is it always ethical to empower our research participants? What if they are engaged in illegal activity or an activity that we find morally or politically troublesome? As engaged researchers, where is the line between empowerment and advocacy? If we feel an obligation to benefit our research participants by empowering them (if possible), do we necessarily endorse their behavior? These are questions Rickard had to face when she shared authority with British sex workers, including using one as an interviewer. Rickard openly adopts a “sex positive” perspective, which has opened her scholarship up to scrutiny. Some likened her collaborative research design to promoting prostitution (p. 53).

Hence, by undertaking oral history in this area, I had to align myself with the “pro-sex work” political lobby and to become involved with the activities of national and international activist groups who support sex workers rights. The activist involvement also came from the deep concern with sharing authority. To ensure people’s stories were recorded and collected I had to be prepared to use a position of academic privilege to offer political and practical support to interviewees, to facilitate communication through international networks, and to use oral history material for political and educational purposes. For me, this has led to a number of offshoot projects, such as the organization of a U.K. conference for sex workers, and the initiation of a health education project using extracts of OHP tapes as the basic resource. It has also involved me in local and national activist meetings and the use of oral history material as an educational resource for health workers. Over time, I have slowly realized that other sex work oral history has always tended to be carried out from a similar “sex positive” perspective to my own and nearly always in a context of personal and political advocacy. (p. 54)

Rickard is reflexive about her personal political alignment with her narrators and discloses how this impacts data analysis and her resulting scholarship. While we do not think it is necessary to comment on Rickard’s research choices per se, we think it provides a valuable example from which we can contemplate our own research. By engaging in a thorough discussion of both the context of discovery and the context of justification, readers of Rickard’s work are given enough information about the research process and the researcher’s relationship to the work that they can interpret her work as they deem fit. And in this way she has done her job and also provided a robust case study for examining how we all engage in the oral history matrix of method, ethics, and politics. This brings us to a host of additional issues surrounding collaborative interpretation.

While some research projects necessitate heightened collaboration, others may be impeded by attempts to share authority. Likewise, collaborative interpretation may alter the scholarship in ways the researcher is uncomfortable with. As interpretation is a fundamental component of sense-making or meaning construction, collaboration deeply impacts knowledge building and is not necessarily desirable.

...collaboration is a responsible, challenging and deeply humane ideal for some oral history work, but in certain kinds of projects, beyond a basic respect for the dignity of all persons, it seems not an appropriate goal . . . Taking the full measures of views other than your own is one thing; failing to subject them to critical scrutiny is yet another. Is presenting differing views in point/counterpoint fashion itself a form of critical inquiry? Is it enough? We need to think more about the limits and possibilities of oral history work with those with whom we do not share a fundamental sympathy. (Shopes, 2003, p. 109)[AUTHOR: Shopes 1994 is in the bib but no 2003] [added it to the bib]

Shopes raises several important points while reaffirming that a holistic application of shared authority is only one approach to oral history. It is perfectly reasonable and often appropriate for the researcher to retain authority over the interpretive process. As researchers we can maintain feminist and other human-rights perspectives without placing the interpretive views of our narrators at the same level on which we place our own analysis. We need not invite the narrator to participate in the research process beyond the interview sessions if our project doesn’t warrant it. Our scholarship and/or our emotional well-being may require that we do maintain strict intellectual authority over the process of representation.

For example, the body image oral history project that opened this chapter necessitated a separation between the researcher and narrator during data analysis. “Claire” was still deeply in the throws of anorexia nervosa and her health was rapidly declining at the time of the project. Despite her obvious ongoing battle, Claire repeatedly insisted that she was now healthy and had “clarity” over her “former” disorder. In the case of anorexia, it is clear that this kind of mindset is common amongs women in the thick of an eating disorder. Her ability to judge the situation in a useful way was seriously hampered by her illness. In addition to her deep-seated denial, she was physically failing (which also had an apparent impact on her mental faculties). All of this made a collaborative analysis impossible and undesirable. In this type of situation, the researcher has to maintain intellectual authority over the data in order to generate meaning that is true to the story told by the narrator. This can be hard if you have a strong connection to your narrator; however, as the researcher you need to think of the overall process and the eventual knowledge, which may mean making a difficult decision. In our example, at the time Claire did not have the ability to effectively help interpret the web of pressures that culminated in her body image disturbance. Even in situations where a narrator is “able” to participate in the interpretive process, it simply may not be something the researcher is interested in. This is fine too.

At a basic level, I do think that the interview dynamic is collaborative. But I also think we need to think carefully where we wish to share intellectual control over our work and where we don’t. We do need to be clear where and how we want to differ with narrators, perhaps in the interview itself, more likely in what we write based on interviews. We need to be clear when we wish to be critical of narrators, when there is no room for a shared perspective. (Shopes, citing herself in 2002; 2003, p. 109)

For example, what if your narrator is racist, sexist, or homophobic? If we are committed to the spirit of social justice then there are times when shared authority simply isn’t an option. Regardless of whether or not we share a “fundamental sympathy” (Shopes, 2002; 2003, p. 109) with those we interview, we need to seriously consider the place of our own intellectual voice within our work. This requires us to construct, question, negotiate, and renegotiate the boundaries of collaboration within any particular project—always reflecting on the fit between our choices and our research objectives. Likewise, we think it is important for qualitative researchers to write openly about this process to assist others in thinking through the complexity of collaborative research and make informed decisions about where on the continuum any given project will fall. Let’s look at an example that illustrates the importance of staying true to one’s voice and the potential pitfalls of ill-defined collaboration.

Sitzia (2003) wrote a case study about the relationship she had with her oral history narrator as they tried to share authority while producing his autobiography over a six-year period. Her experience illuminates the rewards and dangers inherent in collaboration.

Sitzia shared important insider traits with her narrator, Arthur, particularly a working-class background, and common interests, which together facilitated a wonderful data-building rapport between the two.

This constant dialogue between me and Arthur enriched the process of working on another’s life story. I quickly moved from being an interviewer to a facilitator in helping Arthur uncover his past. The development of the dialogue within the process was only possible through our relationship. (p. 94)

The kind of mutual engagement with, and shared ownership of, the project produces data that may otherwise remain hidden. However, the engagement required for collaboration has an emotional price and can at times be overwhelming. Likewise, while some scholars feel their work is enriched through shared interpretation, others may experience an unwanted loss of intellectual authority over their research, as Sitzia explains.

When our work began . . . I felt very pleased with the way the project was progressing . . . as . . . we drew closer to the publication of a book, Arthur began behaving aggressively; putting substantial pressure on me to work more quickly, threatening to complete the work with another editor, and most importantly, raising issues of ownership: “our” book became only “Arthur’s” book. This situation was made worse by the fact that Arthur was going through a severe emotional and mental health crisis, which also meant that he became very dependent on me, calling in varying states of distress at all times of the day and night. I felt—and still do feel—a huge responsibility for Arthur and felt I should help him resolve his crisis, but did not feel equipped to do this. On reflection, these complications partly arose because of the experimental nature of the project: neither I nor Arthur had worked in such a collaborative way before. My approach to the project was an informal learning experience . . . I now believe that it is crucial to define clear boundaries and guidelines when embarking on a project of this nature. At the beginning of this collaboration I directed the work to a large extent and certainly had a “voice;” one consequence of this lack of clarity is that as the project progressed I felt that I gradually lost authority, that Arthur became more and more dominant—and in fact bullying—and my own voice seemed to be lost. (p. 97)

This illustrates the tensions a researcher may face when trying to determine where to place a project on the continuum of shared authority. In the end Sitzia came to understand that, in the case of her project, both she and Arthur could “own” it by being open to multiple outcomes from the one study. She and her narrator are thus free to draw on the work in various ways and, through those unexpected avenues, they can each make their own mark on the knowledge they have created. Sitzia uses aspects of the project in her writing while Arthur is able to use it in his performance pieces. This required them to let go of the idea that “one book” would be the outcome of this process and consider multiple outcomes. We think it is important to remain open to the data being used in multiple ways, as was the resolution here; however, we caution that this is not always appropriate and must be carefully contemplated by the researcher. Make choices and find resolutions that make sense in a particular circumstance.
Despite the difficulties that can arise, collaboration can be a worthwhile or necessary practice. It is therefore helpful to be proactive, design your study well, and remain open to modifications as practice dictates. If you decide to share authority with your narrators, we suggest the following strategies for dealing with the specific challenges you may encounter.

• Create clear boundaries regarding the relationship between the researcher and narrator. In other words, devote some substantial time to defining your relationship. Talk this through together so there is mutual clarity. Continue to have these conversations throughout the various phases of the process so you are constantly reinforcing your definitions and expectations (while modifying them as appropriate to growth in the relationship). This relationship must be tended to holistically.

• Set up precise expectations regarding each person’s role(s) in the collaborative process. Things to discuss and come to an agreement on include:

– The transcription process
– Field notes and theoretical memo-taking
– Analysis procedures
– Interpretation and theory-building
– Writing and/or representation
– The use of the results (including how many possible outcomes are expected)

• Construct practical ideas for how to deal with potential interpretive conflicts.
– What degree of difference does each party expect to have included in the final write-up?

By thinking these things through, you can avoid many potential pitfalls— this is time well spent. You can thus be open to less traditional approaches to oral history that may allow the asking and answering of new social scientific questions. Don’t be afraid to create new methodologies as long as you remember that experimentation necessitates openness and rigor.

End of part IV.

Source:
The Practice of Qualitative Research by Sharlene J. Nagy Hesse-Biber and Patricia L. (Lina) Leavy (Aug 9, 2005), Part II: Methods of Data Collection, Chapter 5: ORAL HISTORY: A Collaborative Method of (Auto)Biography Interview



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