The Companion to Peace and Conflict

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The Companion to Peace and Conflict Fieldwork
 Roger Mac Ginty · Roddy Brett ·
Birte Vogel
Editors

The Companion
to Peace and Conflict
Fieldwork
Editors
Roger Mac Ginty Roddy Brett
School of Government School of Sociology, Politics
and International Affairs and International Studies
Durham University University of Bristol
Durham, UK Bristol, UK

Birte Vogel
Humanitarian and Conflict
Response Institute
University of Manchester
Manchester, UK

ISBN 978-3-030-46432-5 ISBN 978-3-030-46433-2 (eBook)

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-46433-2

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s) 2021

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 Contents

1 Introduction 1
Roger Mac Ginty, Roddy Brett, and Birte Vogel

2 How I Dealt with My Ethics Committee, and Survived 17

Jonathan Fisher

3 When Humans Become Data 35

Roxani Krystalli

4 Researching Over-Researched Societies 47

Gráinne Kelly

5 Preparing for Fieldwork Interviews 65

Berit Bliesemann de Guevara and Birgit Poopuu

6 Being Indiana Jones in IR: The Pressure to Do ‘Real’

Fieldwork 85
Laura Routley and Katharine A. M. Wright

7 Interview Locations 101

Paul Jackson

8 From Risk Aversion to Risk Management 115

Sophie Roborgh

9 Researching ‘Militant Groups’ 131

James W. McAuley

v
vi CONTENTS

10 The Ethics of Ethnographic Peace and Conflict Research 147

Gearoid Millar

11 Solitary Decision-Making and Fieldwork Safety 163

Max Gallien

12 Making Contact: Interviewing Rebels in Sierra Leone 175

Kieran Mitton

13 Participatory Action Research: Challenges and Rewards

in Fifteen Field Lessons 189
Georgina McAllister

14 Conflict Ethnography Goes Online: Chatnography

of the Ukrainian Volunteer Battalions 207
Ilmari Käihkö

15 Negotiating Relationships with Vulnerable Communities 223

Nick Morgan

16 Gatekeepers 237
Gyde M. Sindre

17 Working with Translators: Implications of the Translator’s

Positionality for the Research Process and Knowledge
Production 249
Kristina Tschunkert

18 Facing Violence in the Field 263

Roddy Brett

19 Interviewing Perpetrators of Genocide 279

Manolo E. Vela Castañeda

20 Interviewing Elites 295

Christine J. Wade

21 Secrecy and Silence in Fieldwork: Reflections

on Feminist Research on Violence in Latin America 305
Mo Hume
 CONTENTS vii

22 Read the Room: Side-by-Side Methodology

in a Belfast Ice Hockey Arena 321
Eric Lepp

23 Traversing Fieldwork with Imperfect Language Skills 339

Simon Philpott

24 Confessions of a Local Researcher 353

Nemanja Džuverović

25 Gendered Challenges to Fieldwork in Conflict-Affected

Areas 365
Kathleen M. Jennings

26 Race, Positionality and the Researcher 381

Sarah Njeri

27 Fixers and Friends: Local and International Researchers 395

Morten Bøås

28 “Mummy I Want to Go Home”: Children

and Parenthood in the Field 407
J. M. López

29 Privilege 421
Stefanie Kappler

30 From the Field Back to Academia 433

Malgorzata Polanska

31 The Politics and Practicalities of Writing 445

Birte Vogel and Roger Mac Ginty

32 ‘Each Word is Powerful’: Writing and the Ethics

of Representation 455
Angela J. Lederach

33 Perspectives on “Giving Back”: A Conversation

Between Researcher and Refugee 471
Jessica Field and Ali Johar

Index 485
 Notes on Contributors

Berit Bliesemann de Guevara is a Professor in International Politics at

Aberystwyth University. She has conducted fieldwork interviews on war
and peace themes in Bosnia-Herzegovina, Colombia, Germany, Kosovo,
Myanmar and the US. Her recent methodological interest is in the value of
drawing and textile-making as arts-based methods to accompany interviews.
Morten Bøås is Research Professor at the Norwegian Institute of
International Affairs. He conducts fieldwork in Africa and the Middle
East. His most recent books include Africa’s Insurgents: Navigating an
Evolving Landscape (2017) and Doing Fieldwork in Areas of International
Intervention: A Guide to Research in Closed and Violent Contexts (2020).
Roddy Brett is Senior Lecturer in Politics and International Relations at the
University of Bristol. Prior to this, Dr. Brett worked for seven years at the
University of St. Andrews, where he was Director of the Masters Programme
in Peace and Conflict Studies and Director of the Centre for Peace and
Conflict Studies. His fields of research include conflict, peace processes/
peacebuilding, genocide and human rights. During thirteen years living in
Latin America, he acted as Advisor to the UNDP and the UNHCHR and
as Advisor on Indigenous Affairs to the Norwegian Embassy. He worked
with the Centre for Human Rights Legal Action in Guatemala, as a mem-
ber of the original team that prepared the evidence against former dictator
General Ríos Montt, leading to his conviction in May 2013 for eighty years
for genocide and crimes against humanity. In 2015, he led a UN investigation
into the role of the delegations of victims in the Santos-FACRC-EP peace
process. He has published in a broad range of journals, and published five
monographs and edited five collected volumes. His most recent books are The
Origins and Dynamics of Genocide: Political Violence in Guatemala (2016),

ix
x NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS

The Politics of Victimhood in Post-conflict Societies: Comparative and Analytical

Perspectives (2018) and The Path Towards Reconciliation After Colombia’s
War: Understanding the Roles of Victims and Perpetrators (2020).
Nemanja Džuverović is Associate Professor in Peace Studies at the
University of Belgrade. His research areas include welfare in post-conflict
environments, political economy of liberal peacebuilding and international
statebuilding in the Balkans. He has published a range of articles and book
chapters relating to peace and conflict studies.
Jessica Field is a Lecturer in Global Challenges at Brunel University London
and an Adjunct Associate Professor at O. P. Jindal Global University, India.
Jessica’s research focuses on disaster governance and refugee protection in
South Asia. She has recently completed two projects exploring Rohingya ref-
ugee perceptions of “self-reliance” and “resilience” in India.
Jonathan Fisher is Reader in African Politics in, and Director of, the
International Development Department of the University of Birmingham.
His research focuses on the intersections between conflict, (in)security and
authoritarianism in Africa, and he has a particular interest in Eastern Africa.
He is co-editor of the journal Civil Wars.
Max Gallien is a Research Fellow at the Institute of Development Studies
(IDS) and a political scientist specialising in the politics of smuggling and
informal economies, the political economy of development, and the modern
politics of North Africa.
Mo Hume is a senior lecturer in Politics at the University of Glasgow where
she specialises in Latin American politics, with a specific research interest in
the gendered politics of violence and conflict. She has carried out extensive
fieldwork in Latin America, particularly Central America where she also spent
several years as a development worker with a local women’s organisation. She
is currently researching struggles for socio-environmental rights along the
Atrato River in Colombia in the context of an ongoing humanitarian crisis.
Paul Jackson is Professor at the University of Birmingham. He has worked
on security, governance and decentralisation for twenty five years and has car-
ried out fieldwork in countries as varied as Sierra Leone, Lebanon, Colombia,
and Nepal. He has worked with groups ranging from militaries and govern-
ment to chiefs and insurgents.
Kathleen M. Jennings is Head of section for Research and Development at
the Faculty of Social Sciences, Oslo Metropolitan University, and was previ-
ously a senior researcher at the Fafo Research Foundation, Oslo. Her research
interests include United Nations peacekeeping and peacebuilding interven-
tions, gender, peacekeeping economies, and qualitative methodologies.
 NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS xi

Ali Johar (Maung Thein Shwe) is Education Coordinator for the

Rohingya Human Rights Initiative in Delhi, a founder of the Rohingya
Literacy Programme, a Rohingya Youth Leader, and a “Global Youth Peace
Ambassador” recognised by the Rajiv Gandhi National Institute of Youth
Development, Government of India. Ali was born in Rakhine (formally
known as Arakan) in Myanmar.
Ilmari Käihkö is an assistant professor at the Department of Security,
Strategy and Leadership, Swedish Defence University, and a veteran of the
Finnish Defence Forces. His research concentrates on the cultural sociology of
contemporary war in places like Liberia and Ukraine, as well as the fieldwork
methods required by this endeavour.
Stefanie Kappler is Associate Professor in Conflict Resolution and
Peacebuilding at Durham University. She is currently working on a range of
externally funded projects that investigate the politics of memory in relation
to peacebuilding, the cultural heritage of conflict as well as the role of the arts
in peace formation processes.
Gráinne Kelly is a lecturer in Peace and Conflict Studies, based at INCORE
(International Conflict Research Institute) at Ulster University. Her research
interests include reconciliation, testimony work and the intersection of the-
ory, policy and practice in peacebuilding. She has conducted qualitative
research in Cambodia, Sierra Leone and Northern Ireland.
Roxani Krystalli has spent a decade working on feminist approaches to
peace and justice, as a researcher and humanitarian practitioner. In September
2020, she will begin her appointment as a Lecturer at the University of St
Andrews, where her research and teaching will focus on feminist peace and
conflict studies.
Angela J. Lederach is Assistant Professor of Cultural Anthropology in
the Department of Cultural and Social Studies at Creighton University in
Omaha, Nebraska. Her research examines the politics of peacebuilding,
youth, gender and masculinity, and multispecies approaches to peacebuild-
ing. Her current project advances a critical anthropology of peace through
ethnographic and participatory research in Colombia, outlining the practices
and discourses of ‘slow peace’ that social leaders employ in Montes de María.
She is the co-author of When Blood and Bones Cry Out: Journeys Through the
Soundscape of Healing and Reconciliation.
Eric Lepp is a peace scholar whose current research explores spaces of
encounter and the construction of community which includes the ‘other’ in
conflict-affected societies. He is particularly interested in the unorthodox,
resistant, and unexpected spaces where peace is being enacted and imagined
against a backdrop of division.
xii NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS

Dr. J. M. López is a lecturer in Health and Society at the University of

Bradford, UK. She has worked with families affected by HIV/AIDS, survi-
vors of armed conflict, and midwives in Mexico and UK. Her research as an
anthropologist centres on reproductive and sexual health rights, life course in
contexts if violence.
Roger Mac Ginty is Professor at the School of Government and
International Affairs, and Director of the Global Security Institute, both at
Durham University. He has conducted field research in Georgia, Lebanon,
Uganda, Northern Ireland, Kosovo, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Sri Lanka, and the
US. He is author of two monographs, co-author of two books, editor and
co-editor of eight books, editor of the journal Peacebuilding (with Oliver
Richmond), and editor of the Palgrave Macmillan book series Rethinking
Political Violence. He is former Program Chair of the Peace Studies Section
of the International Studies Association. He co-directs the Everyday Peace
Indicators project (with Pamina Firchow).
Georgina McAllister With an NGO background since the early 1990s,
George’s experience spans both the humanitarian and development sectors.
George is currently Assistant Professor in Stabilisation Agriculture within
the Centre for Agroecology, Water and Resilience at Coventry University
where she applies regenerative lens to food and farming systems in fragile
environments.
James W. McAuley is Professor of Political Sociology and Irish Studies at
the University of Huddersfield. He has written extensively on issues around
political conflict and division, and especially on unionism and loyalism in
Northern Ireland.
Gearoid Millar is Head of Sociology at the University of Aberdeen. His
publications examine the local experiences of international interventions for
peace, justice, and development in Sierra Leone, as well as on developing the
Ethnographic Peace Research (EPR) approach. His current research focuses
on complex Twenty-First Century challenges to peace.
Kieran Mitton is a Senior Lecturer in International Relations in the
Department of War Studies, King’s College London. He has conducted
extensive field research in Brazil, Sierra Leone, South Africa, and the United
Kingdom, working primarily with ex-combatants, gang-members and
­violence-affected communities.
Nick Morgan teaches at Newcastle University. He is an ethnographer and
discourse analyst working on citizen participation, nationalism and con-
flict in Colombia, Venezuela and Panama. He is currently working on the
­AHRC-funded Screening Violence project, which explores the imaginaries of
conflict and reconciliation in Algeria, Argentina, Colombia and Indonesia.
 NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS xiii

Sarah Njeri is a Research Associate at the African Leadership Centre. She

is an interdisciplinary researcher in peace, conflict and security with over 20
years’ experience in the international development and humanitarian aid
sector. She is experienced in researching complex contexts. Her research
explores the issues of post-conflict reconstruction especially Landmine
impacted contexts from within an integrated peacebuilding framework.
Simon Philpott conducts research that spans interests in Indonesia, popular
culture and world politics, and visual culture, particularly documentary film.
He works in the literatures of post-structuralism and post-colonialism. A year
living in Papua New Guinea as an impressionable teenager played some part
in shaping Simon’s research interests. An Australian anchored in NE England.
Malgorzata Polanska is a Postdoctoral Research Associate on an ESRC-funded
project ‘Place, crime and insecurity in everyday life’ https://securityinplace.
org/ at Keele University, UK. She holds a Ph.D. in humanitarianism and con-
flict response from University of Manchester, and her interdisciplinary research
concerns experiences of uncertainty, everyday (in)security and ­ bottom-up
approaches to peace.
Birgit Poopuu is a Post-doctoral Fellow at Aberystwyth University where
she works on her project “The Politics of Peace and Conflict Knowledge:
Syria and the Diverse Landscape of Local Knowledge/Experience”
(PUTJD760). Conducting relational interviews with Syrian activists Birgit
has explored the merits of dialogue in creating more space for research partic-
ipants’ experience.
Sophie Roborgh, Ph.D. holds a Presidential Academic Fellowship in med-
ical humanitarianism at the Humanitarian and Conflict Response Institute,
University of Manchester. Her interdisciplinary work focuses on localisation
of medical humanitarianism and medical volunteering in times of conflict and
political unrest. She also studies politicisation of healthcare more broadly,
including attacks on healthcare. Due to the fieldwork-heavy nature of her
work, she has become increasingly interested in improving research ethics and
methodology in challenging contexts. She hopes to continue to work towards
becoming a better researcher and advocates for improved support and under-
standing among institutions and funding organisations for fieldwork.
Laura Routley is a Senior Lecturer in African and Postcolonial Politics
at Newcastle University. Her current research explores the politics of pris-
ons in contemporary West Africa. She has previously worked on NGOs and
Corruption and is the author of, Negotiating Corruption: NGOs, Governance
and Hybridity in West Africa, (Routledge, 2016).
xiv NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS

Gyde M. Sindre is a Lecturer in International Politics at the University of

York, UK. Her research focuses on the politics of war-to-peace transitions and
peace, specifically non-state armed groups, rebel-to-political party transforma-
tion, rebel diplomacy and the wider processes of state-building. Sindre is the
founder of the Politics After War Research Network.
Kristina Tschunkert is a Ph.D. researcher at the Humanitarian and Conflict
Response Institute at the University of Manchester. Her research focuses on
everyday economics of humanitarian aid interventions and its interrelatedness
with peace and conflict in the context of host-refugee relations in Lebanon.
Manolo E. Vela Castañeda is Professor Investigator in Sociology at the
Universidad Iberoamericana, Mexico City. Between 2011 and 2012 he was
visiting fellow at the Kellogg Institute, University of Notre Dame. As a public
sociologist, he writes a regular column for the daily newspaper elPeriódico de
Guatemala. Drawing from comparative and historical sociology, his research
topics include the analysis of revolutions, peasant and indigenous rebellions
and other social movements.
Birte Vogel is Lecturer in Humanitarianism, Peace and Conflict Studies
at the University of Manchester, UK. She has conducted fieldwork in
Colombia, Cyprus, Bosnia-Herzegovina, India, Sri Lanka and the US. She
teaches research ethics and has organised and supervised fieldwork trips for
students at different universities and is very familiar with the problems of
first time researchers. She was Assistant Editor of the journal Peacebuilding
and a guest editor for Civil Wars. She has published, amongst others, in
European Security, Journal of Intervention and Statebuilding, International
Peacekeeping and Cooperation and Conflict. Her co-edited book “Economies
of Peace” was published with Routledge.
Christine J. Wade is Professor of Political Science and International Studies
at Washington College. She is the author of Captured Peace: Elites and
Peacebuilding in El Salvador, and the co-author of Understanding Central
America: Global Forces and Political Change, Latin American Politics and
Development, Nicaragua: Emerging from the Eagle’s Shadow, and other
publications on Central America.
Katharine A. M. Wright is a Lecturer in International Politics at Newcastle
University. Her research explores the intersection of gender and security in
institutional settings, including NATO and the EU. She is the co-author of
NATO, Gender and Military: Women Organising from Within (Routledge,
2019).
 Abbreviations

ARGA Alliance pour la Gouvernance en Afrique

BiH Bosnia Herzegovina
CINEP Centre for Popular Education and Research
CSA Childhood Sexual Abuse
DDR Disarmament, Demobilisation, Reintegration
DRC Democratic Republic of Congo
DSLR Digital Single-Lens Reflex camera
ESRC Economic and Social Research Council
EU European Union
EULEX European Union Rule of Law Mission in Kosovo
EUPM European Union Police Mission
EUTM European Union Training Mission
FAMA Malian Army
FCO Foreign and Commonwealth Office
FGD Focus Group Discussion
GBV Gender Based Violence
GDPR General Data Protection Regulation
HYRES Hybrid pathways to resistance in the Islamic World
ICBL International Campaign to Ban Landmines
IIAP Instituto de Investigaciones Ambientales del Pacífico
IR International Relations
IRA Irish Republican Army
JAC Local Neighbourhood Association
KFOR Kosovo Force
MBT Mine Ban Treaty
MESA Middle East Studies Association
MSC Most Significant Change
NATO North Atlantic Treaty Organisation
NATO HQ North Atlantic Treaty Organisation Headquarters
NGO Non-Governmental Organisation
NRC Norwegian Research Council

xv
xvi ABBREVIATIONS

OSCE Organisation for Security and Co-operation in Europe

PAR Participatory Action Research
PI Principal Investigator
RECS Research Ethics Committees
RUF Revolutionary United Front
UAE United Arab Emirates
UG Undergraduate
UN United Nations
UNCST Uganda National Council for Science and Technology
UNESCO United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organisation
UNMIK United Nations Mission in Kosovo
USAID United States Agency for International Aid
ZANU-PF Zimbabwe African National Union—Patriotic Front
 List of Figures

Fig. 22.1 SSE Arena—Ticketmaster, online seat selection (Source

Ticketmaster 2016) 328
Fig. 22.2 Text messages to myself 330

Plate 13.1 Capturing their event timeline (14 October 2016)

(© Georgina McAllister) 194
Plate 13.2 Collective indicator ranking (9 February 2017)
(© Georgina McAllister) 196
Plate 13.3 ‘Cultural ritual’ group share their stories on managing conflict
and environmental change (22 February 2017)
(© Georgina McAllister) 199

xvii
 CHAPTER 1

Introduction

Roger Mac Ginty, Roddy Brett, and Birte Vogel

This book is designed to give confidence to, and share experience with,
researchers who are contemplating fieldwork, especially fieldwork in socie-
ties affected by violent conflict. There are multiple pressures, many of them
unspoken, to engage in perfect fieldwork and produce perfect fieldwork
results. Indeed, many of the journal articles and books that we read say little
about the practical and ethical difficulties that researchers experience when
conducting fieldwork. The impression that is given is that everything went
well and that the research design worked as intended when it was taken to the
field. The pressure to produce perfect results is felt particularly keenly among
Ph.D. students and early career researchers who may be anxious to please
their doctoral or tenure committees. There are also, of course, the social sci-
ence strictures that seek to ensure the robustness and reliability of evidence
and results.
The experience of the editors of this book is that things often go wrong
during fieldwork: interviewees don’t turn up; the battery in your recording

R. Mac Ginty (*)

School of Government and International Affairs,
Durham University, Durham, UK
e-mail: Roger.macginty@durham.ac.uk
R. Brett
School of Sociology, Politics and International Studies,
University of Bristol, Bristol, UK
e-mail: roddy.brett@bristol.ac.uk
B. Vogel
Humanitarian and Conflict Response Institute,
University of Manchester, Manchester, UK
e-mail: birte.vogel@manchester.ac.uk

© The Author(s) 2021 1

R. Mac Ginty et al. (eds.), The Companion to Peace and Conflict
Fieldwork, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-46433-2_1
2 R. MAC GINTY ET AL.

device dies just before you are going to start an interview; you can’t find the
agreed location; an election or violent incident means that it is simply too
risky to be on the streets; you get sick; you are under surveillance by the
authorities and you do not want to endanger interviewees, so you scale down
your research; the research design that you developed in the comfort of your
office simply doesn’t make sense once you are in the country. The list of
things that can, and do, go wrong during fieldwork is endless, yet these tend
not to be narrated in a formal way. They are often discussed on the margins
of conferences, and among colleagues, but are rarely recorded in the end-
notes of a journal article lest an unfeasible research design is seen as weakness.
One place where research failings might be spoken of is in the bars around
academic conferences and workshops. Here semi-boastful pub-talk might
mix bravado, comedy, and often a good deal of ethnocentrism. This book
is offered as a corrective to the under-reporting of what (might) go wrong
in fieldwork and to the Indiana Jones syndrome whereby some researchers
might be tempted to inflate stories of their bravery and ability to overcome
the odds to ‘scoop’ those perfect research results.
The book is offered with humility. It does not cover everything and—
unfortunately—shows the usual bias in much academic work in which voices
from the Global North predominate. We greatly appreciate that many of
those who experience difficulties during the research process are local schol-
ars. However, this book focuses mainly on the experience of the ‘outsider’
researcher. The book also does not offer all the answers, but it hopes to make
researchers aware of some of the potential pitfalls and ethical dilemmas they
might encounter. It is unusual, however, in that large parts of all chapters are
written in the first person. These sections tell the stories of academics who
have: made mistakes, made progress through trial and error, felt guilty about
ethical issues, come to the realisation that they were underprepared for the
emotional side of fieldwork, and understood that a lot of social science meth-
odology books emphasise abstraction when practicality, empathy, and ethics
are called for. By encouraging contributors in this book to write in the first
person, our aim has been to humanise the subject of field research and to
make clear that it is a personal journey that is often accompanied by numer-
ous practical and ethical choices, as well as constraints such as the decisions
of ethics committees or the outcome of funding or visa applications. We are
grateful that authors had the courage to not only share their success stories
but talk openly about the mistakes they have made along the way and the eth-
ical, moral, and practical challenges they encountered. This is part of a truly
reflexive academic culture and enables others to learn from these experiences.
The book stresses the importance of writing the researcher back into the
fieldwork process, methodological considerations, and results. Above all, the
chapters in this book show that research is relational. The research experience
and its outcomes, including access to sites, research participants, and inter-
viewees, and what they are willing to share with us, heavily depend on the
 1 INTRODUCTION 3

relationships academics build in the field. Not everyone will be able to carry
out every type of field research successfully. What we are able to do in the
field does not only depend upon who we are, and who we know, but how
others see us, and what they think we might be able to offer in return. A
range of identity markers such as gender, age, nationality, skin-colour, reli-
gion, and family status can have unanticipated impacts on our research (see
chapters by Njeri or Murray de Lopez), because they impact on how oth-
ers treat us, both positively and negatively. We might just not get along with
some interviewees, in which case they might share very little with us. Others
might become close friends during the research process (see chapter by Bøås).
It is also in these personal relationships that many of ethical issues arise: How
do we, emotionally and practically, deal with the often difficult situations of
our research collaborators? What can we promise to ‘give back’? How do we
use our research results, privilege, and networks to make a difference to their
communities?
Crucially, this book encourages us to see fieldwork as something more
than a series of methodological techniques. Rather than thinking of research
as a linear process, and fieldwork as one stage in that, it is suggested that
we conceive of research as part of the complex assemblage that makes up
the researcher and the context in which researchers operate (see chapter by
Mitton). Connectedly, we can’t see ethics and ethical dilemmas as something
that only occurs during fieldwork. Thus, ethical dilemmas or concerns for the
security of our interviewees do not occur only in the fieldwork phase. They
should start when we plan our projects, what we consider data, and con-
tinue all the way into the writing up and publishing process (see chapters by
Lederach, Krystalli, Millar, and Vogel and Mac Ginty). Research design and
the fundamental assumptions upon which that is based are connected with
the political economy of universities, specific fieldwork techniques, how field-
work results are to be disseminated, and many more issues.
It is worth noting that many of the contributors to this volume struggled
to write in the first person. Part of this, it is worth conjecturing, is because
academic writing privileges the abstract and the impersonal. In an effort to
be ‘scientific’ and ‘professional’, the individual is subjugated to an impersonal
language. Yet, as the chapters in this book affirm, fieldwork is deeply personal.
It is often, especially if part of a Ph.D., conducted alone. It relies on indi-
vidual decision-making, budgeting, time-keeping, and ­security-consciousness.
Even if there is a Ph.D. supervisor or a Principal Investigator who has a
management role in the research, it is often up to the individual researcher
on-the-ground to make judgement calls (see chapter by Gallien).
The rest of this introductory chapter will consider a number of sali-
ent issues that impact on fieldwork in conflict-affected societies. Many of
the issues interlock to produce a complex landscape in which research is
to be undertaken. Gender, for example, cuts across many issues, often in
subtle ways (see chapters by Hume, Jennings, Kappler and Tschunkert).
4 R. MAC GINTY ET AL.

The obvious implications of gender might include the difficulty a female

researcher might encounter in safely accessing a male environment, ­including
when interviewees are from elite sectors of society (see chapter by Wade).
But many other subtle dynamics might be at play, depending on the cir-
cumstances. For example, after a full day of interviews, a female researcher
might not feel comfortable going out for dinner on her own and thus feel
restricted to a hotel room. Or she might be accompanied to interviews by
a male colleague or interpreter. Despite asking questions, the interviewee
might address all of his answers to the male—in effect, ignoring the female
researcher. Or, the female researcher may have to change her research focus
if her original research site is in a country affected by the Zika virus. Female
academics also have caring responsibilities more often as their male counter-
parts, meaning that fieldwork periods often need to be shorter, or turned
into a logistic and financial challenge by having to take family members along
or pay for extra care at home while away (see chapter by Murray de Lopez).
Many of these issues are personal and subtle and all come on top of the many
structural factors that often make academia an unwelcome space for females
(see everydaysexism.com).

Security
In May 2018, Durham University Ph.D. student Matthew Hedges was seized
by the authorities in the United Arab Emirates and held in the most appall-
ing conditions (Hedges 2019). He was accused and eventually convicted of
spying and sentenced to life imprisonment. During his incarceration, he was
subject to torture (most of it psychological) and had little access to consu-
lar or legal advice (BBC News 2018). Pleas that he was conducting schol-
arly research held zero traction with the UAE authorities, who released him
after six months in captivity. In January 2016, Giulio Regeni, a Cambridge
University Ph.D. student, was abducted, tortured, and murdered during field
research in Egypt (Michaelson and Tondo 2019). It is most likely that the
perpetrators were Egyptian security officials (Michaelson and Tondo 2018).
Given such incidents, it is not surprising that security issues deserve to be
taken seriously by researchers (see chapters by McAuley, Brett, Mitton and
Roborgh). It is also worth noting that while the cases of Hedges and Regeni
received considerable media attention, their local research interlocutors
were also likely to have received unwelcome attention from the authorities.
Networks such as Scholars as Risk demonstrate the need to better support the
security and academic freedom of local researchers (see scholarsatrisk.org).
It is a truism that anyone wishing to conduct field research in
­conflict-affected societies must be aware of the potential of some sort of risk.
Usually, active war-zones are out of bounds for academic researchers and so
most research occurs in ‘post-conflict’ societies. Yet these societies are often
troubled and often extremely violent, with the risks to researchers ranging
 1 INTRODUCTION 5

from state surveillance, crime surges, and the possibility of the reoccurrence
of the conflict. In such circumstances, and given the high-profile cases like
Hedges and Regeni, it is unsurprising that universities place an emphasis on
risk awareness and avoidance (the role of ethics committees is discussed in
the section below). It is worth noting that the security situation in states
can change quickly, with Egypt, Sri Lanka, South Sudan, Colombia, and
Venezuela providing good examples. This is of particular relevance as there
is often a lag between the research design and fieldwork phases of research.
Given the possibility of a changing security situation, it is advisable that
researchers build a Plan B and Plan C into their research design (see chapter
by Gallien). These back-up plans might also have to contemplate shelving
fieldwork altogether—a very difficult step given the ‘pressure’ to be seen to
undertake fieldwork that is felt in some quarters (see chapter by Routley and
Wright).
The first responsibility of the researcher is to the researched and thus it
is worth asking if the research is necessary (see chapter by Kelly). While the
external researcher might have privileges, rights and protections (although
the Hedges and Regeni cases show that this is not always the case), local
actors—interviewees, fixers, translators, interlocutors—may not (see chapter
by Kappler). Many research contexts—Israel, China, Turkey, India, and Sri
Lanka—to name a few, are host to states that are suspicious of the motiva-
tions of researchers and may enact surveillance of the researcher and those
they come into contact with (Abbott 2018). This raises a number of potential
problems. The first of these, and already mentioned, is the possibility that the
research might endanger research subjects. This presents the question: Is any
research project worth potential harm to others? A second potential prob-
lem relates to the political orientation of the researcher. Although notionally
social scientific research is an objective exercise in gathering and reviewing
evidence, it is common that researchers might have sympathies in relation
to a conflict or a cause. Aside from the obvious implications that this might
have for the impartiality of the research, it also raises practical issues of safety
and security for the researcher and the researched (see chapter by McAuley).
States and organisations may be pre-disposed against research that is likely to
portray it in a bad light and so may scrutinise visa applications and requests
for interviews and be interested in the locations the researcher visits, and who
they talk to. The security apparatus of many states involved in conflict is often
technologically savvy, and it is reasonable to assume that communications can
be monitored and digital devices hacked. Although ethics applications rou-
tinely state that interviewee identities and interview notes will be encrypted,
encryption training is not universally available across universities and ethics
committees do not check if this is actually done. Technology has advanced
significantly in recent years and researchers are often on the backfoot when
it comes to data protection, and understanding how easily governments and
others can access our research data if it is not stored and uploaded carefully.
6 R. MAC GINTY ET AL.

The duty of care we have towards our research participants should encourage
every researcher to understand what they can do to protect interview notes
and recordings in the best possible way (see chapter by Vela). Indeed, it is not
just our research data that is potentially open to seizure and scrutiny. Capable
and interested state authorities will be able to access a researcher’s phone
contacts and entire email trail. In some research settings, it is advised that
researchers use ‘burner’ laptops or mobile phones. Social media also offers
a potentially rich evidential trail on the (im)partiality of the researcher. It is
unlikely that states or potential interviewees will wade through the academic
corpus of a researcher to find out their orientation in relation to a conflict or
issue. They will simply check the Twitter feed of the academic. Indeed, our
published outputs (whether academic or on social media) act as a caution to
the temptation to invent or present a false persona during fieldwork. The edi-
tors of this work advocate honesty (unless one is involved in deep cover eth-
nography) as cover stories often unravel.
In some cases, for example, for many researchers who work in China, it
has become routine to have no social media profile and to use only the most
basic of technologies (first generation mobile phones). Such researchers work
on the assumption that they and their interlocutors are monitored and thus
proceed with care. They report a constant ‘nudging’ by the Chinese state as it
tests the extent to which it can control academic freedom, and they envisage
a time—in the not very distant future—when fieldwork will not be possible
in China (Tran 2017). State surveillance raises the issue of self-censorship or
the extent to which academics limit their research lest they put themselves
or the researched at risk. On the one hand, it is responsible for all research-
ers to appreciate that there should be limits on research that is intrusive,
disrespectful, or potentially harmful. On the other hand, self-censorship—in
publication but also in field research activities—constitutes the imposition of
boundaries on research. In the worst of cases, it abets a political project that
might be authoritarian. A revealing case, not directly related to fieldwork but
illustrative of the wider research environment, relates to the Chinese state’s
attempts to limit access to academic journal articles in China Quarterly. In
the summer of 2017, the Chinese regime asked Cambridge University Press
to remove over 300 articles critical of the regime from the China Quarterly
online archive—or risk having all Cambridge University Press products
banned from China (Pringle 2017). As a backdrop, it is worth noting that
educational publishing is a massive business with a huge potential for growth
in China and elsewhere (Lahiri 2018; Tan 2017). Cambridge University Press
complied. A backlash followed, with western academics citing the importance
of academic freedom. Cambridge University Press eventually relented, but
the case is instructive of the precarious nature of academic freedom and how
it is prone to both commercial interests and authoritarian threats.
UNESCO published guidelines on academic freedom in 1997, but these
are not binding (UNESCO 1997). It is worth noting that the western notion
 1 INTRODUCTION 7

of the university, and academic research, is quite peculiar to a time and a

place. As became clear through the Matthew Hedges case, his captors had
little understanding of the western notion of academic research. It is worth
stressing that western notions (that might seem ‘natural’ and obvious to
researchers at western universities) are not universal. So, at the heart of many
of the security issues that can impact on field research, is a potential cultural
clash between the assumed universalism of western ideas and practices, and a
particularism of the conflict-affected research location.
The aim of this section is not to give an unnecessarily bleak picture of
field research security problems. The problems are substantial and the list of
territories where field research is impossible or inadvisable is long and very
probably growing (Human Rights Watch 2017). Yet field research is possi-
ble in many conflict-affected societies as long as sensible planning and risk
minimisation takes place (Mukhopadhyay 2017). As many of the chapters in
this book attest, it is possible to overcome challenges, stay safe, keep research
interlocutors safe, and gather data (see, for example, the chapters by Mitton,
Brett, Roborgh, and Vela). This requires preparation, attention to detail, and
consistency; factors that should be part of good academic practice anyway.

Ethics
Ethics and risk are often conflated, and although they overlap substan-
tially, they are not the same thing. In relation to fieldwork, ethics refer to
the moral code that will govern the conduct of the researcher and the basis
of the research project. A minimal ethical starting point for field research is
that it should do no harm and, where appropriate, leave as light a footprint
as possible. Many universities and research organisations take seriously the
ethical dimension to research and have formalised procedures whereby eth-
ical approval is a precondition before fieldwork can begin (see chapter by
Fisher). In many cases, moreover, ethics are key, particularly with respect to
new methodologies, such as digital ethnography (see chapter by Kaihko).
In an ideal world, ethics committees or Institutional Review Boards are
­pro-research and see their job as facilitating responsible research. In practice,
however, ethics committees can be slow, cumbersome and staffed by person-
nel who are not subject, methodology or context specialists. They sometimes
don’t understand what it means to work in conflict-affected societies, or what
it means when people’s personal experiences become data (see chapters by
Krystalli and Roborgh). This is especially the case when ethics committees are
convened at the Faculty or University-wide levels. In some cases, there is also
a sense that the primary concern of the ethics committee is ­ managing
institutional risk. This might predispose an ethics committee towards
­conservative responses—a particular problem for research projects involving
­conflict-affected societies. It is also worth placing university attitudes to field
research in conflict-affected societies in the wider context of universities as
8 R. MAC GINTY ET AL.

corporate and commercialised entities. Increasingly, universities do not see

education and research as public goods. Instead, they are part of a business
model that is risk-averse and interested in research that can be productised
and marketised. In this model, blue-sky and theoretical research might be
regarded as superfluous and abstract. Research funding that brings in over-
heads, is easily marketised and made ‘impactful’, and can be conducted with
minimal risks, is often prioritised. A key battleground in many universities is
between the managerial power holders on the one hand and those academics
who might prioritise teaching and research on the other. There is not always
compatible ground between the two, and ethics committees are often caught
between the two visions of the purpose of universities and research.
In some cases, ethics committees outsource part of their job to risk con-
sultants. This reflects a cautiousness with regard to making decisions and
accepting liability. Risk consultants, however, do not always have expertise—
especially in relation to the specific contexts in which research is proposed.
The editors of this volume, for example, are aware of a case in which an aca-
demic with decades-long experience of working in Sudan was refused per-
mission to travel there by his university (despite his expert knowledge of the
context) and instead the view of a desk-based consultant who had never been
to Sudan was preferred. Ethics committees, risk consultants, and insurance
brokers all lengthen the ‘research chain’ or the number of people involved in
the research approval process—often with consequences for the timeline of
the research project and the integrity of the original research design.
None of the above discussion should be taken as axiomatically regard-
ing the researcher as always right. Some researchers are over-ambitious,
cavalier about risk, and ill-prepared for their proposed research (see chap-
ter by Džuverović). Ethics committees perform a useful function in making
researchers stop and think through the practicalities and feasibility of their
research design. Indeed, it is often only when filling in an ethical approval
form that the researcher is forced to think through the various steps involved
in the research process. An ethics committee may be able to ask fundamen-
tal questions such as: Is the research necessary, or do you have a Plan B if
the research site is inaccessible? There is the danger too, that researchers
seek to ‘game’ ethics procedures: they give model answers when filling in the
form but do not necessarily abide by these strictures when in the field. The
editors of this volume know of no cases in which an ethics committee has
followed-up on a research project to ensure that its strictures have been
­
adhered to. There is a sense that ethics committees are hurdles that once suc-
cessfully jumped over, no longer concern us. It would be difficult to imagine
an appetite among researchers for more bureaucracy or scrutiny of research
processes, yet it seems irresponsible for universities to set strictures on how
research is to be conducted and not monitor the extent to which those stric-
tures are met. Such monitoring would, however, raise questions of liability in
cases where ethical procedures were not followed. Who would be liable: the
individual researcher or research team, or the university?
 1 INTRODUCTION 9

Local Actors
Much field research involves working in local communities. The notion of
who, what, and where might constitute ‘the local’ is much-discussed in the
academic literature (Mac Ginty and Richmond 2013; Mac Ginty 2015). It is
worth noting that the local, like all other communities, is an imaginary. It is
likely to be complex, stratified, and comprised of networks—many of which
are transnational and thus defy simplistic notions of the local as somehow tra-
ditional or isolated. Accessing ‘the local’, or any community or site is diffi-
cult (see chapters by McAuley, Mitton and Morgan). Researchers are likely
to face gatekeeping issues and will probably only see ‘a slice’ of local-life.
Gatekeepers might steer researchers towards particular interviewees and nar-
ratives, and be anxious that researchers see only a particular ‘slice’ of a com-
munity or organisation (see chapter by Jackson). There is, sometimes, among
researchers an anxiety to capture the ‘real’ or ‘authentic’ voice of a commu-
nity. In all probability, there is no such thing and belief in the ‘real people’
of a community risks romanticising a version of a community that may not
reflect a complex reality. It is worth noting that the local can be sectarian,
corrupt and—on practical matters related to research—may not always offer
researchers the most appropriate advice. In any community, there are likely to
be multiple voices, some of which will be more powerful than others. Indeed,
inauthentic voices often have value. For example, if a community spokesper-
son is giving an overly rosy view of a situation or community, it is worth ask-
ing: Why is this version being given?
One issue faced by some locations and communities is a surfeit of research-
ers. The issue is particularly significant given that many areas are deemed
unsafe for researchers. Thus, researchers might be channelled towards a lim-
ited number of ‘safe’ options. It could be that the sheer number of research-
ers becomes a strain on individuals and communities. The danger is that
communities see no benefit from hosting researchers and see the research
process as extractive and selfish on the part of the researcher, as indeed it
has often been. As discussed by Gráinne Kelly in this volume, communities
and individuals might shun researchers, seeing them as an additional burden
on top of the degradations of conflict and under-development. One way to
lessen the burden on communities or local organisations is to offer to ‘give
back’ in some way. There might be, however, very different interpreta-
tions what ‘giving back’ means, and academic impact is likely unrelated to
the impact felt in, and wanted by, the communities we work with. It is often
argued that as a minimum, academics could be offering to report research
results back to communities or perhaps to offer their skills in grant-writing
or report-writing. In the experience of the editors, instances of ‘giving back’
to communities are quite rare or unsuitable to the needs of the community
(for one example, see Hancock 2019). For one of the editors, his attempt to
report back to the community was met with a stony silence followed by one
community member uttering, ‘We know all that. We told you that in the first
10 R. MAC GINTY ET AL.

place. What are you going to do about it?’. In this book, Field and Johar, an
academic and a Rohingya refugee leader, explore jointly what ‘giving back’
means to each of them, but the chapter also makes us aware of the emotional
dilemmas an intense relationship with a vulnerable community can cause for
the researcher. It often shows us our own privilege and raises questions about
responsibilities, and how we can use privilege to make a positive contribution
to the people we work with, for example, through inclusive research designs
that focus on the needs of communities (see chapters by Kappler and Millar).
While this book ultimately cannot offer an answer how to resolve these
dilemmas, it is nonetheless important for researchers to be aware of these
questions, and possible expectations of the researched communities, before
embarking on field research. Nothing is worse than making empty promises
on the spot because we have not anticipated a situation where our interview-
ees ask for something back in return for their time and effort, and the easy
way out is to promise something they are not able to follow through.
A final point to make in relation to ‘the local’ is the need to see individ-
uals, communities, and localities as something more than research data and
having no role in the research process other than to assist in outside research
projects (see chapters by Bøås, Džuverović, and Polańska). Communities are
very likely to have their own research resources and capacities. These research
resources may not necessarily look like the resources that can be mobilised
by university-based researchers and researchers from the Global North; very
often, for example, they may be from an oral tradition. Local researchers may
not necessarily share the priorities held by outside researchers, but this by no
means makes their research invalid or irrelevant. Indeed, the strictures associ-
ated with a lot of research emanating from universities and institutions in the
Global North (hidden behind paywalls, jealously protected by copyright, and
only submitted to the best journals) raise questions about the relevance of
much of this research.

Personal
Many aspects of field research have a personal dimension. Often, and espe-
cially in the case of Ph.D. projects, the researcher will be on-site alone and
has to make key decisions on their own (see chapters by Brett, Gallien and
McAuley). A supervisor may offer guidance but, ultimately, it may be up to
the individual to make a judgement call on whether they leave a fieldwork
site because of security concerns, or extend fieldwork in order to pursue fur-
ther research. Planning, contextual knowledge, and advice will play important
parts of this process, but it is often the individual who must make the deci-
sion based on the available evidence and a gut feeling.
We might be tempted to see fieldwork as a discrete phase, or a period of
the research process that is book-ended by research design and a literature
review on the one side, and analysis and dissemination on the other. But it
 1 INTRODUCTION 11

cannot be neatly packaged like that. It is rare that fieldwork can be a period
of complete dedication to on-site research, although one of the editors of
this volume was, in fact, prohibited by his doctoral supervisors from return-
ing home during twelve months of field research, a demand that would be
unlikely to be approved in today’s environment. And despite what the
­auto-email replies from colleagues might say, it is rare that any of us are away
from an internet connection for a more than few days. Professional and per-
sonal lives continue and will ‘intrude’ on fieldwork. Whether this is replying
to emails from colleagues or keeping in touch with a sick relative, we will not
be able to devote all of our time to fieldwork. Indeed, family ties and caring
responsibilities mean that many people are simply unable to conduct field-
work. A reasonably common pattern is for Ph.D. and early career researchers
to conduct extensive fieldwork, but for the chances of extensive fieldwork to
diminish if researchers have young children or elderly relatives to look after. It
is also worth noting that family members might worry about those on field-
work and so it is important to keep in contact and offer reassurance.
One issue that is rarely discussed is the financing of fieldwork. Even those
fortunate enough to gain a fieldwork bursary or a research grant will have
to budget to make sure that their funds will last the length of the fieldwork
and, in fact, allow them to write up their research. For one of the editors of
this book, despite securing funding for his doctoral fieldwork from a major
research council, this funding did not continue beyond fieldwork, given his
previous funding awards. He was told by his supervisors that they would not
support his project further unless he secured post-fieldwork funding. If pos-
sible, it is prudent to build some contingency into the budget as there may
be unexpected costs; in this case, the editor’s mother actually remortgaged
her house to guarantee post-fieldwork funding. During fieldwork, researchers
from overseas are likely to have to stay in relatively safe parts of the city due
to security concerns. These tend to be expensive, and there are flourishing
ex-patriate micro-economies in certain parts of Juba, Beirut, and Yangon and
many other cities (Jennings and Bøås 2015; Thomas and Vogel 2018). But
despite the ‘home comforts’ of fast Wi-Fi and coffee-on-demand that ex-pat
colonies might offer, it is worth noting that fieldwork can sometimes be
lonely. Obligations to live in such areas also place a wall between a researcher
and their local collaborators. It is worth stressing that any no research pro-
ject is worth jeopardising mental health or well-being and there should be
no stigma attached to returning home early or even abandoning a project.
Fieldwork can be very tough on stamina, physical health, and mental well-
being and ‘toughing it out’ may be the wrong course of action (see chapter
by Roborgh).
A fieldwork journal can be invaluable in recording one’s personal reflec-
tions on fieldwork. Fieldwork is rarely a simple matter of collecting data.
Instead, it is a personal, sensory, and emotional experience. A journal allows
the researcher to capture many of the contextual details that help make sense
12 R. MAC GINTY ET AL.

of the research data. It is a means of processing the data and placing it in

the context of the wider research journey. A very good practice is to fill in
the journal each evening to record one’s feeling and observations. Months
later, when the researcher might be struggling to make sense of the research
findings, the fieldwork journal rather than the formal interview notes or sur-
vey data might be the vehicle that most accurately captures the sights, smells,
and sounds of the fieldwork. It is also a useful device to help with some of
the personal issues that the researcher might be experiencing. For example, if
the researcher is working in an area of immense poverty, they might be con-
fronted with feelings of guilt about their privilege. A fieldwork journal is a
useful outlet.
Depending on the nature of the research project, the researcher may
become an employer through paying for the assistance of a translator or a
research assistant. This sort of sub-contracting is often casual and so the
researcher must be mindful of the rights of their ‘employee’. A contentious
issue on many university campuses concerns precarious employment practices,
and it is worth bearing these in mind in relation to translators and research
assistants. In conflict-affected settings, it is also very important that the
researcher does not put their collaborators or translators in potentially dan-
gerous or embarrassing situations. This can be very difficult in deeply divided
societies in which sectarian or identity labels make everyday conversations and
interactions difficult. In Beirut, for example, your taxi driver could be from
any denomination and so a back-of-the-taxi conversation between you and
your research assistant is probably best to avoid your research topic. It is sen-
sible to have an upfront and frank conversation with a translator or research
collaborator to establish ground rules and expectations that apply to both
parties (see chapter by Tschunkert). Working with a translator or research
collaborator might involve long hours in close proximity and there may well
be personality issues, issues of trust and reliability, and disagreements over
reimbursement. A rudimentary contract is a very good idea, as are personal
recommendations from other Ph.D. students or researchers. In the matter of
‘hiring and firing’ but indeed in all other matters relating to field research,
the words of one colleague come to mind. When asked for the single most
important piece of advice she would give to anyone about to embark on
fieldwork, her response was succinct: ‘Don’t be a dick’.

Conclusion
Much advice on practical and ethical issues in fieldwork already exists
(Howard 2018; Bradbury 2015; Campbell 2017; Helbardt et al. 2010; Sriram
2009). There have been efforts towards developing a ‘research covenant’ or
a set of minimum standards that researchers can abide by when working on
issues of peace and conflict (Brewer 2016). Such a covenant marks an advance,
although essentially much fieldwork depends on decisions by individual
 1 INTRODUCTION 13

researchers to ‘do the right thing’ in acting ethically and sensibly. The major
contribution of this volume, we hope, is that it contains many contributions
in the first person that help demystify fieldwork and reveal that doubt and ‘not
knowing’ lie at the heart of fieldwork. The contributions show that fieldwork
is much more than a discrete series of actions, such as holding interviews or
organising focus groups. Instead, it is part of a process of long-term learning
and it is prudent to think in terms of a research legacy and ‘afterlife’ (Knott
2019). Simply by being on-site, the research has impact and leaves a foot-
print—however light we would like to think that the footprint is.
This introductory chapter ends with two points. The first is that there
can be a danger that discussion of many of the issues covered in this vol-
ume is ‘all about us’. In other words, there can be an over-focus on the tra-
vails of the researcher (often from the Global North) and an u ­ nder-focus
on the researched (often based in the Global South). This over-focuses on
the researcher, and the opportunities and challenges facing him or her, risks
perpetuating the privileging of the researcher (see chapter by Kappler).
Although the researcher may often face numerous challenges when conduct-
ing fieldwork, they almost undoubtedly have multiple practical and material
advantages and privileges over the researched and local co-researchers. For
example, the researcher probably has a credit card and passport in order to
get out of the country should things become difficult and also probably has
health insurance should they get sick. Moreover, in the event of difficulty,
they might be able to draw on institutional support in terms of a university
or line manager. Local actors are unlikely to enjoy the same rights and protec-
tions as international researchers.
Related to the ‘it’s all about us’ phenomenon is the possibility that the
researcher becomes fixated with the importance of their project to the exclu-
sion of all else. It is, of course, understandable that researchers take their
fieldwork with due seriousness; their Ph.D. may depend on it or they may
have committed to undertake a particular type or amount of fieldwork as part
of a research application. Yet, a results at all costs mindset is potentially dan-
gerous—to the researcher and the researched. A ‘must get the results’ path
dependency often crowds out the ability of the researcher to step back and
ask fundamental questions along the lines of: Is this fieldwork necessary? Are
the costs too great? What sort of footprint am I leaving behind? This crit-
ical self-awareness is particularly necessary in societies under-going stress.
Research—particularly non-practical research—in societies facing humanitar-
ian or post-conflict needs may seem like a self-indulgence on the part of the
researcher. An individual researcher may be fascinated by the issue of Sexual
and Gender-Based Violence as part of the conflict in northern Uganda. But
does that justify engaging with, and possibly re-traumatising, victims as part
of a research exercise that will result in a Ph.D. thesis or a journal article that
very probably will sit unread? In such a scenario, there is only one beneficiary
of the research process: the researcher.
14 R. MAC GINTY ET AL.

The second point is that despite all of the challenges that researchers face,
and all of the cautionary tales in this volume, fieldwork is usually intellectu-
ally rewarding and immense fun. For most social science researchers, the daily
routine involves the classroom, the office, the library and complaining about
poor campus Wi-Fi or coffee. In other words, many researchers live seden-
tary professional lives in which the subject of study is accessed second-hand
through journal articles, classroom discussion, or online research. The chance
to escape the office or library and to engage first-with the topic is invalua-
ble. Flat descriptions or abstract analyses have the opportunity to come alive.
Fieldwork is a human, humane, humbling, and sensory experience. It is not
simply about operationalising research design. In addition to data-gathering,
it is an opportunity to experience culture, food, language, weather, friend-
ship, and some of the daily challenges faced by the people who are the sub-
jects of our research. None of this is to romanticise fieldwork nor the often
very difficult circumstances that people live through in conflict-affected soci-
eties. It is, however, to remind ourselves that fieldwork can be joyful, liberat-
ing, enriching, and fulfilling.

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agents as murder suspects. Guardian, November 29. Accessed at: https://www.
theguardian.com/world/2018/nov/29/giulio-regeni-murder-italy-names-egyp-
tian-national-security-agents-suspects. Last accessed 4 October 2019.
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tigation three years on. Guardian, January 25. Accessed at: https://www.
theguardian.com/world/2019/jan/25/egypt-frustrates-giulio-regeni-investiga-
tion-three-years-on. Last accessed 21 August 2019.
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is how. Washington Post, April 5. Accessed at: https://www.washingtonpost.com/
news/monkey-cage/wp/2017/04/05/yes-its-possible-to-do-research-in-conflict-
zones-this-is-how/. Last accessed 21 August 2019.
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 CHAPTER 2

How I Dealt with My Ethics Committee,

and Survived

Jonathan Fisher

For those of us who work in what the World Bank now calls “fragile
situations”, it can often feel that ethics committees are just there to keep us
away from the peoples and places at the heart of our research.
One might be forgiven for assuming that university Research Ethics
Committees (RECS)1 are meant to exist to, well, advise us on the eth-
ics of our research. In their Ethical Guidelines for Good Research Practice,
the Association of Social Anthropologists of the UK and Commonwealth
suggest—rightly—that this should begin with a comprehensive considera-
tion of the “relations with, and responsibilities towards, research participants”
proposed in a project idea.2 In reality, though, it can often seem like RECs
are not very interested in our research participants at all—or, indeed, in our
research in general. Instead, at least in peace and conflict studies, they often
appear to position themselves as little more than the envoys of an institution’s
health and safety board, or of its insurance officers. Is it “safe” to do research
there—at least according to the national foreign ministry’s travel advice or the
university insurance firm’s algorithms?
The consequence can often be a total absence of guidance being pro-
vided on the actual ethics of an application and, instead, the imposition of
a travel ban by committee members who have sometimes never visited the

1 More often referred to as Institutional Review Boards (IRBs) in North America.

2 https://www.theasa.org/ethics/guidelines.shtml.

J. Fisher (*)
University of Birmingham, Birmingham, UK
e-mail: J.fisher@bham.ac.uk

© The Author(s) 2021 17

R. Mac Ginty et al. (eds.), The Companion to Peace and Conflict
Fieldwork, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-46433-2_2
18 J. FISHER

hemisphere in question. Less than helpful when a REC’s approval is usually a

sine qua non for any researcher to undertake what ethics rubric tends to refer
to, rather clinically, as “research involving human participants”.
This can often be exceptionally frustrating. You are a Ph.D. candidate who
has spent months, probably considerably longer, developing a project around
a country or region that fascinates you, or an early career researcher who has
finally won that postdoc or grant—and the primary instruction your institu-
tion’s ethics specialists are providing you with is “you can’t do fieldwork there
– (we are told that) it is too dangerous”.
What I hope to do in this chapter is to offer some reflections,
advice—and encouragement!—on tackling some of the challenges pre-
sented by RECs. This will be largely based on my own experience navigating
this terrain at two UK universities, and across ten African countries, over the
last decade.

My core messages are these:

1. The more complex and sensitive your research, the more compli-
cated—and, probably, infuriating—your ethical clearance ­experience
will likely be. A project based around interviewing Members of
Parliament in Nairobi is probably going to be approved more easily than
one involving focus groups with Al Shabaab fighters in Somalia.
2. Pushback does not necessarily mean that you will be prevented
from doing your research, but you may need to engage, patiently,
in a dialogue with committee members and to help better educate
them on the context and content of your work. RECs may seem faceless
and inscrutable but they are usually composed of reasonable, conscien-
tious researchers who are open to debate and constructive critique.
3. RECs are, in many cases, deeply flawed and unhelpful, particu-
larly in relation to the politics of research spaces and relationships.
At their best, though, they perform a critical role in ensuring that
research which may compromise or endanger researchers, respondents,
the environment or wider society be properly scrutinized and, where
appropriate, modified or prevented. An ethics committee may not, in
your judgement, have much additional expertise to share with you on
conducting research on your subject in a country you know well, let’s
say Chad. That may not be the case for every researcher proposing
work there, however, and, believe me, some project ideas can involve
deeply problematic assumptions and methodologies! You may also
not be the best person to police the ethical dimensions of your own
proposals. Years of experience in a research site or area can lead to
over-confidence and sloppiness—which can cause a researcher to take
methodological and practical choices, the ethics of which have not been
fully considered.
 2 HOW I DEALT WITH MY ETHICS COMMITTEE, AND SURVIVED 19

In developing these points, the chapter is composed of three parts. Part one
outlines three challenges presented to me, as a researcher, by RECs in recent
years, and how I responded to each. Part two reflects on these experiences
and draws out four points to consider when approaching RECs and ethical
clearance processes. The chapter concludes by exploring the general value of
RECs and the various areas where researchers should continue to push their
institutions to render ethical clearance processes more useful, meaningful and
relevant to ethical challenges we actually tend to encounter.

In Search of Ethics Clearance: Three Real-Life

Challenges
My research is primarily concerned with understanding the politics of in/
security and state-building in authoritarian states. I have a particular inter-
est in East Africa, borderlands and conflict-affected regions and undertake
the bulk of my empirical work in Eritrea, Ethiopia, Rwanda and Uganda—
though I have also worked in Djibouti, Kenya, Malawi, Somalia, South Africa
and Tanzania. Like most established academics, I also supervise Ph.D. stu-
dents—most of whom undertake, or have undertaken fieldwork, in Southern
states. The three REC-related dilemmas outlined below therefore derive from
my experiences securing ethical clearance not only for my own research but
also for that of my research students.

1. Ethical clearance and authoritarian research sites and the politics of

deception
My Ph.D. (2007–2011) focused on Uganda, a semi-authoritarian state, and
on trying to understand why Western aid donors had been so supportive of
the regime in power there since 1986, in spite of the latter’s poor record
on democratization and frequent regional military brinkmanship. Leading
donors, such as the US and UK, claimed throughout the 1990s and 2000s to
be opposed to supporting authoritarian rule in Africa with aid injections—and
many cut aid to these kind of regimes across the continent, but not to the
Yoweri Museveni-led regime in Uganda (Fisher 2015). Quite the opposite—
development and military assistance to Uganda from London, Washington
and elsewhere grew steadily every year and global politicians from the World
Bank’s James Wolfensohn to US president Bill Clinton lauded Uganda, and
Museveni himself, as a model and inspiration (Fisher 2011). I wanted to
understand why this was the case by analysing a range of written materials,
but also—indeed, primarily—through interviewing current and former diplo-
mats, donor officials, ministers, politicians and others in Washington, London
and Uganda itself.
In my ethical review application, I proposed two fieldwork trips to Uganda
(including Kampala, the capital, and Gulu, the home of many donor agen-
cies dealing with the humanitarian situation in the north of the country)
20 J. FISHER

which would take place between May 2009 and December 2010. Approval
was granted—contingent on my also receiving research clearance from the
Ugandan authorities, according to their own processes and requirements.
It is not uncommon for RECs to insist upon this for projects involv-
ing fieldwork in another country and, in principle, this is quite appropri-
ate. Western researchers cannot expect their home institution’s approval to
be directly transferrable to other polities (though, in some cases, it can be),
where the rules may be different, and where universities may not be the final
authority on such matters. Moreover, failing to secure ethical approval from
the relevant institutions but proceeding with research anyway is illegal in
many countries (including Uganda) and can lead to the researcher, if caught,
being deported or prosecuted. My REC was, therefore, right to insist on me
getting ethical clearance in Uganda for the project from these perspectives.
Challenge: The body responsible for considering ethical approval appli-
cations in Uganda during that period was the Uganda National Council for
Science and Technology (UNCST)—a government agency reporting to a
Cabinet minister.3 UNCST was staffed mainly by state bureaucrats, rather
than academics, and was responsible for reviewing each application. They
could reject, request amendments to, and provisionally approve applications
but final approval came—following the payment of several hundred dol-
lars—directly from the Office of the President in the form of a letter signed
by a presidential private secretary. This would be produced and processed
upon the recommendation of UNCST, though it did not always come and
UNCST had little leverage over the much more powerful presidential man-
sion. Anecdotally, I had heard of a number of Western researchers during the
2000s whose fieldwork was delayed or stalled because they could only present
the UNCST letter to local authorities when asked. Having the letter from the
President’s Office clearly mattered the most in practice to district bureaucrats
and gatekeepers, but was contingent upon securing the UNCST approval.
Uganda, however, is a semi-authoritarian state—that was, in part, the
rationale behind focusing the Ph.D. project around it. I had been advised by
several more experienced researchers on, and in, the country that UNCST
would likely be very wary about approving a project whose research ques-
tion was so politically sensitive: why have Western donors so enthusiastically
supported a semi-authoritarian regime in Uganda when they have sought to
avoid this elsewhere (including in Kenya, Uganda’s neighbour, during the
1990s)? Even the term “semi-authoritarian” might be enough to sink the
application, it was suggested to me and, indeed, several years later a west-
ern Ugandan university which had invited me to speak on some research can-
celled the event at short notice because the term appeared in the presentation

3 Much of the information on Uganda’s ethical clearance process provided here remains the
case at the time of writing, though in recent years an additional layer of review has been incorpo-
rated into the process, undertaken by a nominated—and UNCST-approved—Ugandan research
institution.
 2 HOW I DEALT WITH MY ETHICS COMMITTEE, AND SURVIVED 21

title. President Museveni, I later found out, had been in town around the
same time and the research centre in question was reluctant to host such a
discussion with State House officials so close by.
Putting to one side the logistical challenges of applying for research clear-
ance in Uganda from the UK, the broader challenge presented here was an
ethical one—albeit one resulting from my REC’s recommendation rather
than one embedded within the research proposal itself. When applying for
research clearance in Uganda, should I fully disclose what the project
is about, and its core premise? This would seem to be the “ethical” thing
to do; there was some guidance available from my institution on the use of
deception and research respondents, but it did not speak to this scenario.
Fully disclosing the project’s core focus and rationale to UNCST
would, however, quite possibly lead to the approval application being
rejected. I would then have been unable to conduct research there which
complied with my REC’s stipulation and would likely have had to leave
Uganda and fundamentally change the subject and case study of my Ph.D.—
1.5 years into 3 years of funding.
Response: The REC in question was not in a position to advise on these
questions but, ultimately—and on the advice of more experienced col-
leagues—I submitted a carefully framed proposal and application to UNCST.
This focused on the core research question of the project—seeking to under-
stand why Western donors had been so supportive of the Ugandan govern-
ment since 1986. It also sought to place this in context by pointing to the
more ambiguous aid relationships enjoyed during the same period by some of
Uganda’s neighbours—notably Kenya. It did not, however, refer specifically
to the “puzzle” of aid donors being so supportive of a ­semi-authoritarian
regime, though a careful reader of the proposal might have taken this to be
implied.
The final proposal was therefore up-front about the research question
and methodology, but quiet on the empirical “puzzle” motivating the study.
Though it took several weeks of chasing once I arrived in Kampala (having
submitted by post several months earlier), I received the UNCST clearance
without problems. Only one respondent ever asked to see evidence of the
clearance—and he ultimately did not agree to speak to me anyway. Perhaps
just as well, as the Office of the President’s letter never came through.

2. “Risk”, travel advice and remote research

Between 2016 and 2018, I was running an Economic and Social Research
Council (ESRC) Seminar Series grant called “From data to knowl-
edge: Understanding peace and conflict from afar”.4 The idea behind the
grant application had been to bring together scholars, practitioners and

4 More information on the Series can be found at https://www.birmingham.ac.uk/schools/

government-society/departments/international-development/events/from-data-to-knowledge/
index.aspx. Accessed 1 May 2018.
22 J. FISHER

­olicy-makers from the North and South to discuss and problematize

p
a growing paradox emerging within peace and conflict studies, and
development and peacebuilding more broadly. This was—and is: (1) the
ever-increasing focus of Northern policy-makers, and researchers, on so-called
fragile and ­“conflict-affected” regions of the world, on the one hand, coupled
with, (2) a growing reluctance within Northern policy and research institu-
tions to allow their staff to actually visit, conduct research in, and live in such
contexts.
Mark Duffield, one of the most prominent commentators on this paradox,
has underscored how far perceived risks to Northern personnel in such set-
tings (from crime, kidnapping, poor medical facilities and general insecurity)
have led many agencies to run development programmes remotely, through
technology and/or local actors, and many universities to bar scholars from
fieldwork in sites their insurance agencies consider to be “unsafe” (2014).
In his influential 2010 conceptualization of the “fortified aid compound”
in Afghanistan and South Sudan, Duffield (2010) described a world where
few Northern actors involved in peace and conflict resolution live in, or travel
to, the environments which their work relates to—and those that do remain
within militarized compounds surrounded by barbed wire, physically separat-
ing the “internationals” from the “locals” and curtailing their interactions.
Séverine Autesserre has since coined the term “peaceland” to capture this
environment (2014). Our Seminar Series would pose the questions: what are
the implications of this context for the kind of knowledge that is gen-
erated on conflict-affected regions, and to what extent does this knowl-
edge reflect the voices and concerns of communities and peoples living in
these regions?
The Series was based around seven themed seminars, to be held at the
institution of each member of the project team. This included six UK-based
institutions and one NGO focused on Somalia, but based in Nairobi, Kenya
(many agencies and organizations dealing with Somalia continue to be sta-
tioned in Kenya because of perceived security risks). During the Series, how-
ever, we came to the view that holding our final, Somalia-focused, seminar in
Kenya would end up edifying the very “aid bunkerization” pathologies that
our discussions were criticizing, and excluding the “local voices” we were
arguing should be heard—hence we have begun to explore the possibility of
holding it in Somalia itself.
Mogadishu was not an option for a number of reasons—not least the
cost of the private security which would have been required, which would
have exceeded our budget more than tenfold. We therefore decided on
Hargeisa, capital of Somaliland, a sleepy city and home to a number of very
­well-respected research organizations and policy institutes. Though Hargeisa
is, in the estimation of those who have been there, no less safe than any
other city (and significantly more safe than many, including Nairobi), it is a
place which the UK Foreign and Commonwealth Office (FCO) currently
 2 HOW I DEALT WITH MY ETHICS COMMITTEE, AND SURVIVED 23

“advise against all but essential travel” to. It is, however, one of only two
FCO-designated “orange” zones in Somalia (the other being the city of
­
Berbera), with the country otherwise coloured red (“advise against all
travel”) on the FCO’s Foreign Travel Advice page.5
This FCO status posed a significant problem from an ethical review per-
spective since my institution—like most Northern universities I am aware
of—ties its insurance and risk assessment decisions to FCO guidance.
Hence institutional permission to travel to “orange” and, particularly, “red”
zones requires one to go through an extensive—and time-consuming—
set of internal bureaucratic procedures before a decision on travel can be
made. The blurring of “ethics”, insurance and “health and safety” in this
context also meant that securing clear guidance on the actual process to
follow—20 + emails across several departments over two months—took some
time.
Ultimately, it became clear that while it would be theoretically possible
to hold the seminar in Hargeisa, as intended, this would be contingent on
two things. First, undertaking a comprehensive risk assessment on behalf of
myself and those participating, and securing sign-off from a range of senior
managers in the university. Second, making “security arrangements” for par-
ticipants and delineating an “emergency plan” for the event, as well as ensur-
ing that all participants also undertook “their own risk assessments” in line
with their own institutional requirements before travelling. As the organizer
of the event, my institution would have a “duty and care responsibility” to
participants.
Challenge: It had taken me a number of months to clarify how to secure
institutional permission to hold the Hargeisa seminar. In part, this was
because all the parts of the university I had contacted to secure clearance had
suggested that another office, or individual, would need to sign-off the final
decision. Though I am not suggesting that this was an intentional delaying
tactic, there is certainly a tendency amongst ethics committees and health
and safety offices to defer or refer final decisions when considerable risk is—
putatively—involved. Often this means a researcher having to await for quite
some time for the verdicts of various higher authorities to be given, as one
office “kicks the decision upstairs” and so on. Regardless, I finally knew what
process to follow and to comply with this I would need to produce a number
of documents as well as to secure sign-off from a number of officers to go
ahead. I was, of course, willing to do this. Could I reasonably expect, how-
ever, that those I had invited to participate would have the time and energy
to do the same within their own institutions in order to comply with my
institution’s regulations around their attendance? Moreover, how could
I police this set of processes to ensure that each participant had done what

5 Informationcorrect as of May 2018, see https://www.gov.uk/foreign-travel-advice/somalia.

Accessed 1 May 2018.
24 J. FISHER

was required before booking their air tickets and hotel rooms? And what
about the personal side of things? Participants would be attending pro bono
and giving their time and intellectual energy to an initiative under my name.
Could it be acceptable to insist that they carry out such an extensive and
time-consuming internal bureaucratic process—and prove it to me—just
to attend? Would they ever speak to me again after all that?!
Response: Ultimately, I came to the view that there would just not be suf-
ficient time available to undertake these tasks thoroughly for each participant
before the seminar—particularly in amongst all my other obligations, which
would have included the actual seminar arrangements themselves. I was also
concerned that asking participants to undertake their own risk assessments
and comply with their own institutional requirements in this regard would
lead most invitees to simply decline to attend, and the remainder to become
increasingly frustrated—with me, by proxy!—at the bureaucratic processes
they found themselves having to devote significant time and energy towards.
The event was, therefore, held in Nairobi instead—as originally envisaged.6
The majority of participants were of Somali origin, with many travelling from
Hargeisa, Mogadishu and elsewhere in Somalia, and the discussions were
fascinating and wide-ranging. I could not help wondering, though, how dif-
ferent our discussions might have been if they had been held in the country
itself—and how many more local stakeholders might have been able to partic-
ipate and contribute.
A week after the seminar, I travelled to Hargeisa alone—having gone
through the internal clearance processes outlined above. This at least ena-
bled me to share and discuss the seminar’s findings with some Somaliland
researchers, practitioners and stakeholders who had not been able to partic-
ipate in the Nairobi event. While I was there, a terrorist attack took place on
the London Underground, injuring 30 people.
In order to spend one week in Somaliland—which had last experienced a
major terrorist attack nearly a decade earlier—I had needed to complete risk
assessments and security training, as well as to secure sign-off from multiple
parts of the university. What does it say about our state and research insti-
tutions’ perceptions of certain parts of the South that I was actually safer in
Hargeisa during that week than I would have been sitting on a tube train in
Parsons Green?

3. The ethics of researching “criminals”

Finally, a shorter summary of a challenge once encountered by a research
student under my guidance. The student in question wished to explore
state-building in a conflict-affected state and applied to the university’s REC
for approval to undertake fieldwork. Her/his plan was to interview a range

6 A summary of the discussion can be found at https://www.birmingham.ac.uk/schools/

government-society/departments/international-development/events/from-data-to-knowl-
edge/2017-09-05-bunkers-bubbles.aspx. Accessed 1 May 2018.
 2 HOW I DEALT WITH MY ETHICS COMMITTEE, AND SURVIVED 25

of elite actors, including a number of rebel leaders. In responding to her/his

application for ethical approval, the institution’s REC raised concerns about
the possibility of the research leading to the “disclosure of criminal or ille-
gal activity where there could be a legal obligation to inform the authorities”
and insisted that the student devise a mechanism to put in place were this to
happen.
Challenge: How should the student respond? Rebels are, by defini-
tion, involved in “criminal or illegal activity”. How, then, can one undertake
research on civil war, insurgency and conflict informed by rebel perspec-
tives, while also ensuring that any “illegal activity” one hears about from
such encounters is reported to the authorities? Would this not prejudice the
researcher’s ability to build trust with her/his respondents—and possibly put
her/him at risk from reprisals from the rebels themselves? More broadly, in
a situation of civil conflict, who is to be considered “the authorities”,
and should a REC insist that a student take a practical position on this?
Respond: In this case, we sought advice from a senior colleague who had
supervised to completion many theses involving similar work. He helped us
to devise a response to the REC which pointed out that rebels were by their
very nature undertaking illegal activity and that it would not be appropriate,
or safe, for the researcher to engage the authorities on details of their rebel-
lion. That said, we made clear that where there was ambiguity in this regard,
the researcher would “consult with the University’s Legal Office to determine
whether a legal requirement to disclose information exists”. The REC was
satisfied with this response and research clearance given.

How I Dealt with My Ethics Committee—What I Learned

As you can see, the challenges presented by the REC on each of the three
occasions did not ultimately necessitate substantive change to the research
projects, even if the weight of bureaucratic requirements in one instance led
to a partial retreat on my part. It is worthwhile, then, reflecting more broadly
on what I have learned regarding dealing with ethics committees over the
years, as it may help readers facing dilemmas such as those above to devise
responses and strategies which both satisfy REC requirements and preserve
the integrity of a research proposal. Below, therefore, I sketch out four core
pieces of advice in this regard:

1. Plan, persevere and stay constructive

RECs are generally composed of your fellow academics—in many institutions
you can probably find out who these are from an intranet or other source.
They are likely doing the job with limited recognition from peers or manag-
ers and are dealing with a large number of applications, some of which may
well be poorly thought through. Like you, they are probably h ­ ard-working,
intellectually curious and personally decent people who want to do their job
26 J. FISHER

properly, and to serve their colleagues, institution and discipline well. They
are also being asked to take on a grave responsibility by the university—judg-
ing and advising on whether research proposed is, at its most basic level,
likely to harm respondents or researchers. To use a stark example, they could
end up being the only people standing between the devising and implementa-
tion of fieldwork involving testing experimental medication on street children
in Delhi. They are also obliged to consider and respond to institutional and
legal regulations which overlap, to some extent, with Ethics—notably risk and
insurance, health and safety and data protection (see below).
This means that their queries and recommendations may sometimes
seem—indeed, often are—exceptionally conservative or a major over-reaction.
It may also be that a particular proposal (such as that around my Hargeisa
seminar, above) is something they have rarely come across. Ensuring that
every actor in the university whose oversight might be required is consulted,
therefore, may take time, involve contradictory advice and necessitate a lot of
chasing on your part.
Given the often anonymized feedback one receives on ethics applications
from “the Committee”, it can often been tempting—and temporarily cathar-
tic—to respond to roadblocks presented in this regard with a grumpy email
complaining about the rationale for a particular decision, or the byzantine
bureaucratic process being insisted upon. Think, though, how you would
respond to such an email given what I have said in the last few paragraphs…..
Though it might be the less immediately satisfying strategy, it is much bet-
ter to take a deep breath and enter into a dialogue with the Committee—
thanking them for their feedback, explaining your own position on an issue
and asking, perhaps, what they would suggest you do. In general, these are
fellow scholars who want to help and—like anyone—they are likely to be
more constructive if dealt with politely and with empathy. Moreover, com-
plaining to a REC about the insanity of a particular process in the context of
an individual application is unlikely to change anything (though see the final
section below). If getting clearance requires you to undertake a lengthy set of
tasks to get your research approved, then this is something you are just going
to have to do. Ensuring that you apply for ethics approval early is the best
way to prevent a temporary roadblock becoming a permanent road closure.

2. Get advice from others

You are almost certainly not the first person in your department, let alone
your institution, to be presented with any one particular challenge by a REC.
If you are a Ph.D. student, your supervisor (s) will likely be advising you on
how to deal with the process, but either way, there are many other scholars
you can turn to for advice. In some cases—particularly if your REC is based
in your department—you can meet directly with colleagues who have been
involved in reviewing your application.
More broadly, there will likely be senior colleagues in your institution
who have encountered, and dealt with, these issues before—either directly
 2 HOW I DEALT WITH MY ETHICS COMMITTEE, AND SURVIVED 27

or through supervision. Academics like little more than to get together and
complain about bureaucracy and these colleagues will almost certainly be pre-
pared to assist and advise. You can also reach out to scholars beyond your
institution who have worked, or are currently working, in the region or
country you are proposing research in. Indeed, these may be the most use-
ful interlocutors for resolving the more practical challenges posed in the REC
process—particularly around research clearance, access and risk assessment—
since situations in conflict-affected and post-conflict regions can change
quickly. I mentioned that during my 2009–2010 Uganda fieldwork I was
only asked for evidence of UNCST research clearance once (out of over 100
interviews). During 2016–2018, however, almost every respondent (out of
around 60) made this request. Fortunately, on this occasion, I also had the
President’s Office letter.
Clearly, different scholars will be able to advise authoritatively on different
issues—which is why seeking advice beyond your supervisory team is to be
recommended, if you are a Ph.D. student. The point, though, is that even if
you feel stumped by a REC’s recommendation, others in your institution or
field will likely be able to explain to you how they successfully dealt with this
issue.
One caveat to add here, though, is that research in conflict-affected and
post-conflict regions is not predictable, and different scholars will have often
quite different experiences in resolving particular ethical challenges. Some
fieldwork aficionados relish telling stories about being deported from a coun-
try, denied a visa or having their research clearance proposal rejected by a vin-
dictive bureaucrat. These are probably true stories but they are not necessarily
the experience you will have—indeed, they probably will not be. Some col-
leagues may tell you that it is “impossible to do work” on a particular topic
in a particular region—but you may find that this is actually not the case (I
have in my own research). This does not mean that such counsel should be
ignored—rather, that, decisions should be made on the basis of extensive
consultation and research, not just academic hearsay (Clark 2013).

3. Understand the REC’s context

The role and oversight of RECs, particularly in Northern universities, are
becoming increasingly interwoven with questions of health and safety, insti-
tutional insurance liabilities and compliance with data storage and protection
regulations. In some cases, RECs are pushing back on this trend, emphasizing
that questions of researcher safety linked to the general perceived security of a
particular site or region are not actually ethical questions per se but, rather, a
matter for health and safety officers.
Regardless, research clearance processes are now strongly informed by
priorities and agendas which might not be immediately clear to a researcher.
Many UK institutions, for example, are concerned about how the 2018
General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR) will impact upon the collection,
28 J. FISHER

storage and publication of research data. Universities—and their insurers—

also tend to rely primarily on the foreign travel advice provided by the
national foreign ministry as the main guidance on where it is “safe” for
researchers to undertake work, and where it is not. This does not mean that
RECs and university insurers will not approve travel to an FCO “orange”
or “red” zone (in the UK case, see above) but does mean that a researcher
should expect to deal with an extensive internal risk assessment and clearance
process if her/his research proposed travel to any such region.
The consequence of this is that RECs can be predicted to scrutinize an
application’s proposed data management and travel plans, for example, not
only from an “ethical” perspective but from a legal and insurance compli-
ance perspective. At the very least, they may stipulate that their approval is
contingent upon the researcher securing approval from another part of the
university responsible for one of these areas. This was, for example, the case
for my own approval for travelling to Hargeisa in 2017. Being cognizant of
these, and other, regulatory pressures governing REC business can be help-
ful for ensuring that an application speaks directly to them. A research clear-
ance application which is ambiguous around how consent will be recorded
or how data will be stored during fieldwork will be sent back to the applicant
not only because of the ethical issues identified herein but also the GDPR
non-compliance issues. Likewise, an application which proposes research in
Hargeisa which does not explain the process the researcher will undertake to
secure internal health and safety and insurance sign-off will likely be put on
hold until this issue is spoken to.

4. Educate the REC

The membership and makeup of RECs differ across research institutions,
even in the same country. In some cases, a REC will be based in an academic
department and composed of one’s peers. In others, however, a REC will be
a centralized body, whose members are drawn from across the institution and
across disciplines. Thus, an application to study peacebuilding in Lebanon
might be reviewed by a group who know the country and theoretical con-
text well, or it might be reviewed by a group of mathematicians, theologians,
chemists and medieval historians who have never travelled beyond Western
Europe.
Whatever we might think of the logic behind this, it nonetheless under-
lines the reality that in many—probably most—cases, your REC will know
less than you about the empirical realities of the research site and project
being proposed. In the Hargeisa case, I mentioned above, for example, most
of the REC was probably not aware that Somaliland (of which Hargeisa is
the capital city) has been de facto independent from the rest of Somalia since
the 1990s and has a lower crime rate and threat from terrorist attack than the
average European city. I could be entirely mistaken, but it would not surprise
me to learn that most on the committee had never heard of Hargeisa and
would only have a few sentences worth of knowledge to relate on Somalia,
 2 HOW I DEALT WITH MY ETHICS COMMITTEE, AND SURVIVED 29

most including references to the country’s civil war and to Islamist terror
networks.
This is relevant because it means researchers cannot assume that REC
reviews and responses are properly informed by up-to-date information and
analysis on a proposed research context. Though it may seem counterintui-
tive, what is often required—particularly around discussions of risk and risk
assessment—is for the researcher to educate the REC (or health and safety
officer) on the current situation on the ground in their research site, leading
the committee to base their decision, ultimately, on information the researcher
has provided.
That is to say, and to return to point one above, it is better to react to
most roadblocks relating to the fieldwork site through constructive dialogue
and presentation of evidence (perhaps in a particular format, in the case of
risk assessments) rather than with frustration and irritation. The Ph.D. stu-
dent researching rebels mentioned above and I both felt that the REC’s
initial response on “criminal activity” was faintly ridiculous, or at least very
unhelpful, given the context. We were conscious, though, that the reviewers
probably had not even considered the political context of researching rebel-
lion because it was so far from their own area of expertise. Consequently, they
were likely on ethics autopilot and perhaps transposing common practice in
their own field to peace and conflict studies. Our response therefore politely
sought to point out this differing context, while also explaining how any legal
ambiguities encountered in this regard would be dealt with—and this was
sufficient to reassure the reviewer.
Probably, the most impressive example of educating a REC that I have
come across was undertaken by a former colleague of mine, Suda Perera,
in relation to work she wished to do with non-state armed actors in eastern
Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC). She was able to persuade the FCO to
amend its travel advice on certain areas of that region and have them reclas-
sified from “red” (“advise against all travel”) to “orange” (“advise against all
but essential travel”). This was an important amendment because the defi-
nition of “essential travel” can include research for many institutions and
insurers. Perera was able to do this by challenging the FCO’s judgement,
presenting up-to-date information on the situation on the ground and asking
policy-makers to defend the current travel advice (2016). As she notes:

The risk-averse nature of the FCO’s own [travel advice] ruling means that large
swathes of conflict-affected states are designated red. However, these directives
are not necessarily based on specific and verified threats, but rather a lack of gen-
eral knowledge about their ‘safeness’. In this context, no news is bad news, and
often very little knowledge about these areas is available. (Perera 2017: 811)

After review, FCO officials decided that in certain cases, their advice was
out-dated and should, therefore, be amended. Altering a foreign ministry’s
travel advice may, of course, not always be possible. A smaller-scale strategy
30 J. FISHER

to employ is providing your REC with a letter of support from an NGO or

host organization you are in touch with, based in your proposed fieldwork
site. Such an organization will be well-placed to speak with authority on the
situation on the ground, and to provide reassurance to REC members regard-
ing points of contact and support you have available during your fieldwork.
They can also help to persuade REC members that you have actually thought
about the practicalities of your research plans and developed relationships
with actors who live and work there.

Improving Ethics Committees

The reader may have noticed that the different challenges posed by RECs
outlined throughout most of this chapter have had rather little to do with,
well, research ethics. The likely safety and security of the researcher, accord-
ing to a foreign ministry’s webpage? Yes. Compliance with legal directives
and insurance protocols? Yes. The moral trade-offs required for working in,
and with, authoritarian states? Not really, just don’t break the law. Advice on
approaching marginalized and traumatized peoples sensitively and appropri-
ately? No, just make sure they sign a consent form. Advice on tackling the
unequal power relations and gendered nature of peace and conflict fieldwork?
No.
Within the somewhat limited scholarship around RECs, core complaints
focus around the bureaucratic and tangential concerns of these bodies—
how they often end up diverting researchers’ energies away from consider-
ing the actual ethical issues raised by our proposals and towards institutional
box-ticking (Bosk and de Vries 2004; Haggerty 2004). A critical question
raised in this regard is whether or not RECs are actually fit for purpose. At
least within the field of peace and conflict studies, are they actually set
up to provide meaningful and pertinent advice on the ethical dimensions
of our research?
RECs and research ethics as we know them today were originally devel-
oped in the 1970s in response to a range of inhumane scientific and psycho-
logical experiments carried out by Nazi physicians and various US institutions
including the Central Intelligence Agency, Stanford University and Yale
University since the 1930s (Stark 2012). Their purpose was to establish clear
guidance around consent and withdrawal protocols to ensure that those par-
ticipating in medical research were not harmed in future projects. Though
different disciplines have since produced bespoke guidance for scholars in
those fields, in many respects RECs continue to perform their role primar-
ily with the closed, clinical space of the medical experiment in mind; the
researcher, the subject, the laboratory, the time-limited experimental event
itself, etc.
This is problematic since most peace and conflict studies research takes
place in deeply unpredictable environments where the “research site” cannot
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
 “‘Yours truly,
“‘Sarabella Brande.’
“Now, what do you think of that?” inquired Jessie, looking
alternately at her two staring sisters.
“I say that it is a hoax, of course! Some joke of yours, Jessie,”
returned Honor, with a playful snatch at the letter. “What is all that
gibberish about Uncle Pelham being a mother to one, and mother
not being a blind horse, and the climatological condition of the hills,
not to mention the snakes and the beaux? You ought to be ashamed
—I could have done it better myself.”
“Read it—examine the post-mark,” said Jessie, now flinging it on
the table.
Yes, there was no room for doubt; it was a bona-fide Indian
epistle. As Honor turned it over critically, she suddenly exclaimed—
“Have you seen this—the gem of the whole production—the
postscript?”
Both sisters bent forward eagerly, and there, just at the top of the
last and otherwise blank sheet, was scribbled as a hasty afterthought
—
“P.S.—Be sure you send the pretty one.”
“She must be a most original old person,” said Honor, with
sparkling eyes. “And, in the name of Dr. Johnson, what is a
‘tamasha’?”
“Ask me something easier,” rejoined Jessie.
“Then what does mother say to this remarkable invitation?”
“You might know better than to ask that!” broke in Fairy, who had
been listening with evident impatience. “In this family it is, ‘What
does Jessie say?’ What do you say, Jess?”
“I say, never refuse a good offer. It is only for twelve months; and,
of course, one of us must go!”
“Then, will you go?” inquired Fairy, with elevated brows.
 “Am I the pretty one?” Jessie demanded sarcastically. “I should be
bundled back by the next steamer.”
“No, of course; I never thought of that,” rejoined her sister,
meditatively. “I am the pretty one; there has never been any question
of that—has there, girls?”
“No, never,” returned Jessie, in her most matter-of-fact tone, and
she and Honor exchanged stealthy glances.
For some seconds Fairy seemed buried in thought, as she drew
patterns on the table-cloth with a fork. At last she looked up, and
exclaimed—
“It is only for twelve months as you say, Jess; twelve months soon
fly round.” And she threw back her shawl, and leant her elbows on
the table. “Never refuse a good offer—such as a pony, a rickshaw—
whatever that is—the new dresses, the best society, the best beaux!”
and she burst into a peal of shrill laughter, as she exclaimed, “Do
you know, girls, that I think I shall go!”
A pause, the result of utter stupefaction, followed this unexpected
announcement.
“Yes,” she continued, with increased animation, “I believe I should
like it, of all things. The idea grows on me. I am thrown away here.
What is the use of a pretty face if it is never seen? Did she say thirty-
five pounds for outfit? I can make that go a long way. I don’t take
yards of stuff, like you two giantesses. My tailor-made and my spring
dress are new. I’ll just run up and talk it over with the mater.” And she
pushed back her chair, and bustled out of the room.
Jessie and Honor remained gazing at one another across the
table, in dead suggestive silence, which was at last broken by
Jessie, who said in a tone of quiet despair—
“I wish that ridiculous letter had never come. At first I thought it a
capital thing. I thought you ought to accept.”
“I!” cried Honor; “and, pray, why should you select me?”
“For half a dozen excellent reasons; you are pretty, young, bright,
and popular. You have a knack of making friends. All the people
about here and in the village would rather have your little finger than
the rest of us put together. You walk straight into their hearts, my
love, and therefore you are the most suitable member of this family
to be despatched to India to ingratiate yourself with our rich
relations.”
“Your fine compliments are wasted, Jess—your ‘butter’ thrown
away—for I am not going to India.”
“No; and Fairy has ere this selected her steamer and travelling
costume; if she has made up her mind to go, nothing will stop her—
and Uncle Pelham and Aunt Sally have never been told that Fairy is
—is—so small. What will they say?” regarding her sister with
awestruck eyes and a heightened colour.
What, indeed, would Mrs. Brande—who was already boasting of
her niece from England, and loudly trumpeting the fame of the lovely
girl she expected—say to Fairy? What would be her feelings when
she was called upon to welcome a remarkably pretty little dwarf?
“It must be prevented,” murmured Honor. “She cannot be allowed
to go.”
“Is Fairy ever prevented from doing what she wishes?” asked
Jessie, with a solemn face.
To this pertinent question her sister could find no adequate reply.
After a pause she rose and said—
“Let us go upstairs, and hear what she is saying to mother.”
Mrs. Gordon was sitting up in bed with a flushed face and anxious
expression, listening to the brilliant description of Fairy’s future
career in India.
Fairy, with both elbows on the bed, and her pointed chin in her
hands, was rapidly enumerating her new dresses, and wondering
how soon they would be ready, declaring how fortunate it was that
she had a quantity of patterns in the house, and that if her mother
would only advance twenty pounds she could do wonders. She
talked so incessantly, and so volubly, that no one had a chance of
advising, objecting, or putting in one single word. Her mother and
sisters listened in enforced, uneasy silence, to the torrent of this little
creature’s almost impassioned eloquence.
“It will take a fortnight to get ready,” she said. “This is the fifteenth
of March; what a scurry there will be! You two girls will have to sew
your fingers to the bone—won’t they, mother?”
Her mother faltered a feeble assent.
“I shall want at least twelve gowns and half a dozen hats. I must
go into Hastings to-morrow.” She paused at last, with scarlet cheeks,
and quite breathless.
“There is nearly a week before the mail goes out,” ventured
Jessie; “and it is rather too soon to decide yet. The letter only came
an hour ago, and there is much to be considered, before mother can
make up her mind as to which of us she can spare, and——”
“The whole thing is quite settled,” interrupted Fairy in her sharpest
key—Jessie was not her favourite sister—“only you are always so
fond of interfering and managing every one, from mother down. Aunt
Sara expressly asked for the pretty one; you saw it in black and
white, and mother says I am to please myself—did you not, mother?”
appealing to her parent, whose eyes sank guiltily before the
reproachful gaze of her eldest daughter. Nevertheless she bravely
sighed out—
“Yes, Fairy, I suppose so.”
“There!” cried Fairy, triumphantly. “You see mother has decided,
and I have decided. I am not like some people, who take weeks to
make up their minds, especially when moments are precious. I must
write a quantity of letters for the early post. Honor, do you remember
the name of Mrs. Travers’ dressmaker? and do you think I should get
a habit and riding-boots?”
 CHAPTER VI.
“ROWENA”—FULL LIFE SIZE.

The astonishing news that had come to Merry Meetings, was soon
shared by the entire village, thanks to Susan’s sister, who filled the
post of messenger and charwoman. The letter was warmly
discussed, in the sanded parlour of The Cause is Altered inn, over
the counter at Hogben’s the grocer, at the rectory, at Dr. Banks’, and
also by the Trevors—the family at the hall—a family to whom the
Misses Gordon were indebted for most of their trivial gaieties.
Opinion, whether in hall or tap-room, was for once unanimous. Of
course one of the Gordons must accept her rich uncle’s offer, and
that without any foolish or unnecessary delay. Although it was a wet
afternoon, Cara and Sophy Trevor, Mrs. Banks, the rector, and Mrs.
Kerry, arrived almost simultaneously at Merry Meetings, and half
filled the drawing-room; which was of moderate size, with a southern
aspect, and deep comfortable window-seats. The furniture was old-
fashioned, and the carpet threadbare, but a few wicker chairs, a
couple of Persian rugs, a quantity of pictures, books, flowers, and
needlework, covered many deficiencies; it was the general sitting-
room of the family, and if not always perfectly tidy, was at any rate
delightfully home-like, vastly different to so many of its name-sakes,
which have a fire on stated days; gaunt, formal apartments, solely
devoted to visitors. Mrs. Gordon’s friends dropped in at all hours, but
chiefly at five o’clock, and the tea and hot cakes, dispensed at Merry
Meetings, were considered unequalled in those parts.
Behold a selection of Mrs. Gordon’s nearest neighbours gathered
eagerly round her hearth, whilst Honor made tea in thin, old shallow
cups.
“We all met at the gate!” explained Cara Trevor, “and have come,
as you see, to call on you in a body, to hear your news with our very
own ears. Is it true, dear lady, that one of the girls is going out to
India immediately?”
“Yes,” replied Mrs. Gordon. “I heard from my sister-in-law this
morning, she and my brother are most anxious to have one of their
nieces on a visit; they give us very short notice—only a fortnight.
Honor, my love, Cara will take another cake.”
“No, no, thank you,” cried Miss Trevor, impatiently. “Pray do go on,
and tell me all about this delightful invitation, Honor. Where is your
uncle; in what part of India?”
“He is at Shirani, a hill station, most of the year. I believe he has
rather a good appointment, something to do with the revenue.”
“I know all about Shirani,” answered Sophy Trevor, with an air of
unusual importance. “We had a cousin quartered there once; it is a
capital place for shooting, dancing, picnics, and tennis-parties—so
different to this dead and alive Hoyle. It really ought to be spelt
without the y. I wish some one would ask me to India. I would be
ready to start to-night, with just a couple of basket-trunks and a
dressing-bag. Which of you is going? I suppose you have not
thought of it yet?” but she looked straight at Honor.
“Oh, it is quite settled,” rejoined Fairy, in her clear shrill voice. “It
was decided at once, as there is not a second to spare. You are to
lose me,” and she laughed affectedly. She had an extraordinarily
loud laugh for such a little woman.
But there was no responding echo—no, not even a smile; on the
contrary, an expression of blank consternation settled down on every
countenance.
Mrs. Banks was the first to recover the power of speech, as with a
somewhat hysterical giggle, she remarked to the company the self-
evident fact—
“I suppose the Indian mail came in to-day?”
“Yes,” responded Jessie, adding significantly, “and goes out on
Thursday, so we have not sent an answer to Uncle Pelham as yet.”
 “He does not know what is in store for him,” murmured Mrs. Kerry
to Mrs. Banks, as she rose and put her tea-cup on a table beside
her. Meanwhile Fairy had produced a number of bundles of patterns
of dress materials, and requested the two Miss Trevors to give an
opinion of their merits. This created a merciful diversion. Most
women enjoy turning over patterns, even patterns for mourning, and
in desultory talk about dressmakers and chiffons, the visit came to a
close.
“Did you ever hear such an utterly crazy notion?” cried Mrs.
Banks, as soon as she and the two Miss Trevors were outside the
hall door. “I could scarcely believe my senses.”
“And no wonder,” said Sophy Trevor. “She should not be allowed
to go; but she is so desperately obstinate, that if she has made up
her mind to start, all England will not stop her.”
“My husband shall stop her,” returned Mrs. Banks, emphatically.
“He shall put it on her health, and say that she is too delicate, and
that the climate will kill her!”
“I doubt if even that would keep her at home,” said Cara, who
knew Fairy well. “How wretched Mrs. Gordon looked. Fairy is her
idol, and turns her round her little finger, and I like Fairy the least of
the family—she is so selfish and so vain. Poor Honor is her slave,
and indeed they all give in to her far too much; but if they allow her to
go out to India, they will never see a penny of their rich uncle’s
money. He is expecting a nice, comely, ordinary girl, not a little
monster!”
“Oh, Cara!” protested her sister, in a deeply shocked voice.
“Well, you know she is a monster of selfishness and vanity,”
retorted Cara with unabashed persistence.
The Rev. James Kerry, who was trudging behind with his wife,
displayed an unusually elongated upper lip—sure sign of excessive
mental perturbation.
“Preposterous!” he exclaimed. “That child exercises a most
baneful influence over her parent. I must see Mrs. Gordon alone,
and reason her out of this insane project.”
 “And so you will, no doubt, in five minutes,” assented his partner
briskly, “and as soon as you have left, Fairy will reason her back
again. Surely, my dear, you know Mrs. Gordon? The whole matter
rests in Fairy’s hands, and our only hope is that she may change her
mind, or get the influenza, and there is but little chance of either.”
It was now the turn of the Rev. James to expostulate angrily with
his companion.

The next three days were a period of unexampled misery to most

of the inmates at Merry Meetings. Fairy was feverishly gay and
feverishly busy. Though a severe cold kept her at home, she was
never separated from her beloved patterns, no, not even when in
bed. Most of her time was spent in writing to shops, making
calculations in pencil, trimming hats, and searching through fashion-
plates. She now had but two topics of conversation, India and dress.
Meanwhile her mother and sisters looked on, powerless, and in a
manner paralyzed by the sturdy will of this small autocrat. In these
days there was considerable traffic to and fro from Merry Meetings,
and an unusual amount of knocks and rings at Mrs. Gordon’s
modest little green hall door. The postman, instead of bringing one
paper and a meagre envelope as of yore, now staggered under a
load of large brown-paper parcels, and an immense variety of card-
board boxes. Telegrams were an every-day arrival, and letters
poured in by the dozen. Fairy’s preparations were advancing
steadily, though her sisters whispered gravely to one another, that
“she must not be allowed to go.” Who was to prevent her? Not her
mother, who sat in her usual armchair, looking harassed and woe-
begone, and now and then heaved heartrending sighs and applied a
damp pocket-handkerchief to her eyes.
Not the rector. He had reasoned with Fairy long and, as he
believed, eloquently; but in vain. He pointed out her mother’s grief,
her great reluctance to part with her favourite child, her own
uncertain health, but he spoke to deaf ears; and Dr. Banks, despite
his wife’s proud boast, fared but little better. He solemnly assured
Fairy that she was not fit to go to India, to undertake the long journey
alone; and, whatever her aunt might say, the climate was only suited
to people with robust constitutions. “Was she robust?” he demanded
with asperity.
“He knew best,” she retorted in her pertest manner. “One thing she
did know, she was going. Her aunt had especially invited her, and
why should she not have some amusement and see something of
the world? instead of being buried alive at Hoyle. It was not living, it
was mouldering.”
“At any rate she would live longer at Hoyle than in India,” the
doctor angrily assured her. He was furious with this selfish,
egotistical scrap of humanity, who had always secured the best of
everything that fell to the lot of her impoverished family.
“As for amusement,” he continued, “she would not find it very
amusing to be laid up perhaps for weeks. She was a feverish
subject, had she thought of the sicknesses that periodically scourged
the East—cholera and small-pox?” Fairy, who was constitutionally
nervous, shuddered visibly. “Had she thought of long journeys on
horse-back, she who shrieked if the donkey cocked his ears! She
was, in his opinion, much too delicate and too helpless to think of
leaving home.”
Her determination was somewhat shaken by Dr. Banks’ visit, and
by a feverish cold; was it a foretaste of India already? But where filial
duty and fear had failed to move her, vanity stepped in, and secured
a complete surrender!
The spoiled child of the family was sitting alone in the drawing-
room late one afternoon, sewing pleasant anticipations and serious
misgivings, alternately, into a smart silk blouse, when her thoughts
were suddenly scattered by a loud and unfamiliar double knock. She
heard a man’s voice in the hall, and had barely time to throw off her
shawl, and give her hair a touch before the glass, when Susan
announced, “Mr. Oscar Crabbe.” He was a rising artist who had been
staying in the neighbourhood at Christmas, and had made no secret
of his profound admiration for Miss Fairy Gordon, from a purely
professional standpoint.
 Oscar Crabbe was a good-looking man, with a pleasant voice, a
luxuriant brown beard, and an off-hand, impetuous manner.
“Pray excuse my calling at this unceremonious hour,” he said as
he advanced with a cold, outstretched hand. “I believe it is long after
five o’clock; but, as I was passing, I thought I would drop in on
chance of finding some one at home. How are your mother and
sisters?”
“My mother is lying down with a nervous headache; my sisters are
shopping in Hastings, so you will have to put up with me,” said Fairy,
coquettishly.
“And you are the very person I most wish to see,” returned Mr.
Crabbe, drawing his chair closer as he spoke. “I want to ask you to
do me a tremendous favour—I want to paint your portrait for next
year’s academy.”
“My portrait?” she echoed tremulously.
“Yes; I said something to you at Christmas, you may remember.”
“I thought you were joking.”
“No, indeed! I was simply feeling my way; and, if you will honour
me with a few sittings, I shall be deeply grateful. I propose to paint
you as Rowena—full life size. You are an ideal Rowena.”
“And when?”
“Oh, not for some months—not before autumn. But I always take
time by the forelock; and as I was down here at the Trevors” (had
Cara Trevor instigated this visit? History is silent, and the true facts
will never be divulged) “I thought I would seize the opportunity of
bespeaking a model for next season. I will only ask you to sit to me
for the head and hands; the dress and figure I can work at in town.
What do you say?”
“Oh, Mr. Crabbe,” clasping her tiny hands rapturously, “I should
have liked it beyond anything in the whole wide world. I am so sorry,
but——”
“But your mother would not approve?”
 “Not at all. She would be enchanted; but I am going to India
immediately.”
“To India?” he repeated, after an expressively long pause.
“Yes; my aunt and uncle have invited one of us—it was most
unexpected—and I am going.”
Mr. Crabbe looked grave; then he gave a sort of awkward laugh,
and said—
“Well, Miss Gordon, I enroll myself among the number of friends
who deeply deplore your departure. I am extremely sorry—indeed, I
have a double reason for regret, for I shall never find such a
Rowena!”
“And I am extremely sorry too. There will be no one in India who
will want to paint my picture.”
“I am not so sure of that. A young fellow, a friend of mine, went out
there last October globe-trotting. He is the cleverest portrait painter I
know, though he calls himself an amateur and only paints for
amusement, and in interludes of hunting and polo-playing. He has
not to work for his daily bread, like the rest of us; but, if he had to do
so, he would make his fortune if he studied and put his shoulder to
the wheel. He has a genius for catching a true likeness, a natural
attitude, a characteristic expression, and he does it all so easily and
so quickly. A few rapid dashes, and the canvas seems to live. It is a
pity he does not take to our profession seriously and study; but his
uncle abhors ‘painting chaps,’ as he calls them; and his uncle,
whose heir he is, is a millionaire.”
“How nice! And what is the name of this fortunate young man?”
“Mark Jervis.”
“I must try and remember. Perhaps I may come across him, and
he may paint my picture; but it will be nothing in comparison to
having it done by you and hung in the Royal Academy.”
She turned her face upon her visitor with an expression of dreamy
ecstasy. A delicate colour, a brilliant sparkle in her eyes, the
becoming background of a red lamp-shade, which set off her perfect
profile, all combined to heighten the effect of Fairy’s transcendent
beauty; and Oscar Crabbe frankly assured himself that he was then
and there gazing upon the face of the most lovely girl in England. As
he gazed, he lost his head, and stammered out rapturously—
“Oh, if I could only paint you as you are now, my reputation would
be assured; you would make me famous!”
“You mean that you would make me famous,” she returned,
dropping her eyes bashfully. “Do you know that you almost tempt me
to abandon India and remain at home?”
“I wish you would. You are of far too delicate clay for the fierce
tropical sun, and India plays the devil—I mean,” picking himself up,
“it is the grave of beauty. If anything should happen to prevent your
carrying out your trip, will you let me know without fail?”
“You may be certain that I shall.”
“I wonder that one of your sisters——” he began, when the door
opened and admitted the two ladies in question. They were cold,
tired, longing for tea, and offered no serious resistance to Mr.
Crabbe’s immediate departure. He held Fairy’s hand in his for
several seconds, as if reluctant to release it, and he gave it a faint
but distinctly perceptible pressure as he said, “I will not say, ‘Bon
voyage,’ but, ‘Au revoir.’ Remember your promise,” and hurried
away.
It was noticed by her relations that Fairy was unusually silent all
that evening. She seemed buried in thought, and her pretty white
forehead was actually knit into wrinkles, as she stitched with deft and
rapid fingers. To tell the truth, the young lady was carefully weighing
the pros and cons respecting her Eastern trip. She lay awake for
hours that night, revolving various questions in her busy little brain.
On one hand, she would escape from Hoyle and enjoy a gay and
novel existence. She would be taken to balls and parties, and be the
cynosure of all eyes; she would have plenty of pocket-money, plenty
of pretty dresses, plenty of luxuries—that was one side of the shield.
On the reverse, she mentally saw a hateful journey by sea, an
unaccustomed life and climate, an ever-haunting dread of fever,
cholera, snakes; she would probably have to accustom herself to
riding wild ponies, to being borne along the brinks of frightful
precipices; she would have no one to pet her and hunt up her things,
and do her hair and mend her gloves—yes, she would miss Honor
dreadfully. Mr. Crabbe had assured her that India was the grave of
beauty. Supposing she became a fright! Dr. Banks had hinted at
shattered health. No, after all, she would remain at home; her aunt
and uncle would be in England in a year’s time, she would pay them
a nice long visit without risking either health or looks; then there
would be Rowena, a lasting and substantial triumph! She had visions
of her picture hanging on the line in the Royal Academy, and
guarded by police in order to keep the surging mob of admirers at
bay, of crowds gazing spell-bound at her portrait, of notices in the
society papers, of photographs in shop windows, of wide celebrity,
and the acknowledgment of her beauty in the face of all England.
The prospect was intoxicating. Towards dawn she fell asleep, and
enjoyed delightful dreams.
The next morning, ere descending to breakfast, she called her
sisters into her room, and said, in an unusually formal manner—
“Jessie and Honor, I may as well tell you that I have changed my
mind, and given up all idea of going to India, so I thought you ought
to know at once.”
“I am delighted to hear it,” replied Jessie, with unaffected relief.
“But why?” surveying her with questioning eyes. “Why have you so
suddenly altered your plans?”
“I have been lying awake all night, thinking of mother,” was the
mendacious reply. “I see she is fretting dreadfully; it would break her
heart to part with me, and I shall never leave her, or at least,”
correcting herself, “never leave England.”
“It is unfortunate that you did not think of mother a little sooner!”
said Jessie, glancing round the room, which was blocked up with
boxes and parcels containing purchases in the shape of hats and
shoes and jackets, and many articles “on approval.” “I think you are
very wise to stay at home; but it is a pity that you have made such
great preparations. Is it not, Honor?”
“No doubt you think so,” retorted Fairy, sarcastically. “Of course it
seems a pity that none of my pretty new things will fit either of you.”
 CHAPTER VII.
FAIRY RELENTS.

Now that, to every one’s intense relief, Fairy had changed her
mind and withdrawn her claim, the question remained, Who was to
go? Public opinion, her mother, Jessie—in short, every voice save
one, said Honor. But Honor was indisposed to visit the East. She
was not an enterprising young woman, and she was fond of home;
and Fairy, when alone with her, shed showers of crocodile tears
every time the subject was mentioned. She could not bear to part
with her favourite sister; no, it was too cruel of people to suggest
such a thing. Who, she asked herself, would dress her hair, and
button her boots, and read her to sleep? And many of Honor’s
hateful tasks would fall to her, such as arranging the flowers, dusting
the drawing-room, housekeeping, going messages, for Jessie’s time
meant money, and must be respected. Aloud, in the family circle, she
said in authoritative tones, “Let Jessie go! As to looks, any looks are
good enough for India; even Jessie will seem handsome there. After
all, why should any of them accept the invitation? England was a
free country. She (Fairy) would send a nice, grateful little letter, and
keep the cheque. Uncle Pelham would never be so mean as to take
it back, and they would buy a pony instead of that maddening
donkey, and make a tennis-ground, and take a fortnight’s trip to
London, and enjoy themselves for once in their lives.”
A week elapsed. The mail had gone out without an answer to Mr.
Brande. Jessie and her mother had both talked seriously to Honor,
and she had listened with her pleasantest smile, whilst they pointed
out the advantages she would personally reap from her Eastern trip.
She made no attempt to argue the point, only asked in a playful way
who was to drive the donkey? Who was to play the harmonium in
church? for she flattered herself that she was the only person in the
parish who could do either. And there was the garden and the poultry
—the hens would be lost without her!
“We shall all be lost without you,” rejoined Jessie; “but we can
spare you for your own good.”
“I don’t want to be spared for my own good,” she answered. “I
prefer staying at home. You think that I shall carry all before me out
there! You are greatly mistaken. All your geese are swans. I am a
goose, and not a swan. I am just a country cousin, with a bad
complexion and uncouth manners.”
“Honor! you have a beautiful skin, only not much colour; and as for
your manners, they are as good as other people’s.”
“You have often said that mine are alarmingly abrupt, and that I
have the habits of a savage or a child in the way I blurt out home-
truths.”
“Oh, but only at home; and you must not always mind what I say.”
“Then what about the present moment? When you say that I ought
to go out to Uncle Pelham—how am I to know that I ought to mind
what you say now?”
“Upon my word, Honor, you are really too provoking!”
Little did Mrs. Gordon and her friends suspect how their weighty
reasons and arguments were nullified by Fairy, who nightly, with
arms wound tightly round her sister’s neck, and face pressed to hers,
whispered, “You won’t go; promise me, you won’t go.”
Jessie, the clear-sighted, at last began to suspect that Fairy was at
the bottom of her sister’s reluctance to acquiesce. Fairy was so
demonstratively affectionate to Honor. This was unusual. It was too
bad, that Fairy should rule her family, and that her wishes should be
law. Jessie conferred with her mother, and they agreed to try another
plan. They would drop the subject, and see if feminine contrariness
would be their good friend? The word “India” was therefore not
uttered for three whole precious days; patterns and passages, etc.,
were no longer discussed, matters fell back into their old
monotonous groove, save that Mrs. Gordon frequently gazed at her
youngest daughter, and heaved unusually long and significant sighs.
One afternoon, ten days after the letter had been received which
still lay unanswered in Mrs. Gordon’s desk, Honor met the rector as
she was returning from practising Sunday hymns on the wheezy old
harmonium.
“This will be one of your last practices,” he said. “I am sure I don’t
know how we are to replace you.”
“Why should you replace me?” she asked. “I am not going away.”
“Not going away,” he repeated. “I understood that it was all settled.
Why have you changed your mind?”
“I never made up my mind to go.”
“Why not? Think of all the advantages you will gain.”
“Yes, advantages; that is what Jessie is always drumming into my
head. I shall see the world, I shall have pretty dresses, and a pony,
and plenty of balls and parties, and new friends.”
“And surely you would enjoy all these—you are only nineteen,
Honor?”
“Yes, but these delights are for myself; there is nothing for them,”
nodding towards “Merry Meetings.” “I am the only person who will
benefit by this visit, and I am sure I am more wanted at home than
out in India. Jessie cannot do everything, her writing takes up her
time; and I look after the house and garden. And then there is Fairy;
she cannot bear me to leave her.”
“You have spoiled Fairy among you,” cried the rector, irritably.
“Only the other day she was crazy to go to India herself. She must
learn to give up, like other people. It is very wrong to sacrifice
yourself to the whims and fancies of your sister; in the long run they
will become a yoke of dreadful bondage. Remember that you are not
a puppet, nor an idiot, but a free, rational agent.”
“Yes,” assented the girl. She knew she was now in for one of Mr.
Kerry’s personal lectures. It might be over in two or three minutes,
and it might continue for half an hour.
“Now listen to me, Honor. I know you are a good, honest young
woman, and think this plan will only benefit yourself. You are wrong.
Your mother is in poor health; her pension dies with her. If you offend
your only near relative, how are you to exist?”
“I suppose we can work. Every woman ought to be able to earn
her bread—even if it is without butter.”
“Honor, I did not know that you held these emancipated views. I
hope you won’t let any other man hear you airing them. As for work!
Can Fairy work? Jessie, I know, can earn a few pounds, but she
could barely keep herself; and if you fall sick, what will you do? It is
best to survey matters from every standpoint. Your aunt and uncle
have practically offered to adopt you. You will return in a year’s time;
you will have made many friends for yourself and sisters, developed
your own at present limited views of the world, and bring many new
interests into your life. Your absence from home will be a
considerable saving. Have you thought of that?”
“A saving!” she echoed incredulously.
“Of course! Don’t you eat? A healthy girl like you cannot live on air;
and there is your dress.”
“I make my own dresses.”
“Nonsense!” with an impatient whirl of his stick. “You don’t make
the material. How can you be so stubborn, so wilfully blind to your
own interests. If another girl had your chances, Honor Gordon would
be the very first to urge her to go; and that in her most knock-me-
down style. You have a much keener view where other people’s
affairs are concerned than your own.”
“Of course, it is only for a year,” said Honor. “I shall be back
among you all within twelve months.”
“Yes, if you are not married,” added the rector, rashly.
“It appears to be the general impression in Hoyle, that going to
India means going to be married,” said the girl, firing up and looking
quite fierce. “Please put that idea quite at one side, as far as I am
concerned.”
“Very well, my dear, I will,” was the unexpectedly meek response.
Touched by his humility, she continued, “Then you really think I
ought to go?”
“My good child, there can be no two opinions. Every one thinks
you ought to go.”
“Except Fairy.”
“Fairy has no right to stand in your way, and your absence will be
an excellent lesson for her. She will learn to be independent and
useful. Now, here is my turn, and I must leave you. Go straight home
and tell them that you are ready to start, and that the sooner your
mother sees about your escort and passage the better.”
And he wrung her hand and left her. Honor walked home at a
snail’s pace, thinking hard. If Fairy would but give her consent, she
would hold out no longer against every one’s wishes. She would go
—yes, without further hesitation. After all, it was only for one year.
But, although she did not know it, Fairy had already yielded. Jessie
and Mrs. Banks had been talking to her seriously in Honor’s
absence, and she had been persuaded to listen to the voice of
reason—and interest.
If she had gone to India, as she intended, she would have been
parted from Honor, and of her own accord.
This fact, brusquely placed before her by Mrs. Banks, she was
unable to deny, and sat dumb and sullen.
“Uncle Pelham is sure to take to Honor,” added Jessie, “and he will
probably do something for us all, thinking that we are all as nice as
Honor, which is not the case. She will be home in a year, and there
will be her letter every week.”
“Yes, and presents,” put in Mrs. Banks, significantly. “She will have
plenty of pocket-money, and will be able to send you home no end of
nice things.”
 Fairy sniffed and sighed, dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief,
and finally suffered herself to be coaxed and convinced, and when
her sister opened the drawing-room door, with rather a solemn face,
she ran to her and put her arms round her and said—
“Honor, darling, I have promised to let you go!”
That very day the important epistle was despatched to Shirani,
and Fairy, to show that she did nothing by halves, actually dropped it
into the letter-box with her own hand. And during the evening she
once more produced the bundles of patterns, and threw herself heart
and soul into the selection of her sister’s outfit.