families affected by counter terrorism

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2012 55: 689International Social WorkSurinder Guru

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Reflections on research: Families affected by counter-terrorism in the UK

Surinder GuruUniversity of Birmingham, UK

AbstractFollowing the terrorist attacks on New York and London, the counterterrorism legislation in the UK strengthened surveillance and national security and led to the incarceration of many Muslim men. Whilst the treatment of prisoners and detainees received considerable attention in public debate, the families that are left behind have been neglected by politicians, academics, the media and service providers alike. This article reflects on the experiences of conducting a small exploratory study amongst such families in the West Midlands and highlights some of the ways in which the heightened concerns about national security impinged upon the research process.

Keywordscounter-terrorism, methodology, personal and political, political conflict, subjectivity

The political conflict engendered by the terrorist attacks on the Twin Towers in New York (2001) and London (2005) culminated in the strengthening of national and international security as well as the demonization of Muslim communities who tended to be equated with ‘terrorism’ and ‘extremism’. Some of the draconian responses of the government to terrorism included

Corresponding author: Surinder Guru, University of Birmingham, Edgbaston, Birmingham B15 2TT, UK. Email: [email protected]

447625 ISW55510.1177/0020872812447625GuruInternational Social Work2012

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690 International Social Work 55(5)

legislation permitting the incarceration of suspected terrorists, without the disclosure of incriminating evidence. Many Muslim men in particular were held in detention and imprisoned, or placed under control orders at home, without having knowledge of the evidence against them. Whilst the treat-ment of men held in these conditions was the subject of considerable politi-cal debate, the plight of their families was largely ignored. This article reflects on the process of conducting a small exploratory study of seven women whose husbands were detained or charged with terrorism offences. The aim of the research was to explore and identify the needs of women and children and to establish the nature and the effectiveness of the support mechanisms available to them. However, the focus of this article is not to report on the findings but to reflect upon the methodological considerations. Issues of objectivity/subjectivity, sampling, access, confidentiality, trust and reciprocity are explored. The article explores how, in the context of counter-terrorism legislation, the researcher’s subjectivity and identity were impli-cated in accessing respondents; it describes the choice of methodology before looking at the issues of informed consent and confidentiality, the importance of trust and reciprocity in relationship-building and the obsta-cles and opportunities presented by the research.

The personal, political and the professional

One’s social identity and the social context in which the research is based are central to the research process and the interpretations of the findings (Atkinson, 1992; Boden et al., 2009; Renold et al., 2008; Shakespeare et al., 1993). The research here was produced in the context of the research-er’s political leanings, social networks and level of research expertise. Research amidst political conflict is likely to lead from a ‘biased’ view-point as the researcher, even if entering the research field from an ‘inde-pendent’ stance, is recruited into the field on the ground that s/he is not a hostile intruder likely to misrepresent the views, experiences and demands of the particular faction of the political divide. It is by its nature a partisan activity. Yet such partiality is likely to be questioned and perceived with suspicion in situations of political conflict, particularly in relation to coun-ter-terrorism laws.

As a South Asian woman interested in anti-colonial and Black commu-nity issues and a one-time community worker and activist in anti-racist and Black feminist struggles, I was acutely aware that research is rarely objec-tive and that the lens of the dominant majority viewpoint is as biased as those of the marginalized (Becker, 1967; D’Cruze, 2000; Hammersley and Gomm, 1997; Mies, 1993; Romm, 1997). Being prepared to take a partisan



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stance, to advocate for women who had become targets of their own and ‘host’ communities and who were made vulnerable by subjection to counter-terrorism laws and the incarceration of their husbands (Deacon and Sullivan, 2009) was an important aspect of this research. However, as a belated ‘emerging researcher’, since I had no contact with the families themselves this would be a difficult task: the moral panics and the furor sur-rounding the ‘war-on-terror’, ‘extremism’ and the ‘enemy within’ meant that the population under study feared being labelled ‘guilty by association’ (Brittain, 2009). It was unlikely that families would willingly subject them-selves to being researched by a stranger. Hence methods detached from respondents, such as structured interviews, questionnaires and observations would be untenable. This required a more personal approach and ‘insider knowledge’. As I was not an ‘insider’, this was difficult.

Methodology

The study was to proceed against the backdrop of the securitization agenda which the counter-terrorism legislation sought to strengthen and which aca-demic institutions had to heed, in addition to ensuring compliance with ethi-cal standards of research.

An opportunity to gain access to participants arose after a co-incidental (rather than designed) re-establishment of contact with friends who hap-pened to be community/political activists involved in this area of work, helping families to readjust to their new circumstances. I tentatively explored the possibility of making contact with these families through the friends, who in turn confirmed arrangements with the organization (Helping Households Under Great Stress (HHUGS)) for whom they volunteered. It emerged that contact was possible. This improved the possibility of gaining rich data. Access to a purposeful, ‘opportunistic’ sample (Coyne, 1997) was secured through HHUGS. The research aimed to engage in a deeper level of relationship, in varied settings and contexts and to show some sort of reci-procity in order to build trust and rapport (Emmel et al., 2007) to acquire a ‘first hand feel’ and to help gain different perspectives on respondents’ lives (Agar, 1996; Williams, 1993). The methodology would not preclude inter-views but these would be supplemented by other types of ‘richer’ engage-ments and interactions, building stronger, more meaningful relationships through reciprocity, which might include practical assistance, for example, to help gain access to support services, legal advice and so on. In pursuit of rich qualitative data, at first non-structured interviews would both permit more informal conversational types of environment and capture the breadth of issues that respondents considered important. Once patterns and issues




became more clearly identified, semi-structured interviews would be more appropriate.

The study was not ethnographic in the sense of focusing upon a cultur-ally homogenous community as a participant/observer totally immersed in respondents’ culture over lengthy periods to examine their norms and val-ues. The women shared a religion, but not a ‘cultural’ heritage since they came from different countries; nevertheless, their unique shared experi-ences of counter-terrorism were significant enough to treat them as a ‘com-munity’. As the establishment of trust would be difficult in the prevalent distrustful environment of political conflict, it was envisaged that there would be a need to adopt an ethnographically-informed approach where the researcher was more than a mere interviewer disengaged from the respond-ent in a one-way exchange without reciprocity (Oakley, 1981).

In order to acquire a fuller picture of family life and a meaningful under-standing of each of the members, in ideal circumstances it would have been useful to have conversations with all members, including those detained in prisons as well as those on control orders at home. However, wishing to stay clear of any difficulties of having direct contact with people ‘suspected’ or ‘convicted’ of terrorism, the decision to talk to men themselves was ruled out. The children were also ruled out as respondents as further ethical con-siderations and methodologies would apply for which time was limited. However, an impression of children’s experiences would be gained from mothers. The methodology of the study therefore depended upon the researcher’s preference to access ‘rich’ data, but its design was affected by the external circumstances and the ethical considerations which had to con-sider the demands of the research ethics committee and the fear of the leg-islation surrounding terrorism.

Informed consent and confidentiality

Issues of confidentiality and informed consent are important and complex and are developed later, but these too were considered within the context of the panic generated by the ‘war-on-terror’ and the counter-terrorism legislation.

The Terrorism Act (2000) defined terrorism as ‘the use of threat . . . designed to influence the government or to intimidate the public . . . for the purpose of advancing a political, religious or ideological cause’ and extended the definitions of terrorism to include ‘the commission, prepara-tion or instigation of acts of terrorism’. The Terrorism Act 2006 created a series of new offences including direct or indirect ‘encouragement of terror-ism’, dissemination and preparation of terrorist publications, and prohibited the publication of statements likely to be understood or to induce people to



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commit, prepare or instigate acts of terrorism; this is often referred to as ‘glorification of terrorism’. These measures have caused considerable angst and consternation amongst community and political activists and amongst academics and academic institutions, especially amidst government criti-cisms that universities are ‘failing to fight extremism’ and to identify people ‘suspected of radicalising or being radicalised whilst within the university’ (Lord Carlisle, quoted in Stratton et al., 2011).

These fears were exacerbated and given substance in 2008 when two students at the University of Nottingham (Rizwaan Sabir and Hichem Yezza) were arrested and a lecturer (Rod Thornton) was suspended under this legislation during their research on terrorism. The legislation, therefore, produced an environment of risk aversion for universities which were keen not to be seen as ‘encouraging terrorism’. Hence, the task was not only to overcome the sensitivities with which the university would be concerned, but also those of the potential respondents who too lived in an atmosphere of fear and suspicion, particularly over related concerns about informed consent and confidentiality.

It was extremely important that the respondents knew what the research was about and the extent and nature of their participation, the venues used and of rights to withdraw. The ways in which informed consent was to be gained also had to be carefully assessed against an environment where the families would be extremely wary of strangers and officialdom and so reluctant to give signed (or even verbal) consent. It was proposed, therefore, that an information sheet would outline the purpose and nature of the research and that a request for a signed consent be made at a face-to-face meeting. However, if respondents were uncomfortable with giving this con-sent, then a concession would be made to acquire verbally (audio) recorded consent. But this presented concerns about confidentiality.

The maintenance of confidentiality was pivotal because of the legislation around the ‘glorification of terrorism’ which can criminalize people for express-ing particular opinions. The fear of being accused of terrorism was palpable and there was a common feeling in Muslim communities that one’s actions or views could easily be interpreted as ‘glorying’ terrorism. Women may therefore be reluctant to come forth for research unless they had clarification about this. However, I felt bound to comply with what seemed normal procedure, which was to assure confidentiality, with the exception of any illegal/harmful activity that came to light and which presented risk to the respondent or others. In addition, where respondents might appear to be ‘glorifying terrorism’ but there was no sound evidence to suspect risk to individual, national or public security, it was stated that such instances would not be reported to the authori-ties. Instead, discussion with experienced colleagues within the academic




department would help guide and assess if any action was required and if so, the participants would be notified that reporting to the relevant authorities was nec-essary. Wanting to safeguard the anonymity of records, a numerical system would be used to store data electronically, accessible only to the researcher.

Another important consideration related to interpreters, who would be required in some cases. Again, I anticipated that given the suspicion of strangers and fears about confidentiality, some respondents may resist external interpreters and may be more comfortable choosing their own from their family/friends.

The social context therefore shaped the approach of the research; its topic, conceptualization, construction and investigation were all formulated through the subjectivity and positionality of the researcher, and influenced by the interaction of the social and political/legal environment as well as the demands made upon researchers on ethical grounds. As a researcher who knew the sensitivities of the field, it was important to protect participants, but these demands were likely to conflict with those of research ethics com-mittees, often operating from a biomedical ethical stance and requiring strict procedural adherence to acquisitions of written or other forms of con-sent and of confirmation that respondents would be warned about breaches of confidentiality under specific circumstances. These pressures were fur-ther compounded by counter-terrorism laws that created an atmosphere of fear where research activities could be criminalized as ‘glorification’ of ter-rorism. These processes had the potential to silence research (Boden et al., 2009; Renold et al., 2008).

The University’s Research Ethical Committee (UREC)

The UREC was approached with the application for ethical clearance which stressed in detail the points considered above. It emphasized the importance of examining the topic, the difficulties of accessing this ‘hard-to-reach’ group, the focus on women rather than the detained men, the necessity of employing the gatekeepers and interpreters, as well as the particular need to go beyond the ‘interviews’. It also explained the need to engage in acts of reciprocity, and the issues surrounding informed consent and confidentiality together with the manner in which these would be managed.

The UREC was generally supportive and it was clear that it wished to see the research progress. However, it was concerned with the ‘complex legisla-tion’ and sought additional advice from the university’s Legal Services and called a meeting for further clarification. Matters of the gatekeepers’ role, written consent and the statement about confidentiality were clarified,



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mostly confirming the statements already made in the application, but the Chair emphasized the need to record consent in audio format if not in writ-ten form and further clarification was requested about the circumstances upon which confidentiality may be breached in the eventuality of criminal activity coming to attention. The Chair proved to be sensitive to peculiari-ties of social science research and was also helpful in recommending a reduction in the size of the information sheet and, to ease matters about confidentiality, suggested a script that would be verbally communicated when interviewing participants.

The Legal Services adopted a more traditional, procedural approach. They were more persistent about securing written consent and emphasized the need to secure electronic data in line with university requirements. However, the outcome of the UREC was generally supportive, but it was clear that given the seriousness of counter-terrorism legislation, it was com-pelled to demonstrate its explicit scrutinization of the application in order to safeguard institutional interests (Coomber, 2002; Truman, 2003). The pro-cess took five months to gain ethical clearance and in the meantime the initial enthusiasm and support of the ‘gatekeepers’ had waned and some of the contacts that they initially envisaged were no longer available, due to illnesses and relocations to other areas. The ethics committee, in this sense, had become ‘officious gate-keepers’ (Redwood and Todres, 2006) and risked the commencement of the research.

The insistence of the Legal Services upon securing written consent is controversial and presents ethical dilemmas for social scientists. In terms of this research, surprisingly, written consent was secured for all participants, but had it failed, the research process would have encountered obstacles and further delay, if not termination. The notion that ‘the social processes under-pinning research-ethic reviews . . . are similar to those associated with moral panic’ (Van Den Hoonaard, 2001: 19–20, cited in Truman, 2003) is certainly true as far as the Legal Services were concerned in this case. It seemed that they were more concerned with the protection of institutional interest, rather than that of participants.

In some areas of social science research (e.g. crime, disability) it is not always feasible to acquire informed consent, and insistence upon it can dis-courage participation or lead researchers to adopt superficial strategies of com-pliance without being sincere in practising them in the field (Coomber, 2002; Hammersley, 2009; Wiles et al., 2007). Consent is contingent upon the rela-tionship built between the researcher and researched and so a greater autonomy is called for in enabling researchers to be responsible decision makers in the context of the field (Boden et al., 2009; Renold et al., 2008; Truman, 2003).




Alderson (1999) and Hammersley (2009) implore research ethics com-mittees to understand the contextual and contingent nature of consent and confidentiality and not to insist upon requiring formal consent. Instead, it should be ensured that research is respectful to participants and that it encourages their well-being, rather than be against their interests. These are also values that run parallel to social work values and ethics (Butler, 2002). Coomber (2002) warns Research Ethics Committees (RECs) that for researchers in crime related work, even asking for signatures can alienate and lose credibility with respondents. Concerns about confidentiality have witnessed competing arguments, particularly since signed, informed con-sent gives way to breaches of confidentiality and anonymity (Coomber, 2002). On the one hand, there is widespread agreement that confidentiality should always be ensured with respondents, except where there is actual or potential risk of harm to respondents. On the other hand, the situational and contingent nature of confidentiality must be considered, particularly in areas where a breach of confidentiality results in the breach of respect for individual privacy, security and well-being. In certain areas such as crime, breaching confidentiality would compromise the confidentiality and secu-rity of participants and signed consents may not be in the interest of research-ers as ‘they may be complicit in the incrimination and prosecution of research participants’, which conflicts with the professional responsibilities of social scientists who must protect their research participants (Coomber, 2002: 1.2). Coomber (2002) and others (Boden et al., 2009; Renold et al., 2008) call for RECs to recognize the distinct nature of social science research which requires different sensitivities. They recommend that stand-ardized procedures requiring signed consent be avoided in favour of assess-ing harm accruing to participants from the results of the research.

Hence, competing ethical values form important considerations in the context of counter-terrorism, where insistence upon signed consent may be detrimental to participants and erode trust, as well as place participants in precarious situations. This acts against the grain of social work and social work research based in fundamental human rights and social justice approaches.

The next section explores issues of trust and reciprocity in relation to gatekeepers, participants and other stakeholders and leads onto an outline of some unexpected outcomes of the research.

Trust – Friends as ‘gatekeepers’ and ‘me’

The trust developed between the gatekeepers and respondents is the gate-way for the potential trust between researchers and participants (Emmel



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et al., 2007). However, in researching political conflict, the trust between the gatekeepers and the researcher is equally important and it was this that I felt I had to develop despite the fact that the gatekeepers were also friends. In an environment of political conflict there is likely to be great suspicion of ‘outsiders’ who may misrepresent or be hostile to the issues facing particular groups.

In privileging the researcher to gain access to participants the gatekeep-ers would not have allowed contact if they had any suspicions that the researcher, or the research, may bring harm and risk to respondents. The context of counter-terrorism made it necessary for the gatekeepers to ratify and vet the researcher before they allowed access; otherwise their own cred-ibility might be questioned. Perhaps because I was a non-white, non- Western woman, but more importantly, because of a demonstrated ‘politi-cal’ affinity, empathy and understanding, it was possible to elicit the trust of the gatekeepers and the participants themselves – that is, I would not mis-represent their experiences or cause. Nevertheless, it was quite feasible that the activists/friends with whom I had campaigned and mingled more than a decade ago would now see me in a different light, particularly when there was an ever-present hostility towards careerist, exploitative academics. I felt a perpetual unease about whether my personal and professional interests were perceived as, or were indeed, one or different spheres (Mies, 1993) and the extent to which I was considered an ‘insider’ (sympathizer) or an ‘outsider’ (academic, non-Muslim), both amongst the gatekeepers and the respondents. My integrity did not seem to be questioned but ultimately I had to accept that there was always going to be an element of exploitation and power that rested with me because although I may have participated in these activities as a sympathizer, the research reflected efforts to enhance career prospects, and I had to rely upon my own integrity and self-reflection/respect and draw upon my ethics as an ‘academic’, not overstep the mark.

The close entanglement of the personal/professional self also raised questions of rights and risks to the different stakeholders in the research. For instance, the attendance at a public meeting, where Moazzam Beg (an ex-detainee of Guantanamo Bay, whose meetings I had previously attended independently of the research interest) addressed the issue of detainees and their families, was beneficial to me in understanding his perspective and simultaneously establishing trust with respondents and friends. However, in the research context it raised concerns for me about whether this placed me, my employers and the respondents at risk in case this activity was perceived to be ‘glorifying terrorism’. Hammersley (2009) and Truman (2003) argue that harms and benefits are relative, situational constructs that have to be weighed against each other, but there is ‘no calculus’ for weighing the harms




against benefits. In this case I judged the ‘autonomy’ of attending a meeting as a ‘citizen’ and an academic to be more beneficial than the potential risk of being (collectively) criminalized under the law, particularly when the respondents attending felt they had little to lose as they were already under surveillance.

My biography as a non-Western woman, political activist and an aca-demic was therefore inextricably entangled in my research interest, method-ology and process (Almack, 2008). Where the personal and the professional are closely intermeshed there may be tensions in the loyalty one owes to one’s personal/professional spheres; how one is perceived in each has rami-fications for the other. These are bound to present constraints and opportuni-ties in the context of research.

Trust and reciprocity – Obstacles and opportunities

. . . reciprocity is a strategy necessary to maintain the relationship between researcher and participant during the research process once successful access has been gained. (Emmel et al., 2007: 2.7)

The integrity and credibility of the researcher rests on effective rapport and reciprocity with participants and it is through this mechanism that greater trust can ensue between them. In this case, the organization which was another gatekeeper to the women first needed to establish trust and confi-dence in me.

HHUGS looked after the welfare of the families of incarcerated men (and women), helping them with prison visits, finance and social activities to reduce isolation. The organization was not previously known to me and gaining access to it was another venture in negotiating contact and demon-strating commitment. Having gained access to it through the friends/gate-keepers and requesting contact with participants, it transpired that contact was conditional on the presence of a bona fide representative of HHUGS in all interviews to ensure that the women were not subjected to a stranger, and that a female interpreter, who knew all the women and was trusted by the women, was to be designated by the organization. I feared that the pres-ence of the representatives was irregular and would intrude upon the researcher–participant relationship and, more importantly, prevent respondents from voicing their opinions, particularly about the services that HHUGS provided. Moreover, the organization of the interviews would become a complex task with having to negotiate dates and times between three to four different parties. It was not a situation I felt I could challenge,



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however. Having been given the rare and valuable privilege of accessing the families, any questioning of the decision may begin the onset of distrust and destroy the relationship that had been build to date. In addition, I did understand the anxieties of the respondents and was sensitive to their needs; I considered that if it did not work I would be able to re-negotiate.

However, the reality was that the presence of the agency worker made a positive contribution: it meant that the respondents trusted the researcher, vis-a-vis the agency representative, and felt confident enough to give their written consent without hesitation (which would have been very difficult to obtain otherwise) and to talk openly about their experiences, without fear of breach of confidentiality or the misuse of the information. Furthermore, there were many instances when the interjections of the agency representa-tive clarified points (e.g. dates or chronology of particular events) which were useful in making sense of the information the participant provided.

I was mindful that the HHUGS representative did not talk for the respondents and that information they gave was only for clarification pur-poses rather than their own opinions. However, although their presence was useful, it must have influenced how respondents formulated their responses to questions about the nature of the service HHUGS offered, as confirmed perhaps by the absence of any negative responses towards the agency’s work.

In terms of my relationship with respondents, a total reliance upon the interviews would have obstructed my relationship with them, but my engagement with them in other scenarios, where I was freer to build a one-to-one relationship (e.g. at social events), meant that a more engaging encounter was possible. There were instances where reciprocity was used to strengthen the researcher–researched relationship deliberately in terms of offering respondents ‘services’ such as transport to social events organ-ized by HHUGS. Other activities challenged the traditional researcher role when I was asked by women to help them set up appointments with and accompany them to see their MPs; I encountered a family whose children had been absent from school for four months due to the failure of the local authority to allocate schools after re-housing the family to another area, and advised her to go and see her MP. These activities may have been deemed by the ethics committee as ‘providing advice’, as being outside the purview of the researcher and perhaps ‘glorifying terrorism’ under the counter-terrorism legislation; but refraining from them would have meant that my role, otherwise, would have been a ‘clinical’ one where the research merely enters and exits the research site. They helped me gain a better insight into the problems the women faced and to build trust through deeper engagement.




The employment of interpreters in any research remains problematic in representing the ‘real’ views of respondents and in this case the interpreter being a HHUGS volunteer may have presented an even more subjective picture of events. However, if this was the case the impact will have been minimal since there was only one woman who could not understand English; the majority had a reasonable understanding of the language but lacked con-fidence to speak, and on one or two occasions when they felt clarification was necessary, they interjected and restated their views.

Another unexpected consequence of HHUGS’ involvement with inter-views was the opportunity to demonstrate reciprocity in terms of the emerg-ing results of the research. The representatives, for the first time, heard women’s encounters from the beginning to the current situation and so they were able to develop a fuller picture of the experiences their service users were subjected to, rather than the fragmented stories they had gathered dur-ing sporadic visits and meetings. As women narrated their stories, the nature of their needs that had to be addressed also became clearer (e.g. to reduce their isolation and set up groups for them to participate without the presence of children, address post-traumatic stress, etc.). In this sense the unexpected outcome led the research to be of immediate value to the agency (and hope-fully to the women), something that a ‘participatory action research’ approach might have addressed. However, that was not the aim of the research at the outset and so it was not designed for that purpose, but the benefits that accrued helped to deepen the level of reciprocity and trust with both the organization and the participants. This highlights the very fluid and unpre-dictable nature of research (Boden et al., 2009; Renold et al., 2008) which the inflexibilities of ethics committees do not always take into account.

Trust and reciprocity are closely connected; trust is underpinned by reci-procity. Feminist methodology has long recognized the need for reciprocity in the researcher(ed) relationship. Reciprocity does not necessarily reduce power relations of class, race or gender, but it gives value to respondents by acknowledging their contributions as worthy of knowledge; the notion that the researcher should ‘give back’ something in return is a step towards that recognition (Goode, 2000; Oakley, 1981).

Thus, encounters with HHUGS presented an unexpected terrain in which to build relations of reciprocity but which had to be built in the context of the various power relationships between the different parties which actually or potentially complicated negotiations over informed consent and confidenti-ality. These issues were further exacerbated by the concerns around counter-terrorism measures, encapsulated in risks of ‘glorifying terrorism’. Research dynamics are situational as they operate within particular social and political context, and fixed demands to adhere to procedural requirements of informed



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consent, or to breach confidentiality of respondents, can present potential problems for social research and endanger its existence.

Conclusions

Against the backdrop of counter-terrorism legislation, the researcher had to negotiate trusts at different levels with different ‘stakeholders’, always cau-tious of not ‘glorifying terrorism’. The researcher’s own biography and her commitment to highlight and improve the lives of the families were instru-mental in securing trust. However, the activities that helped develop trust could easily be (mis)construed as ‘glorification of terrorism’ under the counter-terrorism legislation, and as such presented a perpetual risk to the researcher and possibly her employer, as well as the participants. Activities of building trust through notions of reciprocity had to be carefully negoti-ated, whilst guarding relationships with ‘gatekeepers’ and respondents. Reciprocity and research based upon the commitment to improve the posi-tion of the respondents did, however, have immediate and positive impact on participants.

Social work research must be embedded in principles of social justice and human rights (Butler, 2002) and researchers have to be morally responsible whilst engaged in emancipatory research amongst disem-powered groups. There are insurmountable difficulties facing families of incarcerated people who are stigmatized, shunned and marginalized by their own communities and by the dominant society. Any exposition of their plight promotes social justice. Morality, however, is an ambiguous and shifting notion and the competing moralities of research, meeting procedural ethical demands versus the rights and responsibilities of social scientists to safeguard their participants, are ongoing conflicting issues. The draconian counter-terrorism laws intensify these tensions by the threat of criminalization and make research potentially more dangerous for researchers. If researchers are discouraged by this in social work research, they risk doing a disservice to groups whose needs and rights will remain suppressed.

Funding

The research was funded by a small grant from the Institute of Applied Social Studies Research Fund, University of Birmingham.

Acknowledgements

I am grateful to the anonymous reviewers for their comments on this article.




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Author biography

Surinder Guru is a Lecturer in Social Work at the Institute of Applied Social Studies, University of Birmingham, UK.



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