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RESEARCH ETHICS1

There is now a very substantial literature on social research ethics, some of it dealing specifically with educational research.2 In large part this literature has been generated by researchers reflecting on the ethical issues that arose in their own research, and their problems in dealing with them. In addition, there have been flurries of literature surrounding particular studies that have been criticised on ethical grounds. There are also some general introductions to research ethics, alongside the ethical guidelines produced by scholarly associations (for example, the British Educational Research Association, the British Psychological Society, the British Sociological Association), by universities, and by some funding bodies (for instance the Economic and Social Research Council). Finally, in recent years there has also been literature concerned with the spread of ethical regulation, a development which has transformed the ways in which ethical issues are addressed, and whose effects many researchers regard as pernicious.

The ethical issues discussed in this literature range across many aspects of the research process, from whether there are some sensitive topics or particular methods (for example, covert observation) should be avoided, to how findings can be published without placing those who participated in the research at risk by making public what they have said or done. However, the boundaries around what counts as an ethical issue, and how these issues relate to other aspects of the research process, are not very clear, so it is necessary to begin with an attempt at clarification.

What is ethics?

There is a considerable philosophical literature concerned with the field of ethics, and many discussions of research ethics draw on this to some degree. This literature is quite diverse in orientation, and involves several fundamental disagreements. There are even those who put forward forms of ‘anti-ethics’, rejecting any kind of ethical theory.3 Aside from this, there are a variety of views about how we should go about reaching conclusions and decisions about ethical matters (Hammersley and Traianou 2012a:ch1).

I suggest that a useful starting point for thinking about the nature of ethics, in general terms, is to recognise that it is one of several sorts of evaluative consideration that human beings employ. Others include: what one

1 To appear in Coe, R. et al Research Methods and Methodologies in Education, Second edition, London, Sage, 2017.2 For guidance in relation to this literature see Hammersley and Traianou 2012b.3 For a discussion and response, see Louden 1992.

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enjoys or likes; what would best serve one’s personal interests; and what is the most effective means for achieving some end. Generally speaking, ethical considerations are seen as in competition with these other grounds for judgment, and as relating to how we should deal with other people, and/or to what is in the general interest.4 Most ethical judgments evaluate actions (ones that have already taken place, or are being contemplated), and are concerned with what it would and would not be right or good for someone to do in some specified type of situation. Here, two modes of argument are often distinguished: between evaluating actions in terms of rules about which intentions are right and wrong in principle (for example, ‘it is wrong to lie’) or in terms of actual, likely, or foreseeable consequences that are beneficial or detrimental to others or to the common good. These are often given the label ‘deontological’ and ‘consequentialist’ approaches, respectively. However, ethical judgments are also sometimes made about people, rather than about specific actions, and here the concern is with virtues and vices, or with what is and is not a good way of life for a human being. This is often referred to as virtue ethics.

Some philosophical discussions of ethics assume that there are universal principles: principles that apply similarly to everyone – whoever they are, whenever or wherever they live or lived.5 However, there are writers on ethics who deny the existence or value of universal principles, while others argue that any principles must be qualified according to who is doing the evaluating, and/or whose action is being evaluated. For example, it is often recognised that certain roles, such as parent or teacher, impose distinctive obligations. And there are some categories of person, for example children, who are often thought to have distinctive characteristics that alter judgments about what would be ethical treatment of them – for example, it may be thought that they are more vulnerable than adults in some respects, or that they are less capable of making decisions for themselves (the latter claim has come under increasing challenge in recent years in the context of Childhood Studies).

While the term ‘ethics’ picks out an important family of evaluative considerations, there is no absolute dividing line between these and the other sorts of consideration that inform the judgments and decisions we all make in life; and the same is true in the context of research. And it is important to remember that there are other legitimate considerations that should be taken into

4 Already here I am at odds with the arguments of some writers on ethics, including Louden.5 It is worth remembering that there are particularistic as well as universalistic values, focused on families, local communities, peer groups, organisations, ethnic groups, nation states, regional identities, etc. While these are weaker in modern societies than more traditional ones (by definition), they are by no means absent in Western societies today. Furthermore, there are modes of ethical thinking that emphasise some of these, an example would be feminist care ethics.

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account in doing research besides those usually listed under the heading of ethics, and that all these considerations are intertwined together. A question that arises out of this, to which we will return, is whether it is possible for a researcher to give too much emphasis to ethics, as well as too little.

Research ethics is a form of occupational ethics, analogous to those found in relation to other occupations, notably in the fields of health care, education, social work, law, and business. So the focus is on the distinctive ethical issues that arise in the context of research, though to a large extent this is done by drawing on the more general ideas discussed in the philosophical literature, which have just been briefly outlined.

What is research ethics?

Just as there is some ambiguity about what the term ‘ethics’ means, so too the meaning of ‘research ethics’ can vary. One interpretation is that it refers to all of the values that ought to inform the work of researchers. We can divide these values into two categories: epistemic and practical. Epistemic values are concerned with knowledge: it can be argued that since it is the goal of research to produce knowledge, researchers must be committed to discovering the truth, and to disseminating knowledge. So, truth is the central epistemic value, but also under this heading would come a commitment to honesty in presenting evidence, and in providing information about how the research was carried out. Interestingly, commitment to these epistemic values is by no means uncontroversial amongst social and educational researchers. One cause of this is the influence of sceptical arguments that question whether we can ever know the truth. Another is arguments which deny that the pursuit of knowledge is of value in itself, claiming that researchers should aim their work at practical goals, whether this is ‘improving education’, ‘challenging inequality’, or ‘empowering the oppressed’.

However, even those who insist that the production of knowledge can be the only legitimate goal of research recognise that researchers must take account of practical as well as epistemic values in doing their work: these place constraints on how they should pursue knowledge (on the means employed). Among these practical values are ones that would fall under the heading of ethics. Most discussions of social and educational research ethics are primarily concerned with how researchers should deal with the people they encounter in their work; particularly those who are part of the focus of study and/or from whom data are obtained. Some attention may also be given to researchers’ relations with research organisations (including universities and funding bodies), with fellow researchers (within the same research team and beyond),

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with gatekeepers who control access to research sites or to informants, and with audiences for the research findings.

In discussing relations with the people being studied, most discussions of research ethics identify a small number of principles that are of particular importance. In the next section I will outline these.

Ethical Principles

As I have indicated, there are those who reject the idea of principles, but to a large extent their objection is to the idea that principles can tell us exactly what ought, or what ought not, to be done in any situation. It is better to think of ethical principles as pointing to particular considerations that should be taken into account. Viewing principles in this way leaves open the question of whether in any particular situation what a principle implies is the right decision to make. The bedrock of ethics is particular judgments about what would and would not be ethically acceptable in particular situations. But principles provide useful resources in making those judgments.

Discussions of research ethics usually discuss a relatively standard set of principles, foremost amongst these are: minimising harm, protecting privacy, and respecting autonomy. As we shall see, none of these principles is entirely straightforward in meaning, and they may generate conflicting requirements, as well as being at odds with the researcher’s commitment to producing knowledge as effectively as possible.6

Minimising harm

The risk of harm, or actual harm, may arise from the research project itself. Equally, though, a researcher may become aware of harm being done to, or by, the people being studied. Both are matters that need to be taken into account. Furthermore, there are different kinds, and different degrees, of harm: generally speaking, we would treat serious physical injury as more significant than embarrassment at being asked a personal question, indeed it might be questioned whether the latter counts as harm. Equally important, often, what is at issue is the level of risk that a particular kind of harm will arise. For instance, one type of harm that can arise from research is damage to people’s reputations, perhaps because they are reported as doing things that are at odds with what they say they do or with their declared principles. However, whether this damage occurs will depend on whether these people can be identified by readers of research reports, whether readers will interpret what is written in the way

6 A more detailed discussion of these principles can be found in Hammersley and Traianou 2012a. On the nature of principles and the debates surrounding them, see Hammersley 2015b.

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assumed, and who the readers are and perhaps also how many of them there are. So assessments must be made of the likelihood of various consequences, of whether these would constitute harm, and of how serious the harm would be.

Concern about the harm that research can do to participants is particularly central in the field of medical research, where much of the initial discussion of research ethics took place. In that context, the research itself often involves administering treatments and carrying out tests which may themselves cause pain and affect people’s health (for better or worse). Given this, some assessment of the likelihood of various kinds of harm (and benefit), and of its significance, is particularly important.

There are some kinds of educational research where the issue of harm arises in an analogous way. This can be true, for example, where an experimental approach is adopted that involves randomly allocating children (or school classes) to groups receiving different ‘treatments’. For example, randomised controlled trials (RCTs) in education, such as those concerned with the effectiveness of different ways of teaching reading or arithmetic, may involve children in the classes studied being treated differently from previously, and certainly being treated differently from one another. It must be asked whether these variations are likely to enhance or damage their learning, and whether some are being benefitted at the expense of others (for example those being taught by the method whose effectiveness is being tested, or those taught by a more common method that is being used as a benchmark).

The central ethical guide relating to benefit and harm used in RCTs is the notion of ‘equipoise’. This requires that there be no reliable evidence that one of the treatments is more beneficial (or involves more risk of harm) than the others involved in the trial. Generally speaking, ‘evidence’ here is taken to mean ‘research evidence’, but one of the problems is that teachers, parents, and perhaps children themselves, may judge that one ‘treatment’ is better than others, and may therefore conclude that the trial involves unjustified harm or unfairness. Aside from the fact that achieving equipoise is often not straightforward, there are further complications where what is being assessed in a trial is the degree of benefit of some treatment as against other ways of allocating the funds that would be entailed in ‘rolling out’ the treatment to a whole population. Here, as elsewhere, ethical judgments can be contentious.

Educational action research also involves the introduction of an intervention into a situation, and here too the benefits and costs of this intervention, as compared with alternatives, and how these vary across those involved, need to be taken into account. It is tempting to assume that

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interventions will always be beneficial, but in fact all interventions involve costs as well as benefits, and these need to be addressed. Action research aims at a spiral of improvement, and it may be argued on this basis that all participants will gain in the long run. However there may be significant costs along the way, and these may be differentially distributed in ways that are judged unfair.

Other kinds of educational research, whether involving surveys or qualitative investigations of some kind, do not usually involve any intervention whose benefits and costs need to be assessed. Nevertheless, it is still possible for this research to cause harm. Questions asked in interviews or on questionnaires may be distressing, observation in classrooms may be intrusive in the sense of causing problems for teachers or students, and reporting findings may have harmful consequences.

While potential or actual harm is an important ethical consideration in all educational research, it is important not to exaggerate either its severity or its likelihood. These are, of course, matters of judgment, and may be open to disagreement, but as we shall see exaggerated judgments are not without cost.

I mentioned earlier that researchers must also be aware of the possibility that they will discover harm being done to or by the people they are studying. Here too judgments must be made about the severity of this, and the costs of reporting it (not just for the researcher but also for the people involved). In some kinds of research it may be judged necessary to make clear in negotiations with gatekeepers or in securing informed consent for interviews, that any evidence of serious law-breaking or highly unethical behaviour would have to be reported. However, this can have negative consequences that need to be taken into account.

Protecting privacy

A second principle frequently discussed in the literature on research ethics is the importance of protecting privacy. There are private places and there is private information, and if either are treated as if they were public then, arguably, privacy has been breached. However, we should note that what counts as private is a matter of judgment, and of degree, it can change over time, and it is subject to variable assessments. Furthermore, the value of the knowledge likely to be produced by the research may need to be weighed against any invasion of privacy that could be involved. For example, educational organisations frequently want to keep information about some matters, for example their finances, secret, and there may be good reasons for this, but it could be argued

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that where these organisations are receiving public funds there is a public right to know about their operation.

There are two ways in which issues regarding privacy arise in research. One concerns the collection of data: there are settings, such as homes, that may be declared private areas and therefore not open to observation by researchers, even were permission to be granted. And there are topics and information that could be regarded as private matters about which questions should not be asked in interviews, or perhaps even in questionnaires. While the boundaries involved here have been subject to erosion, there are still live ethical concerns here.

The second major respect in which privacy issues arise concerns what information is made public via the research process or in research reports. In group interviews or focus groups, questions may be asked or topics opened up that lead participants to disclose private information, for example about their sexual preferences or their financial circumstances, in a context that is relatively public. Researchers can often exercise only partial control over this, at best, so this is a consideration that must be taken into account when deciding to employ such methods, and in the course of using them.

Researchers have more control, in principle at least, over what data or information is presented in research reports, and made public in that way. One of the ethical problems involved here is that it may be possible for readers to identify the people, organisations, or places, studied; and this may breach privacy, as well as perhaps also carrying the risk of harm. One of the strategies used by researchers to avoid this, and maintain confidentiality, is anonymization: using false names for people, organisations, places, etc.7 However, organisations and people sometimes wish to be named, and some researchers ask people their preferences about this. However, those at risk may not anticipate all of the consequences of exposure, and anonymising some people and not others may be impossible (once one person is identified, it may be possible to work out who are the people whose names have been anonymised). Even aside from this, anonymization will not always offer much protection. For example, in the case of life history or biographical research, or where a very distinctive organisation or community is being studied, the identity of the people involved may be difficult to disguise.

7 We should perhaps note that attempts to keep research participants anonymous do not always succeed: they may be identified despite the best efforts of the researcher. This has sometimes happened in case study and ethnographic research where a media agency has followed up the findings of the research and identified the research site. There may be particular problems in protecting anonymity where visual data are being used, since people are often easily identifiable in photographs or videos. Various techniques have sometimes been used to make faces ‘fuzzy’ in order to maintain anonymity, but there are conflicting arguments about the desirability of this (see Flewitt 2005, Nutbrown 2011).

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There are also privacy issues about the storage and preservation of data. It is common, today, for data to be anonymised soon after collection, and stored separately from any key that would allow real and false names to be linked. This is to avoid confidentiality being breached should any attempt be made to access the data, whether under legal injunction or illegally. The same issue arises in the context of archiving data. Today, it is a common requirement on the part of funders that data be lodged in an archive after the research has been completed. Here too measures must be taken to preserve anonymity and therefore confidentiality.

One of the areas where concern over privacy has led to considerable debate is online research. Some argue that anything available via the Internet that is accessible without payment and that is not password protected (and even some that is) should be deemed public, this potentially including blogs and tweets, social media posts, discussions in forums, photographs and videos. By contrast, others insist that the restrictions which apply to any research with human participants offline should be applied online, that it should not be assumed that just because material is accessible that it is public in the sense of being usable for research purposes without obtaining permission.

A related issue here is copyright. This is not usually applied to what people say as part of their ordinary activities (which may be recorded by a researcher), or to what they say in interviews or write on questionnaires. However, the producers of some of what is available on the Internet may see themselves as creative writers and claim copyright for what they have produced. For this reason too, it may be argued that permission to quote it for research purposes is required.

While there can be disagreements about what is public and what private, sensible judgments about what constitutes an invasion of privacy, and about when this is and is not legitimate for research purposes, must be made on a case-by-case basis. Furthermore, while it is important to take account of people’s views about privacy, these should not trump all other considerations. Complaints about invasion of privacy can be mobilised for ulterior purposes, and on the other side people may sometimes underestimate the effects of making what previously had been private public. In this area, as in others, it is the researcher who must take primary responsibility for deciding what is and is not ethically acceptable.

Respecting autonomy

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The final principle I will discuss is respecting autonomy or freedom. It is often argued that people should be in control of their lives, and the implication of this is that they must be free to decide whether or not to participate in a research project. This is what underpins the widely stated requirement that there should be informed consent on the part of research participants: they ought to know they are being researched, be fully informed about what this involves, and be able to withdraw at any time.

The idea that people should be able to make decisions for themselves and thereby exercise considerable control over their own lives is a widely accepted principle, and most researchers would adhere to it. At the same time, it is usually recognised that there must be limits to freedom, because one person’s exercise of freedom may infringe another’s, because this value may come into conflict with others, and because there are practical constraints on people’s actions. There is also socio-cultural variation in the emphasis given to this value: it has been argued that it is at odds with obligations to the community, or with caring for others. All of this needs to be taken into account when applying this principle in the context of social and educational research.

On top of this, the concept of informed consent involves some more specific issues, whose significance varies across research methods. These centre on what it means for a person to be informed, and what it means for them to consent.

As regards, the first of these issues, there may sometimes be doubt about the capacity of particular types of participant sufficiently to understand information about the research and/or to make judgments that are in their own best interests. Examples would include adults with some kinds of mental health problem or learning difficulty, or young children. In recent years it has increasingly been argued that every effort should be made to explain the research even to those falling into these categories, and that their consent should be obtained wherever possible, perhaps alongside that of relevant caregivers. This is sometimes formulated in terms of human rights or the rights of children. (see Hammersley 2015)

More generally, though, there are questions about what it would mean for anyone to be fully informed about the research. Here, too, there may be issues about whether participants can gain adequate understanding of what the research involves, for example where people have no knowledge of methodology or no familiarity with the particular kind of research to be carried out. Equally, people may not wish to spend the time it would take to become fully informed.

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There can also be problems in informing people arising from uncertainty in the early stages of a research project about what the data collection will entail, and it will be impossible to anticipate with certainty what findings will result. Furthermore, there is always potential uncertainty about possible benefits or risks of harm involved in research. It is therefore never possible to put a potential participant in the position of full and certain knowledge of the consequences of consenting to participate in a research project. This means that if participants are to be able to make sensible judgments they must tolerate uncertainty and assess probabilities.

Turning to the issue of consent, there may be doubts about whether people are free to decide whether to participate, for example if they work in an organisation that has already agreed to the research going ahead.8 They may also feel under pressure from peers to consent or to refuse consent. There are also problems surrounding what are legitimate and illegitimate forms of persuasion on the part of the researcher. One focus here is on the use of payments to research participants, or rewards offered to them for participation.

There is also the issue of the means by which informed consent is secured. It is common for ethics committees to require signed consent forms, but there are cultural contexts where seeking written consent is not possible or desirable. This is not just because people may be unable to read or write but also where verbal agreement is prevalent and a demand for written consent would be regarded as insulting or as suspicious.

The requirement to secure informed consent has different implications for different methods. In the case of questionnaire surveys or interviews, we should note that gaining consent is, to a large extent, an unavoidable practical requirement irrespective of any commitment on the part of the researcher to respecting people’s autonomy. If one asks people to fill in a questionnaire or to take part in an interview, they are usually in a position to refuse: gaining their participation requires telling them at least something about the research.9 Of course, a researcher could gain their agreement by giving them a false impression about the research, so it is here, above all, that ethical considerations play a role in these kinds of research.

8 Of course, if the organisation has refused access, then its members have of course been prevented from making the decision to participate, in a way that is beyond the control of the researcher. Similarly, in some communities are treated as empowered to make decisions about contacts with outsiders, so that seeking individual consent may be seen as breaching the local cultural norms. Whether these norms should be respected is the ethical issue that arises here, but there is also a practical consideration: the researcher may not be granted access unless those norms are respected.9 Furthermore, it is usually possible for people to withdraw from an interview or from filling in a questionnaire if they decide to. Of course, they may feel under an obligation to continue, so that here the principle of respecting their autonomy may require the researcher to emphasise that withdrawal is allowed.

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If we turn to the case of observational research, it should be clear that applying the requirement of informed consent is rather more complex, and open to greater challenge. In the case of public settings, it might reasonably be argued that consent to observe is not required, perhaps even that there is no need to inform people that research is taking place. However, as I noted earlier, there can be disagreement about what is and is not public, and this is true offline as well as online. For instance: is a privately owned shopping centre that is open to the public a setting in which research can be carried out without prior agreement? The owners may well believe that permission is required, and there may be legal regulations that require this to be secured. Even in public streets or parks, is it legitimate, say, to video or even photograph people, including children, without having secured their permission? Similar questions may be relevant as regards audio-recording in settings often deemed to be public. It seems less clear, though, that observing and taking notes would require informed consent.

With many settings the researcher will have to negotiate access, unless a covert strategy is to be employed: for example, taking a job there or becoming a student. The ethics of covert observation has been the focus of considerable dispute (see, for example, Bulmer 1982), but problems concerning informed consent arise in observational research even when access is negotiated. The source of the problem here is that rather than the researcher dealing with each participant separately, as in administering a questionnaire or carrying out an interview, multiple people will usually be open to observation in a setting. Furthermore obtaining gatekeeper agreement (for example from a headteacher or a college principal) is rarely the result of democratic decision by all participants. And, even if it were, could we assume that the minority who voted against had nevertheless consented?

Of course, having secured access to an organisation, it may be necessary or possible to negotiate access to particular settings within it: for example to particular classrooms. However, here, too, a number of people will be observed simultaneously: must they all consent to involvement in the research before it can go ahead? What if the headteacher, college principal, teacher or lecturer believes that it is within their authority to grant access? Should this be challenged? And what if some participants consent but others do not: if the research does not go ahead their desire to be involved will not have been respected. Further complications may be added in the case of schools, since it may be felt necessary to obtain parental consent, or the school may insist on this. Here the likelihood of explicit consent being obtained for all participants is reduced further. Similar complications are introduced by the right of individual

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participants to withdraw consent at any time, and to have all data relating to them to be expunged from the record.

There is also the problem that in some settings it is simply not possible to obtain individual consent from all participants because there is rapid turnover in the population or because seeking consent from individuals would be highly disruptive. This problem often arises in online settings, but also in more conventional kinds of ethnographic research. For example, research concerned with young people’s eating habits could involve observation in the various places where they get lunch, but these are likely to be busy places in which there is a continual flow of people. Gaining the informed consent of all who could be observed may not be practicable.

While researchers must make judgments about what is ethically necessary and practically possible, they will also have to take account of others’ judgments about what is and is not ethically acceptable, particularly those of gatekeepers. This is another respect in which ethical and practical considerations are often balanced against one another.

Ethics in practice

While almost all researchers would agree that the three ethical principles I have discussed (and perhaps others) should be taken into account by educational researchers, it needs to be emphasised that these principles cannot tell us what to do, or even what not to do, in particular situations.10 One reason for this is that they are subject to different interpretations. Another is that they may conflict with one another in their implications, leading to significant dilemmas. For example, respecting people’s autonomy can open them up to potential harm. Furthermore, as I indicated earlier, ethical issues to do with how we treat participants are only one of several sorts of consideration that researchers need to take into account in doing their work. And these others may conflict with ethical ones: for example, commitment to what I referred to earlier as epistemic values, concerned with what is necessary to produce worthwhile findings, will sometimes be at odds with some interpretations of privacy.

Against this background, a general question we might ask is: how ethically sensitive should we be as researchers? Should we seek to avoid all harm, fully respect privacy, and try to ensure fully informed consent? Or is it possible to be too ethical, to give ethical matters too much weight? I suggest that the answer to this last question is ‘yes’. On some interpretations of the

10 Other principles besides the ones discussed here are also sometimes felt to be relevant to research. One of these, or perhaps a set of overlapping principles, is discussed under headings like ‘reciprocity’, ‘equity’, or ‘social justice’.

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ethical principles I have outlined, full adherence could result in little or no empirical research being practicable, or only a few types of research. Similar problems arise in other aspects of our lives. For example, when we do our shopping, we may well have a commitment to fair trade, organic production methods, animal welfare, minimising carbon footprints, etc. But fully living up to these commitments would make it difficult for us even to meet our basic needs: much of the time we simply will not have the information necessary to make a decision that respects these commitments. In the case of research ethics, my view is that we should certainly keep a close eye open for potentially important ethical issues, and try to avoid acting in ethically unacceptable ways. However, we must not exaggerate the degree to which educational research is ethically problematic.

Of course, today researchers not only need to come to their own judgments about what would be ethically acceptable, the rise of ethical regulation has meant that they must persuade ethics committees that what they propose to do meets ethical requirements.

Ethical regulation and ethics committees

Most research proposals must now be submitted for approval to an ethics committee, whether located in a university or some other organisation that controls access to research funds or to data. There are questions about the legitimacy and wisdom of ethical regulation of this kind, and indeed about the capacity of ethics committees to evaluate research proposals soundly (Hammersley 2009). However, here I will focus on the question of how researchers should deal with ethics committees. My point is that this, in itself, involves both practical and ethical issues.

A first question here is whether researchers should acknowledge the authority of these committees by submitting proposals to them, even if they believe that their effects are detrimental or that they interfere with the proper exercise of researcher responsibility. This is clearly a matter of principle, but it also raises questions of what we might call prudence. Failing to submit research proposals to an ethics committee may well result in funding not being obtained, or in sanctions being applied to the researcher by a university or other research organisation. These are outcomes that researchers would want to avoid, not unreasonably.

For this reason, at least, most researchers accept that they must usually submit their research proposals to a relevant ethics committee. But they are wise if they treat this committee with caution: neither as an enemy nor as entirely

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friendly. A wary attitude of cooperation is usually the best strategy. To a large extent what ethics committees wish to see is detailed information about how the research will be done, and clear indications that attention has been given to potential ethical issues and to how these will be dealt with. Given that much will not be known at the start of a research project, what is required here is a reasonable outline of what is likely to be involved, what ethical issues may be involved, and how they could be handled: perhaps presented with rather more certainty than it warrants.

It is important to recognise that ethics committees can provide valuable feedback on a research proposal, they may highlight issues that had not been recognised. Dealings with ethics committees may also stimulate more thought about alternative ways of carrying out the research. Such benefits should be capitalised on, but the dangers and problems of dealing with ethics committees must be recognised. It is often the case that they are more reluctant to given certain types of research the go-ahead than others – particularly those where it is difficult, or impossible, to obtained written, informed consent. Here, there may well be a clash between what the researcher believes to be necessary in epistemic terms, or about what is practicable, and the ethical requirements that an ethics committee lays down. It should also be remembered that the decisions of ethics committees are usually open to considerable negotiation, though clearly time needs to be allowed for this. Even so, there is the potential for major obstacles for some research projects, perhaps even a complete blockage.

Finally, it is necessary to emphasise that the fact that a research proposal has been approved by an ethics committee does not imply that, subsequently, a researcher no longer needs to be concerned about ethical issues. It is the responsibility of the individual researcher, or research team, to pursue their work in ways that are ethically acceptable, as judged by themselves.

Conclusion

In this brief chapter I have sought to provide an overview of the nature of research ethics, and of some of the principles and problems involved. I emphasised that while ethics is important, if we confine it to the issue of how researchers should deal with the people being studied, or from whom data are obtained, it is only one of several types of consideration that must inform the practical decisions that researchers make about what to investigate, what funding to rely on, what data to collect, how to analyse it, and how to report and disseminate the findings. I indicated that ethical principles are always open to interpretation and can conflict in their implications. Furthermore, researchers make decisions in circumstances involving considerable uncertainty: all that can

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reasonably be expected is that they make the best judgments they can. I illustrated how the nature of the ethical problems that researchers face vary across different types of research, and are always affected by the particular circumstances in which the research is being carried out. Finally I examined the significance of ethical regulation, and some of the issues to which it gives rise.

Questions for further investigation

1. If you are currently planning, or engaged in, a piece of research, what are the most important ethical issues you face or anticipate? How have similar problems been dealt with by other researchers?

2. What sorts of harm can educational research cause? How would you assess their seriousness?

3. Is there anything so private that it should not be the focus, or serve as data, for educational research?

4. In what circumstances, if any, would it be legitimate to carry out research without gaining informed consent from the participants?

5. Are there any funding sources in your field from whom you would not accept support? If so, what are your grounds for this?

6. Is it ever justified to withhold relevant information from an ethics committee, a funder, a gatekeeper, people being observed or interviewed, or readers of a research report? If so, what would be the grounds for this?

Suggested further reading

Hammersley, M. and Traianou, A. (2012a) Ethics in Qualitative Research: Controversies and Contexts, London, Sage. While this book only covers qualitative research, it provides a detailed discussion of key ethical principles relevant to social research generally, examines dilemmas to which they can give rise, emphasises that they are not the only values relevant to research, and relates them to the practicalities of social inquiry.

Hammersley, M. and Traianou, A. (2012b) Ethics and Educational Research, available at: https://www.bera.ac.uk/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/Ethics-and-Educational-Research.pdf?noredirect=1

This provides an overview of ethical principles and issues, and a guide to relevant literature.

Israel, M. (2015) Research Ethics and Integrity for Social Scientists, Second edition, London, Sage. This is an excellent introduction to research ethics, covering all forms of social research.

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Macfarlane, B. (2009) Researching with Integrity: the ethics of academic enquiry, London, Routledge. In this book Macfarlane develops an illuminating perspective on research by drawing on a particular form of philosophical thinking called virtue ethics.

References

Bulmer, M. (ed.) (1982) Social Research Ethi8cs: An examination of the merits of covert participant observation, London, Macmillan.

Flewitt, R. (2005) ‘Conducting research with young children: some ethical considerations’, Early Child Development and Care, 175, 6, pp553–565.

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