Académique Documents
Professionnel Documents
Culture Documents
To cite this article: Cecily Scutt & Julia Hobson (2013) The stories we need: anthropology,
philosophy, narrative and higher education research, Higher Education Research & Development,
32:1, 17-29, DOI: 10.1080/07294360.2012.751088
To link to this article: http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/07294360.2012.751088
Introduction
As governments take an increasing role in dening good research (Holligan, 2011) in
the UK with the Research Assessment Exercise, with Australias Excellence in
Research for Australia and with New Zealands Performance-Based Research Fund
there is a risk of valorising some methodologies over others. In education research in
the USA, there has been a turn to the quantitative in the US National Research
Council reports in 2005 and the American Educational Research Association in 2006
(Freeman, deMarrais, Preissle, Roulston, & St. Pierre, 2007). Within higher education
research, this trend is mirrored in the strong presence of quantitative research methodologies in journals such as Studies in Higher Education (Tight, 2011).
Within qualitative research, Tights (2011) review also demonstrates that surveys,
interviews and documentary analysis greatly outnumber other forms. When the eld
of higher education research can be mapped by a few core concepts and approaches
(Kandlbinder, 2012), and researchers can refer to the ubiquity of interview-based
research in education (Tummons, 2012, p. 304), it is not surprising that a recent
review of the research literature in higher education journals has called for a broadening
of the eld (Haggis, 2009). In this paper, we argue that strategies from our original disciplines anthropology and philosophy may be of particular use in this broadening.
*Corresponding author. Email: c.scutt@murdoch.edu.au
2013 HERDSA
18
19
stories that ultimately morph back round into questions once more. These are, we argue,
the stories and the questions that those of us in universities most need.
The anthropologist speaks
In making a case for the power of the narrative mode for higher education researchers, I
begin with a personal research narrative. I am currently attempting to write up a structured silent writing space run for research postgraduates for nearly four years. Most
Mondays of the year I have sat in a large, high-ceilinged room with a changing cast
of students and we have written, in utter silence, for three hours. I have spent hundreds
of hours there now, spoken to students afterwards and in the breaks and written in that
silence myself. I have lived through concerted campaigns to make me run more, run
them for longer or run them over two days and watched with great pleasure as,
encountering refusal, groups of participants have started to set up additional writing
spaces, using the same structure, for themselves. I would like to give an account of
this popular, silent, yet social, program and ask: how is it working and why is it
working?
My understanding of the norms of publishing in higher education research tends to
push me to offer a quantitative analysis. Thus 1175 evaluation sheets for the rst 3.5
years need to be entered into software, coded and analysed. The thousand pieces of
paper appear to have a weight that my own personal participation and observation
does not. A thousand sheets of paper cant be wrong, can they?
Yet if Im allowed to use narrative in depicting The Writing Space, I can tell the tale
of the exact moment when this program seeded off new student-run ones. I can write
about the quality of energy in the room the creative, generative, alive silence.
Using the coded data, on the other hand, all I can give you is a table with a column
for how many students wrote something like the atmosphere/ ambiance as a positive
aspect of the program. Which is stronger? Which is more truthful? Which more likely to
convince you to experiment with writing spaces too?
Perhaps we should be open to a report from the individual immersed researcher, the
theorising of teachers built on lived experience. This goes beyond the ethnography
practised by educational researchers (Hemer 2012; Tummons 2012), which tends to
emphasise the observation end of participant-observation (e.g. Paxton, 2012). Traditional anthropology allows us a richer facility with personal stories, narrating both
thick description and thick participation (Lillis, 2008, p. 382). These stories offer
some interesting models for higher education researchers.
Telling stories the anthropological way
Whenever pressed in debate over some point of theory or metaphysics, [older anthropologists] would shake their heads sadly, draw languidly on their pipes or stroke their beards
and mutter something about real people not tting the clear abstractions of those who
had never done eldwork. They evinced genuine pity for those deprived fellows, but
the matter was perfectly clear to them. They had been there, they had seen. There was
nothing more to say. (Barley, 1986, pp. 78)
Personal narrative has always played a particularly vital role for anthropology. Pratt
(1986) argues that the presence of personal narrative in traditional ethnographic
writing plays the crucial role of anchoring [the] description in the intense and
20
21
paralyzed me, I left the relative comforts of the Songhay social world and experienced for
the rst time the Songhay world of eternal war (p. 359, emphasis added)
This emphasis on long immersion, apprenticeship and questing beyond worlds certainly sounds like the classic quest, complete with trials and the triumphal return with
the ethnographic knowledge.
Thus, if we are going to look to anthropology for models of personal narrative, it
appears we are likely to write quest narratives, either openly or covertly. These kinds
of narrative may be particularly useful for the teacher-researcher, as ethnographys narrative of long immersion best matches research that, given the realities of research, only
teachers are likely to be able to sustain. Further, the problematic role of an ethnographer
in the eld, often strongly marked for difference, maps in interesting ways onto a
teacher attempting participant observation, also across the visible power differences
of teacher and student.
But hero quests as plots inevitably encode problematic politics. The most trenchant
critique of the quest plotline comes from feminist literary theory. Some critics argue
that quests can be reclaimed for women, where others call for writers to go beyond
quests to multivocal narratives, reversals, subjects in the process of dissolution and,
indeed, language in the process of dissolution (Daly & Caputi, 1988; DuPlessis,
1985; Weedon, 1987). These twists on the hero quest are fruitful, and are visible
within the work of experimental ethnographers (Scutt, 2002). They are models we
can apply to the construction of personal narratives in higher education research.
Thus, in writing about The Writing Space, rather than seeing myself as a hero
cracking a culture (Mead, 1973), I might represent myself as an initiate being
instructed by powerful others as Bell (2002) does in her account of learning from
Warrabri women. Or I might start to disrupt the quest and write an account of increasing
confusion and loss of condence (a Descent of Inanna tale) as Briggs (1970) did in her
painful account of eldwork among the Utku. I might write a reversal plot, looking at
how my subjects saw me, as Dumont (1978) did in his classic ethnography of the
Panare. I might more radically disrupt the quest account, as Tsing (1993) does in her
study of the roving Meratus who do not stay passively in the eld, by putting my
own subjects on the move perhaps by recognising that The Writing Space participants themselves are researchers writing up research in this space. Or I might become
more deconstructive, as Visweswaran (1994) does, examining perhaps my own mixed
subjectivity as both teacher of, and writer within, this writing space.
Anthropologys facility with personal narrative, and its historical struggle with the
politics of personal narratives, offer us insight into not only how we might appropriately
portray the researcher in higher education research, but provocative models for new plots.
22
(Behar, 1993), individual characters (Abu-Lughod, 1993) and claim, as Stoller (1994)
does, to work more like a novel than an anthropological monograph (p. 360). Clifford
Geertz, famous for calling for thick description, has admitted himself a novelist
manqu (as cited in Olson, 1991, p. 3). This kind of writing allows in a lot of
complex data. St Pierres (1997) claim that her research project involved transgressive data, such as emotions, dreams and sensory appreciation of landscape, is not particularly transgressive for experimental ethnography, or even for earlier eldwork
accounts such as that of Briggs (1970).
Furthermore, this more literary use of narrative invites time and agency into the
picture events played out by multiple human agents over time which traditional quantitative research may obscure. It thus returns Bruners intentionality and its vicissitudes
to research accounts it has the potential to animate research (Holstein & Gubrium,
2011) and it responds to Haggis call for the representation of process through time.
For example, in the case of The Writing Space research, a central experience was
the student campaign to get more spaces set up, and the moment when they started
to set up their own. It might be possible to nd a peak of campaigning in the quantitative analysis of surveys, but it would also be possible to lose this history in the background radiation of requests to run it more often, especially if the coding was
clumped into semesters. But the lived experience of this, and the web of intentions,
is not visible in the quantitative data. The best source for seeing these human actions
unfold is still my own account, which of course may not be valid. Yet seeding
like this is surely the ultimate success of a program?
Allowing individual narratives space further allows us to recognise that if something is happening among a group of people, the same thing is not happening to
each person. This is a vital insight for educational research. The push for quantitative
evidence in education research criticised by Freeman and her colleagues (2007), above,
has perhaps been inuenced by the notion of evidence-based medicine. Anthropologys
attention to understanding within-group interactions makes the aw in this analogy
clear. Researchers can give individuals different drugs, or dosages, and track the
varying effects. But a group of people in a classroom are not all getting the same
dosage of education. There are group dynamics different people may encounter
very different events within that classroom. In The Writing Space, one person may
be happily typing loudly, while another just beside them fumes in silent annoyance.
This makes simple variables difcult.
Anthropological theory also allows us to talk about group experiences. The value of
The Writing Space appears to lie not simply in uninterrupted space to write, though that
is certainly helpful. Student verbal comments about motivation, about community and
about collegiality speak consistently about something else, as does my own lived
experience of writing in such a place. This educational intervention relies on a
group, and involves a group dynamic, albeit a silent one. Anthropological theory
may better help us understand what is happening here. With a theory about the lived
experience of group life, and in particular ceremony and ritual, we might better understand why students prefer to come to this program than sit at home or in their ofces and
write quietly there for three hours instead.
Why anthropology?
An understanding of narratives role in ethnography reminds us that research accounts
are always personal and embodied stories, and that identifying the teller of the story is
23
vital. It further makes clear that our portrayals of ourselves researching are likely to
draw on our own cultural stories, especially if we are not conscious of what we are
doing. This awareness makes it possible to choose different plots and portrayals, as ethnographers, especially the feminists, have increasingly done.
Anthropology also offers higher education research more literary, emotional and
sensory writing, writing that emphasises agency and enables us to explore change
over micro-time, which may be obscured within normative methodologies. It also
remains conscious that individuals experience social life and, therefore, education,
within group processes.
Anthropology also has its disruptive moment disrupting our taken-for-granted
norms by telling persuasive stories of cultural others (Scutt, 2002). In higher education
research, we might do this by looking at education in very different cultures to cast
doubt on our own concept of a university. In this way, anthropology uses its rich
capacity for telling stories to question larger stories a provocative use of the narrative
mode.
The philosopher speaks
Working as an academic for the past 25 years, I have noticed many things that lie
hidden and forgotten in the crevices and cracks of teaching and learning at the university. I catch quiet glimpses of these forgotten things as I go about my teaching. One
such is the experience of partaking in thinking. As Birkerts (1994) remarks, All is relative, relational, Einsteinan. Thinking is now something I partake in, not something I do
(p. 11). This is a phenomenon that I have noticed over the years, that sometimes thinking arrives in the room. Hopefully, this occurs when I am teaching a class (but I have to
admit, not always) but when thinking does arrive often sitting quietly in a corner
everybody in that room, whether they are talking or listening or writing or reading,
perks up a little. There is a general rise in the level of intelligence and it is a collective
rise, like catching a wave: we are all carried along to a greater height. Part of what I
hope to do, as a teacher, is to invite thinking into the room by actively practising quietness and then, sometimes, out of the corner of my eye, I see thinking slowly sidle in.
However, I nd little in the quantitative methodologies used in higher education
research to assist me in explaining or reporting my experience of thinking (or mind)
as an external phenomenon that has an independent existence from individual minds.
So it is to philosophy, my original discipline, that I turn and, in particular,
phenomenology.
Phenomenology generates detailed, careful descriptions of everyday things and
begins with embodied experience to nd a path between the extremes of objectivity
and subjectivity. Phenomenology analyses bodily skills, habits and language and so
allows for the intention/s of the researcher into the research data. Whilst phenomenography has been extensively used in higher education research (Entwhistle, 1997;
Svensson, 1997), it has tended to focus on the intentionality of the student and
glossed over the intentionality of the teacher. The phenomenological experience of
the teacher tends to be removed as the focus is on the texts generated by the researched
subjects (Bowden & Green, 2005). Staying with the text generates one set of data but
does not (necessarily) allow in the rst-hand point of view of the researcher, which may
be discounted as merely personal. Yet, if we take the epistemological position of both
phenomenology and phenomenography that knowledge is relational, then the direct
access to the experience of the researcher becomes central to the account. This is to
24
return phenomenography to its original phenomenological roots. Beyond this, phenomenology also allows us to interrogate the taken-for-granted in higher education, such
as the role of imagination and subjectivity.
Methodological imagination: a forgotten thing
All good stories include imagination and yet, historically, sound methodology has been
seen as based on facts that have been pruned of subjective imaginings. However, if
research into higher education stays with a general logocentric methodology, it
misses the imaginative leap that lies at the heart of epistemology. Western philosophy
has a tradition of denigrating imagination as an epistemological tool, while at the same
time using imagination as a method of convincing the reader. For example, as Casey
(2000) shows, when Descartes sits in front of the re with the candle burning and
begins his narrative in the Meditations, he soon asks us to make a leap of the imagination and consider the possibility of being deceived by an omnipotent evil genius.
Further, he asks us to believe that all our experiences, past, present and future, are
not be trusted. It seems we have wandered into a mystery thriller! At the end of the
Meditations, imagination is abandoned and discarded; it has no role, according to Descartes, in epistemology, and his initial reliance on it is forgotten (p. 223).
Whilst Cartesian doubt as a methodological tool aims to remove the researchers
subjectivity as a way to guarantee validity and avoid the tainting of data by bodily feelings and experiences, a phenomenological methodology embraces the details and
nuances of bodily, experiential knowing and allows the data generated to speak for
itself. A useful tool to do this is methodological believing (Elbow, 2000). Both
doubt and belief are equally useful and necessary as ways to test feasibility and validity
in research. Both are orientations that can be taught and neither commits the researcher
to a conclusion. Belief asks the researcher to test data by rst wholeheartedly believing
in it and then later discarding parts that do not t, as opposed to the doubting approach
of building up coherency through analysing and critiquing the parts, which are then
later tted together. Including both expands the methodological tool-box and allows
me to ask of the phenomenon of the thinking entering the room: are you a subject?
And if so what else has subjectivity in higher education? And is it possible to tell
the story of the larger narrative in which the subjectivity of the institution acts?
Institutional subjectivity
A current story told by one keen observer of higher education, Ronald Barnett (2011),
begins with the question: Just what is it to be a university? (p. 439). He answers his
own question via a neat historical typology of universities: metaphysical, research,
entrepreneurial, liquid, therapeutic and authentic. His contention is that we must
strive for the best possible idea of a university under present conditions and he calls
for the coming of the ecological university a university that acts in the interests
of both the human and physical world (p. 452) and that engages with the responsibilities embedded into the work of critique to generate hope and change This is a university that takes seriously both the worlds interconnectedness and the universitys
interconnectedness with the world (p. 451).
Taking interconnectedness seriously means we must also consider the connections
that link higher education research to higher education researchers. My contention is
that since the researchers of higher education are the researchers in higher education,
25
research choices (methodology, theoretical framework and epistemological assumptions) over time help to co-create what it is to be a university.
One way to read Barnett (2011) is to inquire what narrative form is implicit in Barnetts story of developing feasible utopias (p. 440) for a university. Barnett actively
casts the university as a character in its own story and states: The university has
both being and time; and its being is in time (p. 445). He talks of the intentionality
(p. 446) of the university and of it being true to its own self (p. 450). He tells a story of
the university, which begins in innocence with the metaphysical university where
knowing and being are naively linked with each other and to the sacred beyond.
Then there is the fall from grace into the research university, where knowledge is
divided by categories and research generates power and control. Competition
between universities and the marketing of the commodities of knowledge lead to the
entrepreneurial university, which exists primarily as, and in, its performance. At this
point in the story the subjectivity of the university is open to possibilities, the time is
ripe for change.
Is Barnett casting the university in the role of the hero on a quest for self- knowledge? Could we instead tell a narrative that casts the university as the trickster
gure? The trickster is Hermes or Coyote, who assists humans to nd new ways to
understand themselves and the world by both creating and crossing boundaries and
so bringing forgotten things into view. Trickster is the mythic embodiment of ambiguity and ambivalence, doubleness and duplicity, contradiction and paradox (Davis &
Weedon, 2009, p. 76). Higher education pushes boundaries, changes and transforms
culture and creates new ways of being, all of which is the work of the trickster.
A key boundary that trickster gures change and cross is inside and outside. By
giving the university institutional subjectivity and casting it as a character in its own
narrative, the usual boundaries of institution and individual are transgressed. Narratives
can assist research of higher education to extend the boundaries of sight beyond the
usual things of aligned curriculum, transition and access, effective pedagogy, improving research outputs and so on, to forgotten things, which disrupt the boundaries, not for
the drama of the disruption, but for the necessity of extending the frame so that the
observer is included, not just as acknowledgment of perspective, but as an intertwined
part of the narrative. Interrogating our hidden narratives allows us to make a lucky
nd that reveals a larger view and helps us to realize that our conceptions of things
are in our mind rather than out there (Davis & Weedon, 2009, p. 77).
The self-reexive university
Research driven by the subjectivity of an ecological university will seek different questions of itself and set out a different research program using a different methodology
than those that seek, for example, to measure the efcacy of students learning, the
capacity of the university to encompass a diversity of students and /or the research
inputs and outputs of the institution. Instead, it will actively choose methodologies
that support and develop values congruent with the institutional subjectivity and
self-reexivity is paramount to this enterprise.
Difculties for self-reexivity within higher education methodology are partly due
to the reexive position of the researcher, who, in researching the subject of higher education, must include themselves as both a teacher and researcher of higher education
and so subject themselves to the research gaze. Also, reexivity easily slips into assuming that confession of the researchers status, as per social categories: gender, race,
26
ethnicity and so on, is sufcient, none of which interrupt the usual practices of assimilating data into normal discourses (Pillow, 2003). How may we move to institutional
reexivity in researching higher education? Perhaps by telling trickster stories that
disrupt usual boundaries: for example, why do students pay back their educational
debt through money rather than through service? Why do students and faculty not
care for the body of the institution by cleaning and tending buildings and gardens?
Why is food not grown where there are extensive grounds in the universities?
A self-reexive university is one that recognises itself as a socio-cultural-physicalsymbolic system that can both remember and forget. After spending 25 years at the
same university, it is surprising how quickly the university does forget as yet another
restructure puts back in place the systems that existed 10 years previously. My individual memory of this institutional forgetting is, I am sure, shared by countless academics
across the globe and yet whilst we, as individuals within the system, remember, the
system itself forgets.
When we use language such as self-reexivity, forgetting and remembering, we
assume that we are referring to the mental events of an individual. However, Hutchins
(1996) suggests that mental events are more accurately depicted as referring to the interaction between people and the world and, particularly, interaction with formal systems.
This is a model of thinking as a thing that exists beyond the physical boundaries of the
individual. If we begin with an assumption that the boundary of cognition resides
outside of the individual, then we can acknowledge that a university may allow
people within it to achieve more than that of which they are individually capable.
Why philosophy?
Philosophy asks big questions, its role is to inquire into the questions of meaning and
value that lie at the heart of our lives, thus it offers us the opportunity to place those
big questions back into the centre of higher education research. Phenomenology as a
methodology allows us to ask questions over taken-for-granted concepts. It allows us
to recognise the strangeness in the ordinary and it acknowledges that insights can be
gained from a rst-hand point of view. This allows into the data set the rich, thick description of the embodied and embedded researcher of, and in, higher education: it gives me a
place from which to claim that intuitive insights gained through years of working in a
university and reecting and interpreting on those experiences have signicance.
What phenomenology has to offer higher education research is a methodology to
study structures of experience, or consciousness from the subjective or rst-person
point of view and to inquire into how people experience their ordinary everyday
world and my everyday world is the university. Thus a rich, contextualised phenomenological account of my experience of thinking entering the room may allow us to
problematise rational thinking, which encodes two assumptions: rstly, that it excludes
imagination and, secondly, that it occurs within individual minds. Both these boundaries may be misplaced. A phenomenological analysis offers the potential to change
the stories of higher education to include new and diverse characters those of thinking
as a thing and of universities as self-reexive subjectivities.
Conclusion
Through discussing the possibilities of Bruners narrative mode for higher education
research, using the two lenses of our disciplinary backgrounds anthropology and
27
Acknowledgements
Many thanks to Rebecca Bennett, Angela Jones, Steve Johnson, the Journal Article Group and
our anonymous reviewers for feedback on an earlier version of this paper.
References
Abu-Lughod, L. (1993). Writing womens worlds: Bedouin stories. Berkeley: University of
California Press.
Barley, N. (1986). The innocent anthropologist: Notes from a mud hut. Melbourne: Penguin.
Barnett, R. (2011). The coming of the ecological university. Oxford Review of Education, 37(4),
439455.
Behar, R. (1993). Translated woman: Crossing the border with Esperanzas story. Boston, MA:
Beacon Press.
Behar, R., & Gordon, D.A (Eds.). (1995). Women writing culture. Berkeley: University of
California Press.
Bell, D. (2002). Daughters of the dreaming. Melbourne: Spinifex Press.
Birkerts, S. (1994). The Gutenberg elegies: The fate of reading in an electronic age. London:
Faber and Faber.
Bowden, J., & Green, P. (2005). In search of detailed instances, In J. Bowden & P. Green (Eds.),
Doing developmental phenomenography (pp. 110). Melbourne: RMIT University Press.
28
Briggs, J. (1970). Never in anger: Portrait of an Eskimo family. Cambridge, MA: Harvard
University Press.
Bruner, J. (1986). Actual minds, possible worlds. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Campbell, J. (1972). The hero with a thousand faces. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.
Casey, E.S. (2000). Imagining: A phenomenological case study (2nd ed.). Bloomington: Indiana
University Press.
Clifford, J., & Marcus, G.E (Eds.). (1986). Writing culture: The poetics and politics of ethnography. Berkeley: University of California Press.
Daly, M., & Caputi, J. (1988). Websters rst new intergalactic wickedary of the English
language. London: The Womens Press.
Davis, K.W., & Weedon, S.R. (2009). Teacher as trickster on the learners journey. Journal of
the Scholarship of Teaching and Learning, 9(2), 7081.
Dumont, J. (1978). The Headman and I: Ambiguity and ambivalence in the eldworking experience. Austin: University of Texas Press.
DuPlessis, R.B. (1985). Writing beyond the ending: Narrative strategies of twentieth-century
women writers. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Elbow, P. (2000). Everyone can write: Essays towards a hopeful theory of writing and teaching
writing. New York: Oxford University Press.
Entwhistle, N. (1997). Introduction: Phenomenography in higher education. Higher Education
Research & Development, 16(2), 127134.
Freeman, M., deMarrais, K., Preissle, J., Roulston, K., & St. Pierre, E.A. (2007). Standards of
evidence in qualitative research: An incitement to discourse. Educational Researcher, 36(1),
2532.
Geertz, C. (2002). An inconstant profession: The anthropological life in interesting times.
Annual Review of Anthropology, 31, 119.
Goody, J. (2005). The labyrinth of kinship. New Left Review, 36, 127139.
Grant, R. (2008). A phenomenological case study of a lecturers understanding of himself as an
assessor. Indo-Pacic Journal of Phenomenology, 8, 110.
Haggis, T. (2009). What have we been thinking of? A critical overview of 40 years of student
learning research in higher education. Studies in Higher Education, 34(4), 377390.
Hartsock, N.C.M. (1987). The feminist standpoint: Developing the ground for a specic historical materialism. In S. Harding (Ed.), Feminism and methodology (pp. 157180).
Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Hemer, S.R. (2012). Informality, power and relationships in postgraduate supervision:
Supervising PhD candidates over coffee. Higher Education Research & Development,
31(6), 827839.
Holligan, C. (2011). Feudalism and academia: UK academics accounts of research culture.
International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 24(1), 5575.
Holstein, J.A., & Gubrium, J.I. (2011). Animating interview narratives. In D. Silverman (Ed.),
Qualitative research: Issues of theory, method and practice (3rd ed., pp. 149167). London:
Sage.
Hutchins, E. (1996). Cognition in the wild. Boston: MIT Press.
Kandlbinder, P. (2012). Signature concepts of key researchers in higher education teaching and
learning. Teaching in Higher Education. doi:10.1080/13562517.2012.694102
Lewis, I.M. (1999). Arguments with ethnography: Comparative approaches to history, politics
and religion. London: Athlone.
Lillis, T. (2008). Ethnography as method, methodology and deep theorizing: Closing the gap
between text and context in academic writing research. Written Communication, 25(3),
353388.
Malinowski, B. (1978). Argonauts of the Western Pacic. London: Routledge.
McArthur, J. (2012). Virtuous mess and wicked clarity: Struggle in higher education research.
Higher Education Research & Development, 31(3), 419430.
Mead, M. (1973). Blackberry winter. Sydney: Angus & Robertson.
Oakley, A. (1981). Interviewing women: A contradiction in terms. In H. Roberts (Ed.), Doing
feminist research (pp. 3061). London: Routledge.
Olson, G.A. (1991). Clifford Geertz on ethnography and social construction. Journal of Advance
Composition, 11(2), 245268.
29