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Ethical issues in collaborative actionresearchTerry Locke a , Noeline Alcorn b & John O’Neill ca Faculty of Education , University of Waikato , Tauranga , NewZealandb Wilf Malcolm Institute of Educational Research , University ofWaikato , Hamilton , New Zealandc School of Arts, Development and Health Education , MasseyUniversity , Palmerston North , New ZealandPublished online: 01 Mar 2013.

To cite this article: Terry Locke , Noeline Alcorn & John O’Neill (2013) Ethical issuesin collaborative action research, Educational Action Research, 21:1, 107-123, DOI:10.1080/09650792.2013.763448

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Ethical issues in collaborative action research

Terry Lockea*, Noeline Alcornb and John O’Neillc

aFaculty of Education, University of Waikato, Tauranga, New Zealand; bWilf MalcolmInstitute of Educational Research, University of Waikato, Hamilton, New Zealand; cSchoolof Arts, Development and Health Education, Massey University, Palmerston North, NewZealand

(Received 1 March 2012; final version received 1 November 2012)

This article begins by raising issues around the way in which ethical approvalfor research is managed in university settings, where committees often base theirassumptions on a principlist approach making a number of assumptions that weconsider to be contestable, such as a neat separation between researcher andresearched. However, collaborative action research, we argue, takes issue withthe ‘objectification’ of research participants. It often blurs the distinctionbetween participant and researcher, particularly when an element of self-study isincluded. Moreover, the collaborative nature of action research problematises thequestion of who is researcher and who is researched, raising issues around ano-nymity, the ‘ownership’ of findings and dissemination. In response to some ofthese issues, we have developed a set of eight principles we derive from our‘version’ of collaborative action research and apply them in a discussion of anumber of case studies from our own setting, where researchers have faced anumber of dilemmas in attempting to work within the terms of referenceimposed by conventional university-based ethical approval procedures. In con-clusion, this article indicates some implications for university-based actionresearchers and makes recommendations about the forms of ethical scrutinywithin the university that would be most appropriate and searching for collabo-rative action-based enquiry.

Keywords: ethical approval; collaborative action research; ethics; ethicalprinciples

Introduction

This paper had its genesis in conversations the three authors engaged in among them-selves and with colleagues on the question of collaborative action research vis-à-visthe ethical approval process in our respective universities. The conversationsrevolved around instances where the terms of ethical approval, once gained, appearedto be at odds with our understanding of the spirit of collaborative action research as itwas being practised by ourselves and other researchers whose work we were familiarwith. These conversations prompted the hosting of a Collaborative Action ResearchNetwork (CARN) New Zealand Symposium on Ethics and Action Research at theUniversity of Waikato, for which Susan Groundwater-Smith (2011) provided thescene-setting keynote and the third author (John)1 provided a commentary on the

*Corresponding author. Email: t.locke@waikato.ac.nz

Educational Action Research, 2013Vol. 21, No. 1, 107–123, http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/09650792.2013.763448

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day’s presentations that drew together some of the themes which came up. Both ofthese presentations are reflected in this paper.

In using the term ‘collaborative’, we are denoting a particular take on actionresearch that, as the next section argues, is an approach to research – a way offraming it – rather than a methodology. We are therefore distinguishing collabora-tive action research from categories of action research that are ‘methodologicallydriven’ (Kemmis and McTaggart 2005, 568). Action research is not always framedas ‘collaborative’ (see, for example, Mertler [2009, 4], who posits that ‘actionresearch is characterised as research that is done by teachers for teachers’).

In general, codes of ethical conduct are enunciated as sets of principles aimed atsafeguarding or assuring the rights of participants. Members of the New ZealandAssociation for Research in Education subscribe to their own association’s ethicalguidelines, which offer them an overview and a set of guiding principles, catego-rised as general, pertaining to participants, research personnel and the findingsthemselves (New Zealand Association for Research in Education 2010). Universitiesvary in terms of how they codify the ethical obligations of researchers and managethe ethical consent process (see O’Neill 2011). Educational researchers at theUniversity of Waikato, for example, are expected to adhere to ethical obligationscodified by the university as a set of regulations (University of Waikato 2010). Inpractice, ethical approval procedures devolve to faculty-based ethics committees,which generally meet monthly to undertake the review process.

In this article we focus on ethical issues in relation to action research defined ascollaborative and participatory. As Cochran-Smith and Lytle (2007, 24) remark:‘Everything’s ethics’. All action researchers, we surmise, bring to their work one ormore ethical frames. Teacher researchers are already accustomed to framing theiractions in terms of the ethics of their profession – subscribing to a discourse thattells a story about appropriate conduct in respect of the rights of the students towhom teachers offer a duty of care. Many university-based educational researchershave a background in teaching, but in applying to have their prospective workapproved ethically by an appropriate committee in their own institution they findthemselves called upon to take up and enact a discourse related to ethically appro-priate behaviour implicit in this committee’s codes and practices. However, as theliterature makes clear, an agreement on principle does not necessarily remove thepotential for dilemmas in practice. That is particularly true for collaborative/partici-patory action research as practice.

We argue that a close examination of collaborative action research, as widelyunderstood, yields a set of eight principles that reflect both the conceptual assump-tions on which collaborative, participatory action research is based, and the natureof the values, relationships and decision-making it practically involves. While theseprinciples do not provide an easy solution to dilemmas of practice, they do helpbring them into focus. Moreover, they provide the foundation for a proactive ques-tioning of some of the assumptions that drive the conduct of the ethical review andapproval process currently undertaken in the university institutional context.

Ethical dilemmas and issues in practice

In an article on ethical dilemmas facing action researchers, Canadians Bournot-Trites and Belanger (2005), after discussing the origins of modern research ethics in

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the Nuremburg Code, identify 13 ethical issues for educational researchers in gen-eral. These include:

• the ownership of written work (by students, for example);• the dilemma of maintaining participant confidentiality and acknowledgingpublicly their research contribution;

• the question of having participants corroborate the interpretation of data;• the potential conflict between confidentiality and the potential for harm aroundthe issue of disclosure;

• the issue of bad news: ‘These “bad news” items present subjects in a poorlight in final reports, the possibility of which might have prevented volunteersfrom participating had they known in advance’ (2005, 206); and

• equitable selection of participants, including the treatment of control subjectswhen the experimental ‘treatment’ is clearly the best possible instruction.

They also raise issues around informed consent, including the timing of the consentform and the protection of vulnerable subjects who may fear disadvantage if theyrefuse their consent, suggesting ‘third-party management of consent and data’ as apossible strategy for addressing the potential for coercion (2005, 211).

Grover, writing out of a position that ‘Universal human rights and the legalinstruments in which they are embodied ought to inform the research endeavour atevery stage; from problem selection to analysis and conclusions’ (2004, 261), alsoendorses the view that ‘confidentiality may be waived in those instances where sub-jects feel it important that their voice be heard’ (250). In discussing informed con-sent, she asserts that agreements are too often written in ways that make them hardto understand by many participants and fail to recognise people’s difficulties withlanguage. Pertinent to this paper is her suggestion that, while framing research as‘collaborative’ may help reduce the power imbalance, it does not hide the fact that,‘… one party is investigating the other. One party (the academic), for instance, nor-mally has the power to disseminate information broadly about the other, whichinformation may be beneficial or damaging to the welfare of the individual(s) and/or community studied’ (2004, 256).

Heath et al. (2007) focus exclusively on the process of gaining informed consentin institutions such as schools. While they neither focus solely on educationalresearch, nor on particular research approaches, their work has some relevance tothis paper. In particular, they refer to commentators working out of a participatoryand narrative qualitative methodology, who have argued that ‘informed consent is alargely unworkable process given that researchers can rarely – if ever – know thefull extent of what participation may entail, or predict in advance all the possibleoutcomes of participation’ (2007, 404). In this respect, they cite narrative research-ers Smythe and Murray (2000) as arguing, ‘that traditional formulations of informedconsent have arisen from a “data source” model of research which prioritises a pre-ordained, inflexible research design, and is considered impractical in the context ofnegotiated, processual forms of (qualitative) research’ (as quoted in Heath et al.2007, 404). (See next section for the relevance of this to collaborative research.) Apossible solution to this issue, they argue, is process consent (consent as ongoingand ‘negotiated on an ongoing basis’), which ‘provides a useful mechanism forupdating participants involved in studies with emergent research designs, and allowsexisting participants to decide whether or not to remain involved’ (2007, 409).

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In the main, they explore issues around agency and competency in relation to theinformed consent process. In institutions such as schools, the ‘relative status of adultresearchers and younger participants [makes] it difficult for children and young peopleto refuse involvement’ (Heath et al. 2007, 405). They argue, like Grover (2004), thatthe adoption of a participatory approach, despite the aim of empowering participants, isno guarantee against children being denied authentic agency in the informed consentprocess. Heath et al. raise the danger of assuming consent. ‘Informed consent is auto-matically denied even if children are nonetheless able to choose for themselves whetheror not to participate. This amounts to the obtaining of assent only – a passive accep-tance or non-refusal – rather than informed consent’ (2007, 412; original emphasis).They refer to examples of children being asked to complete a questionnaire as a class-room activity, where consent is often little more than a desire to please or a fear of notfitting in. Such concerns relate to a concern raised by Bournot-Trites and Belanger(Bournot-Trites and Belanger 2005) on the ease with which convenience sampling as away of conscripting participants can lead to coercion through assent.

Collaborative/participatory action research: principles, values and rights

In a pioneering text on action research, Carr and Kemmis (1986) distinguished threebroad categories: technical, practical and emancipatory. In the latter, ‘the practitionergroup takes responsibility for the development of practice, understandings and situa-tions, and sees these as socially-constructed in the interactive processes of educa-tional life’ (1986, 203). In denoting the subject of this sentence as ‘the practitionergroup’, they can be seen as collapsing the researcher/subject distinction and high-lighting its participatory/collaborative character.

Two years later, in the third edition of their influential Action Research Planner,Kemmis and McTaggart asserted strongly the centrality of collaboration:

Action research is a form of collective self-reflective enquiry undertaken by partici-pants in social situations in order to improve the rationality and justice of their ownsocial or educational practices, as well as their understanding of these practices andthe situations in which these practices are carried out … The approach is only actionresearch when it is collaborative, though it is important to realise that the actionresearch of the group is achieved through the critically examined action of individualgroup members. (1988, 5)

A similar emphasis on participation and collaborative action is later voiced by JeanMcNiff:

Action research is an enquiry by the self into the self, undertaken in company withothers acting as research participants and critical learning partners. (McNiff andWhitehead 2002, 15)

In a retrospective overview of participatory action research, Kemmis and McTaggartwrite that:

Participatory action research aims to create circumstances in which people can searchtogether collaboratively for more comprehensible, true, authentic, and morally rightand appropriate ways of understanding and acting in the world. (2005, 578)

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Their preferred term has become ‘participatory’ with a much stronger emphasis onthe ‘collective’, a term they have refined to embrace notions of inclusivity and moreflexibility in terms of the way roles are exercised. The ‘spiral of self-reflectivecycles’ (2005, 563) is retained as a key feature. While Kemmis and McTaggart con-cede that the steps outlined in the spiral can be undertaken by a single researcher,they emphasise that participatory action research is necessarily a social process witha focus on social practice. People involved in ‘collaborative participatory actionresearch projects’ are now understood as:

an open and inclusive network in which the facilitator can be a contributing co-partici-pant, albeit with particular knowledge or expertise that can be of help to the group.Moreover, at different times different participants in some groups can and do take thefacilitator role in relation to different parts of the action being undertaken … (2005,594–595)

In a school situation, for example, the task of improving educational practices has avariety of stakeholders, including students, parents, the local community and pro-spective employers:

In principle, participatory action research issues an invitation to previously or naturallyuninvolved people, as well as a self-constituted action research group, to participate ina common process of communicative action for transformation. (2005, 579)

This is regardless of how that invitation is received.Besides the self-reflective spiral, Kemmis and McTaggart identify seven other

key features of participatory action research (2005, 566–569):

(1) It is a social process and focused on the interrelationship between an individ-ual and their social environment.

(2) It is fundamentally participatory, where participants go to work on themselves,examining the relationship between knowledge, identity, agency and practice.

(3) It is practical and collaborative, in that it involves groups investigating inrelationship their practices (including their relational practices).

(4) It is emancipatory, in that it helps people address the ‘constraints of irratio-nal, unproductive, unjust, and unsatisfying social structures that limit theirself-development and self-determination’ (567).

(5) It is critical in the way it encourages participants to contest the ways theyare positioned to view the world in particular ways.

(6) It is reflexive in that the object of investigation is to change the world forthe better in a number of ways: practice, knowledge of practice, social struc-tures and social media (what we might call discourse structures).

(7) It aims to transform both theory and practice, and views these as mutuallydependent.

In our own understanding of collaborative action research, we identify the followingfive characteristics:

• A praxial focus, where practice is examined ethically in terms of its effects orends, and where there is a dialectical relationship between theory and practice(practice underpinned by and generative of theory).

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• A recursive process of action, reflection and analysis, planning, further action(intervention), reflection and analysis.

• Non-hierarchical collaboration and partnership.• Critical self-reflexivity, where researchers are ‘aware of the ideologicalimperatives and epistemological presuppositions that inform theirresearch as well as their own subjective, intersubjective, and normativereference claims’ (Kincheloe and Mclaren 1994, 140; see also Locke2004, 34–37).

• Dissemination: engagement and networking with others in the field viewed asa crucial aspect of action.

Collaborative action research, viewed as emancipatory, is concerned to improvepractice, challenge and reorient thinking about practice and transform through dia-logue and collaboration contexts for learning. It makes explicit links between themicro-level of classroom practice and the macro-level of society at large, where arange of discourses are at work, variously positioned to empower some groups anddisempower others. We are using the term ‘discourse’ here in a Foucaultian sense,viewing it as ‘a practice not just of representing the world, but of signifying theworld, constituting and constructing the world in meaning’ (Fairclough 1992, 64).While the concept of social justice is a slippery one, this form of action researchgenerally aspires to a social justice agenda (Kemmis and McTaggart 1988;Sandretto 2008; Sandretto et al. 2007).

The focus on praxis in this understanding of collaborative action research haslinks with Freire’s philosophy of education, with its focus on ‘reflection and actionupon the world in order to transform it’ (Freire 1972, 28 as cited in Roberts 2003,177). It also has links with educational scholarship, which has deployed an Aristote-lian view of knowledge to argue for a praxial view of education, with an ethicalfocus on right action centre-stage. Regelski (Regelski 1998), for example, describespraxis as ‘governed by the kind of “doing” called phronesis – an ethical [and situ-ated] knowledge of and for achieving “right results” judged in terms of actual bene-fits for one’s self or for others’ (1998, 28).

Another feature of collaborative action research is its recursivity (see Table 1),which means that it is far more dynamic than, for example, studies where an inter-vention is predetermined and trialled in a way that attempts to eliminate the ‘teacherfactor’. In general, the conduct of university ethics committees has not historicallybeen framed to allow for the indeterminacy that stems from this recursivity. We usethe term ‘phase’ to signify the way in which the spiral of action, reflection andanalysis, planning and further action often segments the research enterprise andcalls for research questions to be revisited. As indicated in Table 1, and discussed

Table 1. Action research as a dynamic process.

Stable factors (all phases) The collaborative relationshipThe setting

Stable factors over a single phase The research questionsDynamic factors The participants

The character of the interventionThe nature of the dataThe role of participants

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elsewhere, we view action research as allowing for changes in participants andparticipant roles. We view revisiting decisions about the character of an interventionas integral to action research, from which it follows that related decisions aroundevidence collection also require revisiting.

What might a set of ethical principles look like based on the preceding discus-sion; that is, principles congruent with the ethically acceptable means and endsimplicit in this approach to research. We offer the following:

• Principle 1. It is incumbent on the formally constituted action research groupto respect as stakeholders all those who have an interest in the focus of theresearch investigation. (Following Kemmis and McTaggart [2005], this mightbe called the ‘principle of inclusivity’.)

• Principle 2. All those whose practices, knowledges, identities and constraintsare actively engaged in the investigation are entitled to be considered fullmembers of the action research group, even though roles within this groupmay differ and change over time. This might be called the ‘principle of maxi-mal participant recognition’.

• Principle 3. Where practicable, the research aims and design, ownership ofdata and dissemination processes in relation to an investigation should involveconsultation with all stakeholders in the research, and minimally involvenegotiation and consensus building among members of the research group. AsCampbell and Groundwater-Smith note: ‘There are many tensions inherent inrelationships between practitioners and academics in terms of the setting ofthe research agenda, the policy implications that may flow from it and theright to publish outcomes. Negotiating that relationship requires ethical pro-bity where each party recognises, understands and respects mutual responsibil-ities’ (2007, 2). This might be called the ‘principle of negotiation andconsensus’.

• Principle 4. Members of the research group have the right to withdraw orrenegotiate the grounds for their participation at any time. Following Kemmisand McTaggart (2005, 588), this might be called the ‘principle of communica-tive freedom’.

• Principle 5. It is the right of members of the research group and the widerinterest community to be communicated with in language that maximises theirunderstanding and is not characterised by unnecessary jargon. This applies tosuch documents as information letters and consent forms, and research reportstargeted at the wider community. This might be called the ‘principle of plainspeaking’. (Cf. Kemmis and McTaggart 2005, 587.)

• Principle 6. It is incumbent on members of the research group to adjudge col-laboratively whether the aims of their research and the understandings thatarise from it are morally right, as they see it, in relation to the circumstancesthey find themselves in. This might be called the ‘principle of right action’.

• Principle 7. It is incumbent on members of the research group to be transpar-ent in respect of the discursive assumptions they bring to the investigation,both in relation to the topic and all aspects of the research design. This mightbe called the ‘principle of critical self-reflexivity’.

• Principle 8. It is the right of members of the research group and the widergroup of stakeholders with an interest in the research focus to have their feel-ings respected, and it is appropriate that feelings count as research informa-

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tion. This might be called the ‘affective principle’ and is part of a general val-idation of the whole person.

How might such principles create issues for those engaging in participatoryaction research in practice? In the next section, we offer some stories from practice.

Collaborative action research in practice

The set of general principles listed in the previous section pre-supposes a collabora-tive group who work together to address issues of concern to all of them, strivingfor openness, the development of shared meanings, equality of esteem and equityof involvement. This is an ideal and is no guarantee against dilemmas in practice.

In educational settings, action research projects are typically carried out by uni-versity-based researchers working with teacher practitioners or teacher-researchers(with the latter term susceptible to variability in definition; see Locke 2010). It isoften carried out by novice researchers under supervision, who are completing amaster’s or doctoral thesis. In what follows, we illustrate a number of practicalissues that can arise around ethical issues such as benefit, voice (who is heard andwho gets credit) and power or decision-making. We show that sometimes there canbe a clash of ethical frameworks between the professional ethical code of teachersand research ethics. In the final section of this paper, we look at the implications ofall of this for the ethical approval process as typically constituted in universitysettings.

Those who undertake action research projects in schools can be either outsidersor insiders. If they are outsiders, they may initially approach the school for permis-sion to carry out research on a problem that interests them but which may not bethe highest priority for staff or students. Principles 1 and 2 (‘inclusivity’ and ‘maxi-mal participant recognition’) draw attention to the preliminary negotiation phase ofa research project and the need to establish the membership of the action researchgroup and identify stakeholders. Collaborative partnerships take time and effort toinitiate and develop, and need to be in place before the design of an action researchproject is finalised. Degree candidates rarely have such time and may be inclined tosee their collaborators as subjects. If they are insiders, they may be drawing on ahistory of staff involvement and commitment to address a particular issue, or theymay be interested to pursue an initiative that concerns them and hope that otherswill want to be involved. Both outsiders and insiders face issues of power and hier-archy within the school. Young teachers may find it difficult to interest more seniorcolleagues to take part in their project. Senior staff may have difficulty convincingcolleagues that the research is genuinely collaborative and that they have the rightto decline involvement without disadvantage.

We describe and comment on three issues of practice: the intersection of profes-sional and research ethical codes, voice and benefit.

The intersection between professional and research codes of ethics

New Zealand teachers are required to endorse and implement the Code of Ethicsdeveloped in 2003 after a lengthy consultation process by the New ZealandTeachers Council.2 The code is based on four key principles: autonomy (to treatpeople with rights to be honoured and defended); justice (to share power and pre-vent abuse of power); responsible care (to do good and minimise harm); and truth

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(to be honest with others and self). While the code is designed to be aspirational, itis binding on those who hold practising certificates and may be used as a bench-mark to evaluate behaviour.

The Code of Ethics for teachers shares a number of values with the ethical princi-ples for practitioner research enunciated by Susan Groundwater-Smith (Groundwater-Smith and Mockler 2009), drawing on Ahmed and Machold (2004). She lists sevenmaxims: no harm, transparency, voice, equity, benefit, integrity and care. The NewZealand Teachers Council Code of Ethics spells out responsibilities towards learners,parents and whanau (the Māori word for family), society and the profession, andaddresses the maxims of no harm, integrity, care, and benefit. While it deals withissues such as privacy and confidentiality, it does so in a different context fromresearch and it does not deal specifically with issues of voice.

The focus of teacher professional ethics is the protection of learners, with hon-esty and professionalism in dealing with colleagues also seen as important. Teach-ers are expected to base their practice on, ‘continuous professional learning, thebest knowledge available about curriculum content and pedagogy, and knowledgeof those they teach’ (New Zealand Teachers Council n.d., Section 1b). The focusof research ethics, in contrast, is the protection of research participants, ensuringthey are not exploited in the search for new knowledge. There is a tendency ofthese injunctions to reinforce traditional distinctions between practice and theory,where practitioners make use of the research of others to improve their practiceand add to their store of professional content knowledge. Collaborative actionresearch, however, has the potential to turn this distinction on its head with itsinsistence that new practical knowledge may be fruitfully developed by practitio-ners themselves.

Action research may involve teachers working to improve their practice throughexploring new ways of working with students or new ways of approaching curricu-lum material. This may seem unproblematic at a professional level. But as a groupof researchers they must not only attempt to ensure that the needs of their studentsare met, but also consider the impact of their investigation on other stakeholders: aschool’s Board of Trustees, parents, advisers, the Ministry of Education. In practice,it may not be easy to bring all stakeholders on board. Ideas of educational improve-ment can be hotly contested, and certain research initiatives may draw an unwel-come official spotlight on a school.

Even those who engage in self-study of their own practice must consider theimpact of their data-gathering, reflection and action on others, especially if they pub-lish. Issues of care about the appropriateness of the research design, data collection,analysis and use are vital. In a large project on Teachers as Writers, led by one of us(Terry), one of the teacher-researchers trialled an intervention with one of her classesbut not with the other, despite a strong hunch that students in the intervention classwould benefit (Whitehead and Murphy 2012). Such a practice raises issues about theduty of care, and whether this was appropriately exercised in respect of the ‘control’class, even though a ‘greater good’ argument was being followed; that is, having acontrol class was likely to produce more convincing data to make a case for a gen-eral subsequent change in practice in the department involved. Principle 6 (‘rightaction’) would suggest that a right end does not justify a not-right means.

A number of issues can arise when research questions address aspects of profes-sional practice. Research codes of ethics rightly insist on respect for the autonomyof research participants as persons. This is manifested through informed consent

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and the right of individuals to withdraw from research, at least until the stage whenthe data are being written up. For collaborative action research within schools, suchinjunctions are problematic. To what extent is it possible for teachers to exerciseautonomy and ‘withdraw’ from research when what are being examined are recordsof meetings, decisions, surveys and interactions that are expected of them as part oftheir professional work? How can the boundaries between involvement and non-involvement in the research, as opposed to routine work, be demarcated? Whosevoices can be quoted in progress reports? Petrie (Petrie 2011) outlined some dilem-mas of action research in a classroom where a university academic and a teacherworked together on a weekly basis to teach and observe. Both teacher and academicregarded themselves as colleagues; before the research began parents and childrenwere asked for consent. But if, as has happened, a child decided not to be part ofthe research for any reason, it would negate the teacher’s duty of care not toinvolve him or her in the instruction and assessment tasks that formed the basis ofthe research data. Yet separating out a student’s individual work and voice is noteasy. If the assignment being used for research purposes is an integral part of theresearch data, designed to integrate teaching and research and ensure that all tasksare related to the students’ learning, the issue becomes yet more complicated. Prin-ciple 4 (‘communicative freedom’), which views consent as a matter of continualre-negotiation, may be part of the answer but will not rule out dilemmas of thiskind.

Particular dilemmas arise when principals engage in action research. Here theclash of cultures is clear. As a principal, she/he is expected to assign teacherresponsibilities, provide support and appraisal, and involve staff in collective evalu-ation and forward planning. The current New Zealand government-endorsed empha-sis on evidence-based teaching underpins much of this work. But action researchinitiated by a principal, particularly for an academic qualification, can raise ethicalissues for the researcher (and for university-based ethics committees) over the feasi-bility of free, informed consent to involvement in a project, because of the powerrelationship between principal and staff. There is a further issue around the trust-worthiness of data gathered in such a project, and whether staff will be free toexpress reservations to someone who may determine their professional advance-ment. Protocols can be developed for evaluation exercises conducted for but not bythe principal, but it is difficult for a practitioner researcher in this situation to under-stand why the professional trust on which a small school works is suddenly ques-tioned. One of us (Noeline) has experienced this dilemma currently with a principalwho is seeking to evaluate her school’s commitment to its vision statements. Forthe university ethics committee concerned with individual participants’ autonomy,ensuring that participants are taking part freely and without coercion is paramount.For the principal, expecting staff to be involved in ongoing professional questioningand evaluation is normal practice. But Principles 2, 3 and 4 (‘maximal participantrecognition’, ‘negotiation and consensus’ and ‘communicative freedom’) would sug-gest that ethically a process of careful negotiation around role and consent in theresearch process needs to occur. Of course, this potentially creates a further ethicaldilemma if the collaborative relationship established for the purposes of research isdisplaced by the hierarchical relationship expected for employment purposes in theeveryday workplace setting.

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Voice

Voice is a serious ethical concern (Groundwater-Smith 2011; Campbell andGroundwater-Smith 2007) and is the particular focus of Principle 3 (‘negotiationand consensus’). For this reason alone it is important that the power issues in theexample discussed above are worked through so the voices of teachers and parentsare taken fairly into account. There is a growing literature in education assertingthat the voices of young people and minority groups have not been heard in curric-ulum and pedagogical decision-making (Groundwater-Smith 2011; McNae 2011;Smith 2005; Bishop and Glynn 1999). It is important that collaborative actionresearch empowers and gives voice to the powerless and silenced as well as theassertive and confident.

Some of the complexities of voice are illustrated in a recently completed doctoralthesis by McNae (McNae 2011). McNae’s reading and experience convinced her thatmost youth leadership programmes were based on adult conceptions of what youngpeople needed, and rarely consulted those who were chosen to take part. Sheapproached a local school and asked whether she could run a voluntary programmefor a small group of senior students. With the go-ahead obtained, she addressed anassembly to ask for volunteers, stressing the time involvement needed. Exercising itsright as stakeholder, the school insisted that a random selection be made from the listof those interested, resulting in a heterogeneous group who met with McNae weeklyafter school for approximately six months. In that time she built trust, explored stu-dent understandings of leadership, and co-constructed a programme with them thatmet their espoused needs but also drew on her own considerable experience. Shefound that these young women wanted to start, not with powerful models, but withthemselves, and that they learned through activity and reflection. Together they deter-mined that leadership did not necessarily equate with a formal position but could beexercised in a range of situations in school and beyond.

These young women, like many research participants, were proud of the ideasthey generated and, while they understood the need for anonymity and the pseud-onyms under which their comments were quoted, they craved recognition for theirideas. This recognition was afforded somewhat, not in the formal written report sub-mitted for examination but in the publicity initiative they generated. Collectively,they wrote and delivered a presentation to the school’s Board of Trustees, outliningwhat they had learned and achieved. Further, they received permission and fundingto themselves deliver a leadership programme to students in the class below themthe following year.

In much small-scale and intimate action research, an insistence on anonymity canbe problematic. Those involved may want to have their views acknowledged ratherthan appropriated by the researcher writing up the project. The more collaborative theresearch has been, the stronger the desire may be to be acknowledged fully, not aspart of some anonymous sample. Conversely, there is a strong protocol for researchparticipants to be anonymous and their context non-identified where sharings – forexample, in interviews – are of a sensitive or personal nature. The issue does notarise where research is in-house and owned by participants as a group, but even inthis situation, once wider publication is mooted, issues of anonymity can arise. Thisis particularly so if the research has identified problems that need to be addressed.Should such ‘dirty laundry’ be aired in public? In an era of public relations ‘spin’and schools competing for reputation and students, this can be a risky business.

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McNae raises a further issue. Collaboration between her and the young womenparticipants was strong and reciprocal. However, collaboration between theresearch project and stakeholders involved in the ongoing life of the school didnot occur until its end, with the initiative of the young women participants. In ret-rospect, and in the spirit of Principles 1 and 2 (‘inclusivity’ and ‘maximal partici-pant recognition’), McNae believed that involving at least one teacher from theschool would have been valuable, as she often felt isolated. Ironically, this situa-tion provided a climate in which the research participants bonded together anddeveloped a level of trust, partly because they felt separated out and unofficial.This resulted in a tight research community, but one that saw itself as quite dis-tinct from the wider learning community in which it was embedded – a poten-tially unhelpful them/us situation.

Benefit

As we have noted, the issue of benefit in research is potentially contentious. Actionresearch is contextual and localised and, while based on other research and theorisa-tion, seeks practical solutions to immediate problems. Most action research aims tomake a difference to students or their teachers through questioning taken-for-grantedways of acting, collecting evidence, planning and implementing action, and reflect-ing on the impact of that action. Repeated action cycles may be necessary, eachbuilding on an evaluation of the previous one. But anticipated benefit may be con-tested, and implementing planned change risky (lisahunter, Emerald, and Martin2013). Activist teachers (Sachs 1999) are not always welcome. Practitioners whoadopt innovative practices may experience frustration or even failure before theyexperience success and therefore question the wisdom of the action research pro-cess. Students or colleagues may be resistant to change. Parents may be suspicious.At a time when schools are judged on test results, many boards and teachers preferto stick to traditional methods, often related to a focus on narrow outcomes, whileeschewing discourses of teaching that, for instance, challenge an exclusive focus onoutcomes and emphasise culturally responsive pedagogies.

By developing alternatives, action research can be a form of resistance to cus-tomary practice. But it can be a dangerous game. Locke (2007) provides anaccount of an extended action research initiative involving 13 schools across NewZealand, which developed and implemented a holistic, senior-school, English cur-riculum and qualifications regime – the Certificate of Studies: English – in oppo-sition to a new and controversial national qualification, the National Certificate forEducational Achievement (NCEA). The project was both rigorous and collabora-tive, designed with supporting evidence of student engagement and achievementin the belief that this would benefit students and contribute positively to anational debate around programme design, assessment, moderation, workload andreporting. Ultimately, the Certificate of Studies: English had to be abandonedwhen the authority responsible for national qualifications (the New Zealand Quali-fications Authority) ruled that students could not count Certificate of Studies: Eng-lish credits towards university entrance. In this instance, conflicting views ofeducational benefit collided.

In the light of such challenges and dilemmas, it would be easy for an ethicalaction researcher to despair. Acknowledging this complexity, Groundwater-Smithhas advocated seeking ‘good enough’ solutions. Her stance is worth quoting in full:

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Good enough should not be seen as ‘merely good’ or some kind of mediocrity. It hasto do with making rational and defensible choices. The good enough approach is away to drive ongoing improvement and achieve excellence by progressively meeting,challenging, and raising our responses to difficult ethical problems in practitionerinquiry as opposed to driving toward an illusion of perfection. (2011, 12)

In the final section, we examine some implications from the preceding discussionfor the process of obtaining ethical approval for participatory action research pro-jects in the university setting, and put a spotlight on the typical conduct of Univer-sity Ethics Committees and their relationship with approval applicants.

Reframing the university-based ethical approval process

In the first part of this paper, we articulated eight principles that might enableresearchers to engage meaningfully with the uncertainties involved in continually(re-)negotiating the ends and means of a research enterprise in which both research-ers and practitioners are engaged collaboratively. In the second part, we used exam-ples to focus on three major ethical tensions that may occur as a result: the co-existence of professional and research ethics discourses in a single research space;the exercise of research voice in a teaching and learning community; and makingconsequential judgements about the perceived practice benefits of the research.These served both to illustrate the ethical dilemmas that collaborative actionresearchers must engage with dynamically in the field, and to anticipate our asser-tion that typical university institutional ethics committee (IEC) frameworks and pro-cesses struggle to accommodate the messy realities of collaborative action researchprojects. In this part of the paper, we consider the basis on which IECs are consti-tuted, and how these constitutions need to adapt in order to be more encouragingand accommodating of collaborative action research in education.

One of us has argued that adversarial representations of (powerful) ethics com-mittees and (powerless) researchers are conceptually simplistic and practicallyunhelpful (O’Neill 2008). Instead, it is more useful to regard ethics review andapproval as a shared discursive space, which both parties negotiate according to thediscourse resources they have available to them. O’Neill identifies four discursivestrands or ‘regularities’ in this contemporary space; they are the regularities of‘principle’, ‘convention’, ‘relationship’ and ‘risk’ (2008, 55–60). Principle refers tothe codification of the ethical conduct of research according to universal standardsof ethical researcher conduct. Convention refers to the disciplinary traditions andself-regulating approaches to research conduct in fields of scholarship such as edu-cation. Relationship refers to the different ways in which researcher and researchedare positioned within the research endeavour. Risk refers to the conception ofresearch as a performative enterprise in which reputation management (individualand institutional) is central. As in any discourse analysis, the importance and influ-ence of each of these strands may be said to ebb and flow over time, and to beresponsive to changes in language, behaviours and relations both inside and outsidean institutional setting. Thus, in considering how IEC processes may need tochange to better accommodate collaborative action research, one needs to under-stand how such processes are currently configured and why.

Currently, it may be argued that IECs give greater weight to matters of principleand risk than they do to convention and relationship. In part, this may be because,

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in Aotearoa New Zealand, six of the eight universities have human ethicscommittees that are externally accredited by the Health Research Council. TheHealth Research Council accreditation processes and procedures are derived from amedical model of ethics review. Ethics review in the health sector is based on thefour bioethical principles (Beauchamp and Childress 1979) of autonomy, benefi-cence, non-maleficence and justice. This ‘principlist’ approach to ethical review hasrapidly become hegemonic in research, both inside and outside the health sector.

Unfortunately for social researchers, this approach is based on highly question-able assumptions that greatly affect the ways in which institutional ethics commit-tees approach the review of proposed social ‘science’ research studies, includingthose in education. First, autonomy invariably refers to the natural person, not thegroup or community. IECs therefore construe consent in terms of the individual.Conversely, collaborative action research, as we have argued, is a social activitythat takes place within a community, be this the class, the workgroup, the institu-tion or the community at large. Consent is complex and ongoing. Second, non-maleficence trumps beneficence: all research is constructed as having the potentialto cause harm. The principal role of the IEC is, therefore, to ‘protect’ potentialparticipants from the proposed actions of researchers. Relationships of trust arevested in the consent agreement rather than a prior and ongoing relationship oftrust. Third, and most significantly in this context, principlist ethical approachestend to assume a separation of interests between researchers and participants: ben-efits that accrue to the researcher are viewed as categorically different from thosethat accrue to participants. Moreover, the researcher’s benefits are seen as invari-ably direct, while those of participants may only be indirect. The role of the IECis to ensure that researchers represent the cost–benefit calculus truthfully in theprocess of seeking and gaining informed consent. In order to be truthful, all thepossible benefits and harms are ideally required to be identified in advance andweighted accordingly.

In medical research it is all but inconceivable to imagine a situation in whichresearchers and researched do all of the following: genuinely share decisions aboutthe focus of the research (our Principle 1); take on different roles during its course(Principle 2); negotiate and build consensus around decisions as the researchunfolds (Principle 3); re-negotiate grounds for participation (Principle 4); prioritiseplain language communication and reporting (Principle 5); collaboratively makemoral judgements about the conduct and ends of the research (Principle 6); questionthe underpinning assumptions they bring to the research (Principle 7); and incorpo-rate feelings as a significant aspect of research data and conduct (Principle 8). Yet,as we have argued, these eight principles accurately reflect both the conceptualassumptions on which collaborative, participatory action research is based, and thenature of the values, relationships and decision-making it practically involves.

If principlist ethical approaches are based largely on assumptions of researchstability (aims, design, execution), and collaborative action research necessitates anethic of dynamic research as we have suggested above (Table 1), there is an impli-cation that IECs need to accommodate, minimally, broader understandings of themeanings of ‘participants’, ‘the character of the intervention’, ‘the nature of thedata’ and ‘the role of participants’ in research studies that are not based on ahypothetico-deductive model of inquiry. We would argue, in fact, that broaderunderstandings of the dynamics at play in respect of these characteristics of collabo-rative action research would encourage ethics committee members to re-negotiate

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differently the shared discursive space with social researchers, and with an assured-ness that, in our experience, is distinctly lacking at present. In collaborative actionresearch, the distinction between researcher and participant is blurred, overlappingor non-existent; the focus and the character of the intervention emerge only asresearchers and participants together construct a shared understanding of what isworth investigating; similarly, appropriate data are only suggestible once the actualfocus of the investigation becomes apparent; while the roles of participants changein response to what is needed to best gather and interpret the emerging data – expe-rience-near craft expertness, or experience-distant scholarly expertise (Geertz 1993).

In terms of the ethical review and approval process currently undertaken in theuniversity institutional context, what we are arguing for, in effect, is a need for anassertion of the importance of research relationships and disciplinary traditions ofdoing research: a recognition that relationships of trust both permit, nurture and sus-tain collaborative action research; and that collaborative action research is a com-munity of inquiry practices, with its own self-regulating and self-correcting researchtraditions and moral tenets that have integrity. In other words, collaborative actionresearch, conducted in fidelity with collaborative action research traditions, is amoral and ethical form of scholarly inquiry, not a poor relation to the hypothetico-deductive model. In this respect, we are advocating a rebalancing of IECs’ relianceon abstract principles and risk-management imperatives.

AcknowledgementsThe authors would like to acknowledge the contribution of Susan Groundwater-Smith to the2011 New Zealand CARN Symposium on ‘Ethics and Action Research’ both formally andinformally.

Notes1. In this paper ‘we’ refers to the three of us collectively as co-authors. Where we need to

refer to one of us for a particular reason, we will use our first names.2. See http://www.teacherscouncil.govt.nz/required/ethics/codeofethics.stm.

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