Fieldwork in Transforming Societies: Understanding Methodology from Experience

Fieldwork in TransformingSocieties

Understanding Methodology from Experience

Edited byEd Clark and Snejina Michailova

Fieldwork in Transforming Societies

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Fieldwork in TransformingSocieties Understanding Methodology from Experience

Edited by

Ed Clark and Snejina Michailova

Selection and editorial matter and Chapter 1 © Ed Clark and Snejina MichailovaIndividual chapters © Contributors 2004

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Includes bibliographical references and index.ISBN 1–4039–0428–6 (cloth : alk paper)

1. Social sciences–Research–Europe, Eastern. 2. Socialsciences–Research–Europe, Central. 3. Social sciences–Fieldwork–Case studies. 4. Post-communism–Europe, Eastern–Casestudies. 5. Post-communism–Europe, Central–Case studies. I. Clark, Ed (Edward David) II. Michailova, Snejina, 1965–

H62.5.E82F53 2004001.4′33–dc22 2003070732

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 113 12 11 10 09 08 07 06 05 04

Printed and bound in Great Britain byAntony Rowe Ltd, Chippenham and Eastbourne

Contents

List of Tables and Figures vi

Abbreviations vii

Notes on the Contributors viii

1 Doing Research in Transforming Contexts: Themes and Challenges 1Snejina Michailova and Ed Clark

2 Identities, Roles and Qualitative Research in Central and Eastern Europe 19Thomas Steger

3 Who is Observing Whom? Fieldwork Roles and Ambiguities in Organisational Case Study Research 39Anna Soulsby

4 Uncovering the Communist and Capitalist Shadow: Developing Relational Forms of Inquiry and Writing 57Katalin Illes and Bronwen Rees

5 Constructing Enterprise Level Knowledge: Exploratory Methods and Transforming Contexts 78Anne Lorentzen

6 Researching Organisations in Hungary: Practical Experience and Methodological Reflections 97Károly Balaton

7 Transformation Research in East Germany: Institutions, Knowledge and Power 114Ramona Alt and Rainhart Lang

8 Behind the Bamboo Curtain: Problems and Pitfalls in Researching Australian Expatriates in China 136Kate Hutchings

9 Fieldwork in a Low-Trust (Post-)Communist Society 157Matti Nojonen

Bibliography 177

Index 191

v

List of Tables and Figures

Tables

2.1 Comparing the four role types 327.1 Double approach to the analysis of structure and action 1217.2 Old and new rules of research 125

Figures

1.1 Field research in transforming societies 82.1 The role triangle 272.2 Typology of qualitative researcher roles 287.1 Enabling and limiting relations between discourses, actors

and disciplines 1177.2 Disciplines, discourses, actors and actor relations 1188.1 Insider status, expatriate type and researcher gender 145

vi

Abbreviations

ACE Action for Co-operation in EconomicsCASS Chinese Academy of Social ScienceCEE Central and Eastern Europe (particularly, the European

post-socialist societies)CEO Chief Executive OfficerCOMECON Council for Mutual Economic Assistance (Soviet bloc (or CMEA) trading system)DFG German Research FoundationEU European UnionFDI Foreign Direct InvestmentGDR German Democratic Republic (former communist

East Germany)IHRM International Human Resource ManagementIJV international joint ventureJV joint ventureKTV Karaoke TelevisionKSPW Commission for Research into Social and Political

Change in the New Federal StatesMNC Multinational CorporationNSB National Statistical Bureau (China)PRC People’s Republic of ChinaSOE State-owned enterpriseTQM Total Quality ManagementWPFR World Press Freedom Review

vii

Notes on the Contributors

Ramona Alt is Associate Professor at Chemnitz University of Tech-nology, Germany. Her research areas include management practicesand leadership in post-socialist East Germany, and more generally, inturbulent environments and under organisational transformation. Sheis also interested in organisational control and micro politics in organ-isations, and feminist organisation theories. She has been conductingresearch in transformational settings since 1989.

Károly Balaton is Professor of Management at the Budapest Universityof Economic Sciences and Public Administration, Hungary. His researchinterests include organisational change, strategic management andorganisational design. He has done extensive research on organis-ational changes during the transformation period from centrallyplanned to market economy in Hungary.

Ed Clark is Reader in Organisation Studies at the School of Manage-ment, Royal Holloway, University of London, United Kingdom. He hasconducted research in a variety of European post-socialist countriesundergoing socio-economic transformation, but has specialised in the Czech Republic. The research has used intensive case study tech-niques and a longitudinal design to examine the processes of manage-ment and organisational change in former state owned enterprises,and, more recently, the impact of foreign direct investment on man-agement practices.

Kate Hutchings is Senior Lecturer in the School of Management,Queensland University of Technology, Australia. Her research areasinclude International HRM and cross-cultural management, and herprincipal research interests focus on Australian expatriates in Asia, and the impact of culture on HRM and management decisions in sub-sidiary operations. She was previously employed at the University ofQueensland, Australia, has taught short courses in China, and Malaysiaand has held visiting positions in the U.S. and Denmark. She has 10 years experience in conducting research in Asia.

Katalin Illes is a senior lecturer, researcher and consultant in theAshcroft International Business School, Anglia Polytechnic University,Cambridge, United Kingdom. Her research areas include International

viii

HRM, intercultural communication and leadership. She is particularlypassionate about and committed to management research that can addvalue and improve organisational life. She has worked with public andprivate sector organisations in Britain, Denmark and Hungary. She waspreviously employed at Heriot Watt University, Edinburgh, Scotlandand has held visiting positions in Hungary and Denmark. She has 12 years experience in conducting research in organisational change.

Rainhart Lang is Professor in Organisation Studies at ChemnitzUniversity of Technology, Germany. His main fields of research aretransformation theories and transformation studies, especially changesin values and leadership styles in East Germany and other CEE coun-tries, cultural change and management transfer, as well as HRM sys-tems in transitions. He has worked as a research social scientist and amanager before and after the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989.

Anne Lorentzen is Associate Professor at the Department of Develop-ment and Planning, Aalborg University, Denmark. Her research inter-ests include changes of technological innovation and learning inmanufacturing enterprises, regional development and regional innova-tion systems. Her current geographical focus is Central and EasternEurope.

Snejina Michailova is Associate Professor at Copenhagen BusinessSchool, Denmark. Her research areas include management in post-socialist organisations, knowledge management in multinational firms,and cross-cultural management with a special focus on Russian com-panies with Western participation. She has 12 years of experience inconducting research primarily in Bulgaria and Russia.

Matti Nojonen is Research Fellow in the Department of Managementat the Helsinki School of Economics and Business Administration,Finland. He has been preoccupied with transitional societies since1986, when he was working and studying in the Soviet Union. In 1990he moved over to China studies. He lived and conducted ethnographicfieldwork in different Chinese and foreign organisations in Chinaduring the late 1990s. He has more general research interests in con-temporary social, institutional and economic transformation in transi-tional societies, historical and contemporary regional development ofChina and Chinese military thought.

Bronwen Rees is Senior Research Fellow and Director of the Centre forCommunications and Ethics at the Ashcroft International Business

Notes on the Contributors ix

School, Anglia Polytechnic University, Cambridge, United Kingdom.She has published widely in the areas of ethics, communication, gen-der, power and culture in international business. She is a foundermember of Crucible Research, a team dedicated to researching intoways of introducing ethical inquiry into organisations using aware-ness techniques. She has been a Fellow at Cambridge University andthe Open University, and was a Visiting Fellow for 3 three years atCranfield University, U.K. where she completed her PhD.

Anna Soulsby is Senior Lecturer in Organisational Behaviour at theUniversity of Nottingham Business School, United Kingdom. She hasconducted research in the transforming countries of Central andEastern Europe since the early 1990s, specialising in the transformationof organisation and management in the Czech Republic. Her fieldworkhas mostly involved the use of semi-structured interviewing to developrich materials about the actors involved in processes of organisationalchange in order to construct longitudinal, qualitative case studies.More recently, she has become involved in researching the effects ofmultinational corporations on the transformation process.

Thomas Steger is Assistant Professor of European Management atChemnitz University of Technology, Germany. His research areas includecorporate governance and industrial relations in Central and EasternEurope as well as cognitive phenomena in management. Originatingfrom Switzerland, he has ten years experience conducting mainlyqualitative research, primarily in East Germany, but also in Hungaryand the Czech Republic. Moreover, he has co-operated in universityeducation projects in Russia, Poland, Bulgaria and Romania.

x Notes on the Contributors

1Doing Research in TransformingContexts: Themes and ChallengesSnejina Michailova and Ed Clark

Like all edited books, this is the result of collective efforts over a longperiod of time by a number of individuals. In our case, the book hastaken over two years from initial decision to completion and hasinvolved huge amounts of time and energy from twelve colleagues,located in a variety of countries across the world. In this introductorychapter we aim to help the reader understand why so many peoplecommitted themselves in this way, by exploring the rationales for, thecontexts of and the arguments in the main body of this book.

In brief, the current chapter is divided into three main sections. First,we aim to introduce and explain the background to and context ofwhat is expressed in the chapters of this book. We look at how andwhy we engaged on this enterprise, and outline its main propositions,motivation and objectives, as well as its relationship and contributionto the methodology literature in organisational research. Our secondpurpose is to lay the foundations for the exploratory work conductedin this volume, by outlining its key themes and constructing a ‘map’ ofhow these themes can be integrated into a coherent message. Third, weintroduce the authors and their contributions.

Background and context

The book’s origins

The book’s organisational parent is the European Group forOrganization Studies (EGOS), under whose auspices most of the con-tributors have met regularly since the mid-1990s. Since 1999, however,EGOS has supported a Standing Work Group entitled ‘Organisationalchange in transforming societies’, which has convened workshops atthe annual colloquium. These workshops have provided a forum and

1

an impetus for critical theoretical and empirical discussions around dif-ferent organisational themes and topics related to transition economiesand transforming countries. Although relevant contexts have includedother emerging and less developed economies – such as those in Africa,Asia and South America – much of our debate has revolved aroundchanges in post-communist or reforming communist societies, particu-larly those of Central and Eastern Europe, the former Soviet Union andChina.

For many of us, the intellectual origins of the ideas expressed in thisvolume can be traced back to the beginning of the 1990s, though theneed to develop our thoughts coherently became more urgent towardsthe end of that decade. The more we discussed our concrete empiricaltopics during workshop sessions, the more aware we were of theimportance of giving voice to the methodological challenges to whichwe were exposing ourselves in our field research. We felt strongly thatradically transforming societies such as those mentioned above pro-vided distinctive research settings and that working (even surviving) inthem highlighted the need for rather special skills and qualities.

Looking back, we can now detect how we, as a group, shifted thefocus of much of our discussion. Whereas initially we all were preoccu-pied with collecting empirical materials, writing our papers and pre-senting our research findings, by the mid-1990s we had identified theneed to talk together explicitly and seriously about fieldwork problems.Some of these problems could be understood through methodologicalconventions, but many were personal and emotional, concerned, forexample, with the frustrations that we were experiencing in the fieldand how these were influencing our analyses, interpretations andtheoretical products. In presenting our papers, it was no longer suffici-ent to mention in a descriptive way that, for instance, the study wasbased on conducting 25 interviews in Hungary, or that the authoracted as a participant observant for a particular period of time in twoforeign-owned Polish companies.

It became evident that methodology had to be made more humanand approachable – and, as it happens, also more interesting to ouraudiences. We recognised this fact, but, because of the accepted con-ventions of management and organisational research, we had tactfullyand tactically avoided it. Our discussions opened up personal issues:who were we; how did our background influence the way we thoughtabout and did fieldwork; what mistakes were we making while generat-ing our field data; how did we deal with all the surprises awaiting ‘outthere’ in the field; on what basis and how did we make our practical

2 Fieldwork in Transforming Societies

and ethical choices while collecting empirical data (and so on)? Whilethese questions are not new, they are largely unexplored in relation tothe transforming contexts in which we were working. Moreover, giventhe uncertainties and ambiguities associated with transforming soci-eties (see below), we felt that our personal fieldwork experiences hadstronger resonance and significance for research process and outcomesthan in the ‘normal’ research settings of developed Western societies.

Over the years, our methodological discussions became more andmore intensive and, in Lyon in the summer of 2001, we took the deci-sion to give voice to our methodological concerns. From this back-ground comes this edited volume, in which we discuss methodologicalissues by placing our personal fieldwork experiences centre stage.

Propositions, motivation and objectives

Our work on this volume has been motivated by the idea that there is aneed for it. This view is underpinned by four guiding propositions,which define the basic themes and arguments in the book. First, weargue that transforming societies are very special research settings that require fieldwork researchers to develop special qualities. Thisargument, demonstrated throughout the book, suggests that the uncer-tainties, ambiguities and even dangers of working in transforming soci-eties call for degrees of creativity and ingenuity that need furtherinvestigation.

Second, we propose that existing methodological conventions inorganisation and management studies tend to pay too much attentionto research as a technical question and too little to the personal andsocial experiences of the researcher. We argue that researchers’ experi-ences can offer a significant inductive route into understanding andresolving methodological issues, thereby reversing the more traditionaldeductive reasoning – here are a set of logical, often disembodied prin-ciples that must be put into practice – that dominates methodologicaltexts.

Third, we propose that, in comparison with what we call ‘normal’(i.e. stable) settings, working in transforming societies, is more likely tolead to personal and social difficulties and strains for the fieldresearcher. Thus, above and beyond developing special skills to operatesuccessfully, a field researcher has to learn ways of coping as a humanbeing. We are quite sure that these essentially human problems can anddo seriously affect the process and outcomes of field research, and we are troubled that they are rarely confronted. In general, fieldresearchers either do not write about serious difficulties or mention

Snejina Michailova and Ed Clark 3

them without sustained reflection. If and when some of the problemsare discussed, they tend to be dismissed with only a brief, detachedexplanation of why they did not weaken the findings. In researchmonographs, for example, this is often done in appendices, adoptingthe custom first introduced by Whyte (1955) and followed by Gans(1962). In our view, this creates a growing gap between theory andpractice that needs addressing through greater reflexivity.

Our fourth proposition follows from the first three, namely, thatothers can learn much from the experiences of those who conduct fieldresearch in transforming societies. On the one hand, this applies tofield researchers working in institutionally stable settings. Stable insti-tutional contexts are often not as predictable as they first appear, andwhile surprises might not happen so often or be so ‘nasty’, the abilityto develop creative and flexible responses is a critical researcherquality. In a similar fashion, most research, wherever it takes place,involves some level of personal or social pain, which is usually ignoredor covered up. We need to ‘out’ these often highly emotional questions– in whatever setting – if we and others are to have full confidence inour research. By openly discussing such issues, we hope in particular toencourage junior researchers and doctoral students to be reflectiveabout their own work.

On the other hand, other social groups can also benefit from theexperiences described and analysed in this book. We believe that onesuch group, in particular, includes managers, business people and con-sultants who have to operate in foreign, often alien settings. Such‘international practitioners’ share many characteristics with inter-national researchers. They are brought up in one cultural context andare posted to another, which can have norms and customs that makethe change of life a real challenge. From a professional stance, inter-national practitioners have to get good quality information from, andcommunicate information and decisions to their host culture col-leagues. From a personal perspective, living in a new and strange envir-onment can be stressful and have a direct impact on a manager’sability to operate professionally. While the contributions are primarilyabout the professional and personal effectiveness of the researcher,each chapter attempts to pull out some lessons for an audience ofinternational practitioners.

Our book joins a small number of methodology books that examinethe conduct of fieldwork in transforming or developing societies (e.g.Thurston and Pasternak, 1983; Devereux and Hoddinott, 1992; De Sotoand Dudwick, 2000). However, we address questions of the theory and


practice of methodology as they apply to field research, by reflectingon experiences in a transformational setting – a focus that comple-ments rather than replicates these contributions.

We start from the view that field research is a rich laboratory for per-sonal learning and development (Van de Ven and Poole, 2002) andthat voicing and debating fieldwork problems enhance both thequality of the research we conduct and our credibility as researchers. Insharing with readers those problems and challenges experienced in thefield, the account of our research is appreciated as being more honestand realistic. General and sterilised statements about ideal-typeprocesses of research often given the impression that ‘normal’ researchis or can be problem free and that, if researchers are having personalproblems, they are obviously not doing research ‘properly’. On theother hand, the actually normal personal and social experiences offieldwork – in which researchers are subjects in their own project – aredirectly recognisable to researchers with any level of experience.Leaving this human dimension of research unexplored endangers ourability to appreciate how we as researchers interact with our respond-ents, materials and findings.

In this volume, we identify and discuss problems that arise in doingfieldwork in transforming societies and share with readers both the dif-ferent strategies we have applied to overcome the pitfalls and thelessons we have learned in this process. Instead of reporting successstories – or presenting problems as if they were inconsequential – wetake a ‘critical distance’ (Mingers, 2000) from our own methodologicalapproaches in relating our theoretical knowledge of methodology toour practical experiences. With great openness, the authors in thisbook tell stories of and describe personal experiences in managementresearch, reflecting upon the personal and social problems they haveencountered. They thus make a contribution to the literature by dis-cussing methodological issues that are raised directly from the field.

What this book is (not) about

This book is not about research findings. It is about research processesand, more specifically, methodology. The study of methodology aims to‘…help us understand, in the broadest possible terms, not the productsof scientific inquiry but the process itself’ (Kaplan, 1964: 23). Andersenet al. (1995: 13) point out that books on methodology are by naturenormative, since they tell how research ought to be conducted and howconcrete methodological problems ought to be solved. However, thisembodies certain important weaknesses. First of all, the researcher is


depersonalised and research findings are often presented as if otherresearchers could replicate them. Most social scientists concede that noresearch is value-free and, therefore, researchers need to disclose theirvalues and perspectives (Boyacigiller and Adler, 1991; Van Maanen,1995; Calas and Smircich, 1999). Weick (1999: 802) recognises thisneed, arguing that there ‘…seem to be growing pressures on theorists toprolong and deepen those moments [of reflexivity] so that they willthen see just how situated and constructed their universals are and howfew voices their situated assertions incorporate. […There] is pressure tomove toward greater accuracy in explanations, but it is directed at theexplainer rather than the objects being explained’.

Second, in the normative methodology literature, research processesare usually interpreted in terms of the norms of rationality that dom-inate Western societies. This book has been conceived to explore differ-ent ideas about fieldwork in transforming non-Western contexts. Thechapters draw on a number of themes to contextualise the processesthrough which data are generated and analysed. Therefore, this volumedoes not constitute a recipe book. It is not a list of dos and don’ts, noris it a textbook on ‘how to do’ qualitative research in transformingsocieties. Instead, it is meant to help readers in formulating well-informed and sensible proposals for their own fieldwork research andin developing realistic expectations about what can be done in thefield.

This book focuses particularly on organisational fieldwork as aresearch process, by which we refer to particular forms of data collec-tion as well as particular patterns of relationships involved in data col-lection. Field research involves the study of ongoing organisational lifein its naturally occurring settings with first-hand observations from aparticular subject’s frame of reference (Van Maanen, 1988). A numberof books, most of them written by anthropologists, centre their atten-tion on fieldwork experience (e.g. Bowen, 1954; Powdermaker, 1966;Wax, 1971; Johnson, 1975). More recent contributions include Shaffirand Stebbins (1991), Lareau and Schultz (1996), Moch and Gates(1999) and De Laine (2000). They provide valuable insights intofieldwork experience from a variety of angles. Whereas in most of thesebooks authors use examples from field research to illustrate their pre-scriptions for doing things according to their recommended method,we have reversed this logic and tried to build methodological prin-ciples and practice from experiences and reality.

Although the chapters in this book are devoted to different themesand take different countries (such as China, Czech Republic, Hungary,


Eastern Germany, and Poland) as their geographical context, the chap-ters are written around a number of coherent dimensions. First of all,the contributors all have a commitment to qualitative research strat-egies. It is beyond the purpose of this book to enter the debate about therelative merits and disadvantages of quantitative and qualitativemethods. However, it is worth mentioning that, while the field of organ-isational studies has been heavily influenced by quantitative research,there is growing recognition of the importance of qualitative methods(Bryman, 1988). This is associated with the increasing awareness amongorganisational scientists that our research problems and issues a) mirrorreal-world organisational functioning, b) are becoming increasinglycomplex, and c) are getting harder to address (Lee, 1999: 2).

A second, and probably the most important dimension that unitesthe various chapters, is the task of addressing the general issues ofmethodology (e.g. generalisibility, rigour, anecdotalism, personalinvolvement and subjectivity of researchers, reliability of respondents)through grounding discussion in personal research experiences. Thesingle chapters, seen together, present a mosaic of connected themesand discussions rather than a ‘kaleidoscope’ of isolated representationsof fieldwork experiences. In each case, the authors draw on storiesabout personal experiences to develop relevance in three ways. Theyaddress questions of methodology such as gaining access or controllingpersonal involvement; they consider the conduct of researchers in thefield, for example, how to deal with problems of emotional distress andinterpersonal conflict; and they infer more general lessons for interna-tional non-academic practitioners who need to operate successfully indifficult environments.

Third, the authors have written in the first person and shared theirpersonal learning experiences in conducting fieldwork and research.According to Burgess (1992: ix), each setting in which the fieldworkeris located offers a learning experience in several senses. First, there is anopportunity to learn about a particular culture. Second, there is anopportunity to learn about research methodology and the use of parti-cular research techniques. Third, there is a possibility to learn aboutoneself, as personal experience is a crucial element in the conduct offieldwork. These different kinds of learning are reflected in each of thechapters, along with the most general kind of learning – learning frommistakes! Moreover, the authors share with the readers how they madesense of what they have been experiencing in the field. As such, thechapters provide a realistic account of research rather than generalised,wooden and impersonal descriptions and prescriptions.


Field research in a transforming context: key themes across thechapters

In outlining and reflecting on their field experiences, the authorsreveal a wide variety of issues that provide important clues about per-sonal conduct and social structures within the transforming researchsetting. In writing this section, we have tried to construct a framework– or better, a map – in which many of these fieldwork ideas are pulledtogether in a coherent way to help readers get an overview of themethodological issues raised (see Figure 1.1). We explore the main con-tours of this framework by discussing the four main sets of factors: thetransformational context of research; the researcher(s) as subjectiveagent; the respondents as social actors in the research setting; and whatwe refer to as ‘third party’ agents in the field.

The contextual nature of field research

Without context, there is no meaning (Bateson, 1978). In this intro-ductory chapter and throughout the book, we advocate the importanceof contextualising fieldwork. According to Devereux and Hoddinott(1992), the context within which fieldwork is conducted is absolutelyintegral to the research process. They argue that ‘contextual’ and‘methodological’ considerations should be considered jointly, not astwo distinct categories in which the first obstructs the pursuit of thesecond. Michailova (2004) goes a step further and argues that it is more


Researcher

Researcher

Respondent

Respondent

The TransformingContext: international,cultural, historical, institutional, organisational dimensions

Third party agents

Third party agents

Roles, identities, subjectivity, relationship,

skills, power, connections, involvement, insider-outsider

status, bricolage

Internal informants, informal informants, network members,

political motives, differing orientations

Rapid change, uncertainty, ambiguity, strangeness, hostility, danger

Language translators, cultural interpreters, cultural tutors,

external contacts

Figure 1.1 Field research in transforming societies

rewarding to treat contextualisation as an explicit methodological issuein its own right than to assume implicitly that context is inherent infieldwork. Such a view implies that context is not an external constructwithin which fieldwork takes place, but rather it is internalised andconstitutes the very nature of fieldwork. This is illustrated by thepecked lines surrounding the three circles in Figure 1.1. One immedi-ate implication of such an approach is that subjectivity is somethingnot to be criticised, avoided, excused or overcome, but to be taken seri-ously, valued and learned from.

As argued earlier, the contributions in this book recognise that thefeatures of a transforming context make it different from a ‘normal’Western research setting. These characteristics, including strangeness,uncertainty, ambiguity, and sometimes hostility and danger, may leadto the coexistence of contradictory or conflicting perspectives onresearch in terms of the research philosophies, practices and institu-tions which themselves undergo change (see Alt and Lang’s chapter,for example). They may also lead to an antagonism towards importedor externally imposed ideas (Illes and Rees in Chapter 4). Some of themore extreme characteristics (such as the personal dangers) are graph-ically described in Nojonen’s chapter on doing fieldwork in China. Theculture of fear that persists in many post-socialist countries continuesto affect research settings in sometimes subtle and imperceptible ways(see Soulsby’s argument in Chapter 3). Lack of transparency – commonto all transforming contexts – is also more extreme in China. Sincetheir recent histories make these countries ‘high-context’ societies(Child, 2000), the researcher needs to probe deeply to dig out local,tacit knowledge and information in order to operate, let alone under-stand. The cultural distance that remains after 40 (or more) years ofstate socialism has made these contexts difficult to penetrate as aWestern outsider.

So how can a researcher begin to operate effectively in such aresearch setting? Getting to know how to operate in such a context –gaining access, becoming an ‘insider’ or an acceptable practitioner –requires knowledge, sensitivity and usually a lot of help (see below).Most contributors agree that, in a transforming society, conventionaltesting of hypotheses and models is inadequate. They use a variety ofterms to call for sensitising, inductive, bottom-up or exploratorymethods to be able to grasp with any accuracy the emergent andambiguous nature of organisation and management.

What kinds of lessons can normal mainstream researchers learnfrom research experiences in a transforming context? Does ‘doing’


such research and ‘being’ such a researcher hone special skills,develop a more sceptical and deeply questioning mentality, evolve anextra ability to cope, be flexible, think on your feet, and be sensitiveto subtle and hidden qualities of the field? Many would argue thatthese are essential characteristics of an ‘inductive’ theorist. Is there agreater need to construct theory in order to explore and explain theemergent and ambiguous, rather than resort to and test knownmodels and frameworks that were built under very different condi-tions in the West? Are these apparently ‘special’ researching skillsand qualities actually those that are ‘normal’, but which havebecome blunt or underused in the less challenging conditions of a‘normal’ context? These and similar questions are addressed in thechapters that follow.

The researcher’s role

The social, cultural, historical and institutional uncertainties and ambi-guities of the transforming context frame and shape the researchers’experiences, providing challenges in their pursuit of knowledge. Butthe researcher is not alone in the field, performing as an impartial,detached observer of events, their causes and effects. The personalexperiences recounted by the contributors help us to understand thewider picture of the research process in a transforming context.

From their different angles, the contributors to this book agree thatthe objective of the field researcher is to develop Verstehen, to under-stand how participants in the setting give meaning to or make sense ofthe world around them. The chapters are sometimes rich accounts ofthe obstacles that their authors faced in their fieldwork and, more pos-itively, of the imaginative ways they dealt with these problems. Theseaccounts especially refer to the personal, social and cultural resourcesthey were able to mobilise in order to evolve constructive explanationsof the structure and process of the research setting.

Starting from the status of outsider, most authors make some refer-ence to strategies to increase their insider status. Developing networksor guanxi is especially central to the two chapters on China (Chapters 8and 9), but this theme also runs through Steger’s contribution (Chapter2). If you cannot become an insider – for example, because of languagebarriers – then it is crucial to develop third party contacts who can doso for you (e.g. Soulsby in Chapter 3). Having an inside track (directlyor by proxy) is especially important for smoothing organisationalaccess. On the other hand, being an outsider – even a ‘naïve outsider’(see Soulsby chapter) – is certainly not without its benefits. This is a


personal resource that field workers can use to acquire an image ofneutrality (Nojonen) or to be able to ask questions that a native wouldsimply not think of, or would refuse to ask for fear of appearing stupidor gauche (Soulsby).

A number of chapters address the relative merits and problems asso-ciated with degrees of researcher involvement, including the ultimatedilemma of ‘going native’ (e.g. Steger). Levels of involvement are oneway of delineating the ways in which the researcher role can be playedand the importance of the identity that the researcher brings to theresearch setting. The role of researcher is central to all discussion inthis book, though this is conceived in a variety of ways. Most believethat effective fieldwork in transforming societies requires flexibility,creativity, open-endedness, spontaneity – all of which we could referbroadly to as ‘craft’ (see especially Lorentzen, Soulsby, Nojonen). InChapters 2 and 9, Steger and Nojonen respectively see the researcher as(potentially) playing multiple roles, with the ability to shift betweenthem according the field circumstances in order to collect materials.Several chapters put forward strong arguments about the researcher’sidentity, or subjectivity, as a critical resource in the process of achiev-ing Verstehen (e.g. Chapters 2, 4, 5, 8 and 9).

Another important feature of these contributors’ honest explorationsof personal experience is the stress, anxiety and even fear thatresearchers can feel when in a transforming setting. These emotionscan be a direct reflection of the nature of the wider context – being in adifferent culture in which language is strange, customs are impenet-rable and rules lack transparency. But they can also loom large whenaccess is denied, interviews are cancelled, respondents are unhelpful orrude, and there is little semblance to an outsider of social order (seeChapters 3, 4, 8 and 9).

Whether dealing with research tasks or personal frustrations,researchers need to develop social and psychological coping strategies –an area of preparation that is especially poorly dealt with for inter-national researchers. It is in looking for such solutions that working in aresearch team or partnership is especially important. Soulsby (Chapter 3)and Illes and Rees (Chapter 4) make a strong case for having researchcolleagues, whom you trust and with whom you can have both task-related and socio-emotional discussions. However, as Alt and Lang(Chapter 7) make clear, working in research teams – especially those thatare culturally mixed – can also have dysfunctional consequences.

In summary, the role of the field researcher is complex in itself, butin its relationship to a transformation setting, can turn into a very


negative experience with direct implications for the research processand the quality of outcomes. While the authors in this book do notunderestimate the obstacles, they also demonstrate how the researcheras bricoleur can use available resources – including her/his own identity– to get the job done.

Respondents as active members of the field

One of the biggest mistakes that a field researcher can make is tothink that s/he has – or can get – control over the research setting. Itis one of the myths of positivist methodologies that the social ororganisational world behaves like a mechanistic view of the naturalworld, and the first thing a researcher entering the field learns is thatit is full of surprises. Where the context is a transforming society,this is even more so. As a result, it is essential to realise that the field setting is a negotiated order, where respondents (and otherthird party actors) have power that comes from being permanentinsiders.

As mentioned above, respondents can play a crucial role in helpingresearchers gain insider status, or at least in allowing access to theirnetworks as a means of facilitating access. Similarly, most authorspoint out the role of respondents as internal informants, who are ableto keep the outsider in the know, make introductions and arrangeinterviews. These respondents can play an important informal mediat-ing role, even becoming part of the access strategy (Hutchings;Nojonen), though Soulsby (Chapter 3) reminds us that, as organisa-tional members, they can have hidden political interests in taking careof researchers.

Hutchings (Chapter 8) distinguishes between three types of expatri-ate respondent and demonstrates the direct influence that each typehas on the quality of the research process. She also shows how thesetypes interacted differently with her as a researcher, and this respond-ent-researcher relationship was another notable factor in understand-ing the research process and its outcomes.

Underlying this discussion is the clear reminder to us as fieldresearchers that respondents are active participants in the field (seeLorentzen, in Chapter 5), and that the field has an internal social struc-ture, of which, as outsiders, we are unaware. Soulsby, in Chapter 3,demonstrates what, with some reflection, is obvious – that respondentsin the research setting are participants in an ongoing social and polit-ical process. Far from being putty in our hands, they can use us associal resources in their own organisational games.


Third party actors in the research field

The final set of roles that we can infer from the accounts related in thechapters is loosely called ‘third parties’. This is perhaps the mostshadowy and least well understood set of roles, but refer to thosepeople who play a role in the research, but are neither researchers norrespondents. Thus, they are usually external to the research settingbeing studied (e.g. not a member of the organisation), but internal tothe transforming society itself. Soulsby (Chapter 3) thus identifiestranslators, or interpreters, and external informants as significantexamples. In practice, an interpreter can also be a fellow researcher (see Illes and Rees, Chapter 4, for example), or external informantsmay also play an insider role, but this simply underscores the intercon-nectedness of the social roles that appear in Figure 1.1.

The interpreter is itself a variable role in field research, being at onepole a ‘mere’ translator of language while at the other performing therole of a significant cultural guide and decoder of symbols. Althoughnot having the same political stake in the research setting as an in-ternal informant, over-dependence on interpreters can lead the fieldresearcher to losing control over collecting materials. External inform-ants are often the first contacts that a researcher has with the context,and can act as connections to key networks and facilitate access (seeSoulsby, Hutchings and Nojonen chapters).

Figure 1.1 summarises these observations and arguments, and offersthe reader a simple map to which to turn in order to make sense of therich and complex stories told in the remainder of the book. Thediagram conceptualises fieldwork as contextualised and socially struc-tured, in which research is a complex social process involving actorswith varying degrees of proximity to the researcher and the setting.The quality of the research process (design, preparation, access, mater-ials collection and interpretation) and research outcomes (nature ofmaterials/data, findings, reports, knowledge) are affected in manydirect and subtle ways by these field relationships and by the personaland social experiences that researchers have as a consequence of them.

Introducing the authors and their contributions

The chapters that follow elaborate the ideas and themes touched uponin this introductory piece. It is our pleasure as editors to introduce theauthors and their contributions to this volume. The authors are agroup of international scholars from Central and Eastern Europe,Western Europe, and Australia. Their disciplinary backgrounds vary


across organisation studies, international management, human re-sources management, sociology and sinology, but they all share astrong interest in qualitative methodology. Contributors include well-known authorities in transitional research, as well as representatives ofthe younger generation of researchers who are at the forefront ofrecent developments in the field. Each author has conducted fieldwork(e.g. observation, interviewing or ethnography) in the socially difficultconditions of a ‘transforming society’ from Central and Eastern Europeand China.

It has been our privilege as editors to follow and contribute to theprocess of shaping the single chapters and orchestrating them so thatthey ‘play’ together. We highly appreciate, but, given the experiencesthey describe in their chapters, are not surprised by the authors’ hardwork and tenacity in improving their manuscripts, culminating in thisvolume.

The book starts proper in Chapter 2. In ‘The Qualitative Researcherin Central and Eastern Europe’, Thomas Steger develops the argumentthat the researcher’s identity and behaviour are crucial influences inqualitative research, but especially so in the transforming societies ofpost-socialist Europe. As the complexity of the research settingincreases, he continues, more attention needs to be dedicated to theresearcher’s self-reflexivity. Steger proposes a typology of differentmembership roles, which helps to unravel the different ways in whichthe researcher relates to, or becomes a member of, the research setting.He distinguishes between four role types on the basis of two dimen-sions – time orientation of the research project and intended level ofinvolvement in the research site – and discusses the implications ofthese role types for the strategy adopted by the researcher. This chapterends by offering some concrete guidelines for developing the first,often critical, phase of a research project.

Anna Soulsby’s chapter is entitled ‘Who is Observing Whom?Fieldwork Roles and Ambiguities in Organisational Case Study Research’.As the title indicates, this chapter considers the significance of relation-ships between the researcher and other key actors, who are part of thesocial process of constructing case study materials. She draws on exam-ples from her fieldwork in the Czech Republic to illustrate some import-ant methodological issues that often go unexplored in the conventionalmethodological literature. These issues, she argues, can take on anextreme form in post-communist societies, because of the particulardegree and nature of change. This chapter considers in some depth theoften under-appreciated role of informants and respondents in the man-


agement of the research project after gaining access, including theirattempts to exert control over the research project and its outcomes.Soulsby shows that informants and respondents are not passive subjectswaiting to reveal their information and insights, but active interpretersof the situation, with their own political agendas and concerns that maywell be invisible to the researcher from the outside. The author identifiesa particular role set of actors who, as participants, make different contri-butions: the external gatekeeper, the interpreter as external culturalinformant and the internal cultural informant and other internalrespondents. In this sense, the organisational setting has its own socialstructure, populated and enacted by the motivated human agents, withwhom the researcher must engage creatively and subjectively in order togather her/his research materials.

Katalin Illes and Bronwen Rees’ chapter, ‘Uncovering the Com-munist and Capitalist Shadow: Developing Relational Forms of Inquiryand Writing’, is motivated by a number of difficulties experienced bythe two authors, both individually and jointly. Coming from differentcultural backgrounds and disciplines, they both found the positivistconventions of management research methodology problematic. Theyargue that these conventions encourage levels of abstraction, whichtend to deny the relevance of personal experience to social scienceunderstanding, and have become institutionalised within the struc-tures of domination that control the organisation and practices ofmanagement studies. In studying transition processes in Hungary andthe impact of Western managerial knowledge on Hungarian managers,Illes and Rees draw on psychological and social theories to propose andalternative evaluation of the role of experience and relationship inunravelling transformation processes. The two authors tell withunusual frankness the story of their personal friendship and reflectupon how the way they explored their own relationship – and therebyeach other’s cultures – opened up rich insights into and links betweenHungarian and British cultural environments. Moreover, their engage-ment in fieldwork in Hungary induced a high level of uncertainty andeven fears, which they experienced differently, but were able toconfront through the strength of their personal and professionalrelationship.

Anne Lorentzen’s chapter, ‘Constructing Knowledge of EnterpriseLevel Innovation in Central and Eastern Europe’, is a plea for the use ofgreater flexibility, exploration and intuition in the study of radicallytransforming contexts. Her interest in processes of innovation informer socialist countries leads her to review the existing literature,


which is revealed as lacking an understanding of local contexts andpractices. Her argument adds further levels of criticism to the use ofdetached positivistic methodology to this context, which, in her view,leads to a systematic underestimation of the processes and outcomes ofinnovation in post-socialist organisations. Lorentzen argues that it isnot sufficient to employ Western concepts and theories directly andapply Western measures uncritically, because innovation has localmeanings that need investigating and understanding. She advocatestheory construction through the use of ‘exploratory’ methods andqualitative research, because this is the only approach that allows thefull empirical possibilities of the transformation context to emerge –rather than being artificially limited by imposed categories importedfrom Western science.

Károly Balaton picks up the theme of the relationships between theresearcher and the researched in his chapter, ‘Researching Organ-isations in Hungary: Practical Experience and Methodological Re-flections’. He draws lessons from conducting research projects inHungary before the start of the transformation in the late 1980s andtakes these as a basis for understanding organisational research prob-lems in a transformation context. Balaton further emphasises, from aresearcher’s point of view, some of the challenges in studying foreign-owned companies in Hungary. He shares his experiences in doing bothquantitative and qualitative studies and, like some others in this collec-tion, advocates a strategy of triangulation that combines the Verstehenbenefits of qualitative fieldwork with the ability to generalise statisti-cally from quantitative surveys.

In ‘Transformation Research in East Germany: Institutions, Knowl-edge and Power’, Ramona Alt and Rainhart Lang examine the ways inwhich the production of knowledge about the East German transform-ation has been influenced by the re-shaping of the institutions ofscience and scientific knowledge following German reunification. Thischapter explores the structural and political contextualisation ofscientific knowledge by looking at the impact of institutional rules,power and control on research processes and outcomes. Alt and Langdiscuss how Western scholars and researchers have exercised dom-inance over the emergent body of transformation knowledge throughtheir control of research means, research groups, and research dissem-ination channels. Drawing on institutional and structural analysis, thechapter looks specifically at the operation of mixed East-West Germanresearch groups, which were set up through the application of selec-tion practices and rules based on values, norms, procedures, and local


discourses dominated by West German institutions. They analyse theresultant tensions and conflicts in such research teams in terms ofpower and domination dynamics. Their analytical framework offersopportunities for application in a more general context, but, for trans-formation studies, it encourages greater awareness of the influence ofless visible structural factors on the production of scientific knowledge.The authors go one step further to propose rules and techniques forputting together and operating mixed groups of researchers – insidersand outsiders, strangers and indigenous researchers, Easterners andWesterners. They suggest that it is possible to get the benefits of mixedgroups while avoiding the partial ‘blindness’, mistakes, and misinter-pretations, which have, in their view, resulted from structures of dom-ination in the German transformation process.

Kate Hutchings’s chapter ‘Behind the Bamboo Curtain: Problems andPitfalls in Doing Research in China’ is another powerful illustration ofthe advantages of utilising unconventional techniques to overcomesome of the obstacles to conducting fieldwork in China. From herexperiences of studying Australian expatriates in China, she exploresthe relationship between the researcher and the field participants byexamining three key themes. First, she argues that her respondentsvary systematically in their work and social orientations, making itnecessary to adjust research style and conduct. Each respondent typehad implications for both the process of fieldwork and its outcomes.Second, she examines the importance of the researcher achievinginsider status in the respondent group and shares her experiences ofworking in a team with an insider and learning to utilise personal con-nections to improve her own insider status. In turn, this has led her tosources of information and data, which would otherwise haveremained inaccessible to her. The third theme relates to the issue ofgender in the process of generating field data. Specifically, Hutchingsreflects upon how different expatriate types responded to her as afemale researcher, and derives from this some potential problems forfemale researchers while collecting data in non-interview settings.

In the final chapter, ‘Fieldwork in a Low-Trust (Post)CommunistSociety’, Matti Nojonen discusses the challenges involved in conduct-ing non-authorised fieldwork in Chinese organisations and illustrateshow his fieldwork was affected by China’s regulatory framework, low-trust climate and lack of tradition in politically free sociology. Heargues that these dramatically different circumstances require that thefield researcher create, refine and use subtle arts and techniques, andhe explores learning by doing, learning from mistakes, using intuition


and self-criticism. Nojonen particularly analyses interview situationsand the ‘life cycle’ of the interview through different stages. He em-phasises the importance of the interplay of various researcher roles andtactics during these stages and describes the creative techniques hedeveloped in interviewing Chinese respondents. As the most ethno-graphic of the book’s contributors, Nojonen highlights the value ofbeing able to socialise with field participants in informal settings. Heshares with the reader how he was able to open up his respondentswhile collecting his data in this often hostile context.

Through these chapters, our contributing authors share their per-sonal experiences of research in transforming societies, while at thesame time offering substantial insights into problems treated by con-ventional methodology books. We hope that doctoral students andjunior researchers in particular will take hope and inspiration from theclever and creative approaches adopted by these scholars as they haveadjusted to the difficulties and complexities of operating as researchersand surviving as individuals in strange and challenging contexts. Wealso believe strongly that international practitioners from the world ofbusiness, management and consultancy will find in the writing import-ant messages that can point them towards better strategies of informa-tion collection and communication, as well as personal adjustment ontheir own international assignments.


2Identities, Roles and QualitativeResearch in Central and EasternEuropeThomas Steger

In my early research into changes in corporate culture in East Germanmanufacturing enterprises, several questions about the role and impactof researcher identity continued to concern me. How should I getcloser to people in the research setting? As a Swiss German and henceeasily identifiable as a ‘stranger’ in the enterprise and in the region,how should I behave and present myself? In my behaviour quaresearcher, how should I compensate for my deficiencies in neverhaving personally experienced everyday life in a socialist society?

At the centre of this chapter is the argument that the researcher’sidentity and behaviour are crucial in any qualitative research, but espe-cially in transforming societies, such as those in post-socialist Centraland Eastern Europe (CEE). Qualitative fieldwork has been widelydebated during the last few decades, both in general (e.g. Denzin andLincoln, 1994; Van Maanen, 1979) and with special reference to theresearcher’s position (e.g. Adler and Adler, 1987; Geertz, 1979; Hughes,1971). However, the special problems associated with fieldwork intransforming societies have remained underdeveloped and haveattracted little methodological reflection. This is especially true withrespect to the researcher and his/her relationship to the particularitiesof a CEE research setting.

In this chapter, I draw on critical personal reflections of my ownresearch experiences in CEE to help to fill this methodological gap. Thefocus is on those questions and problems that arise before the start orduring the first steps of a research project. To understand the nature ofthe knowledge constructed, it is crucially important to reflect upon andevaluate the researcher-as-self. As the researcher holds a key position inthe research process, what he/she does must be carefully examined andunderstood. This chapter explores some of the implications of this

19

observation. My argument is that, as the complexity of the researchsetting increases, more attention must be dedicated to how we intro-duce and progress our research work and especially to how we behaveand develop as researchers. In the end, this means that we must reflectupon ourselves as researchers.

It is obvious that the situation of researchers in CEE is not exactlythe same as the situation of business practitioners, although there areconsiderable similarities, especially with regard to the topic discussedhere. So, any practitioners among our readers are invited to reflectupon the diverse points mentioned and may find some helpful insightsand advice for their work as well.

After a short discussion about the nature of research work in CEEand the particularities of the transformational research setting (section1), I address some basic problems of doing research in CEE (2). I thenpropose and elaborate a typology of membership roles, which helps tounravel the different ways in which the researcher relates to, orbecomes a member of, the research setting (3). Before drawing someconclusions, I offer some concrete advice for developing the first phaseof a research project (4). Throughout the chapter, I offer anecdotesfrom my research to illustrate the argument.

Qualitative research in CEE: what’s so special about this field?

By asking this basic question about qualitative fieldwork in CEE, weface a classic dilemma. On the one hand, CEE constitutes a highlycomplex framework, a veritable ‘minefield’ (Holden, 1998) for anyqualitative researcher. In the CEE countries, it is often difficult to knowthe right subject to study and the real problems to focus on. Foreignersfrom Western countries in particular have to deal with different lan-guages and alien mentalities, based on a complex history (much longerthan the 40 years of communism), which is not easily deciphered and understood. Moreover, the legacy of the traditional antagonismbetween socialist and liberal market systems makes knowledge transfersof any kind very difficult (Lang and Steger, 2002). All in all, any doubtsabout starting this kind of work seem to be well founded.

On the other hand, despite these difficulties, it is clear that, withoutqualitative fieldwork, attempts to describe and understand the socialand economic reality of CEE would lack richness and detail. Surveysalone, especially when directed by researchers from outside thecountry, tend to deliver rather narrow-minded views (e.g. Welsh et al.,1993) and ‘native’ stories from indigenous authors seldom overcome


the blind spots of reporting from within a culture (e.g. Lang, 1996).Since the time when academic ‘pioneers’ of all countries poured intothe region seems to be over now, CEE is a fairly promising setting forambitious and serious researchers with well prepared research conceptsin hand (Lang et al., 1998).

In sum, high quality qualitative fieldwork in CEE is urgently needed,despite all the problems and pitfalls discussed in this book. Against thisbackground, we have to ask how rather than whether research work canbe done. In this regard, I would mention four particular points.

Transformation situation

The transformation process, which has been taking place in the formersocialist countries in CEE, must be considered a unique context for anyresearch in this region, creating processes that are poorly understoodand less well theorised. It has affected all aspects of life and can by no means yet be perceived as finished (Steger, 2000). So, whateverresearchers may observe in CEE countries, they are at the very leastwell advised to reflect on how the transformation process impinges ontheir research.

Ideological heritage

The forty years (or seventy in the case of Russia) of division betweenEast and West meant that there existed at first a sharp ideological sep-aration. East-West competition was an everyday fact on both sidesduring the years of the cold war, be it in weapon development, indus-trial production, sports or academic research (see Alt and Lang chapterin this book). Today the legacy of this ideological power play continuesto resonate in the form of stereotypes and commonplace views of each

Thomas Steger 21

In the framework of an European Union (EU) project aimed at improvingeducational structures in CEE in the early 90s, I visited a prominent Russianuniversity. During our discussions, my (German) colleague and I were regu-larly surprised by our Russian partners’ reactions. They seemed to be quiteantagonistic towards the Western Masters programme to be introduced andkept emphasising the high quality of their education and the high repu-tation of their institution. After some reflection, we realised that nobody inour project had ever considered whether our Russian partners would beeager to introduce Western educational structures. In fact, this was not thecase and, during our next meetings, we became aware that these Westernideas would impact heavily on their sense of confidence and national pride.So, in the end we had to abandon our ‘great’ transfer plans.

other (e.g. ‘capitalists are blood-suckers’, ‘communists never learned towork hard’ – cf. Kuznetsov and Kuznetsova, 1998). Especially whenunilateral superiority was claimed for one side, these conflicts couldeasily be re-activated (Alt, 1996; Holden et al., 1998).


For our research project about the elites in the former German DemocraticRepublic (GDR) industrial combines, we tried to find one interviewee fromeach combine. Already when contacting them by phone, some reactedangrily e.g. ‘I received your letter and I perceive our communication asfinished. Good bye!’ Contemporary newspaper articles had been enough to convince them that we had only negative images of the GDR. So, we had to proceed with great care to explain that our objectives were only acad-emic and that we would be very interested to learn about their views andinterpretations of the past.

Methodological background

The way in which science and research are perceived and treated varieswidely between East and West – not least because of different academictraditions (Illes and Rees, 2001). This is true with respect to not only research colleagues but also respondents and interviewees (seeHutchings chapter in this book) in organisations who have grown upand graduated from within these different traditions. ‘Soft’ qualitativetools and methods may provoke suspicion or misunderstandingsbecause of the harder positivist traditions that framed normal socialscience in former socialist countries. Here again, feelings of or claims tosuperiority often worsen the situation.

Education system

Even when taking into account the massive economic developments inCEE countries in recent years, the economic state of the educationsystem in general and of universities in particular is still highly precar-ious (Holden et al., 1998). This becomes obvious when, for example, aCEE research partner has to withdraw from research activities in favourof other administrative or political tasks for his/her faculty or univers-ity. The financial situation of most CEE universities is critical. Withoutmoney from foundation grants, research is often impossible. Moreover,past experience of practitioners with academic research and the image they hold of the education system provide further obstacles(Michailova, 1997) e.g. in Russia, it is not rare to have to pay respon-dents for interviews.

Stories of faith and truth: basic problems of qualitative fieldworkin CEE

Qualitative methodologists have long debated whether and how farresearchers should be ‘informed’, ‘preconditioned’ or even ‘biased’ intheir relationship with their subjects (Denzin, 1983; Glaser and Strauss,1967; Guba and Lincoln, 1994). There is no doubt that the idea of ‘theresearcher as a blank sheet’ is an illusion and only makes sense in themindset of a quantitative, positivist methodology (Strauss and Corbin,1990). However, there is a wide spectrum of possible alternatives, eachof which raises a broad range of fundamental, often ethical, issues –relevant for both researchers and practitioners.

The problem of truth

Qualitative research in general rejects the existence of some ‘absolutetruth’ (Guba and Lincoln, 1994), ‘out there’ waiting to be discovered.Where research involves the kind of knowledge transfer mentionedabove, this is especially important in the CEE context. With theirexperiences of the former socialist system in mind, people in CEE mayreact with suspicion on the interpersonal level against new Western‘prophets’ (Tóth, 1996). The person who is deemed to hold the ‘truth’,or who is ‘truer’ than the other, is often assumed to be in a powerfulposition, and this attitude can hinder the raising of important ques-tions and the gaining of new insights of a complex topic (Kleinmanand Copp, 1993). As the qualitative researcher’s main aim is to getinteresting data by reconstructing the ‘native’s point of view’(Malinowski, 1922: 25), he/she must accept the existence of differentworldviews and constructions of reality (Bartunek, 1994; Filstead, 1970;see Illes and Rees chapter in this book). This is so even within the samegroup or organisation, such as between managers and employees(Heintz, 2002).

Thomas Steger 23

In one of the companies I have observed, the CEO told me that I wouldsurely find out that his employees’ main problem was their low wage levels.However, in my shop floor interviews, it turned out that the employees hada much broader understanding of compensation. They criticised the CEO’spoor recognition of their work efforts or complained about the cut of long-service bonuses (as the symbolic recognition of their commitment with thecompany). Had I accepted the CEO’s perspective, I might never have foundthat the real picture was far more complex.

Therefore, the researcher needs to refrain from practices like comment-ing, evaluating and consulting; or at least keep them in the back-ground (Schwartzman, 1993). A second important aspect of truth isconnected with interpretive work. Outsiders in a strange researchsetting often risk mistaking appearance for reality and story-telling forreal action (Alt, 1996; see Soulsby chapter in this book). A good inter-pretive researcher knows his/her boundaries and carefully handles thedata with which he/she works.

The problem of value

Each researcher in an intercultural framework will sooner or later beconfronted with questions about values. The larger the distancebetween home and host culture, the more ‘bizarre’ practices andcustoms in the field often seem. But, parallel to what has been saidabout ‘absolute truth’, there is no general ‘value standard’ in qualitat-ive research. Knowledge about the social context, including awarenessof background expectancies (Garfinkel, 1967), as well as respect forother social groups and their norms and values, are prerequisites forgood qualitative research. Such an attitude minimises the chances ofresearchers uncritically imposing external value judgements on theresearch setting (Turner, 1982) and helps to keep focus on deliveringthick descriptions (Geertz, 1973) instead of leaping to explanations andconclusions.


I was faced with such a narrow-minded attitude when applying for aresearch grant to observe corporate governance in different CEE countries,among which was Albania. Reviewers asked me ‘How and where do youwant to research this topic in Albania?’ and asserted that ‘In fact, there is nocorporate governance in Albania…’

Words and ideas that seem to be similar in dictionary terms are oftenconnected and understood in different ways in different settings.Moreover, it sometimes turns out that concrete local practices arebetter suited to the specific conditions of the CEE context than anyglobal ‘best practices’ (Hocevar et al., 1999; Lungwitz and Preusche,2000). Thus the lack of ‘corporate governance’ in a Western sense doesnot mean an absence of corporate governance in the local conditions.

The problem of expectations

Even as a stranger in the field, the researcher always holds someassumptions about it, such as ‘East German managers’ attitudes are

deeply rooted in the socialist value system of the former GDR’. Theseassumptions are not necessarily a problem if they have been madevisible at the start (Strauss and Corbin, 1990; see also Alt and Langchapter in this book). Making assumptions explicit can further helpthe researcher to reflect upon and control his/her own attitude andbehaviour during the research process and reduce the probability ofintroducing bias into the results (Michailova, 1997; Steger, 2000).

Thomas Steger 25

Before starting my interviews in a project about cultural change, I wrote ashort note about my personal expectations of the research site e.g. about theexistence of conflicts between certain groups, such as white collar versusblue collar workers, or the impact of the transformation process on dailysituations in the firm. When analysing the data several months later, Ichecked this note again to make sure that my interpretations were not justaffirmations of my prior expectations.

Nevertheless, clearly negative assumptions about the research site andespecially stereotypes about the subjects in the field (e.g. ‘as a result oftheir socialist heritage, Russian managers can neither show initiativenor act innovatively!’) can make it difficult to establish a fruitful com-munication process and should be questioned and discussed before thestart (Kuznetsov and Kuznetsova, 1998). Here again, the principle ofqualitative research should be remembered – concentrate on develop-ing instead of testing theoretical propositions (Glaser and Strauss,1967; Henwood and Pidgeon, 1992).

The problem of influence

The relationship between the researcher and the research setting iscentral to qualitative methodology (Girtler, 1992; Honer, 1993). Con-trolling the research site is not a feature of qualitative research and isanyway nearly impossible within a highly complex and unstable trans-forming context. Moreover, in preparing for fieldwork, the researcherought to be aware of and think in advance about potential influences ofthe field on the researcher as well as vice versa. Both can heavily affectresearch outcomes. In the end, ‘all human knowledge is fundamentallyinfluenced by the subjective character of the human being who collectsand interprets it’ (Adler and Adler, 1987: 31; cf. Feyerabend, 1972).

The problem of development

Research sites are seldom stable over time, but in the radically trans-forming CEE context, researchers are often shocked by the degree of

change when they return to the research site after some time away.Organisations may have downsized, restructured, or even ceased toexist (Steger, 2000). Research concepts therefore have to be as adapt-able and flexible as the researcher himself/herself. In fact, it is exactlythese kinds of ‘event’ that makes research in this field so fascinating(Puffer et al., 2000). Moreover, and as a logical consequence of whatwas said in the previous point, the researcher also undergoes severalchanges during the research process (Junker, 1960; Michailova, 1997),with respect not only to the roles he/she takes but also to his/her atti-tudes and perspectives on the research setting (see Soulsby chapter inthis book).

This last point leads us directly back to the central question aboutthe role and position of the researcher in the research site.

Presenting oneself in the field: qualitative researcher roles

The role triangle

Of special interest to our topic are the roles that the qualitativeresearcher can (or should) take in the field. Researchers are not stageactors and should not try to become like them. Theatre actors behaveas if they were in reality, but researchers are part of their studiedreality. The area of conflict they are faced with can be described withthe help of a role triangle (see Figure 2.1).

The first pole is the researcher’s self-identity as a ‘normal humanbeing’. The second is the emotional labour he/she has to perform inthe research setting, caused by cultural norms or structural/professionalpressures e.g. to suppress his/her real feelings of anger, stress or happi-ness (Hochschild, 1983; Morris and Feldman, 1996). The third pole isreal acting that takes place when the researcher tries to perform assomebody else, such as during participant observation (Wallraff, 1986).

Some important points have to be mentioned here. First, since theresearcher is continuously moving between the poles while working inthe research setting, it is not easy at any one moment to identifyhis/her current position in the role triangle. Second, one should notconsider this triangle as static, but as a highly dynamic process. Theemotional labour expended or the acting undertaken depends on thecurrent interaction situation, and even the researcher’s self-identitymay develop over time. Third, the researcher is well advised to reflectregularly upon his/her position in the triangle, since continuous incon-sistency between his/her feelings, thoughts, accounts and behaviour


can endanger the whole research project. Fourth, researchers shouldconsider how the people in the research setting perceive them and howrespondents react to different kinds of account and behaviour.

Types of qualitative researcher role

After these general introductory remarks, I distinguish between four‘ideal types’ (Weber, 1920) of role, or relationship between theresearcher and the field setting. I differentiate between two dimensions– the time orientation of the research project and intended level ofinvolvement in the research site (see Figure 2.2). Each type has differ-ent implications for research strategy.

The hunter-gatherer

If the researcher neither adopts a long time perspective nor can adaptclosely to the research site, we can speak of the hunter-gathererapproach. In this role, the researcher tries to get as much informationas possible in a short period of time.

This approach requires much care in a number of respects. First, aresearcher who does not have any kind of organisational insider mem-bership status must behave tactfully within the research site, sinceoffending people (e.g. by breaking unknown rules) can quickly lead toexclusion. Second, the researcher is well advised to be cautious when

Thomas Steger 27

Self-identity

Emotional labour Acting as someone elseFigure 2.1 The role triangle

analysing the data afterwards, because superficial involvement maylead to misunderstanding and misinterpreting them. For a largerresearch project, this role is highly questionable, as several negativecases in the CEE context have demonstrated (e.g. Gunzenhauser, 1995;Neimanis, 1997; Welsh et al., 1993).

The hunter-gatherer role most often stands at the beginning of aresearcher’s career in the research setting. In time and with an increas-ing base of knowledge and experience of the field, he/she may manage


Gulliver Ethnographer

Hunter-gatherer

Roman

Tim

e-or

ient

atio

nLong-term

Short-term

Level of involvementLow High

Figure 2.2 Typology of qualitative researcher roles

Before starting my first interview, I was fairly nervous about whether I wouldbehave in the right way, ask the precise questions etc. In the end I just triedto present myself as an interested amateur in the field. Most of my respond-ents at that time appreciated that their task was ‘to tell this Swiss guy aboutwhat happened around here in GDR times and during the transformationprocess’. So, I was able to gather a large diversity of fascinating data – not inspite of but exactly because of my projected lack of expertise.

to proceed to a ‘higher’ role. Opting for higher involvement, he/shemay proceed in the direction of the Roman type, while enlarging thetime perspective shifts the role towards the Gulliver type. If bothdimensions develop, which is not unusual since involvement and timeperspective are somewhat interrelated, the role develops in the verticaldirection (Figure 2.2) – though reaching ethnographer status isdefinitely not a realistic target.

The Roman

‘When in Rome, do as the Romans!’ is the underlying principle of thisrole type. Although (or because) the time perspective is not longenough to infiltrate the research site fully, during the research period,the researcher can try to adapt as much as possible to the organisa-tional reality of the insiders he/she is studying. So, the researcher mayeven start as a Roman in the field – just like Tacitus on his trip toGermany. Usually, it is not a comprehensive adaptation, but it is more‘learning by doing’.

Meals can be important cultural events for the Roman style (compareNojonen’s account in Chapter 9).

Thomas Steger 29

During my first stay in Romania, my partner took me to a traditional res-taurant for lunch. He asked me what I’d like to drink – ‘Whisky or Vodka?’ –and invited me to taste the typical Romanian offal soup. Although I amreally not used to drinking spirits (from water glasses!) at that time of theday and offal is not my favourite meat, I realised that my host would feeloffended if I declined. It did not taste bad and my partner was happy aboutmy good appetite – and generously tolerated my limited attention duringthe afternoon session. Since people in CEE countries take national pridein their traditions, partaking of them can be a significant step towardsacceptance in the field, with benefits that last for years.

If such participation is done with honesty, rather than to ridicule‘strange’ customs, such role-taking can lead to high levels of accept-ance by native people, who may then more openly provide theresearcher with interesting (and maybe even insider) informationabout habits or rules.

On the other hand, the researcher in this role is well advised not torely solely on being comfortably naïve, for the longer the exchangeprocess lasts, the less likely the local respondents are to grant him/herthe role of the quaint but uninformed stranger. The Roman, in fact,has a short-term orientation, but if the researcher wants to continue

the research process, he/she can concentrate on grounding his/herknowledge with the intention to move in the direction of the ethno-grapher type. Or, if a long-term involvement seems inappropriate, e.g. because of cultural, societal or language barriers, he/she may bettershift in the direction of the Gulliver type.

The Gulliver type

The philosophy of the Gulliver role type is to accept the fact ofbeing and remaining a stranger. In Jonathan Swift’s famous tale,Gulliver knew this perfectly well because extreme objective differ-ences made membership impossible. Nevertheless, he managed tocoexist well with the people from Lilliput, so that each party couldprofit from the other. Good examples of this researcher role are pro-vided by researchers who have studied minority groups – evenextreme minorities (e.g. Jahoda et al., 1975; Whyte, 1955) – wherefull membership is virtually impossible. In this kind of research, itcan be dangerous to try to adapt more closely, because insiders couldperceive it as ‘invasion’. Nevertheless, researchers performing thisrole in a friendly manner most probably find a certain level of open-ness from respondents.

A good opportunity to overcome this strangeness barrier withoutinvading the community in the research setting is to make use of toolsfor in-depth analysis.


I experienced such a situation when I tried to interpret an interview with aformer leading executive of a large East German company. Since hisresponses seemed to me to be rather strange and emotional, I felt that it wasnot appropriate to meet him again. Instead I decided to use metaphor ana-lysis (see Steger, 2001) to understand the deeper meaning of this interviewand found a quite convincing explanation. Some time later I met, by chance,a friend and former colleague of that interviewee and asked him to commenton my interpretation. Although the content was fairly critical towards hisfriend’s attitude and behaviour, he broadly agreed with my interpretation.

In fact, this kind of tool is fairly typical for the Gulliver role, as theresearcher can get a lot of intimate data, but these are often difficult todecipher – exactly because of the enduring stranger status of theresearcher. This also often prevents the researcher from a considerableshift towards the ethnographer type, while other moves seem lesspromising e.g. a shift in direction of the Roman type would include alimitation of the time perspective.

The ethnographer

The ethnographic role constitutes the highest level of the art of qualit-ative research, but is also the most ambitious and complicated, sincethe researcher tries to become a full member of the research site, of the‘tribe’ that he/she is observing. Obviously, this is only possible with anadvanced, long-term and deep relationship with the people observedand includes learning the language, and assimilating local customs,attitudes and even values. Ethnographers have provided some fascinat-ing examples of this research approach (Geertz, 1973; Malinowski,1922; Van Maanen, 1982), which is also reflected in such films as ‘AMan Called Horse’. It allows the researcher to gain access to deep andhidden information and reveals some real insights. In the end theresearcher may manage to become ‘multicultural’ after having crossedand recrossed cultural boundaries ‘in order to occupy a position of realunderstanding beyond those boundaries’ (Shanahan, 1996: 318).

Thomas Steger 31

Some time after having finished our research project about the elites offormer GDR combines, I discussed the matter with two personal friends.Originating from East Germany, they both had a fairly distinctive view onthis topic based on their own rich experiences. So, we had a very livelydebate about it. As my friends offered different opinions, I tried to mediatebetween them and, to my own surprise, was quite successful. Both friendsacknowledged: ‘You seem to have understood a lot of what happened!’ Farfrom being a real native, I realised through this reflective discussion that Ihad managed to gain a certain level of closeness to this (formerly strange)culture surrounding me.

However, on the other hand, the researcher may also risk exchanging theblind spot of his/her traditional culture with that of the research site – in‘going native’. Since this role type can be considered to be the ‘highest’level of qualitative research practice, moves to other role types hold littlescope for improvement. But each research project comes to an end oneday, and the ‘way back’ will definitely be most complicated for theethnographer, who must try to re-adapt to his/her old culture (similar toan expatriate manager). So, he/she must prepare for repatriation carefullyand maybe even to rely on the help of a mentor or supervisor.

The four role types are compared and contrasted in Table 2.1.Several points may be highlighted. First, each role type has its particu-lar strengths and weaknesses, threats and opportunities, so no one role is generally superior to the others. Second, the roles describedabove are ideal types and the ‘real’ role that any researcher takes is not

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Table 2.1 Comparing the four role types

Role

Attributes Hunter-Gatherer Roman Gulliver Ethnographer

Level of involvement Low High Low High

Time perspective Short Short Long Long

Examples The beginner in the field Tacitus in Germany ‘Street Corner Society’ ‘A Man Called Horse’

Strengths Low costs Low cost, high Close contacts, Intimate contact, acceptance privileged position going native

Weaknesses Lack of real contact Superficiality, only No real membership, Time consuming, for limited period time consuming costly

Threats Offending people, Offending people, Perceived as invader Re-adaptation to misinterpretations action without by natives own culture

knowledgePossible role shifts Roman (will to stronger Gulliver (longer time Ethnographer (although –(requirements) involvement), Gulliver perspective), often blocked)

(longer time perspective) Ethnographer (longer time perspective, grounded knowledge)

fully congruent with one of them but rather stands between them.Figure 2.2 represents this reality by leaving five cells blank. Moreover,even role combinations are possible.

Third, the possible shifts remind us that we should conceive of theresearcher roles as dynamic. ‘Every active membership role has anatural history or career’ (Adler and Adler, 1987: 59). This developmentprocess is highly dependent on the time spent within the researchsetting – be it episodic or continuous – and, therefore, on theresearcher’s growing knowledge of the topic in general and of theresearch site in particular (Michailova, 1997). Each effort, each experi-ence of success or failure is a milestone on the researcher’s way andmay even constitute a new specific position and role (see Nojonenchapter in this book). Fourth, it becomes clear that on the one handthe research project framework (e.g. financial resources, time horizon)and on the other hand the researcher’s personal attributes (e.g. groundedknowledge, adaptability) have a major impact on the role-taking. So,the researcher is well advised to consider carefully which role fits bestwith his/her aims and resources.

Finally, a few words should be said about the specific situation ofnative researchers originating from the country or the region where theproject takes place. They are, of course, advantaged in many respects,such as in their knowledge of the culture, the language and being gate-keepers of the research setting. However, there are also a few caveats(see also Illes and Rees chapter in this book). Based on their higherinformation level, they risk neglecting their own blind spots andtaking a déjà vu mentality, which keeps them from asking critical ques-tions and from being curious enough to probe for new data and phe-nomena. Sometimes they even overestimate their knowledge andposition, since, in many specific research settings, they remain relativestrangers despite their cultural and linguistic familiarity. Moreover, aparticular kind of suspicion can arise in the setting, when, after yearsabroad, expatriates return to conduct research in their native country –similar to problems encountered by former monarchs aiming for apolitical career or business people starting up a firm.

Tactics for starting qualitative fieldwork in CEE

Finally, on the tactical level, I make a few proposals, which may be of value to scholars who intend to do fieldwork in CEE. These suggestionshave direct implications for international business practitioners startingan overseas posting.

Thomas Steger 33

Entry problem

Entry into the research setting often turns out to be a problem thatrequires much patience and understanding. Access to a CEE (or othertransitional) research site may be particularly difficult, especially for researchers coming from abroad. In these circumstances, mediat-ors (e.g. local academic colleagues) can play an important role in finding the right contacts to be approached at the right moment(see Soulsby chapter in this book). Researchers need to show greatsensitivity in a number of respects. First, care should be taken ifconsidering entry at the top or middle level of the company. Takinginto account the often large power distance in CEE countries(Kuznetsov and Kuznetsova, 1998; Lang, 1998), top managementmay feel offended by foreigners who have bypassed them in gainingaccess. Moreover, while personnel managers may be much moresensitive towards the researcher’s topic, top management might in the first place even feel bored (see Hutchings chapter in thisbook).


In one of the companies I studied, my introduction letter was answered bythe personnel manager. So, we closely co-operated during the process and I had several interviews with people from all levels and departments of the firm. Some time later, on the advice of the personnel manager, I wrote apersonally addressed letter to the CEO asking him for an interview. Heagreed but at the same time harshly criticised the personnel manager for nothaving informed him about the research project going on in his firm.

Second, managers in companies facing complicated or uncertain situ-ations often consider external researchers to be useless or even disrupt-ive. As a result, it is extremely important to find a topic of commoninterest. So, researchers may offer a ‘hard’ topic useful for the companyto be analysed in the foreground (e.g. staff qualification profile), whileat the same time observing the ‘soft’ topic in the background, likeorganisational culture (see Barabasz and Belz, 2002; Steger, 2000).Third, in order to achieve some level of confidence, the researchermust be willing to be fully transparent about his/her aims, ideas andplans (Schwartzman, 1993).

Language

As one of the main vehicles of culture, language problems must not beunderestimated, especially given the background of CEE countries. If

the researcher is not able to speak the national language, he/she cantake advantage of different types of help. Working with a translatorcan produce a high level of dependency on this person and requires alot of confidence. Moreover, this is unlikely to remove the languagebarriers effectively – particularly with regard to informal commun-ication and tacit knowledge transfer (Macdonald and Williams, 1992;Marschan-Piekkari et al., 1999; see also Hutchings chapter in thisbook). Just relying on interviewees with sufficient knowledge ofEnglish (or German) restricts severely the number of potential contactpersons to those who tend to be younger, well educated and highermanagerial. It is more promising to find some native academic col-leagues in the respective countries, although this kind of cross-culturalco-operation is not free of conflict either (Marschan et al., 1997; see Altand Lang chapter in this book).

Thomas Steger 35

In a common research project with some Hungarian colleagues, I definitelyrelied on their language skills in their home country. However, a fewmonths after the beginning, I realised that it was in fact a research assistantwho had been doing the whole job on their side, while the professors werejust involved as ‘benevolent supervisors’. This raised important questions.Might I have given the wrong impression in the past that I was only inter-ested in their language skills? Were they really interested in commonresearch or did they just feel obliged out of friendship?

In general, researchers should take care to involve the respondents inevaluating interpretations (Bartunek, 1994) and to adopt practices ofreflexivity to understand the context and derivation of an interpreta-tion (Geertz, 1973) and thus to validate findings (but see Balaton’sobservations in Chapter 6).

Cross-cultural research team

Probably the best guarantee of gaining close insights into the reality ofCEE is to form a cross-cultural research team (Puffer et al., 2000;Schreiber et al., 2002; see also Alt and Lang in Chapter 7). This notonly provides a broad range of opportunities for utilising nativeresearchers’ knowledge and networks, but it also opens up fascinatingnew perspectives on the research topic. However, this kind of co-operation can turn out to be highly ambitious and conflictful (as inmany joint ventures), as a result of political problems and divergent(methodological) conceptions of research (Easterby-Smith and Malina,1999).

It is worth repeating that co-operation with colleagues from CEE can easily degenerate into a dysfunctional teacher-pupil relationship(e.g. Eckhardstein et al., 1990), if the external researcher does nothandle it with great sensitivity (Lang and Steger, 2002). Flexibility, cre-ativity as well as the readiness for shared learning processes are indis-pensable to high quality co-operative research (Teagarden et al., 1995;see Balaton chapter). Moreover, special attention should be given tothe (different) needs and targets that each partner associates with theresearch project.

Research and analysis tools

The qualitative research literature provides us with a broad variety ofresearch tools to choose from, but as in many other research settings,interviews are the most often used qualitative instrument in CEE.Although participant observation may in principle be helpful, peopleare often not used to, or are suspicious of being observed. This seems tobe more often the case in former socialist enterprises than in WestEuropean organisations, so researchers need to be very flexible in boththeir conduct and their choice of method (see Nojonen’s chapter inthis book). Moreover, with the high complexity of CEE research sites inmind, a broader variability of tools (Michailova, 1997), even combin-ing qualitative and quantitative methods, may well enhance both theresearch process and data analysis (Schreiber et al., 2002; also Balatonin this book). The concept of triangulation (Denzin, 1970) is centralhere. Even new, alternative tools (e.g. use of media, language analysis)can be helpful, as long as they are carefully adapted to the situation.

Finally, what has been said about reflexivity remains especially validfor the development of any research tool and concept.


In recent years, I have participated in several multinational research bids,which included partners from CEE. Because of the sharp differences in ourfinancial situations, in several cases I suspected that they considered me firstof all as an excellent money provider. At the moment when our applicationwas rejected, the partners’ interest in the topic quickly disappeared. Some ofthem even gave us some seemingly benevolent advice: ‘You should try todevelop another application and try it once more…’ which increased mynegative feelings. To prevent this kind of situation or misunderstanding, I decided to focus on research activities with low levels of funding (at thebeginning) and no great financial promises to the partners. Their response,of course, was not so enthusiastic as before, but partners now may be morerealistic and inherently interested.

Conclusions

This chapter has focused on the specific ways in which the researcher’sidentity and behaviour interact with the CEE research setting and,therefore, on the need for the researcher to consider carefully andreflect on how he/she behaves and presents himself/herself. In con-cluding, I rehearse the main points of my argument.

The transformation process in CEE countries presents a researchcontext that is highly complex and dynamic and must be consideredprofoundly before entering the field – it is best not to think of CEE asjust any research setting. This chapter – and the rest of the book –underscores the importance of this point.

The virtues of qualitative researchers as mentioned in the respectiveliterature turn out to be decisive in the CEE context, namely openness,modesty, reflexivity and flexibility. They have regularly featured atdifferent points in this chapter and they are perfect companions to thequalitative researcher in the research setting.

There is not a ‘one-best-way’ when entering a research setting suchas CEE and, therefore, my arguments do not claim universality. Thereare, in fact, several different research strategies associated with severaldifferent roles to be performed in this field. What I have rather argued is to care about consistency – of the role in itself and of the relation-ship between role and strategy – and about the adequacy of role andstrategy for the concrete research setting.

When reflecting on my research experience in transformationalresearch settings of CEE over the last few years, of course, I have over-come many of the anxieties and problems that I encountered at thebeginning. But, since then, I have confronted several other problems,which have often been even more complex. And of course, I did not doeverything right and regularly failed in what I had intended to do.However, to stand up after having fallen down and to reflect about andto learn from my own mistakes have provided me with invaluableinsights about how things work in the field. With increasing experience

Thomas Steger 37

The metaphor analysis already mentioned above is a typical example of this.In fact, it was pure chance. Since qualitative research generally encouragesresearchers to develop their own well-adapted tools, I was just curious aboutwhat use I could make of the work with metaphors in my data. At first, thisrequired a lot of basic literature work. The first results were not exciting and I felt more like a pea counter. But then, I found my first metaphor thatprovided me – after considerable analysis – with interesting data.

in the field, my self-confidence in doing good research has alsoincreased. As possibly the most important consequence of this, I wouldencourage the reader personally to gain access to the CEE research fieldand to develop his/her own experiences, which, in the end, are the fun-damental and indispensable basis of our work.

Suggested further readings

Adler, P.A. and Adler, P. (1987) Membership Roles in Field Research (NewburyPark, CA: Sage).

Easterby-Smith, M. and Malina, D. (1999) ‘Cross-cultural collaborative research:toward reflexivity’, Academy of Management Journal, 42(1), 76–86.

Geertz, C. (1979) ‘From the native’s point of view: On the nature of anthro-pological understanding’ in Rabinow, P. and Sullivan, W.M. (eds) InterpretiveSocial Science (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press), pp. 225–41.

Lang, R. and Steger, T. (2002) ‘The odyssey of management knowledge to trans-forming societies: a critical review of a theoretical alternative’, Human ResourceDevelopment International, 5(3), 279–94.

Strauss, A.L. and Corbin, J. (1990) Basics of Qualitative Research: Grounded TheoryProcedures and Techniques (Newbury Park, CA: Sage).


3Who is Observing Whom? FieldworkRoles and Ambiguities inOrganisational Case Study ResearchAnna Soulsby

Introduction

This chapter considers the interactive relationships between theresearcher and other key actors in qualitative fieldwork who are part ofthe social process of constructing case study materials. Although I haveconducted field research in a number of post-communist societies,examples from fieldwork research conducted in the Czech Republic areused to illustrate some important methodological issues that often gounexplored in the conventional methodological literature. These issuescan take on an extreme form in post-communist societies, because ofthe particular degree and nature of change.

The aim of the chapter is to develop the awareness of the researcherwithin the bounds of a non-covert research strategy. In this context, theresearcher is an outsider, as visible within an organisation as an elephanton the wall, and, therefore, is both observed and the subject of insiderconjecture. It is clear from this perspective that informants and respond-ents are not passive ‘subjects’ waiting to reveal their information andinsights, but active interpreters of the situation, who have their own polit-ical agendas and concerns that may well be invisible to the researcherfrom the outside. In short, the researcher enters an organisational settingthat has its own social structure, populated and enacted by the motivatedhuman agents, with whom the researcher must engage in order to gatherher/his research materials. The ideas discussed in the chapter may also beof use to a manager entering a new organisational environment. Beforebecoming acculturated into an alien organisation, s/he also has to cultiv-ate new contacts in order to make sense of the new social setting.

The chapter starts by outlining some details about the researchproject that forms the experiential basis of the argument, and leads to

39

an examination of methodological issues that arise from the case studymethod, fieldwork and gaining access. I then consider the often under-appreciated importance of fieldwork roles – such as informants andrespondents – in the management of the research project after gainingaccess, including their attempts to control the research project. Thechapter goes on to identify a particular role set of actors who make dif-ferent contributions: the external gatekeeper, the interpreter as ex-ternal cultural informant, the internal cultural informant and otherinternal respondents. The chapter concludes by considering someethical issues that arise from the discussion.

The research project

The background

I first visited the then Czechoslovakia in 1991, two years before it wasdivided into the Czech and Slovak Republics, as part of a staff develop-ment programme for Czech academics at a technical university. Theseacademics arranged visits to two local engineering companies, one of which was a new small company and the other an enormous state-owned enterprise. My colleague and I were fascinated by the challengesand problems that faced the managers of these organisations, as they tried to survive and change under conditions of radical societaltransformation.

Our colleagues drew on their networks of contacts to arrange moreextensive research access to an enterprise and, in early 1992, wereturned to Czechoslovakia to carry out fieldwork for two weeks in alarge state-owned enterprise. From this initial research visit, we devel-oped a unique longitudinal study of Czech organisations using a com-parative method to examine the ‘processes of change in context’(Pettigrew, 1990: 271). The focus of the project was to follow thechanges in organisation structure and management practices since theVelvet Revolution in 1989 (Clark and Soulsby, 1996; 1999a; Soulsbyand Clark, 1996a; 1996b). The fieldwork for the project has taken placein a city and three towns in Moravia – the eastern half of the CzechRepublic – the last interviews taking place in September 2003. The fol-lowing section gives some details about the enterprises.

The companies

The actual research sites are five mechanical engineering companies,all former state-owned enterprises privatised in the 1990s. The first


enterprise we visited, Vols (the names of the companies and theirlocations have been anonymised to preserve confidentiality), manu-factures rolling mills and presses. Vols was the sole major employer inthe small remote town of Volna. The communist party established theenterprise in early 1950s to provide much needed employment for thedistrict. It had been an influential enterprise before the Revolutionand consequently the town had benefited from major investment insocial and welfare facilities (Clark and Soulsby, 1998; Soulsby andClark, 1995). Before 1989, there had been over 5,000 employeesdirectly working for the enterprise and by 2003, this number wasdown to 3,000.

We returned to Czechoslovakia in the autumn of 1992 to conductfieldwork in our second enterprise, Montáze Jesenice, which is locatedin the town of Jesenice. The organisation, established in 1953, hasapproximately 1,000 employees. It had been absorbed into anotherlarger engineering enterprise, Jesenické Strojírny (see below) from 1958until 1990, when it regained its independence as an enterprise beforeprivatisation. Montáze Jesenice carried out the assembly, repair, andmaintenance of heavy plant and machinery not only in countries ofthe former Soviet bloc but also in the Far East and Latin America. Thismeant that most of the workers were used to working away from homefor long periods.

We revisited Jesenice in 1993 to conduct research in our third enter-prise, Jesenické Strojírny. The enterprise was formed in 1948 from theamalgamation of a number of engineering companies. It was one ofthe four major employers in the town of Jesenice. Before 1989, theenterprise had employed over 7,000 people and had been a prominentprovider of social and welfare facilities for the town. In 1993, thecompany was restructured into a number of subsidiary companies(Clark and Soulsby, 1999b). These companies have not been successfuland, by 2003, the holding company and all but two of the subsidiarycompanies were in liquidation.

In 1994, we visited Agstroj for the first time. Unlike our other enter-prises, it is located in the major city of Stromesto. Agstroj manufacturesagricultural machinery and before 1989 was an important earner ofhard currency for Czechoslovakia. It had a very good reputation forquality in both the East and the West and used to employ over 10,000people before the Revolution. Although it was privatised in the 1990s,it had been operating at a loss and had to be subsidised by the Czechgovernment. In 2003, despite the company being a shadow of itsformer self, Agstroj had managed to make a return to profit.

Anna Soulsby 41

In May 2002, we had the chance to carry out fieldwork in a fifthenterprise, Autodil, which is located in the small town of Vysoky. Thiscame about because of contacts we made during fieldwork visits to thetown in June and September 2001 (see below). Autodil, first establishedin 1946, had been privatised by a management buy-out in the mid-1990s. It produces engine parts for the automotive industry and, at thetime of our first visit, still had over 5,000 employees.

The research process

In each case, the research process has started with two weeks of intens-ive fieldwork and continued through a programme of re-visits thatoccur at least every two years, in order to update our materials. Thedeliberate intention has been to develop a close relationship withmembers of the enterprises, so that we could build up rich, detailedorganisational cases studies, trace the key events in the change processand try to understand the role and contribution of particular man-agers and directors (Soulsby and Clark 1998; Soulsby, 2001). We haveinterviewed over two hundred directors and managers, often re-interviewing them over the period of the research. In addition, wehave collected extensive secondary materials in the form of organ-isation charts, company reports, photographs, and other organisationalartefacts.

Despite all our formal preparation, after our first enterprise visit in1992, we became uncomfortably aware of the extent of our naïvetéabout the key events of Czech(oslovak) history, so we decided tocollect local pre-1948, 1968 and 1989 maps and histories of the enter-prises and their towns to give a wider contextual framework for ourresearch. As the project has evolved over time, the collection of thesesecondary materials has become a very important element of ourresearch, enabling us to develop deeper insight into the consequencesof historical events for the respondents, the enterprises, and the localcommunities. Moreover, we wanted to understand more about thesocial and historical embeddedness of the enterprises within the localcommunities (Clark and Soulsby, 1998).

This evolution in our approach was reflected in the research strategywe used during our time in Vysoky, which, before the Second WorldWar, had a large ethnically German population who had been forciblycleared from the town. We visited Vysoky on three occasions fromJune 2001 to May 2002 for a total of six weeks. Our research projectwas designed to produce empirical materials about the economicrestructuring of Vysoky and its region, in such a way as to complement


our fieldwork in Volna and Jesenice. In June and September 2001, weinterviewed local political, administrative, and industrial figures, tookfield notes, visited local companies, collected maps and local histories,and took extensive notes during visits to the local state archives andlibraries. We studied the development of the town, the role of theCommunist Party, identified key actors from before and after 1989,and examined the corporate histories of prominent state-owned enter-prises and their local, national and international socio-economic roles.

Being a qualitative researcher in transforming contexts

The attraction of conducting intensive case study research in trans-forming societies is that it offers the opportunity to study organisationsin depth under conditions of societal transience:

The detailed observations entailed in the case study method enableus to study many different aspects, examine them in relation toeach other, view the process within its total environment and alsoutilise the researcher’s capacity for ‘Verstehen’. Consequently, casestudy research provides us with a greater opportunity than otheravailable methods to obtain a holistic view of a specific researchproject (Valdelin, 1974: 47).

The pace of change in these societies offers an exceptional and excitingchallenge, even for the experienced fieldworker who wants to start anew research project. However, the experienced researcher is also awarethat conducting research in the field always has its negative aspects. AsShaffir and Stebbins (1991: 1) note:

Fieldwork must certainly rank with the more disagreeable activitiesthat humanity has fashioned for itself. It is usually inconvenient, tosay the least, sometimes physically uncomfortable, frequentlyembarrassing, and to a degree, always tense.

For most researchers, these difficulties are exacerbated when conductingfieldwork in a transforming society, especially when they are culturaland societal outsiders. However, overcoming these personal challengescan be a curiously liberating experience too. Sometimes, when I reflectupon my own behaviour as a researcher, I flinch with embarrassment atmy relentless determination to arrange interviews and pursue researchthemes (see below). Being away from one’s usual societal context seems

Anna Soulsby 43

to give a form of self-confidence that acts as both a shield and a driverto behave in a way that one usually would not.

An intense concentration is required to undertake the process ofinvestigating a new organisation. Finding out about its history, gather-ing the information, interpreting the materials, developing themes andconstructing the case studies are highly exhausting and stressful because‘being in the field is never static’ (Lofland and Lofland, 1995: 46).

Whenever starting a new case study project, we have tried to go intothe field as well prepared as possible, but the research site is always fullof surprises and the process never goes quite as we have planned. Onehas to be prepared to cope with the long periods of sitting around infoyers and offices waiting for people to telephone back or confirm thenext set of interviews. Sometimes doing fieldwork in organisationseems to be very like working on a film set, boring and tense periods ofinaction followed by brief periods of frantic activity. The uncertaintyand the constant need to stay flexible and focused on seizing anyopportunity that comes up can be very stressful. It can take its toll onboth one’s self-confidence and confidence in the project itself. Doubtscreep in as you begin to wonder if you will ever be able to get insidesomeone’s office and get a ‘real’ interview.

As researchers, we quickly learned the importance of flexibility,always concealing our disappointments with a polite and cheerfulsmile and venting our frustrations in private later. Yin (1989: 75) notesthat when it comes to case study fieldwork ‘because you do not knowwhat to expect, the best preparation is to have the resources to be pre-pared’. One needs to take more than the technical resources such asequipment and materials. It is crucial to think in advance about psy-chological strategies to cope with the emotional highs and lows thatcome from living with unforeseen events and disappointments. Thesefeelings are a natural consequence of the challenge of carrying outfieldwork in a new environment and developing a mental picture ofwhat has happened and is happening.

One has to be realistic and be prepared to accept that on some days things will go wrong. For example, respondents will suddenlyhave other matters to attend to in the organisation but, from theresearcher’s perspective, the whole day is lost. For all of these reasons,there are definite advantages to working in a team with someone youcan trust. One is not alone in an alien environment and it is possibleto draw on emotional support to maintain a professional and calmfront in the research setting. When working as a team, it is possible to talk through the ‘disasters’ of the day and, through de-briefing


and the sharing of experiences, keep some emotional perspective onand distance from events, while looking for some positive aspects.

One important strategy is to build in some periods of social ‘down-time’ within the research schedule, so one can ‘leave’ the project men-tally and think about other things. Overwork is a route to stress as wellas loss of scientific perspective, which will detrimentally affect thequality of the research, including the process of analysis and relation-ships with informants and respondents. The intensity of fieldwork issuch that it is very easy to become over-absorbed in – or even obsessedwith – the project. As Hammersley and Atkinson (1983: 102) argue:

There can be no question of total commitment, ‘surrender’, orbecoming. There must always remain some part held back, somesocial and intellectual ‘distance’. For it is in the ‘space’ created bythis distance that the analytic work of the ethnographer gets done.Without that distance, without such analytic space, the ethno-graphy can be little more than the autobiographical account….

There must be enough mental and emotional energy and space to be able to carry out not just the daily task of collecting materials butalso the processes of analysing and writing the materials as they aregenerated in the field (see Kleinman and Copp, 1993: 20–22).

However, despite all the stresses and strains discussed above, theadventure of immersion in a new research setting and the centralprocesses of discovery and sense making are fascinating and intoxicating.As Pratt (1986: 32) notes: ‘Fieldwork produces a kind of authority that isanchored to large extent in subjective, sensuous experience…’. Thefeeling of excitement is vitally important as it allows the researcher tosustain the intense level of concentration needed to absorb new informa-tion, search for organisational clues and identify recurring themes in thefield. When working in a context undergoing radical transformation andtrying to come to terms with the associated environmental ambiguities,the researcher’s experiences and emotions are magnified in intensity sothere is a feeling of somehow being ‘extra alive’.

Fieldwork roles in ambiguous research contexts

Gaining physical and mental access

Organising physical access is a basic condition for fieldwork research.Especially where change processes are the topic, this means not only

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establishing initial access but also maintaining continued access to theresearch site (Gummerson, 2000: 32). In addition, one has to remem-ber that as a researcher, you are the one that is intruding into the exist-ing social world of the respondents and therefore you must have aflexible research schedule and availability (Yin, 1989). The researcher isoften dependent on the goodwill of gatekeepers, who have the powerto control access to the research site and may have their own viewsabout the purpose and outcomes of the research (Whitley, 1984: 375).Clarifying these expectations can be a crucial part of the process ofnegotiating access (see Nojonen in this book). Moreover, these expecta-tions may change over time if the gatekeepers try to draw theresearcher into becoming more involved in the organisation (see Adlerand Adler, 1987: 12–20). As a ‘stranger in a strange land’, or a manageron her/his first international assignment, the fieldworker in a trans-forming society is more dependent on the help of third party agents orgatekeepers than is usual (see also Steger in this book).

Even with third party assistance, gaining access to an enterprise inCentral and Eastern Europe (CEE) can take a lot of determination, per-sistence and patient negotiation. Since there is still a residue of secrecyand suspicion about the motives of researchers, the challenges of oper-ating in a post-socialist context are beyond those normally faced bybusiness and management researchers (Alvesson and Deetz, 2000;Easterby-Smith et al., 1991). It can be difficult to persuade managers,many of who grew up or started their managerial careers in a policestate, that research can be done from a disinterested perspective andthat the results may have benefits for them. Moreover, because of theparticular histories of these societies, respondents may have personalreasons for not wishing to divulge too much about their pasts, for example, their membership of Communist Party organs such asmilitias.

Pollert (1999: 7) has argued that access has become increasinglydifficult for Western researchers who want to conduct interviews withmanagers and workers in CEE countries, especially in the CzechRepublic. Before 1989, the Communist Party had tightly controlled thesociety so there was little experience or tradition of Westerners doingfieldwork at an organisational level. The post-1989 environment andthe largely completed privatisation programmes have made managersvery defensive about letting outsiders into their companies, in casesensitive corporate or market information is revealed, or key employeespoached. Even her Czech academic colleagues, who had good contactsbefore 1989, found that access was becoming more difficult. As many


companies have realised that organisations such as the World Bank areprepared to pay for corporate information and interviews, the nature oftheir relationship with researchers has begun to alter (Pollert, 1999: 7).

In the case of our research project, we were very fortunate becausethe third party agents were Czech academic colleagues, with whom wehad taught. They had been friends of the company directors since theiruniversity days, so we were able to draw second-hand on the existingnetwork of trust relationships, thereby overcoming many problems ofaccess. The personal introduction from our colleagues virtually guaran-teed initial access (see Hutchings in this book), a meeting with theGeneral Director, or someone else at directorate level, and an oppor-tunity to explain our research project. Obtaining such face-to-facecontact was an essential part of the negotiation process in persuadingthe directors to let us in to do the research project. Politically, this wasvery important because other managers could see that we had seniormanagement support for the research. The directors were our initialinternal ‘gatekeepers’ and, because of their power, we had carte blancheto visit the organisation every day and set up interviews. Our strategywas based on persistency. We would turn up every day at the factorygatehouse and seek to become ‘normal’ as the ‘familiar visitors’, visiblewithin the organisation as the ‘quaint English academics’ who askednaïve questions about the history of the enterprises. In fact, we foundthat once we were inside an organisation the directors and managerswould usually be very open and helpful to us.

After gaining physical access, the next stage in the research processis ‘mental access’ (Gummerson, 2000: 32). How could we meaning-fully explore and develop an understanding of what was happeningin the research setting? Stebbins (2001: 6) argues that to exploreeffectively researchers should approach the setting with two mentalorientations:

Flexibility in looking for the data and open-mindedness about whereto find them. Oriented thus, the first step is to proceed according toMax Weber’s model to acquire an intimate, firsthand understanding(Verstehen) of the human acts being observed.

However, as researchers from Western Europe we recognised that wecame to the organisations with different preconceptions and assump-tions. As outsiders, we were sufficiently distant from the research siteto be able to ask questions, but we lacked the closeness that is neces-sary for understanding the setting the way that respondents do

Anna Soulsby 47

(Lofland and Lofland, 1995: 61). As an outsider in a post-communistsociety, the Western researcher has the additional task and pressure ofdecoding and interpreting an alien institutional context in whichcoexist two sets of often contradictory symbols, those from the pastand those of the present. The organisations reflected this confusingmaze of symbols and signals, to which the researcher had to becomesensitised. Some of the symbols looked superficially familiar to the out-sider, yet signified different things internally. Some symbols wereapparently unimportant, but significant to insiders; others lookedimportant but were in fact new and not (yet) deeply embedded withinthe organisation’s culture; yet others were decaying remnants that werethe washed-up detritus of change, empty of the frightening power andmeaning with which they had once been imbued.

The role of the interpreter as external cultural informant

It is vital for the quality of the research that the researcher is able, asfar as possible, to interpret the significance of what s/he learns aboutthe organisation. Any misreading of the environment results in gather-ing and constructing poor case study materials. In these cultural cir-cumstances, we would argue that ‘orientation’ (Stebbins, 2001) is notenough. In fact, it is essential that the outsider has an intermediary, a‘cultural informant’, who can act as an interpreter of the symbols in the environment. In this research project, the translators acted as our external cultural informants, being not only translators oflanguage but also interpreters of the environment and, to some degree,of respondents’ behaviour.

Our approach was to spend a lot of time before the visits workingclosely with the translators, so that they were involved in the projectand understood the aims and intentions of the research. They wereusually Czech business and management postgraduate students,however, two were mature doctoral students from Africa and Indiawho had come to Czechoslovakia before the Revolution and spokefluent Czech. They were invaluable because they could act as culturalbridges to the pre-1989 period. We became painfully aware very earlyon of how easy it is for a cultural outsider to misread a social environ-ment. The following experience illustrates the dangers of forgetting theimportance of historical legacies.

During our interviews at Jesenické Strojírny, some senior managershad the radio speakers on, still playing music. Although slightly irrit-ated by this, we commented to our translator on how nice it was thatthis was possible: to us, it seemed to be a pleasant symbol of informal-


ity in the workplace. Then it was explained to the naïve outsiders thatthere was a less innocent reason. The presence of speakers everywherein management offices and having them turned on were part of thecommunist legacy, since, before the Revolution, managers werealmost paranoid that they might miss important governmentannouncements that could be vital to their managerial and politicalwell-being. The habit of keeping the speakers on in the backgroundhad been unconsciously retained, but its symbolic meaning had beenlost.

Whilst there were obvious disadvantages to being an outsider andnot being fluent in the Czech language, we found that there were somedistinct methodological benefits. Although we understand some Czech,the process of translating questions back and forth actually gave us theopportunity to observe the respondents’ reactions to the questions andthe time to record additional information about the process of theinterview and the setting. This additional information was invaluablebecause it not only enriched the contextual materials but also allowedus to detect emerging research questions and themes that we couldexplore and develop in later interviews. On the other hand, we had to be very careful that the translators did not take over control of the interviews or give shortened or edited translations of the responses– a constant temptation if they had heard the same information inprevious interviews

In the social role of ‘naïve outsiders’, my co-researcher and I foundwe were able to ask quite difficult and potentially indiscreet questionsvia the translators. It was awkward for respondents to avoid or ‘blank’the line of questioning, because they were not sure of the appropriatesocial response to a non-Czech who had not experienced the commun-ist period or possibly knew little about Czech history. We have deliber-ately continued to draw tactically on the resource of naïve outsiderstatus even though we have accumulated many years of experience asfieldworkers in the Czech Republic.

The role of internal informants and respondents

The role of the cultural informant – whoever plays it – is essential inthis type of qualitative research. However, in addition to the externalinformants, it is important to have key internal informants, such as managers who can ‘provide valuable information and smooth theway’ (Gummerson, 2000: 32) to meeting others in the organisation.Although there can be problems for the naïve outsider who un-questioningly accepts the help of internal informants, they are critical

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as ‘guides to insider understandings’ (Lofland and Lofland, 1995: 61),who can help make sense of the research setting:

The understandings of these helpers, may of course be erroneous ormisleading, and the wise investigator is never too gullible. As ageneral rule, reliance on multiple informants (as is always the casein intensive interviewing) is probably preferable to reliance on one.Whatever the potential dangers in their use, however, it is highlyunlikely that many richly empirical and deeply understandingstudies could have been achieved by outside researchers without theassistance of articulate, wise, knowledgeable and helpful informants.If you are an outside researcher, then the cultivation of informantsis virtually imperative (Lofland and Lofland, 1995: 61).

The scientist observed and managed

Researchers cannot have complete control over the research processbecause the research site is not a passive environment. The overtresearcher, as part of a social process, is the object of observation andinterpretation by the respondents, who construct their own inter-pretations of the situation from their personal and social positions. AsMitchell (1993: 12) observes:

Qualitative investigators […] may seek to present themselves in onemanner or another […] but subjects can and usually do reinterpret,transform, or sometimes altogether forget these presentations infavor of their own

During the course of our first research visit, my co-researcher and Ibecame increasingly aware that we were not the only ones doing theobserving and theorising. We had tried to manage our ‘presentation ofself’ and project ourselves in a sort of ‘value free’, neutral way so as tominimise organisational intrusiveness, but a number of incidents revealedthe degree of our, at best, naïveté and at worst, hubris. Not only did webecome the objects of curiosity and discussion within the organisations,we also realised that in some cases we were being managed and tested bythe internal informants and respondents. The following vignettes fromour research in the Czech Republic illustrate these points perfectly.

The demise of shadowing

As part of the preparations for our first enterprise visit in 1992, we haddesigned a detailed research protocol (cf. Yin, 1994: 70, see also Yin,


2003: 67). We decided that we would not only interview senior man-agers and directors but shadow them, in order to understand theirapproach to the management and organisation of their tasks. We haddiscussed our research design with the directors and thought that theyhad a clear understanding of its principles. But, of course, no matterhow much you think you are in control before you start, the realresearch process is never straightforward. We were fortunate that ourkey informant in the enterprise, who had been given the responsibilityfor taking care of us, was a manager coming up to retirement and washeld in high regard by the other members of the organisation. He wasexcellent at contacting managers and persuading them to let us inter-view them. Everyday we would walk through the enterprise canteenwith him to go for lunch in the directors’ restaurant. During the courseof the first week, we gradually became aware that we were beingwatched and discussed by the other managers.

When we asked when we could start the shadowing part of theresearch, our informant relayed to us that there was a problem. Itseemed that the directors had changed their minds. While they did notwant to disappoint us, having agreed in advance to let us do theresearch, once we were in the organisation, they realised the implica-tions of the shadowing technique. They did not want us followingthem around. Therefore, they decided to indulge us by suggesting acompromise that they had discussed and agreed among themselves.Our informant told us that they would simulate a typical senior man-agement meeting, so that we could see them acting out their roles.Since this proposal was clearly the only arrangement on offer andshadowing in any methodologically meaningful way was off theagenda, we decided it was better to be flexible and gracefully retreat.We dropped that element of the research design rather than run therisk of alienating our respondents and compromising the rest of theproject.

Controlling information

Internal informants can act as facilitators during the research visit, butthey can also hold back information because they themselves havesomething to hide. An example of this occurred during a visit toMontáze Jesenice. It was our first visit and we had started the usualprocess of interviewing managers across different functions and track-ing the changes in organisational personnel and structure. In analysingthe changes since the Revolution, it appeared that the General Directorhad promoted two women into senior management. They held the

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positions of the heads of finance and informatics, replacing the nowdemoted male holders, one of whom was our internal informant. Wearranged to interview the two new heads of department because it wasunusual to find women in senior positions in engineering companies.The interviews were intriguing, the respondents were co-operative, andit soon became apparent that something was not quite right about the situation. The women held the formal title, but in reality, theywere subordinate to the supposedly demoted previous post-holders,who still took the important decisions.

The General Director had made the changes and everyone in theorganisation knew what the real situation was. The ‘job swaps’ were, wewere told, a ‘public secret’. While the reasons for the job swaps were notimmediately clear to us, this did explain why our informant was sopowerful within the organisation. Through slow detection work, itemerged that the General Director had made these changes because heneeded to protect the two managers in the immediate post-1989 situ-ation. They had been active members of the Communist Party andappointed to nomenklatura positions, but the political climate andchanges to the law made it impossible for them to stay in senior posi-tions in what was still then a state-owned enterprise. The intention wasto keep them in their middle management positions until the enterprisewas privatised, when it would be legal and safe for them to resume for-mally their former senior positions. The women in the job swaps knewthat this is what would happen, and the next time we visited the newlyprivatised enterprise, everyone had returned to their previous posts.

Who is managing the interview?

The interview is an emergent social process and respondents are activeparticipants whose actions give the interview its shape (see Fontanaand Frey, 2000: 663). As such, they can try to take control of the inter-view or use it indirectly to achieve their aims. We found that somerespondents tried to manage the interview process by deliberatelytesting our integrity – for example, by feeding us information and thenseeing if we leaked it in another interview. Another strategy was, inresponse to a probe for information, to say, ‘but you already know thisfrom your interview with Mr. X.’, clearly intending to indicate that themanagers had discussed us, and at the same time watching our reac-tions. In fact, as we wrote our notes and started to develop researchthemes, this behaviour offered concrete evidence of identifiable socialnetworks and cliques, which had their origins before 1989 and werestill being maintained through social activities.


Some middle managers gave us information in their interviews withthe deliberate intention of using us as conduits to transmit their con-cerns or worries to senior management or to advance a particular idea.From their perspective, our entry into the organisation’s social processchanged, albeit temporarily, the social structure of the field and pro-vided another resource, or instrument, through which they could try to lobby senior management. Their attempts to manage the inter-view process were evidence enough of how arrogant, if not methodo-logically dangerous, it is to assume that respondents are passive andthat field researchers are detached and unobtrusive.

One experience in particular reinforced our consciousness of theinteractive nature of fieldwork and of our visibility as outsiders. It wasalso a salutary lesson not to take ourselves too seriously. In 1992, at theend of a two-week field visit, our internal informant asked us toprepare a report with our initial observations about the company, itsstrengths and weaknesses. At a meeting, we presented our views,emphasising the academic purposes of our work and its confidentialnature. Although the gathering of the research materials for the casestudy had been very tiring, we felt satisfied that we had enough towrite our case study. After our presentation, there was a silence and wewondered if we had made some terrible error. The senior managerscomplimented us on finding out so much in such a short time anddeveloping a good understanding of the organisation. However, in fact,they showed little interest in our report. Then one of the managers gotout a piece of paper. She said that they had noticed that we were vege-tarians and asked, quite seriously, how we ‘survived’ on such a diet.How did we stay so fresh looking after doing the research? Did we haveany vegetarian recipes? Then she went on, did we vote Labour? Whydid we want to do fieldwork in such a small company in such a smalltown? We were stunned to find that we had clearly been the objects ofso much curiosity – so much for our vanity, our attempts to try topresent ourselves in a neutral, unobtrusive light.

The research-aware respondent and the importance of ethics

Despite attempts to brief respondents about the project, it is inevitablethat:

All research is secret in some ways and to some degree – we nevertell the subjects ‘everything’ […]. So long as there exists a separationof role between the researchers and those researched upon, the

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gathering of information will inevitably have some hidden aspectseven if one is an openly declared informer (Roth, 1970: 278).

Nonetheless, once fieldwork has started in an organisation, variousaspects of the research design are gradually revealed and potentialrespondents start to build up a picture of research process. In ourresearch, the informal communication system moved rapidly intoaction as soon as we had conducted our first interviews. The respond-ents then had a chance to discuss what had taken place and developtheir views about the purpose of our research. On occasion, respondentswould deliberately signal to us that they knew what the next area ofquestioning would be, because they were aware of the interview struc-ture. They expected, for example, that we would ask some potentiallysensitive questions about their pre-1989 career experiences and wereoften nervous about this line of questioning, from which we couldinfer something about their former political activities and affiliations.However, for us, the purpose of the research was not to pass moraljudgement about their pasts but to develop a sociological understand-ing of how and why events happened as they did. As part of the inter-view process, we were always careful to reassure respondents about theconfidentiality of our work and our intention of only using the mater-ials for academic purposes.

In potentially sensitive research of this type, the actual and perceivedethical stance of the fieldworker is central to the integrity of the researchprocess and the validity of its outcomes (see Plummer, 2001: 222 ff.).Although our research did not carry the potential risks for participantsthat Nojonen (in this book) discusses in his account of his research in China, we had a responsibility and duty of care to the respond-ents. After all, they had trusted us with intimate details about theirfeelings and their activities before and after the Revolution in 1989. Asa researcher in the field, one should always aim to leave the fieldwithout having caused harm to its members and making sure that allsources are protected. Stake (2003: 154) argues forcefully that:

The value of the best research is not likely to outweigh injury to aperson exposed. Qualitative researchers are guests in the privatespaces of the world…. Along with much qualitative work, case studyresearch shares an intense interest in personal views and circum-stances. Those whose lives and expressions are portrayed risk ex-posure and embarrassment, as well as loss of standing, employmentand self-esteem.


Without mutual trust, good quality research materials cannot be de-veloped, and managers would withdraw co-operation and participationin the study. In our case, this would have prevented the longitudinaldimension of our study and possibly damaged the chances of otherresearchers being able to work in those organisations in the future.

Conclusion

The purpose of this chapter has been to draw out some of themethodological issues that can arise when a researcher is conductingfieldwork in a transforming context, particularly focusing on themethodological effects of a socially structured field. It has examinedthe ways in which various social roles in and around the research site –e.g. the informant and respondent – can affect the research pro-cess. Many of the pressures that a researcher faces in a typical Westernenvironment are exacerbated by working in a society in a state oftransience. The institutional context is not stable but emergent becauseit consists of elements of the past as well the present and organisa-tions reflect this wider societal institutional ambiguity. This posesinteresting but difficult challenges for a researcher – a cultural outsider– investigating organisational processes and changes.

The starting point for fieldwork research is gaining access and, as dis-cussed above, this can be a particularly difficult process for a researcherin a post-communist, transforming society. A researcher has to be pre-pared to be persistent and willing to utilise contacts in order to gainphysical access to organisation. Careful pre-departure design, planningand preparation are essential if the project is to have a chance ofsuccess, but researchers must enter the field with a flexible mind-setand the expectation that there will be disappointments. In addition,researchers, especially those who work on their own, should give somethought to emotional preparation and develop personal and socialstrategies for coping with the stresses and strains of being away in afield that is full of uncertainty, opaqueness and ambiguity.

In this type of research, internal informants take on an importantrole in the development of the investigation. They can smooth accessand make life much easier for the investigators, but one needs to berealistic, wary, and careful not to take everything that they offer at facevalue. As the stories in the chapter have illustrated, internal informantsare insiders with their own organisational history, cliques and net-works, their own careers, and may not always act from disinterestedmotives.

Anna Soulsby 55

Once in the organisation and gathering data, researchers shouldalways remember that they are the visible ‘outsiders’ and as such theobjects of organisational curiosity and surmise. Through informal com-munication channels, members of the organisation discuss researchers,find out quite a lot about the research design and attempt to deducethe purpose of the project. The researcher needs to be constantly awarethat informants and respondents can influence the unfolding of theresearch project in many ways. Respondents can withhold informa-tion, lead researchers down the wrong line of argument, or use them aspart of their own political strategy.

A researcher should have a clear ethical position before they go intothe field and decide how they are going to cope with pressures to giveinformation. In principle, one should always aim to leave the researchsetting untainted, without having caused harm to respondents bybreaking confidentiality, or having become a significant actor or pawnin the organisation’s political system.

It is important for the researcher to retain a sense of respect andhumility, accepting that s/he is only a transient player in the existingsocial structures of the research site and therefore not in control of it.The crucial objective of a qualitative approach is to secure the willingco-operation and patience of informants and respondents, withoutwhich there is no chance to develop the rich materials that are thefoundation of good case study research.


Dyer, W. and Wilkins, A. (1991) ‘Better stories, not better constructs, to generatebetter theory: a rejoinder to Eisenhardt’, Academy of Management Review,16(3), 613–19.

Edwards, V. and Lawrence, P. (2000) Management in Eastern Europe (Basingstoke:Palgrave).

Eisenhardt, K.M. (1989) ‘Building theories from case study research’ Academy ofManagement Review, 14(4), 532–50.

Gabriel, Y. (2000) Storytelling in Organizations: Facts, Fictions, and Fantasies(Oxford: Oxford University Press).

Kelemen, M. and Kostera, M. (2002) Critical Management Research in EasternEurope: Managing the Transition (Basingstoke: Palgrave).

Yin, R.K. (2003) Applications of Case Study Research (3rd edition) (ThousandOaks, CA: Sage).


4Uncovering the Communist andCapitalist Shadow: DevelopingRelational Forms of Inquiry andWritingKatalin Illes and Bronwen Rees

‘The social sciences are concerned with humans and their rela-tions with themselves and their environments, and, as such,the social sciences are founded on the study of experience…’

(Clandinin and Connelly, 1994: 414).

Introduction

What model of enquiry is most appropriate for the rapidly changingcountries of Central and Eastern Europe (CEE)? This chapter seeks toset out pointers towards developing innovative methods for carryingout research in these countries. We feel that techniques devolved fromthe scientific method cannot capture this complexity, and we offersome examples of a different type of research, based on the researcher’sreflexivity, and most importantly on documenting the researcher’sexperience in relationship to the research situation. This paper is anexploration of a method and of experience.

We draw on our individual and joint experiences in order to offer ashared perception of methodological issues that we have encounteredin our exploration of the historical and transitional context of Hungaryand Britain. We are from different cultural backgrounds and havedifferent educational experiences. However, for the past five years, we have been carrying out joint research into the transition of Hun-gary, and the impact of Western managerial knowledge on the cultureof Hungary. We have drawn on historical, psychological and socialtheories to inform our work (e.g. Illes and Rees, 2001), focusing onhuman resource management, and management education in particular.

Our story reflects the different filters of our national cultures andacademic backgrounds, and shows how we can take these filters into

57

account in mapping out methodological issues. There are benefits intaking seriously the subjective aspects of research, as well as attemptingto objectify and codify perceptions, as is the aim of scientific method.We argue that this can enrich our understanding of culture and his-torical process. This chapter recounts the development of our personalrelationship, and how this personal exploration of each other’s cul-tures can bring rich insights into both environments and help buildmeaningful links between the two cultures. The story can be read first,on a personal level in the form of a friendship and, second, on abroader level between and across cultures.

It is also a history of a relationship to forms of scientific inquiry. Itoffers some new perspectives on the stories that make up our collectiveexistence. It stands somewhat in the face of the conventional methodsof scientific inquiry, and looks at how we experience, how we relate to that experience, and how to relate that experience – therebydrawing on the pioneering work of Dewey (1938). We explain ourdifficulties in relating to the abstractions of conventional researchapproaches, which deny personal experience but are built into thehegemonies of social organisation and structure, such as the Universityor management teaching.

We tell of our different experiences in carrying out research, bothseparately and together. Being from different cultures, we have experi-enced different, often unarticulated obstacles to understanding andexplaining the phenomenon in which we are interested. This hasappeared as a lack, an abstraction and an inability to find a voice thatrepresented our individual and joint experience. Our theoretical andempirical explorations have led us to the metaphor of ‘shadow’ to helparticulate the dilemma. Having used this metaphor already to under-stand the transition, we find it equally useful to help describe our ownrelationship to method.

It is from this shared discomfort, in the face of unarticulated‘shadowy’ obstacles, that this chapter has arisen. We first explore thepossible origins of this discomfort, and then see how we can locate andamend it methodologically.

Towards a theory of narrative

The source of our discomfort lies in how knowledge constructs, and isconstructed by, our collective representation of reality. To understandthis further, we draw on Foucault’s understanding of disciplinarypower. Disciplinary power draws attention to the fundamental role


that knowledge plays in making aspects of existence thinkable andcalculable and therefore the object of conscious action. ‘Power andknowledge directly imply each other; … there is no power relationwithout the correlative constitution of a field of knowledge, nor any knowledge that does not presuppose and constitute at the sametime power relations’ (Foucault, 1977: 27). We move away from the power/knowledge construction, which is so readily apparent in most social science research, and take the risk of working with andrepresenting experience.

Recognising that the power/knowledge construct underpins thescientific method, we wondered whether we could find ways of movingaway from this, yet still retain methodological validity. To do so, weneed to explore the psychological processes through which thepower/knowledge construct operates. Power, in a Foucauldian sense, isconstructed through conditioning. As stories and theories become partof the collective, their repetition in well-organised ways becomesingrained in our habitual patterns of thinking and relating. What if,however, we take a more lateral view and look for other ways ofperceiving and representing the world?

For example, the discipline of cognitive psychology has discovereddifferent ways of looking at the world. Bruner (1986; 1990) identifiedtwo modes of cognition, which he termed ‘paradigmatic’ and ‘narrat-ive’. In the paradigmatic mode, cognition is viewed as an information-processing phenomenon in which concepts are coded in memory andmanipulated by cognitive operators. Situations are represented as con-cepts to be ‘solved’ by rational analytic thinking procedures, makingcomputations, comparisons and substitutions in a form of scientificreasoning. This model dominates cognitive psychology, as it dominatesother cognitive sciences and the other social sciences, and indeed oureveryday understanding of cognition (Boland and Schultze, 1996).

Despite contributing to the establishment of this mode in his owndiscipline of cognitive psychology, Bruner (1986; 1990) has suggestedthat this has suppressed the recognition of another, more powerful anduniversal mode of cognition: the narrative mode. Here, events areselectively isolated in experience, events populated with actors withtheir own histories and motivation and stories are told by setting theactors and events in a meaningful sequence. Bruner argues that, as ameans of making sense of ourselves and the world we live in, thismode is ubiquitous but consistently ignored. However, ‘…[the para-digmatic view] synonymous with an abstract theoretical view of theworld is taken to be the mode of cognition not only in science and

Katalin Illes and Bronwen Rees 59

technology, but in all forms of human reasoning’ (Bruner, 1990: 9,italics in original).

The predominance of the paradigmatic mode of cognition probablylies in the actual interrelationship of the two modes. For Lyotard(1984), scientific practice does not recognise narrative knowledge asvalid, even though the paradigmatic mode itself relies on the narrativemode to legitimise its claims. Being a meaningful reconstruction of theworld, the narrative mode cannot be proved by analytic or cumulativelogic. According to science, ‘narratives are fables, myths, legends, fitonly for women and children’ (Lyotard, 1984: 27).

It is only when the ‘masculine bias’ in accepted psychological cat-egories such as ‘identity’ and ‘morality’ came to be recognised thatimportant concepts such as relationships and intimacy began toemerge in the discipline of cognitive psychology. For example, Lyons(1990: 42) shows how adolescent girls, rather than using an abstractconceptualisation such as justice for analysing a situation, may resolvea moral problem by stepping into – not back from – the situation andby acting to restore relationships or to address needs. She puts forwarda dual model for making decisions based on a care/justice dichotomy,which may well reflect the paradigmatic/narrative dichotomy. In thisway, important concepts come to be excluded from the agenda, andthis is perhaps one way in which the power/knowledge constructcomes to operate.

While Lyons (1990) does not suggest that girls and boys use differentmodels exclusively, the fact that the recognition of the narrative modehas emerged following on from this earlier research might suggest thatgirls and women are more likely to use the narrative mode more fre-quently. It certainly could be inferred from the ways in which girls andwomen perceive themselves, and also from Chodorow’s (1978) theoryabout the reproduction of mothering. The distancing process that boysgo through when disidentifying from the mother is more likely to leadto the paradigmatic self ‘…characterized by separation from others,segmentation and calculation’ (Boland and Schultze, 1996). The nar-rative self, acting out situations, taking into account relationships with others, building beginnings, middle and ends, does bear a greaterresemblance to women’s psychological development as exploredabove.

These possibilities raised several questions for us methodologically.What if women find it difficult or uncomfortable to work within para-digmatic frameworks? What could be learned working from the morenarrative style? Most importantly, for this chapter, if there are these


differences in cognition, what are the differences likely to be in cross-cultural working? Language itself is not enough to convey experience.Scientific frameworks themselves may well inhibit the research process.This was beginning to point to the more subtle internalised pathwaysthrough which power relations exert themselves.

A commitment to engage with and represent experience

In order to address these issues, we introduced ideas from Dewey’stheory of experience (1938) into our own investigations in Hungaryand the UK and looked for ways of justifying our approach to enhancethe current methodological status of cross-cultural work. For Dewey,‘intentionality’ is the key to exploring, representing and communicat-ing experience. The researcher’s intentionality defines the starting andstopping points. A common lament of those engaged in reclaiming thestudy of experience is that it cannot see the wood for the trees – in thestudy of messy complexity, the individual trees hide the forest and soit is impossible to arrive at closure. In the language of the scientificmethod, it is impossible to find generalisability and reliability.

Rather than looking for generalisability and reliability as benchmarksof our research, we seek to justify our approach by engaging moreclosely with our intent and hence engage with the politics of method(Eisner, 1988). Let us be clear about our intent here. We wish to reflecton the coming together of cultures, of the West and the East, as thebenefits and problems of the Western consumer society have impactedon Hungary. We are not concerned with ‘proving’ or ‘objectifying’ ourfindings. We are using our growing friendship, our reflections on that,and our form of writing as a method of inquiry. Readers can assess forthemselves the validity of our methods. For us, the importance of ourinquiry resides in whether our discussion could have an impact on thecommunity – communities of business in both Hungary and the UK.One strength of personal experience methods is that their connectiongoes beyond theories, researchers and practitioners to the life com-munity within which we all relate. Thus, we claim that personal experi-ence research as a form of public inquiry goes beyond the specialitiesof research, and connects with fundamentally human qualities ofhuman experience. These are human methods.

For Dewey, an individual’s experience has internal and existentialconditions. A person does not have social experience: an individual issocial; no sociality, no person. This is a crucial methodological under-standing, and one of great importance in transition economies. The


stories that are lived are those of the coming together of cultures, ofdifferent peoples, and a clash of their worldviews. Experience methodsgive us a way of overcoming the inevitable assumptions of ‘knowledgetransfer’ that have dogged much cross-cultural research to date. Theimportant issue is that the research reflects the conditioning and experience of people of both cultures. If not, we would question thevalidity of research undertaken by those of a different culture, if theirintent is one of improving those relations. In other words, experiencemethods provide both a process of inquiry and a means of change.

Finally, questions of voice and signature are crucial in the study ofexperience (Richardson, 1994). Who is being heard, and who not beingheard? What is being said and what not being said? What is missingfrom the story? Questions revolve too around the researcher’s voice.The researcher is partially naked and open to criticism. How much canwe reveal? Are our jobs as researchers on the line if we go too far downthe personal? When we have lifted the veil of silence that scientificvoices often bring, how do we represent that voice? What is our sig-nature? There are multiple ways of being in the text, as well as being inthe field. How lively should that signature be? Too much, and weobscure the voices of the participants. Too little, and we fail to repre-sent their story in a different way. This text, then, is an experiment, aswe write it. What will our joint signature look like? At this moment ofwriting we have no idea. But we feel increasingly passionate about theway in which we can learn from experience and carry out changethrough opening ourselves up to the possibilities of experience, andlearning how to communicate to academic, business, and nationalcommunities.

Ours is a story about a coming together of cultures in the form of twohuman beings, who carry the collective experience of those cultures. Ittells two stories of research, as two small rivulets that flowed together andfound the courage to stand in the face of scientific inquiry and to recounttales from the field directly through the personal.

Writing and relationship are our mode of inquiry. The writing is ourform, and the relationship is the story of the emergence of that form.We are concerned not with one country, but with the coming togetherof cultures, in the sense of the personal, the academic and the organ-isational. Our aim is to open up our own experience and offer that inrelation to the events of the transition, to ourselves and to our friend-ship as a lens. To approach this chapter in this way is partly a matter ofparticipating in the politics of method by reclaiming the study ofexperience from its abstractions in the scientific method.


All inquiry can be seen as interaction between experiences of fieldparticipants and those of researchers as they come to that field. Whenwe begin having the experience, we need to be sensitive to the storiesalready being lived, told, relived and retold. However, when we cometogether, we begin to live and tell a new story of our collaborativework. We tell a story as researchers and try to represent the researchproject, but a major part of that telling is our own experience, relivedand retold, in relationship to academic frameworks to the subject, toourselves and to one another. Our intent is to communicate somethingabout how cultures can work together and learn from each other, in amutual exploration and sharing of experience. Our method is to usethe narrative of our lives and our relationship to provide pointers as tohow reality is differently experienced, and what the implications ofthat might be for the way in which some of us conduct research.

Our intent is consciously political, derived from critical manage-ment research, which calls for an approach that is at once interpretive,open, language sensitive, identity conscious, historical, political, local, non-authoritative and which has a textually aware understanding ofresearch (Alvesson and Deetz, 2002). Along with Alvesson andWillmott (1992: 9), we argue that ‘… in the present context of develop-ing management studies there is less point in stressing theoreticalrigour and orthodoxy than in welcoming a broad inspiration from avariety of theories and ideas that share “enough” affinities to advanceor enrich critical studies of management.’ However, we do not eschewtheory, or fall into the irony of post-modernism.

‘To argue that because knowledge is not absolute or final there is noknowledge, only interpretations… undermines what I still think isone of the most vital contributions of theory: it can offer a deeperunderstanding of what is at stake in political and social conflictsthat have a very real external existence; it provides an opportunityto become what might be called “better citizens”, more aware andwith a deeper understanding of what is going on around us. If itdoes not provide answers to problems, it enables a better under-standing of their complexity and difficulty’ (Craib, 1992: 249–50).

We are building up a joint ‘interpretive repertoire’ and engaging withnot only the conditioning that has led us to it, but also the emotionalframeworks that have created our own individual ‘interpretive reper-toires’. Our approach to experience methods sees theory as intertwinedwithin the method, and drawn upon when useful. In the following


section, we offer up a highly selected narrative of our journeys towardsthis method.

Theoretical and methodological journeys

Katalin’s reflections

I was living and working in Budapest until the end of 1989. I canvividly remember the surprise, disbelief and joy that followed the fallof the Berlin Wall. It was difficult to believe because, although thecountry had experienced a loosening of the Russian leash, those whohad first-hand experience of the retaliation that followed the revolu-tion in 1956 retained (and still retain) a psychological and even bodilymemory of that violent period. This surfaced the trauma and fear thathave existed in the collective psyche of Hungarians for more than 500 years. It did not seem possible that freedom could just appear onthe doorstep without bloodshed and suffering.

Despite the fall of the Wall, I was prompted to follow through mydecade-long plan to relocate to the United Kingdom. As with all radicalrelocations of this kind, this too was experienced with difficulty. Inmeeting the culture shock, despite a fistful of qualifications, I neededto retrain in the UK academic system, drawing on all my inheritedqualities of survival. From a PhD in world literature and my dreamworld of poetry, emotions and personal reflection, I moved into theworld of business and the underpinning of social sciences. Within twoyears of leaving Hungary, I started to find new ground under my feet. Igained a position at Heriot-Watt University, Edinburgh in 1992 andwas appointed project manager on the Know-How project aimed atproviding an accounting framework for the developing marketeconomy.

Managing this project allowed me to learn about British organisa-tional culture, systems, structures and mentality. I was the only non-British member of the team. However, the strongest emotion that I feltat the time was that I needed to prove myself – that I was as good andas competent as the British team members. In Edinburgh, I felt moreand more often that I was accepted and when people made commentslike ‘you do not talk like a Hungarian’, ‘you think very much like usBritish’, I took them as compliments. Life was more difficult when Iwas in Hungary or with Hungarian project members in the UK. Theyautomatically expected loyalty and favourable treatment from me.After all, I was one of them by birth, and the fact that I had the good


fortune to get to this position brought the unspoken responsibility ofrepresenting them and their interests. I did not want to be disloyal tomy roots. In fact, I felt that I needed to do my utmost to support thechanges in Hungary. On the other hand, I started to see the other sideof the coin, the British perspective, and I did not want to be disloyal tomy newly chosen home either. It led to an almost impossible positionwhen I tried to please everybody and tried to represent the interests ofboth sides equally. It gave me lots of headaches, heartaches and sleep-less nights. It took me a while to find my own voice and gain accept-ance and respect, not as a ‘pleaser’, but as a bilingual, competentmanager who set out to build bridges between two different cultures.

Reflecting on these experiences, I acted as if I were the teacher toboth sides, whereas, in reality, I was a student on an intensive, doubledegree course having to study many subjects in depth on both Britishand Hungarian sides. In a short span of time, I had changed countries,disciplines and life styles. Research in literature allowed considerableroom for subjective ideas, unusual approaches being highly appre-ciated. In social science, as I quickly discovered, the rules were ratherdifferent and I was expected to use the scientific method and to learnto justify every statement. British colleagues had the scientific rigour,in-depth knowledge of the methodological frameworks and they knewhow to present the findings in an appropriate academic manner.

Initially, I was fascinated by the precision, logic and systematicapproach of scientific inquiry. As I had not studied this approach inHungary, I made the personal association that feelings and subjectivitywere to do with my past and factual, rational thinking was my way tosuccess in the present and future. I shared the excitement of my Britishcolleagues, who were keen to support the changes required in Hungary.We all felt that by sharing the well-established British accountingeducation system with the Hungarian profession we would make agood contribution to the country’s efforts to move towards marketeconomy. I felt that I was making a difference and this was excitingand heroic. However numerous difficulties and limitations of methodsquickly eroded my naïve enthusiasm, leading to intense frustration.While a native speaker of Hungarian, I had only learned accountancyin Britain, and had very little idea of appropriate Hungarian account-ing terminology. A literal translation did not always convey themeaning because dictionaries at the time reflected the old, centralisedaccounting system in Hungary. In fact, the use of dictionaries provedto be misleading a number of times. Indeed, the joint efforts of theBritish and the Hungarian accounting academics I was consulting led


to the first accountancy and finance dictionary to be published for pro-fessionals in Hungary. Despite my sense of achievement as projectmanager, as researcher, doing everything as advised by those wellversed in the scientific method led to a frustrating and incompleteexperience. There was a reality gap in the work that was published in awell-respected international journal (Illes et al., 1996).

This reality gap was also present in the qualitative interviews. As Iinterviewed both British and Hungarian participants in different col-laborative academic projects, participants’ body language suggestedthat they were actually less than happy with their liaison with thepartner institute, though they were too ‘polite’ to discuss it. There wasno room in the research to examine and explain these subtle culturaldifferences. Whilst the research pointed out the difficulties of cross-cultural working, the structure of the research projects themselvesallowed merely observation. When talking to people in Hungary, fearsof the unknown and of the globalising partner were expressed in termsof the rhetoric of change, rather than its reality as I experienced it.However, given that I was learning new scientific methods, I did notfeel in a position to voice this in research reports.

In all cases, the results of the research reflected the problems in themethod itself. Only a fraction of the experience could be arranged intoneat boxes and bullet points. The complexity and the uniqueness ofeach case were related to the interviewee’s personality, individual andnational history, organisational position and his/her underlyingmotives for being involved in the project. The framework of enquirydid not provide an opportunity to report on individual circumstancesand feelings. While there were some common features, it was imposs-ible to force the findings into the scientific framework without losing awhole human dimension of emotion and experience.

My initial intent, to help bridge cultures, could not be met withinthe confines of the research projects as they had been set up.

Bronwen’s reflections

I ended up in the field of organisation science through default. Sincemy first degree was in French, my formative years were illuminated byFrench thinking patterns – that is, an eclectic, free-flowing approachthat does not resemble the utilitarian underpinnings of British empiric-ism. This was followed by many years working as a freelance editor andwriter in the area of business, including editing a management journalwhich is what took me into the world of the social sciences. I under-took a PhD at Cranfield University rather by chance. Wanting to write


and research my own work rather than editing that of others, I foundmyself in receipt of a scholarship, ready to undertake a project into theposition of women managers in the UK, France and the Netherlands.This started with a monumental struggle with the underlying posit-ivism that characterised much of the women in management literat-ure. I searched through sociology and psychology for an alternative,until a social scientist at Cranfield introduced me to Foucault. Thisbegan a completely new stream of inquiry that has lasted for over tenyears and embraces critical theory, feminism, the labour process debateand its Marxist orientation, and post-modernism. This relationshipwith different theoretical orientations and their methodological under-pinnings is ongoing and concerned primarily with highlighting theabstractions of method, which often tend to misrepresent experience.Whilst these methods are useful, I found the unquestioned assumptionthat the findings represent the ‘truth’ both frustrating and limiting.

Despite the avowed calls for new interdisciplinary methods, I experi-enced great difficulty in finding journals that would take the risk ofpublishing novel methods. Questions at management conferences weresometimes underpinned by an assumption that my work was based inthe scientific method, and tended to detract from the perspective that Iwas offering. For example, one academic spent over ten minutes ques-tioning a particular statistic used to represent the numbers of womenin management – how it had been collected – when the focus of thepaper was on underlying processes of discrimination (see Rees andGarnsey, 2003).

The frustrations of exploring issues of women at work, and theirdifficulties in the workplace, reflected my personal circumstances, as Iwas working full-time and a single parent of two. I became aware thatthe choice of methodology is not necessarily determined solely byempirical or theoretical considerations. I was led to my choices par-tially through my circumstances and through the experience that my voice not being represented. This is an honest acknowledgementthat our ‘theories’ of the world are shaped by our experience, and notnecessarily extracted in a linear way from mental reasoning, howeverelegant that argument may be. Theory does not represent emotions,feelings, sensations, or even perceptions – but has emerged from acombination of all these. It would have been safe for me to ‘hide’behind a positivist methodology, but not meaningful. Three hours intomy doctoral viva, I mentioned to an examiner that I wished I had donea more traditional PhD, to which he replied that I would not then havebeen the same person. We are, as human beings, an intrinsic part


of our research. All methods are useful provided they help to realise the ‘intent’ of the research. Arguments about methodology and theory, without reference to practice, are at best tautological, at worstdebilitating and closed.

In this field, writing a personal account in the first person is ratherlike appearing naked in public. However, it is important that the fieldof (particularly cross-cultural) management studies questions its ownepistemologies, otherwise cross-cultural communication can only leadto conflict and pain. At the same time as this work was being carriedout, Katalin and I met at a conference in Leuven.

Crossroads: developing joint inquiry and finding the independentwitness

Up to this point, our struggles had been completely different, and yetvery similar. We had both felt the intransigence of the scientificmethod, Katalin through conditioned fear and Bronwen through therigidity of the establishment. We were both still struggling to findalternative ‘legitimate’ ways of expressing our research, but, in the fieldof business, there were few empirical examples of how this might work.The constrained voice of the objective narrator was still ever present.Even in the best of critical theory thinking, which brought structureand process together (Rees, 2003), the narrator him/herself tended tostand outside the work.

We needed to develop a new style of research that would bring to lifesome of the real stories, while retaining the possibility of generalisingto organisational level and shedding light on the cultural differencesand commonalities that bind us together as human beings. We beganto research in Hungary. We began by examining our intent. How couldwe carry out research that would remain true to our intent? For both ofus, there was fear, brought about by our mutual conditioning. ForBronwen, it was fear of a new culture, of not understanding and notbeing understood. For Katalin, it was fear of the past, of the yearsunder the Soviets.

For Katalin, having a British person with whom to converse outsideof ‘being Hungarian’ and outside of ‘being scientific’ meant that shecould retain the witness sensibility that is important in seeking tounderstand someone else’s reality. For Bronwen, it was invaluable towitness and discuss Katalin’s response to the changes, as she struggledwith the dual identity that she had acquired. Having a ‘native’ present,and beginning to know that native well, meant that Bronwen was far


more sensitised to the subtleties of exchanges that would not havebeen possible with only one researcher, or with someone seeking onlya paradigmatic response (compare Alt and Lang’s discussion of mixedresearch teams, in this book).

Katalin learned through Bronwen the importance of being wellversed in the scientific method, of knowing how to ‘move on’ yet stillembed new work in this tradition. In the Hungarian tradition, there isfar more individuality in carrying out research, a greater tendency tobuild up personal systems, and more freedom to express personal emo-tions about a phenomenon without reference to the collective body ofknowledge. This approach does not work in Britain, and Bronwen hadbeen seeking a legitimate way of introducing a more individualisticapproach into well-established frameworks.

Bringing cultures together in relationship: the interplay of personas and shadows

We began to realise that the power of our collaboration rested in theway in which we built our relationship. This process was pleasurable(though sometimes conflictual), but also, in it lay the roots of deepen-ing the understanding of different cultures. In our research, we beganto find some interesting metaphors that could be used to increaseunderstanding of the cultures. One of these was Jung’s ‘shadow’. ForJung (1933), the ‘shadow’ stands for the processes by which thepersona grows out of a need to adapt to the expectations of parents,teachers and society in the course of growing up. In this process thechild learns that some qualities are regarded as desirable while othersare not. Those that are not are hidden from view, and form a psycho-logical complex that Jung called the shadow – and the archetypal coreof this is the ‘enemy’. This is a matter of survival for societies, but laterin life, if the shadow aspect is not given conscious expression, it ismanifested in unintegrated ways such as passive/aggressive behaviour,or outbursts of anger. The task of the individual later in life is toacknowledge and surface these hidden aspects into a full expression ofthe autonomous individual, thereby eliminating the negative behavi-ours and giving positive elements (such as creativity) more focusedexpression (Illes and Rees 2001). However, such shadows develop andintertwine at both an individual and a societal level. ‘The structures of the human psyche, the structures of human society and the struc-tures of human history are indissolubly complementary and can onlybe studied in conjunction with each other’ (Elias, 1991). Jung himself


interpreted the shadow at a collective level and argued that com-munism and capitalism represented each other’s shadow.

Slowly, we realised that the history of our working together reflectedthe process as described by Elias, elucidated in another way by Dewey,hinted at by Jung, and explored in greater depth by the Jungianscholar, Neumann (1973). When we started to work together, fourcharacters emerged. The socialist persona and the capitalist personaand the socialist shadow and the capitalist shadow began to challengeand get to know each other. The persona had to look into the mirrorheld by the opposite shadow, and this regular confrontation meantthat the shadows could no longer hide. An interesting dialogue de-veloped that moved away from the extreme and the judgemental andtowards the complex, complementary and human. It felt like lookingat a two-dimensional picture and slowly developing eyes to see thirdand fourth dimensions.

When we talked about history, we started to identify the nationalcharacteristics of our ancestors in each other and the many roots ofour different social conditioning. In our work in Hungary, our jointefforts allowed us to tap into qualities of the change process thatwent way beyond statistics and into the intangible depths of theindividual’s and nation’s psyche. We began to develop a two-waylearning process where we both had the benefit of understandingour roots and chosen cultures. Working with another researcher of adifferent culture is particularly important in carrying out cross-cultural research, since normally our own culturally conditionedlenses blind us. This process may not necessarily be harmonious,since often there is a struggle for the contents of the shadow toemerge, but with shared intent, more clarity will ensue. Rather thanobjectifying knowledge into a common framework – the aim of thescientific method – our approach acknowledges subjectivity, but usesrelationship as a means of releasing the ‘blind spots’ that are part ofbeing human.

To summarise, we acted as each other’s mirror, providing the‘reflexivity’ in a spirit of joint inquiry that did much to enhance ourperspectives (see Soulsby in this book). At a psychological level, withinthe context of Britain and Hungary, we provided a lens to see whateach other’s conditioning had banished into the shadow. Perhapswe were both humbled in the experience as we increasingly realisedhow little we knew about one another, and, therefore, about our par-ticipants. What follows are a few selected illustrations of the insightsthat may emerge from this way of working.


Using relationship as method

Bronwen’s experience

Our working relationship has been on a long journey. We have visitedHungary several times, sometimes together, sometimes alone. Eachjourney has been different, and, each time, learning has taken place. Inthese journeys, both Katalin and I have changed, and so has thecountry. I noticed the fear and even dread that Katalin needs to workthrough in a country where she has experienced much oppression. I notice the great strength that she needs to summon up in order toreturn, having made her ‘escape’ in 1989. At the same time, I havenoticed my own responses change.

Let us imagine sitting in the Vice-Chancellor’s office at the Uni-versity of Veszprem. We had walked up the marble steps of the Sovietbuilding, and here I was in an enormous room, some 100-feet long, the former office of a Soviet official. Now Hungarian flags dominatedthe room, but these were also at half-mast, because of the prematuredeath of the deputy vice-chancellor, aged 48, apparently from over-work. I understood no Hungarian, and yet was attempting to com-municate through Katalin as interpreter. Was she interpreting mecorrectly? I tend to think more about my speech and wonder about the influence of what I perceived as the ‘florid’ language of theHungarians.

It also seems that a few sentences take many more minutes inHungarian. I had to rely entirely on Katalin’s integrity for this(compare Soulsby’s discussion of interpreters). I wondered what I wasdoing there, in the middle of Europe – what had I to offer? Despitethis, I was also experiencing a great sense of mental space. I had nosocial conditioning to fall back on, so I was able to observe things, towhich I would normally not attend. The delightful politeness andrespect of these high officials… an open heart… a wounded heartperhaps… maybe that was why it was open. I felt a great privilege to bein this room where so much history, outside of my personal or collect-ive experience, had taken place. It felt that we had transcended timeand space. The woman, who had introduced us to the chancellor, wasa philosopher, and had also taught the Vice-Chancellor as an under-graduate. Roles and responsibilities fell into relief as a rare level of com-munication as human beings took place. Research in this instance wasnot that of counting. It was more an understanding of how being ableto drop our traditional filters, of being aware of the lens through whichwe are looking, could enhance the sense of the possibilities of cross-cultural


communication – a sense that was not possible within the traditionalscientific frameworks, since certain assumptions are already encoded intheir methods.

Later that year, at a conference, I was invited to deliver a paper onhuman resource management. I did not use the usual ‘jargon’ butattempted to show the dangers of rhetoric – to highlight what was notbeing said in these potential frameworks of control (Rees, 2003). Again,Katalin stood by my side, this time simultaneously interpreting. Again,I wondered what was being said. But there was full concentration. Ihad thought that I would bring the fruits of my thinking to this venueat the beautiful Lake Balaton. But as the evening wore on, and wevisited the wine cellars of the regions, as the Hungarians broke out intothe most wonderful rhythmic singing, I realised how much there wasfor me to bring back to the UK. After ten years of capitalist culture, theHungarians have already grown wise to the dangers of consumerism.Some have taken advantage, others choose more carefully. And again,having had to live with oppressors, Hungarians learn to take what they need, and some of the rest goes back into the shadow. And it is at the shadow’s edge that our mutual exploration of culture and ourrelationship has taken place.

Katalin’s experience

My research over the past 12 years has felt like dealing with two personas and two shadows. When I came to Britain, I brought myHungarian persona and my Hungarian shadow. My persona manifesteditself in the form of a competent, confident, cosmopolitan professionalwho glides through cultures with ease. My shadow was suppressed inthe depth of the psyche, as I was busy acting out my ‘superwoman’persona. However, the shadow erupted in the most unexpected situ-ations, particularly when I went back to Hungary. I felt the pain ofchange, the fear of uncertainty and of the unknown that had been sodeeply engraved into my psyche during my upbringing. It made mevery sad to see beggars and homeless people, who were not part of myheritage but the outcome of the changes from socialism to capitalism,an almost inevitable by-product of the transition that I found difficultdealing with. The more pain I felt emotionally, the more rational Itried to be in my research work, desperately trying to believe that thebenefits were far greater than the costs. Sometimes I wore readingglasses and became very critical; other times I wore glasses that helpedmy long distance vision. I made great efforts to comply with thescientific method of enquiry and experienced the frustration of having


to leave out the personal, the emotional and unquantifiable aspectsfrom my report.

When I visited Hungary with Bronwen for the first time we had along conversation about my perception of the changes in Hungary.This was the first time that I allowed my emotions to emerge andshared many of my pains and fears of the past and my uncertaintiesabout the present state of Hungary. I trusted Bronwen and I knew thatshe would not judge me or use my openness against me.

After jointly interviewing people in Hungary I found it very useful tospend time together reflecting on our perceptions of the day.Sometimes, Bronwen’s account made me realise that there was a per-fectly appropriate but alternative interpretation of the same situation.The search for clarification always came back to our conditioning.When people talked about the fear of changing regimes, rules andregulations, they triggered fears from my past life in Hungary. When Ihad Bronwen there as a witness I felt safe. I could dive deep into myfears and look them straight in the eye, knowing that I would notdrown. Bronwen would throw me a life belt and I can swim out of theexperience feeling richer.

Working together in Hungary gave me an opportunity to relate tothe past from my present reality. It enabled me to bring aspects of mypersonal and collective shadow into consciousness. It felt as if my per-sonal growth and my development as a researcher were closely relatedand intertwined. This personal and professional relationship offeredme a protective place to develop my own voice. This voice has tried tobring together the objective with the subjective, the rational with theintuitive, the Hungarian with the British, and the masculine with thefeminine side. This voice is stronger, clearer and more educated thanthe one I had when I tried to put the world into clear categories.

Uncovering issues: potential sources of cross-cultural conflict

In what follows, we provide brief reflective accounts based on fieldexperiences in Hungary and Britain. In line with Dewey (1938), anaccount moves back from the inward to the outward, forwards andbackwards, rather than in linear fashion. Embedded and entwinedwithin the field accounts there may well be observations, issues andconcepts (e.g. shadow) that anyone thinking of conducting business ineither Hungary or Britain might find useful. These issues have emergednot as ‘findings’ in the field, but from our observations and discussionswith one another. These differences have emerged as a result of our


collaborative friendship, rather than from scientific observation. Theyraise interesting issues that can be addressed at the level of bothresearch and work in cross-cultural settings.

Attitudes to systems and procedures

In the West, we traditionally associate Soviet-run countries with vastbureaucracies, but our collaboration has brought a rather contradictorypicture to the surface, that is, the intense reliance in Britain onsystems. For example, in British education, as long as learning out-comes match learning objectives, what goes on in the classroom isimmaterial. So while lip service is paid to creativity, the systems andprocedures predominate. Katalin has experienced great difficulty in theUK finding her way around these systems, suggesting that they havebeen institutionalised over a long period of time, and therefore thatthey have become part of the paradigmatic furniture. These systems,no doubt, are taken into the host culture as unquestioned ‘assump-tions’. One way in which this happens is through the predominant usein both cultures of the scientific method, which removes diversity ofexperience from the agenda.

Some of these observations have arisen from the answers that wehave been given from people in Hungary and Britain. When interview-ing people in Hungary, we observed that the interviewees respondedby being personal and offering a rich and complex case history. Therewas no definite distinction between the public and private, and every-thing appeared to be related to everything else. In the UK, intervieweesoften gave objective, factual answers to the same questions. They hadan objective, rational view about the issues, which in their turn per-petuated an objective rational account. Even when the interviewertried to push for more personal views, the response was often a puzzledsilence or a side step away from the personal.

One reason for this relative lack of an internalised system in Britainis that Hungarians actually talk far more than they write. This observa-tion was a real surprise to Bronwen, particularly as it only emergedsome three years into our collaboration. Educationally, this is mani-fested in Hungarians’ emphasis on oral examination, but it actuallysuggests a far greater cultural difference. Bronwen has sometimesexperienced frustration at Hungarian conferences and meetings, wherean oratorical style predominates. Time then seems inexorable and onesentence seems to take five in translation. Sometimes, when presentinga joint paper, Katalin appears to be flitting from one subject to anotherand not keeping to the point of the written paper. At a cross-cultural


level, this emphasis on talk may be one way in which Hungarians havemaintained their individuality and are not ‘subjected’ in the same wayas others in the power/knowledge continuum. Seen in a different light,the process itself carries meaning, which a researcher needs to under-stand rather than become irritated with. This would not be obvious toa non-native, and perhaps not even to a native, but is revealed throughapplying our joint perspectives.

Such frustration arising from oral custom and practice also arises inbusiness, and this is a problem that needs more exploration, calling formutual communication to bring assumptions to the surface beforedecisions can be made. We do not provide any answers here, raisingthese issues may encourage deeper engagement with them. Based onthese observations, one of us has set up a research team to help organ-isations build ‘awareness’ techniques into their cross-cultural training.These techniques develop a ‘reflexive ground’ for individuals andteams to mirror their own emotions, feelings and anxieties, and also toexpress their own ‘intent’ (Rees and Wilson, 2003).

Learning and inquiry

Modes of enquiry differ significantly. Hungarians do not have theforms to question or debate in the same manner as the British. At aninstitutional level, this is represented in Parliament by challenge and(apparent) conflict. Working with Hungarians, Bronwen has oftenfound that feedback needs to be delivered very ‘tactfully’. For example,we can recall a time when Hungarian and British academics weresitting around the table discussing the content and structure of dis-tance learning materials prepared by the Hungarians. Distance learningwas a novel method in Hungary, introduced as part of the growingexchange of ideas between two academic institutions. The British acad-emics, acting as expert advisers, offered a detailed critique, in responseto which the Hungarians became defensive and were unable to really‘hear’ the advice. Perceiving the ‘detached’ British criticism as a per-sonal ‘attack’, the Hungarian ‘defence’ could have led to unnecessaryconflict and misunderstanding. However, we believe that greaterunderstanding and relationship between the cultures, brought aboutby constructing honest relationships, could enhance working teams.Our experience together shows that there is a difference between themore ‘objective’ world of the British, and the more ‘subjective’ worldof the Hungarian. Neither is right or wrong. The borders between theexternal and the internal world of the individual seem to differ cul-turally and can lead to apparently defensive behaviours. We need to be


aware of our own filters and interpretations when asking questions,and we also need to try and make sense of the filters through whichthe ‘other’ is answering the questions. By acting as witnesses to eachother, we can reinforce this awareness, so that both perspectives arekept at the forefront of our perceptions.

The oral nature of Hungarian culture is represented at conferences inthe adoption of a declamatory style. Even at business conferences,Bronwen has seen Hungarians broaden the discussion to their philo-sophy on life. While interesting and passionate, this would not passmuster in a British environment, where there is burden of proof at every stage. This has implications for management teaching andbusiness practice. The pragmatic British manager may view thisapproach as a ‘waste of time’ or ‘woolliness’, but – and this requiresfurther exploration – it may represent the process by which Hungariansunderstand and make decisions within business situations.

Conclusions: developing witness

The relationship we have developed over the years allows us to reflectback our differences. In this way, we work at the edges of our experi-ences and act as each other’s ‘witness’. We each provide for the other asafe container in which we can push the boundaries of our own experi-ence and open up experiences that would be impossible for a soleresearcher. The position of ‘witness’ is one that is well-known in psy-chotherapy – where the therapist can provide a ‘holding’ for the clientto face up to an experience that is locked in memory. When a cultureis re-viewed through this experience, significant differences mayemerge. In a time of transition with significant and sometimes painfulchange, we suggest that a relational method of inquiry is far morelikely to meet our initial intent, to build significant bridges betweentwo cultures without imposing an ‘imperialist’ view from one cultureto another.

Together, we have written and published a paper on the shadow ofHungarian history (Illes and Rees, 2001). This emerged from engagingwith each other and with our own fears and shadows. Only by expos-ing the richness and darkness in this shadow can we truly achieve afruitful interaction. As Bronwen has witnessed Katalin and her relation-ship to this truly beautiful country, so she has witnessed its history –its need for survival, the throbbing heart, just below the surface. In sodoing it has helped to open her heart, and with it her understanding.As Bronwen gets to know Katalin better, she can see the frisson more


quickly, and pick up on the fear almost before it arises. She can feelmore acutely the meaning in comments made. These have implica-tions for understanding stories in the workplace and for deliveringcourses. Bronwen now has a better sense of what may or may not work– for what will be taken on consciously or driven back into theshadow. Working in her own shadows in Hungary, she becomes moreaware of her own conditioning, and what has happened in her ownplace of work. These are issues of human conditioning, suffering andjoy. They raise questions of ethics and values.

Working together both in the UK and Hungary enabled us to look ata more complex level of intercultural communication. How can weaim to decode our meaning from our conditioning and send trans-parent messages? How can we learn to appreciate and comprehend theintricate coding of another culture? How can we learn to communicateat a more open and profound human level? These questions have ledus towards exploring issues of ethics and values in more depth, andfinding out in practice how two cultures may meet. This is not to denythe importance of traditional methods, but is rather a call for the useof more imaginative approaches. The complexity of transition andcross-cultural work needs other metaphors than the collective one ofthe scientific method. To some degree, our exploration has beenthrough the relational aspect of our research. Great store is set on thevalue of collaborative research, but rarely is attention drawn to thenature of that collaboration, and the processes that render it valuable.Through this, we can open the doors to the richness in both ourshadows, and act as each other’s witness to penetrate into thesedepths. Through this, we can truly begin to explore our researchthrough narrative rather than paradigm and leave others to help createparadigms from our narratives.


Alvesson, M. and Deetz, S. (2000) Doing Critical Management Research (London:Sage).

Clandinin, D.J. and Connelly, F.M. (1994) ‘Personal experience methods’, in Denzin, N.K and Lincoln, Y.S. (eds) Handbook of Qualitative Research(Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage) pp. 413–17.

Neumann, E. (1973) Depth Psychology and a New Ethic (New York: HarperTorchbooks).

Richardson, L. (1994) ‘Writing: a method of inquiry’, in Denzin, N.K andLincoln, Y.S. (eds) Handbook of Qualitative Research (Thosand Oaks, CA: Sage)pp. 923–48.


5Constructing Enterprise LevelKnowledge: Exploratory Methods andTransforming Contexts Anne Lorentzen

Introduction

One research field that has turned to the study of Central and EasternEurope (CEE) is that of innovation studies and my research has beenpart of this trend. I started to research industrial and technologicaldevelopment in Hungary at the beginning of the 1990s and later inPoland. For obvious reasons, theories and frameworks in innovationresearch were at the outset based on Western experiences. The researchfield in general is characterised by a tradition of macro-level and quant-itative statistical approaches (Nelson, 1993; Lundvall, 1992; Kim and Nelson, 2000), which have also been followed when dealing withinnovation in CEE (Fritsch and Brezinski, 1999; Hirschhausen andBitzer, 2000). This chapter argues that the construction of knowledgeof innovation in CEE requires open, flexible and exploratory researchmethods as well as highly critical use of existing theory. It requires thecreation of knowledge of the micro-level, where decisions on innova-tion are taken. More focus should be put on the development of newinsights than on the replication of known ones.

The first part of this chapter takes you to Mexico, Hungary andPoland, where I have studied enterprises and organisations from thepoint of view of innovation and technological development. Eachproject was an eye opener, which made me develop new theoreticalinsights and change or refine my theoretical framework as well as mydata collection strategies. The second part of the chapter analysesbriefly the methodologies of selected contributions to enterprise levelinnovation in CEE. I argue that, due to the inadequacy of historical,contextual and theoretical knowledge, most of this work is highly prob-lematic, and more so because it is produced as an input into political

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and managerial strategies. In the final part of the chapter, I summarisemy experiences with gathering empirical data in CEE, where circum-stances have made me adapt pragmatically, as well as qualitativelydevelop my fieldwork, case studies and research interviews.

The value of being there

The first spark for me to do fieldwork in industry and innovation studiescame in the late seventies when I dealt with industrial development inthe third world. Available theories could not explain the developmentof manufacturing in the third world. To the extent that any develop-ment took place, it was rejected as technologically backward andincapable of generating indigenous development. My first researchproject (1982–1985) took me to Mexico, where I visited twenty manu-facturing enterprises in the machine-building sector. I investigatedstate-owned enterprises (SOEs), foreign-owned companies, local privatefirms and joint ventures.

Through my field studies, I came to the conclusion that firms in athird world country could also compete on innovation, and that tech-nology change was part of their agenda. With a less diversified indus-trial environment and a rather poor infrastructure, local Mexican firmshad to integrate more tasks in the organisation than Western firms do.These tasks not only included the full production chain but alsoencompassed such fields of activity as teaching from elementary leveland the transportation for workers. Many companies were dynamicallyadapting to the environment by diversifying and developing theirorganisation, their products and their production techniques. Thisresearch taught me the value of treating general theoretical statementswith sound scepticism, of being on location and of meeting the peopleinvolved. Through this research, I developed the notion of ‘indigenouscapability’, which has ever since been a kind of leitmotif in my research(Lorentzen, 1988).

The course of my research experience in Hungary and Poland since1992 was different and yet comparable. At the beginning of the 1990s,observers characterised industry in these countries as technologicallybackward, stagnant and overstaffed. I wondered what had happened toindigenous capability in CEE. When I started to study industrial develop-ment and innovation in CEE in 1993, my earlier experiences made it easyfor me to choose field case studies as a major ingredient in the research.The idea was to identify common problems and potentials for innovationand development in Hungarian manufacturing companies and to discuss

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industrial policy measures. I visited the first case company in September1993. Several hours of semi-structured interviewing and a walk throughthe plant depicted a modern, dynamic, innovative and competitive firmwith strong international links and high export share. The plant wascompletely automated and product development was a continuous activ-ity. The company was founded in 1900, in the first round of industrialisa-tion in Hungary, was nationalised in 1948 and privatised in 1991. Theplant was well preserved and situated on the outskirts of a medium sizedprovincial capital in the Western part of Hungary. The company per-ceived transformation positively as offering better access to foreignmarkets and opportunities for a more independent management. Thiscompany was dynamic, strategically managed, lean and innovative. In2003, it is still going strong and promoting itself on the internet.

The following year, in 1994, I went to the north east of Hungary andvisited, among other companies, an old mechanical engineering indus-trial complex, founded in 1915 as a producer of weapons, which at itspeak in the mid-1980s had employed 10,000 people. This companyhad been developed to serve a huge Eastern market by producing atenormous but stable levels of output. Since then, activities haddropped because of the loss of the Soviet market and the contraction ofthe home market. By 1994, only 1,500 employees were left. On my firstvisit, the State Privatisation and Holding Company was in charge of the company. The original complex had been split into six inde-pendent units, the biggest of which, the machine-building factory with412 employees, was part of my sample.

By Western standards, the machine-building factory had probablybeen overstaffed during the planned economy and still was, not leastin administration, which in 1994 accounted for one third of theemployees. The products of the company had not undergone majorchanges for many years. Its production equipment was also relativelyold, but very well preserved, with, at the date of interview, an averageage of between 25 and 28 years – apart from a huge CNC (ComputerNumerically Controlled) machine centre from 1988. The buildingswere much too big for the current level of activity. As self-sufficiencywas a must during the planned economy in order to minimise pro-duction breaks, the production process was still highly integrated. Thismeant that the variety of machinery and equipment to meet thesedifferent tasks was huge. In 1994, practically every component, includ-ing each bolt and screw, continued to be manufactured on site. Oneconsequence was that it took up to one and a half years to finishproduction of the most complicated machines.


The managers with whom I talked for long hours in 1994 and 1995were confident and optimistic about the future. They had beenworking hard with the many legal as well as organisational issues.Technologically not much had happened, but that was due to lack offunds rather than to a lack of ideas or competence. Further techno-logical development of products and processes had to await the arrivalof new owners.

I found in this company a managerial capability to face the situ-ation of transformation, and a fine example of the technologicalcapability developed during the planned economy: a highly technicaland diversified competence which integrated automation, mechani-cal manufacturing and workmanship. This company has survived. In2003 the company could be found on the internet as exportingmachinery to Japan and exhibiting cable machines at Russian tradefairs.

After visiting more than 20 companies in Hungary and 26 companiesin Poland I had the impression that transformation was well underway.With the 27th Polish company, however, I had to question this idea.In 2002, I went to a mechanical engineering company, which had notadapted to the market economy at all – or so I was told by the seniormanager who had been appointed by the provincial governor a fewmonths before my visit to save the company and the jobs. The com-pany was founded in 1948, nationalised in 1950 and was still state-owned. Once 350, today its 77 employees produced small metal itemssuch as buckles and badges. During communism, the company hadcovered 30 per cent of the Polish market, but at present the share wasquite small. The company had not been able to compete with Chineseimports and local competitors, and only survived because the governorcovered the deficit. Walking around the plant was like walking througha badly kept museum. Most workers appeared to do as little as possibleand the only computer was located on the desk of the new manager.The only innovation was the recent introduction of a new mechanicalforming machine.

What was going on? For political reasons, this company remainedone of the state-owned companies in Poland. The former managementhad tried to adapt the company to the new situation by downsizingand purchasing cheaper and therefore low quality inputs. Through theinitiative of the governor, the old management was finally replaced byanother public servant. He intended to upgrade quality and to estab-lish contacts and contracts with foreign customers, with the final aimof making the company attractive for private investors.

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This experience challenged my ideas about the determinants ofinnovation in CEE companies. Strong political factors were at playhere. Politics is also part of the context, and corporate survival in CEEmay still depend more on politics than the market. While researcherssometimes discuss the end of transformation in CEE, in some places itmay not have even started.

In sum, through fieldwork visits and interviews in companies I haveoften gained new theoretical insights and reflections, which could nothave been obtained through desk-studies. Most of all, by working onlocation in CEE countries I got a hands-on impression of what theprocess of transformation is about, seen from ‘below’. The necessarycontinuous adaptation of firms to the surrounding context seems to bedeeper and faster in situations of societal transformation. Within theprocess, continuity and change coexist internally in the enterprises aswell as externally in their environment. A complex set of mutuallydependent factors seems to be at play in this process.

A methodological critique

There are thus many issues at stake in relation to innovation duringthe process of transformation. Since my interest is particularly in enter-prise level innovation studies, I take a closer look at the methodologyof those few studies that have been made in relation to this topic. I briefly analyse and discuss eight studies in relation to the followingquestions: What is the topic and viewpoint of the contribution? Whatis the role of history and context in the work? What types of empiricaldata are used in the work? What are the type, origin and status oftheory? What type of conclusions do the authors draw?

The topics and intentions

The eight contributions can be divided into four groups, according totheir topics. The first group of papers deals with the transfer of Westernapproaches to the CEE, like the learning network approach (Bessantand Francis, 1999), management methods (Dickenson et al., 2000), orthe removal of innovation barriers (Staudt, 1994). The second groupdiscusses the development of capabilities in different types of firmswith a particular view about the role of foreign investment in relationto market capabilities (Fahy et al., 2000) and in relation to restructuring(Bornstein, 2001). The third group of articles compares companies inCEE and the West with respect to innovative climate and culture(Susanj, 2000) and the search for more relevant comparisons from


history or other cultures than the present Western one (Grancelli,1995). A fourth group makes a quantitative analysis of the literature on operations management in transitional countries (Motwani et al.,2001).

The papers share the intention of contributing to the solution ofreal existing problems in the countries under transformation, eitherdirectly as suggestions for action or indirectly through better research,as the last two mentioned papers do. In line with the topic and inten-tions of the contributions, two basic viewpoints can be identified – apractitioner one and a research-based one. The former is represented bythe first five contributions, the latter by the last two, while Susanj,2000) takes on both viewpoints.

More specifically, the practitioner’s viewpoint in this context tendsto mean that of Western consultants or researchers, since many of theauthors are financed in such roles by the European Union. All articlesadopt the viewpoint of the ‘outsider’ looking at the more or less exoticcircumstances in the East, wanting either to understand these circum-stances or, more frequently, to change them.

The empirical realities

With the intention of developing applicable results from their research,how do the researchers approach the empirical realities of CEE? It is remarkable that two contributions make no reference to context orhistory at all (Fahy et al., 2000; Motwani et al., 2001). It is not commonamong the authors to look in detail at the history of CEE, and onlyBornstein (2001) and Grancelli (1995) make an effort. Some otherauthors analyse more profoundly the importance of context to the per-formance of companies (Susanj, 2000; Dickenson et al., 2000). Whendealing with CEE history and context, most authors consider theseissues as the origin of blocks and barriers to innovation (Bessant andFrancis, 1999; Susanj, 2000; Dickenson et al., 2000; Grancelli, 1995).

Concerning the use of empirical data, the articles fall into threegroups. One group (Staudt, 1994) does not refer to empirical informa-tion at all. A second group refers broadly to observations made by theresearchers themselves in CEE countries (Bessant and Francis, 1999;Dickenson et al., 2000), or refers to empirical results produced by others(Grancelli, 1995; Bornstein, 2001; Dickenson et al., 2000). Finally, athird group presents empirical analysis based on primary data from CEEenterprises, namely Susanj (2000) and Fahy et al. (2000). Susanj (2000)collected data using questionnaires in 21 manufacturing organisationsin 11 European countries, with 50 respondents in each organisation.

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The respondents were asked to rate, on a six-point scale from ‘never’ to‘always’, the frequency in their organisation of certain practices ofimportance to innovation (Susanj, 2000: 354). The study leaves out anyexploratory or qualitative element. Fahy et al. (2000) conducted twophases of fieldwork in Hungary, Poland and Slovenia. In a first phasethe questionnaire was developed to avoid problems of terminology. Thesecond phase consisted of a quantitative study. Respondents in com-panies employing 20 people or more were asked to judge whetherresults in the company were better, the same or worse than budget, theprevious year and their main competitors. 3,000 firms in Hungary,2,000 in Poland and 1,581 in Slovenia were on the mailing list and theoverall response rate was 25 per cent. The samples were broadly repre-sentative in terms of industry classification and ownership structure,and the results were statistically significant. A key problem in this studyis its Western view of innovation, which led, predictably, to the conclu-sion that firms with Foreign Direct Investment (FDI) were makingstrong gains over their local rivals.

In sum, the contributions on enterprise level innovation in the CEElack historical and contextual analysis. Original empirical work is notusual among them, while those who conduct primary research applyquantitative methods. The lack of historic and contextual analysiscombined with the solely quantitative methods implies a mismatchbetween the complexity of the topics studied and the narrowness ofthe methodology that is likely to impede the development ofsufficiently relevant knowledge and adequate theories.

Origin and level of approach

How can the theoretical frameworks of the eight studies be charac-terised? Five contributions apply Western theories and approaches(Bessant and Francis, 1999; Staudt, 1994; and Fahy et al., 2000; Susanj,2000; Dickenson et al., 2000). Bessant and Francis (1999) take theirpoint of departure from evolutionary economic theories and present atheory of learning networks, which they apply to CEE reality withoutmodification. Staudt (1994) approach is to develop a general frame-work of action, which is based on experiences in Western Europe, witha focus on innovation potentials and barriers and learning processes.The framework is very general and does not address innovation issuesrelated to transformation.

When studying the development of market capabilities in transitioneconomies, Fahy et al. (2000) construct a theoretical framework basedon a review of Western literature. The resulting idea of what makes


companies successful (market orientation, positioning capabilities andtime-horizon of strategic decision-making) leads to the hypothesis thatthe success of companies in transition economies in acquiring market-ing capabilities is influenced by the nature of their ownership (Fahy et al., 2000: 68). The basic problem with this study is the general appli-cation of specific and narrow criteria of success to companies withdifferent ownership and history in CEE.

With the aim of examining differences in innovative climate andculture between East and West, Susanj (2000) applies an analyticalframework based on Western theories of organisational innovation andof the role of climate and culture in this innovation. The framework isnot refined to reflect issues of transformation, and there is a suspicionthat the author has missed something. Without any theoreticalapproach, Dickenson et al. (2000) discuss the applicability to CEE of fiveWestern management models: Total Quality Management (TQM), ISO9000, Quality Awards, Business Process Re-engineering and a specialSoviet-Western Hybrid model. The authors assess the applicability ofthe models by analysing the requirements they pose for the enterprisesand the society in which they are to be applied, without mentioningthe possibility of adapting these models to the CEE culture.

Contrary to these five contributions, three studies acknowledge theneed to evolve approaches that take the circumstances in the CEE intoaccount. Bornstein (2001) adopts a conceptual approach, in which hedevelops the notion of restructuring in order to reflect specific trans-formational issues. Based on this framework, he analysed the perform-ance of former SOEs in the manufacturing sector in Hungary, theCzech Republic and Poland (Bornstein, 2001: 190–5). The selection and interpretation of indicators represents a particular challenge, and different indicators should be used in the different phases ofrestructuring, e.g. profitability indicators can be used only after strat-egic restructuring (Bornstein, 2001: 196). However, the conclusion thatMultinational Corporations (MNCs) are preferable as a means ofrestructuring in CEE does not result from this approach, but from otherresearches.1

Grancelli (1995) discusses how best to study organisational changein SOEs in CEE and argues that the approaches used are nothing but a‘way of not seeing’ (Grancelli, 1995: 2). His analysis implies that theconventional East-West comparison is not relevant. The East is also to be compared with the West during the pre-industrial or proto-industrial period and with third world countries. On this basis, heargues that we need a theory that explains the interplay between

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institutional and organisational changes in conditions marked by ahigh degree of structural and cultural continuity with the past regime.

Motwani et al. (2001) conduct an analysis of the operations andmanagement literature dealing with transitional countries. They lookat main research issues, trends over time in number of articles, countryfocus, country profile of researchers, research methodology, topic, andcomparison with operations and management literature in general.They conclude that we need more knowledge on change over time,theory building and comparison of CEE with developing countries.

In sum, most studies apply Western theories without any adaptation.The approaches are too general to be helpful, too narrow to reflect the complexity of the issues and fail to refer to the specific problems of transformation. Only one contribution has actually invested indeveloping a new approach for the study of transformation, while twosuggest beginning such a search. Ethnocentrism is thus a particularcharacteristic of CEE enterprise level innovation studies.

Type of conclusions

In accordance with the intention of the studies to contribute to thesolution of problems in CEE, the conclusions of the studies are action-oriented. It is necessary to develop policies, which motivate firms toenter a learning cycle and facilitate the formation and operation oflearning networks (Bessant and Francis, 1999). Barriers to innovationmust be surmounted at every level, and qualifications and structuresmust be developed, based on existing potentials (Staudt, 1994). Firmsshould also develop a culture that emphasises specific innovativeorganisational values, such as pioneering, being at the forefront of newtechnology and searching for new markets (Susanj, 2000). Dickenson et al. (2000: 55) propose the creation of an organisational and edu-cational infrastructure to facilitate the implementation of WesternTQM systems.

Since FDI has proven to be an effective mechanism for developingimportant capabilities, the attitude towards foreign investment in theregion should be changed (Fahy et al., 2000). Bornstein (2001) suggestsinviting foreign strategic investors to help expand the participation oftransition economies in the globalisation of production. Two contri-butions suggest more research. We need more relevant comparisons,for instance with developing countries (Grancelli, 1995; Motwani et al.,2001), more knowledge about organisational change over time (Grancelli,1995; Motwani et al., 2001), and theories to explain the interplaybetween institutional and organisational changes in conditions marked


by a high degree of structural and cultural continuity with the pastregime (Grancelli, 1995).

In sum, six contributions suggest doing things like the West. Wes-tern institutions, practices and cultures should be introduced, and tothis end FDI is an effective means. Only two are critical and point tothe need for knowledge about the CEE. It is my contention that manyof these suggestions, which are not based on thorough knowledge ofthe issues at stake in CEE, are too simple and unlikely to enable thedevelopment of local innovative capabilities.

Towards a new research strategy

As illustrated in the first section of this chapter, my research experi-ences have taught me the value of acquiring first-hand empiricalinformation and of exploring the field. I have argued in the last section that simple deduction from Western-based theories seriously reducesthe possibility of creating useful knowledge for the local circum-stances. Empirical, historical and contextual knowledge of enterpriselevel innovation in the CEE is needed. As pointed out by Flyvbjerg (2001: 73), ‘…concrete, context-dependent knowledge is more valuable than the vain search for predictive theories and universals’. Concretecontext-dependent knowledge is particularly needed in unique situ-ations of transformation (see Steger’s chapter in this volume), in whichit certainly can be discussed which theoretical approaches could beadequate (see Balaton in this volume), since no approach has beendesigned for this purpose.

More specifically, I suggest that innovation (and other) studies inCEE need to be designed in a highly contextual and historical manner,including the following aspects: first, the heritage from socialism;second, the industrial culture; third, the context of the firms in termsof networks, institutions and infrastructure; and fourth, the existinginnovation potentials in CEE companies and society. Further, I suggestthat middle range approaches need to be constructed in dialogue withempirical input, and that concepts and theories should be developedflexibly in order to reflect the ongoing processes of change and learn-ing. To support this work, new more adequate comparative referencepoints should be found. Empirical research is at the centre of thisstrategy.

Following the requirements mentioned above, knowledge is neededon overall, macro-level developments as well as on micro-level pro-cesses. This calls for a combination, or triangulation, of different

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empirical research techniques, and in my work, like that of Steger andBalaton in this volume, I have combined different empirical methodsflexibly with a focus on qualitative studies.

Studying the macro-level

Following from the suggestions outlined above, it is necessary to estab-lish the economic and institutional context in which the agents ofinnovation operate. I have approached the issue of context at twolevels. One is the ‘objective’ macro-societal level as portrayed in statistics and documents and in information from key persons or‘experts’. The other level is the context as perceived from the view-point of the human agents in enterprises (i.e. a Verstehen approach). Inthis section, I focus on the first level.

Macro-level statistics in Hungary and Poland are usually accessible,although during most of the nineties were often not current. However,more detailed and specific statistics have been more difficult to find. I have sought industrial statistics that deal with investment, sales,production, employment, number and size of enterprises, branch struc-ture and development by branch as well as regionally. The search forsuch information at the beginning of the 1990s, when I startedresearch on technological change in Hungarian manufacturing, led tonew insights about the institutional structure of and change in theHungarian public sector. These insights resulted from ‘detective’ work,in which networking, the use of experts and a good deal of luck wasinvolved.2

The data collection and publication practices were based on sectors,in accordance with the planning traditions of the former socialistgovernment.3 Each ministry or ministerial department took care of itsown data collection. For instance, the Ministry of Agriculture providedinformation about the food processing industry, while data on othermanufacturing industries were collected and processed in the Ministryof Economy. Regional level data were not available, only nationallyaggregated data organised by sector. Procedures were relatively slow,and published data were already some years old at the date of theirpublication. Data were generally not meant for the general public butfor the ministers of State and the specialists in the ministries. Imanaged to get permission from co-operative people in the CentralStatistical Office to copy some sheets. In the second half of the 1990s,things got better as the Central Statistical Office launched a publicationprogramme in English. In Poland, where I have conducted researchsince 1998, many statistics are still only published in Polish.


The interpretation of official statistical information is particularlydifficult, which has made me cautious. The difficulties include ex-change rate instability, artificial pricing, inflation rate fluctuations andsometimes the use of non-monetary units of measurement. The cat-egorisation of data also represents a challenge. How are industrialbranches defined? What is an enterprise?4 How is employment/unemployment measured? What is the territorial level of aggregationof data (nation, province, county)? Thus problems of accessibility,structure, language and age of data in most of the 1990s representedbarriers to macro-level empirical knowledge in Hungary. The situationgot easier, as international organisations started to publish statisticscovering the whole region, and as the governments, together with thecounties, started to publish cross-sectoral regional statistics after theterritorial reforms.5

The access to reports and to policy documents, for example relatedto science and technology policy, required a good deal of networking,starting maybe with colleagues at the university connecting me to theirconnections in ministries and organisations, who finally could provideme with different documents, as well as give me their ‘expert opinion’on different topics (compare Hutchings in this book). This work wasmuch more than ‘bibliographic’ and could in no way be done from adesk in Denmark. The work required considerable resources in terms oftime, money and psychological strength to go on and meet newpeople, the kindness of whom I always admired.

Gaining access to organisations

As mentioned, case studies are my preferred research design whenstudying innovation (Yin, 1994; Eisenhardt, 1989). In my CEE research,the establishment of one’s own empirical database seemed to be theonly way to tackle the topic, due to the lack of relevant informationfrom other sources. The following remarks summarise my experienceof case studies in enterprises and business development organisationsduring ten years of research from 1993 to 2002.

My research into the business development organisations in Polandand Hungary included establishing an overview of the field and anexamination of the capabilities of selected case organisations. However,I discovered that here was indeed a moving target, as the field was changing so rapidly. The stepwise reorganisation of the state inboth countries led to the disappearance of state departments andoffices and the creation of new ones. In this process I found thatresponsibilities were sometimes moved back and forth between

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ministries and departments, so that one year I would meet one personat one address, another year another person at a different address tolearn about the evolution of the same issues. I also discovered howinternational organisations and foreign governments independent ofthe national governments had established agencies of business devel-opment and developed different projects of knowledge transfer. TheEuropean Union was certainly not the only player on this arena.Consequently no one I met had a clear overview on the field of busi-ness development organisations.6 Serious investment in networkingwas needed. Chance also played a role, as when I, in Györ in Hungary,stumbled over a small American agency working to support local entre-preneurship. There seemed to be no way of making sure that theoverview of organisations was complete (Lorentzen, 2000).

Constructing a sample of relevant companies in Hungary or Polandto investigate has been no less of a challenge, and certainly not a deskjob. In relation to Hungary, I managed to find a privately publishedcompany register in German (Compalmanach Kiadói Kft, 1996), whichserved as a starting point for selecting and contacting companies. I didnot have the same luck with Poland. Instead I asked for help from localChambers of Commerce and Regional Development Agencies or fromnational bodies maintaining contact with individual businesses. It wasnot always easy to convince people from these organisations to helpme, due to time pressure, and maybe because they did not believe thattheir member companies were ‘good enough’ for me. In the end, staffmembers from these organisations established contacts for me, andsometimes provided an interpreter – free of charge.

At the beginning of the 1990s, poor technology and infrastructurehampered contact with enterprises (see Hutching’s chapter in thisbook). When I started doing research in Hungary in 1993, telephonelines were very few. Fax and telephone numbers blocked each otherand were continuously being changed. Mail was slow. Letters dis-appeared. The new ICT technologies (cell phones and internet) were attheir very beginning. The mere establishment of contact requiredmany resources, whereas the admittance to a company was not a majorproblem. Entry was gained once the company management was con-vinced that I was not practising industrial espionage or tax control!Western researchers were still considered exotic, and their number notyet overwhelming.

My more recent research in Poland has run into the opposite prob-lem. E-mail and cell phones work wonderfully, mail tolerably, and thefax and phone system satisfactorily. However, the motivation of the


enterprises to receive researchers seems to have decreased. Faced withthe hazards of the market economy, managers have become consider-ably busier. More researchers are around, and suspicion towardsstrangers has not decreased, since foreign visitors often representforeign firms wanting to get a foothold in the market or buy out local companies. But once the permission for access is given, oftenwith the help of a local organisation, it has been my experience thatinformation flows freely in a friendly atmosphere.

I did not feel particularly good about taking the time and resourcesof the staff in enterprises and agencies this way but I do a great deal toshow my gratitude. It goes without saying that I return their kindnessby sending reports of the work I have done with them and with theirhelp.

The construction site for knowledge in CEE innovation

Reflecting upon my research experiences, it is clear to me how myapproach to empirical research has moved from the testing of hypo-theses towards increasingly open and exploratory methods. This isparalleled by a shift of balance from quantitative methods towardsqualitative ones. In my early Mexico study, I used a questionnaire,based on a couple of hypotheses and ended up with a quantitativedescription of the company sample. However, path-breaking insightsresulted from more informal conversations with managers, productionleaders and foremen, making me reconsider the evidence from newangles and develop alternative theoretical approaches. More than thequestionnaires, these conversations represented the construction site forknowledge (Kvale, 1996).

When starting research in Hungary, I soon realised that the approachhad to be basically exploratory, due to the unique situation of trans-formation, with its lack of relevant theories and concepts and its backlogof collected empirical information. When approaching this research, Iwas encouraged by the work of Andersen et al. (1995), who discuss theart of doing field studies. They argue in favour of professional intuitionand creativity as a guideline in field studies, as an alternative to tradi-tional, linear rules of research methodology (see also Nojonen in thisbook). I particularly liked a criterion of success suggested by Kristensen(1995: 113), who felt that his study of technological change in Danishenterprises was successful because it upset his previously establishedpicture of the world. That is, it was successful because he learned some-thing new. Crisis, reflection and change of practice are part of theresearch process and the key to new understandings. The researcher has

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to be open-minded or, more specifically, to exert empathy, humility andcuriosity. I recognised my experiences from the Mexico study, and thework of Andersen et al. (1995) inspired me to develop my empiricalresearch techniques and to trust the new ideas emerging from this work.

The question is how one copes professionally with open-mindednessin research work. As I argued above, qualitative methods have a centralrole in the type of research that I conduct. But what specifically makesqualitative studies so appropriate when studying transforming contextssuch as CEE? Quality refers to ‘what kind’, to the ‘essential character’of something; quantity refers to ‘how much’, ‘how large’, the ‘amount’of something (Kvale, 1996: 67). Knowledge of quality is necessary todevelop a meaningful study of the quantity (Kvale, 1996: 69).Knowledge of the quality, or the essential character, of the society isparticularly needed in the study of the CEEs, because of their unique-ness and complexity. It is not enough to extrapolate and importknowledge from Western Europe. Furthermore, in CEE, a processualview is necessary, because transformation is about emerging structuresand processes. These cannot be grasped by counting. In the first place,it is the content or quality, and not the quantity, which is relevant forresearch into CEE.

In my research, I have found a certain combination of qualitative andquantitative analysis helpful. When studying innovation at companylevel, I thus add a certain number of company cases, which I researchqualitatively by interviews and observations. The ‘sample’ need not bevery large and I add cases until I feel that I know what to expect. Thisis what Glaser and Strauss (1967) call theoretical saturation, which is thepoint at which incremental learning is minimal because the researchershave seen the phenomena before. In my research this saturation tends to happen after about 14 cases, and I end up with a sample of 20–25 company cases, on the basis of which it is possible even toidentify certain patterns, quantitatively speaking.

My choice of qualitative data-gathering methods in my research incompanies and organisations in Hungary and Poland was guided by awish to be very open. I felt a dilemma between the need to be openand empathetic on the one hand, and the need to keep the research ontrack on the other. My solution to this dilemma was to use open-endedor semi-structured interviews. This methodology is often used in, forinstance, psychology, but not in innovation studies, which are basedon quantitative research traditions. I therefore experimented a greatdeal to develop useful interview guides and solve problems of termino-logy. When developing the interview guide, I faced an eternal dilemma


between making the interview guide sufficiently comprehensive andminimising the time demanded by my interviewees.

The open-ended interview is what Kvale (1996) calls a ‘research inter-view’. The research interview is different from, at the one extreme, anopen conversation and at the other extreme, a highly structured ques-tionnaire. The interview is conducted according to an interview guide,which contains certain themes and suggests questions (Kvale, 1996:22), enabling the researcher to define and control the situation (Kvale,1996: 6). The interview involves careful listening by the researcher andan exchange of views between the interviewer and the interviewee. Thequalitative interview is thus a construction site for knowledge (Kvale,1996: 14), which involves mutual learning for both participants. Theinterviewer gets to understand the life (the background for the de-cisions) of the interviewee from this person’s own perspective. On this basis, new empirically grounded theories or generalisations can be developed. Moreover, the interviewee learns from the reflectionsinitiated by the questions about his situation and gets new insights, on the basis of which he or she might change his/her situation (Kvale,1996: 74).

In my research on innovation, regional and institutional develop-ment in Hungary and Poland, semi-structured or open-ended researchinterviews have been the major tools of data gathering (Lorentzen,1996; Lorentzen, 1999a; Lorentzen, 1999b; Lorentzen, 2000). Inter-views were conducted in samples of companies and with representat-ives from the key organisations in regional development, businessdevelopment and science and technology. The interview situationshave mostly been a very positive and inspiring experience for me.Usually the interviewees have been happy with the interest that I haveexpressed in their organisation and their work, and they were pleasedto have the opportunity to talk about their activities and plans. I haveoften felt the interview situation to be a construction site of knowledgefor all participants. As a researcher, I have gained new insights relatedto qualities, dependencies, priorities and viewpoints in the organisa-tion. For their part, the interviewees have, by listening to my questionsand getting the opportunity to talk, started to reflect about their situ-ation in new ways. Often we have ended up in a friendly exchange ofviews and experiences and small talk.

However, I gradually came to realise that my semi-structured inter-view guide may also hide important issues and processes. Whileforcing me to reflect upon my preferred theories and hypotheses, themethod did not prevent me from falling into the trap of ‘not seeing’.

Anne Lorentzen 93

For example, my interview guide did not refer directly to issues ofpower and politics (see Soulsby in this book), yet these were exactly thecrucial factors in the Polish case referred to above. It was the open-endedness and not the structure of the interview guide that eventuallyled to this insight.

Qualitative research has an immanent danger of becoming subjective.Temporary subjectivity seems to be part of the research process con-nected to the personal contact and empathy involved in interviewing.In my research in Poland and Hungary, I have experienced severaltimes how initial interpretations of a research interview underwentconsiderable modification as the number of cases grew. Also dis-cussions with local ‘experts’ and research colleagues about my findingshave helped me to balance my interpretations of qualitative data and achieve the kind of objectivity which Kvale (1996: 65) calls‘intersubjectivity’.

Also the problem of individualism connected with case studies is adanger in my research, because of the small numbers of companies andorganisations. I try to avoid individualism in two ways: a researchdesign that encloses the context of the organisations, and having acertain number of cases. I study the context by mapping out relevanteconomic and institutional circumstances (see also Kvale, 1996: 57)and asking the interviewees about their relation to and view of thecontext. The latter is important because the actors base their decisionson their perception of the context, not on its existence as such (e.g.Berger and Luckmann, 1966). For instance, the company representat-ives whom I have met in different CEE countries prefer not to benefitfrom objectively existing possibilities of subsidies or consultancybecause they do not trust the public sector.

Conclusion

The purpose of this chapter has been to argue in favour of exploratoryand qualitative research methods in innovation studies in the CEE, asan alternative to the usual deductive, macro-oriented and quantitativemethodologies. The field needs empirically grounded theoretical devel-opment. In connection with this, a second purpose has been to discusshow to cope professionally with open-endedness in the fieldworkwithout losing direction in the research. The chapter suggests a numberof important points.

Fieldwork is a must. There is no alternative to being in the fieldbecause of the poor theoretical development and the backlog of em-


pirical documentation. Micro-level case studies are a key to complexand holistic insights about the conditions of innovation in trans-forming societies. Moreover, context and legacy must be dealt with asserious determining conditions for decisions in private and publicorganisations. Objective contextual conditions may matter less thanthe perception of these conditions in organisations. The research inter-view with people in CEE organisations represents a valuable construc-tion site for knowledge for all participants. The open-endedness of the interview is at least as important as its structure. Flexibility, perseverance, empathy and humility are important qualities for theresearcher wanting to gain insights into transforming organisationsand societies.

Little of this will come as a surprise to international business prac-titioners, who are used to approaching different national and organisa-tional cultures. However, I believe that international co-operationwould gain from focusing more on mutual learning. Acknowledginglocal capabilities, differences in the local institutional and economicstructural context, and the perceptions of local managers are of enorm-ous value when developing joint international projects. Better qualit-ative knowledge is likely to enhance the performance of green fieldinvestments, joint ventures as well as technology transfer projects intothe CEE.

Notes

1. For example, MNCs obtained clear control, integrated the company in theMNC’s international structure, brought a body of management know-how,paid above average wages, modernised and expanded the capital stock andimproved the quality of output (Bornstein, 2001: 196–8).

2. The project on technological development in Hungarian industry after 1989was conducted from 1992 to 1997.

3. The information on the data collection in the planned economy is based onmy impressions during many visits in Poland and Hungary since 1992.

4. The question ‘what is an enterprise?’ relates to changes of legal status andthe splitting up of different state-owned production units.

5. Very useful are the annual ‘Transition Reports’ since 1994 (European Bankfor Reconstruction and Development, 1998) and ‘Countries in Transition’(The Vienna Institute for International Economic Studies, 2000). Polishand Hungarian statistical yearbooks have become available partly inEnglish. International organisations such as the EU have supported work which produces statistical documentation on the development ofsmall and medium size enterprises in both Hungary and Poland (e.g. Laky,1994; Czako and Vajda, 1993; Polish Agency for Enterprise Development,2001).

Anne Lorentzen 95

6. For example the so-called SCI-TECH programme financed by the EU aimed atmapping out the field and suggesting reorganisation. The Danish Techno-logical Institute was involved in this work.


Andersen, I., Borum, F., Kristensen, P.H. and Karnøe, P. (1995) On the Art ofDoing Field Studies: An Experience-Based Research Methodology (Copenhagen:Handelshøjskolens Forlag).

Eisenhardt, K.M. (1989) ‘Building theories from case study research’, Academy ofManagement Review, 14(4), 532–48.

Flyvbjerg, B. (2001) Making Social Science Matter: Why Social Inquiry Fails and Howit Can Count Again (New York: Cambridge University Press).

Kvale, S. (1996) Interviews: an Introduction to Qualitative Research Interviewing,(Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage).


6Researching Organisations inHungary: Practical Experience andMethodological ReflectionsKároly Balaton

Introduction

The radical political, social and economic changes in Hungary, as inthe other post-socialist countries of Central and Eastern Europe (CEE),have created a new arena for business organisations. The macro-levelchanges have had direct consequences for firms. Formerly high levelsof state ownership have been dramatically reduced by the privatisationof formerly state-owned firms and the emergence of new private com-panies. Foreign investors have entered the country and bought upexisting firms or set up green-field plants. Within two years of the endof CEE communism, the Soviet trading system (the Council for MutualEconomic Assistance, or COMECON), which had been a major sourceof sales opportunities, started to fail and collapsed. Companies for-merly exporting to the COMECON market had to look for new cus-tomers and markets. As the domestic market offered few relevant salesoptions, due to severe economic recession in the country, companieshad to search for new international markets. They soon recognised thattheir existing products and services were not meeting the requirementsof these markets, and many went bankrupt or were forced to downsizeradically.

While the first three years of economic transformation in Hungarywere mainly a story of recession and collapse of firms, later on signs ofgrowth and innovation were increasingly observable. The first positiveindications were connected to the increasing investment of foreign firms.Parallel with this, new private Hungarian firms were set up and many ofthem started to grow, innovate and adapt to emerging market conditions.

During the 1990s, my colleagues and I were eager to understand thechanges that were experienced within business firms. Several research

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projects were started to discover the characteristics of organisationaltransformation and the emerging behaviour of enterprises. When webegan the analysis of organisational changes, we were not sure whichtheoretical approaches and research methods would be adequate to dis-cover the nature and process of changes. As I prepared the first casestudy on a state-owned service firm in June 1991 (Balaton, 1991), itcame as a surprise to me that it had introduced hardly any changes inorganisational strategy, structure and processes. I was not sure whetherthere had been no changes, or whether my approach to the study hadbeen inadequate to discover what was happening within the company.During the following years, a lot of empirical evidence on changes wascollected, and I began to understand that selecting an appropriatemethodology was crucial to analysing and explaining organisationalchanges in a transformational period. In this chapter, I share my ex-periences with the reader, offering examples that may help inter-national managers to understand the problems of doing business intransforming countries.

Based on experiences of conducting organisational research inHungary, this chapter focuses on the following methodological issues.

• The effects of researcher-researcher relationships on understandingfield situations and their implications for later theory building. Thismethodological issue came to the surface during our empiricalstudies with colleagues from different cultural or political back-grounds, who might interpret the same empirical evidence quitedifferently.

• The influence that respondents should have in shaping researchers’accounts. We have always sought feedback from respondents inorder to increase confidence in our interpretations of their answers.Feedback to respondents has the advantage of being capable tocorrect misunderstandings that might accrue during the fieldwork.But this technique may result in the omission of data that reflectnegatively on conduct of organisational members.

• The vulnerability of apparently objective quantitative methods tothe effects of respondents whose motives and interests (other thantelling the truth) can confuse the findings.

• The advantages of combining qualitative and quantitative researchmethods. Relying on either quantitative or qualitative methods riskslimiting the scope of the conclusions. Numerous publicationsrelated to empirical studies in Western Europe and North Americahave argued in favour of combining different research methods in a


process of triangulation (Jick, 1979; Miles and Huberman, 1994).The need for triangulation is even more relevant in case studies oforganisations in transforming economies, because high levels ofuncertainty are inherent in the historically unprecedented shiftfrom centrally planned to market economy. The use of multiplemethods is likely to be helpful in developing an understanding ofsuch organisational situations.

The chapter unfolds as follows. The next four sections describe, con-trast and evaluate research projects from before and after the changesin Hungary, providing the context for exploring methodological issues in a transforming society. I then move to a consideration of the researcher as a subjective agent and a discussion of the problems of involving respondents in the process of developing research ex-planations. The final few sections examine the advantages and dis-advantages of qualitative and quantitative research methods in atransforming context, before drawing some conclusions.

Lessons from pre-transformation research projects

Empirical organisational research is of course not a new pheno-menon in the former socialist countries. I have been engaged in suchprojects since 1980, when I first examined the organisational struc-ture of large Hungarian industrial enterprises (Máriás et al., 1981). Atthat time, our intention was to get a general picture on how organ-isations were structured and managed under conditions of directstate supervision. Sixty large industrial enterprises were selectedfrom four branches: machinery, light engineering, chemical andfood. A questionnaire survey was conducted with top enterprisemanagers, and data were analysed using statistical methods likecorrelation, regression, factor and cluster analyses. Quantitativemethodology was chosen in order to analyse a large sample of enter-prises and draw up a characteristic picture on the organisationalstructure of Hungarian industrial enterprises. In order to have deeperinformation about the motives behind structural decisions, inter-views were conducted in 16 companies from the larger sample. Theinterviews offered the chance for the researchers to understand therationales of decision-makers concerning the solutions chosen forshaping organisation structures. It was our conclusion that depend-ency on state-level institutions led to the centralisation of decision-making within business organisations (Máriás et al., 1981).

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This research work led to important conclusions regarding themethodology of empirical organisational research. It was felt that thecombination of both qualitative and quantitative methods providedsignificant advantages in understanding complex organisational situ-ations. During the interviews, the managers gave explanations for theirstructural choices and such information contributed to our deeperunderstanding of organisation design processes. The questionnairesurvey, on the other hand, provided the advantage of studying largersamples of organisations and analysing connections among data byusing sophisticated mathematical-statistical methods.

Studies of larger samples of organisations always raise questions ofgaining access to company data. In Hungary before the transformation,such research was mainly possible with the help of central state insti-tutions. The fact that the highest-level political decision-making bodiesinitiated our research work helped us in getting access to companydata. A letter was written by the state institution to company managersasking them to provide both support for our research and data for thestudy. Without such support it would not have been possible to getdata from the companies.

During our interviews, we had the opportunity to examine the wayof thinking and the modes of explanation adopted by company man-agers. It was our general observation that they did not try to hide anyrelevant information from us. There was one area of inquiry, however,where we felt that managers did not provide true information. Thisarea was connected to conflict within the company and between thecompany and central state administration units. Managers tended todeny the existence of such conflicts, some making clear statements tothis effect. Based on other – mainly informal – sources of information,we were convinced that they told us what should be the case and notwhat actually happened. Such managerial behaviour was in accordancewith the official opinion of that period, viz. that conflicts did not existin the centrally planned socialist economy.

Another major research project in which I was engaged during the 1980s examined the organisational consequences of using new tech-nologies in the service sector. This project was part of an internationalresearch endeavour comparing empirical findings in six European coun-tries (Child and Loveridge, 1990). The participation of the Hungarianresearch team was only possible after getting ministry-level permission.Top university managers were not in the position to authorise suchresearch, and, when permission was finally given, it had taken more thenone year to acquire it. The long delay was due partially to slow bureau-


cratic processes and partially to the uncertainty of bureaucrats as towhether permission should be given or denied – at least, this was the per-ception of the researchers involved (see Nojonen’s chapter in this book).

After gaining ministry-level approval for the research, the organisa-tions selected for the study were ready to participate. It was relativelyeasy to get the agreement of the top management, whether in hos-pitals, banks or retailing units.

The major lesson of our empirical organisational research in Hungaryduring the 1980s was that access to organisations depended on central– generally ministry-level – approval. A positive reply from authoritiescould be expected for research projects associated with the currentpriorities of state administration. Informal connections to decisionmakers could also help in getting approval for the research project.When ministry-level approval was acquired, business organisationswere ready to participate in the project and top managers of organ-isations were prepared to be interviewed and to provide relevantdocuments to the researchers.

Compared with access to company data during the transformationalperiod, it was our view that companies were much more open to pro-viding data for research work during the 1980s. When ministry-levelmanagers were convinced about the relevance and importance of theresearch, their influence on company executives cleared the way togaining access to company data.

Studying organisation in a transformation economy

Transformation from a centrally planned to a market economy is achange process without historical precedence. The uniqueness of the transformational problems raised the question of what theor-etical approaches and what methods could be used in order to developknowledge and get relevant information on organisational change (seeNojonen’s chapter in this book). My collaborators and I faced thisdilemma in 1990, when the first drafts were being prepared for a researchproject to study organisations in the period of transformation. As therewas no theoretical approach designed to study organisations in a trans-formation period, the only choice was to rely on existing concepts oforganisational change and try to use them to analyse organisations inHungary. Four related concepts were selected (Balaton et al., 1990):

• Selection processes, by which some organisational forms andpractices survive and others do not.

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• Learning processes, by which organisational forms and practices aremodified on the basis of interpretations of experience.

• Decision processes, by which organisational forms and practices arechosen deliberately as part of a strategy.

• Diffusion, or institutional, processes, by which organisational formsand practices spread through the population of organisations.

In addition to studying these processes of change, we also saw struc-tures and actors as important factors.

Among structural characteristics, both macro- and micro-level factorswere studied. The selection of variables was influenced by our per-ception that enterprise level changes are the consequences of trans-formation at the macro-level. At the macro-level, political, economic,social, ethical, legal and technological variables were analysed. At the level of the business firm, emergent strategies and organisationalstructures were at the forefront of our analysis.

Among social actors, owners, managers, analysers (technocrats) andlower level organisational members were taken into consideration. This process-structure-actor framework (Crozier and Friedberg, 1980)seemed to offer a relevant way of describing and understandingorganisational changes in a transformational period.

At the beginning of the research work, we had rather limitedinformation on what was changing and how it was changing in organ-isations, so it was not possible to construct a questionnaire with ade-quate items. The questions to be asked had been developed during theresearch process (Eisenhardt, 1989). Due to this difficulty we startedthe research by using a qualitative case study methodology. We inter-viewed managers at various levels in organisations as well as lowerlevel employees. The interviews were mainly unstructured giving inter-viewees the chance to express their thoughts on and understandings ofthe changes. Drawing also on company documents, we prepared casestudies of 21 Hungarian firms during the first phase of the project.

The second phase involved comparative analysis of case studies.During the comparison, we came to recognise that ownership was arelevant factor in explaining the differences among organisations.Structuring our case studies according to ownership resulted in the fol-lowing groups of organisations (Balaton, 1996):

• Formerly state-owned companies: 11 organisations,• Hungarian private owned firms: five organisations,• Joint ventures with foreign partners: five organisations.


Comparative analysis of firms belonging to these categories showedrelevant differences in the content and process of strategy develop-ment. Formerly state-owned firms mainly struggled with survival andcrisis management. They had to find new markets, renew their pro-ducts and technologies, and acquire financial resources for the renewal.Strategy development could be characterised as a centralised planningtype of process, partially influenced by the former annual and five-yearplanning systems.

Private Hungarian owned firms mainly developed growth and diver-sification strategies. Diversification was seen as one possible way oforganisational growth. Growing and being larger meant that theybecame more important and accepted by other organisations in a culture where previously large enterprises mainly formed theorganisational population.

Joint ventures with foreign partners followed the developmentpattern of their parent organisations. Strategic planning systems andorganisations were developed according to the business systems of theirparents. The foreign partners had a generally decisive role in managingthe company. As the foreign-owned companies showed different pat-terns of organisation development compared to the Hungarian ownedones, it seemed to be relevant to study the behaviour of foreign-ownedcompanies located in Hungary.

As mentioned earlier, access to company data was relatively easy in Hungary during the eighties, especially with higher level support tothe research project. During the 1990s, approval for company levelresearch became the responsibility of company executives and we hadto recognise that many more data became sensitive and unavailable to researchers. This change in accessibility of data was primarily due tofears that information might be acquired and used by competitors. Inthe case of foreign-owned firms working in Hungary, we had theimpression that local managers were not sure whether they shouldprovide information or not. The uncertainty they felt often resulted inrefusal to co-operate in research work.

Studying foreign-owned companies: understanding cultural differences

Foreign-owned firms have had a decisive role in the Hungarian trans-formation process. In 2001, foreign-owned firms working in the countryaccounted for about 80 per cent of the total Hungarian export volume.In our initial sample, foreign firms showed different patterns of organ-isation development and it seemed to be important to examine thesecompanies in more detail.

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Three groups of organisations with different cultural backgroundwere selected for analysis. The study started with the analysis ofAustrian and German firms investing in Hungary. All the firms hadAustrian parent connections but one of them was originally German.The sample consisted of five firms working in the construction mater-ials, electronics, insurance, financial services and food industries. Thesecond sample included Dutch companies located in Hungary. Thefour companies in the sample worked in the food and detergents (twocompanies), household equipment, and painting materials industries.The third sample comprised South African firms. The culturally distantSouth African firms were consciously chosen in order to be able to investigate larger cultural differences in the parent companybehaviour.

The analysis of foreign-owned firms with different cultural back-ground raised the question of how a Hungarian researcher could under-stand the motivations and the behaviour of the foreign partner. Howcould we be sure that we properly understood the explanations givenby the foreign manager? To avoid the problem of misunderstandingdue to cultural differences, a foreign research partner was involved ineach case. For the study of Austrian and German firms, an Austrianprofessor took part in the research work. A Dutch consultant workingin Hungary during the period of analysis helped in the study of theDutch firms. In case of the South African companies, a professor fromPretoria participated, at least in the early phases of the research work.The foreign research partners provided useful help in understandingthe strategic intentions of the foreign companies and the backgroundof their business practices implemented in the Hungarian firm. Al-though it was not always possible for foreign research partners to bepresent throughout the whole research project, their partial parti-cipation proved useful for the Hungarian researchers.

Privatisation as an influence on organisational changes

It can be seen from the analysis above that patterns of and changes inownership had a strong influence on the structure and behaviour ofenterprises. During the mid-1990s – between 1994 and 1996 – weconducted a study within the European Community’s Action for Co-operation in Economics (ACE) programme, aiming to discover theconsequences of privatisation for Hungarian firms.1 The research workwas based on retrospective case studies (Adorján et al., 1996), coveringthe period between 1989 and 1993. We collected structured data forthe major functional areas of company activity. Data collection was


based on interviews and analysis of company documents. The samplecomprised six companies: two clothing firms, one poultry company,one firm engaged in maintenance of electronic equipment, and twofirms working in the machine industry. Each company was privatisedduring the period of analysis.

The longitudinal approach (Pettigrew, 1990) allowed us to study thetiming of organisational changes in relation to privatisation and weidentified three distinct phases of change: changes before privatisa-tion, changes during privatisation, and changes after privatisation.The findings suggested that changes related to privatisation dependedon what had happened before privatisation, especially what actionshad been taken to change market structure and technological level.Companies that had started to export to Western markets during the1980s stood a relatively good chance of surviving and being privatisedsuccessfully. In our sample, the two clothing companies started toproduce using the designs of their West-European partners. Duringthe early 1990s, the former commercial partners became the newowners of the local firms and helped them to change their technolo-gical and organisational systems, and provided stable product marketsfor them.

Privatisation was a major turning point in the life of the enterprisesstudied. The six cases showed different methods of privatisation. Thetwo clothing companies were privatised by selling their assets mainlyto foreign owners. The poultry company went through a long processof privatisation and downsizing, and its value decreased due to a lackof profitable business options. In the end, a foreign owner bought whatwas left of the company. The managers and workers took ownership ofthe household equipment maintenance firm. While identification withthe company increased and the company managed to diversify itsprofile, inadequate financing prevented the much-needed innovation.Banks and private individuals acquired ownership of the two machineindustry companies.

However privatisation in itself did not provide a general cure for thecompanies. Privatisation had positive consequences in cases when ittook place in parallel with solving the major problems of organisationsconcerned. These problems generally comprised access to new markets,technological upgrading, quality improvement, and provision of finan-cial resources for daily activities and for investments. When privatisa-tion was unable to solve these problems, the changes after privatisationcould be characterised as downsizing, cost cutting, and a struggle forsurvival, in many cases connected to inadequate liquidity of the firms.

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The role of researcher as a subjective agent

Understanding and interpreting organisational changes in the trans-formational period depends on the theoretical and methodologicalapproach chosen by the researcher. A researcher adopting a positiviststance in organisational research aims to gather ‘objective’ data, whichminimises the influence of the respondent as a subjective agent. Onthe other hand, a researcher using a social constructivist approachargues that facts cannot exist without being perceived and interpretedby involved social actors, such as interviewees.

However, the situation is rather more complicated in transforma-tional research settings, since the constituent changes include philo-sophical and political orientations as well (see Soulsby chapter) As aresult, the views of both organisational members and researchers canbe strongly influenced by their own personal beliefs and attitudes tothe changes. Is it really possible to form an independent view aboutwhat is going on in transforming economies (see Steger’s chapter inthis book)? I am convinced that this is an issue worthy of deeper ana-lysis, but before going further, I would like to mention a few examplesfrom our research projects.

Our first post-1990 project included former state-owned enterprisesand involved interviewing top managers, who, in many cases, hadbeen nominated under the previous system. Reactions, even amongresearchers, to these nomenklatura managers, were diverse, but two con-trasting opinions could be observed. First, some people held that alltop managers appointed by the previous system should be removed, asthey had mainly been put into position by political considerations andthrough their connections with the Communist Party. Although inHungary since the early 1980s, political reliability had not in itselfbeen enough to get into a top managerial position, it had been a necess-ary condition of appointment to executive posts (besides professionalqualifications and managerial capabilities). Second, others argued thatonly low performing or politically compromised managers should beremoved from the top positions of state-owned enterprises. Thus com-panies that performed acceptably should have their executives left inplace.

In reporting early research findings, I commented that probably thebest management solution lay between these two standpoints (Balaton,1996), but, in discussing this paper at a faculty seminar, I was criticisedfor being biased against those who had held managerial positions inthe socialist system. It was no accident that this critical colleague had


formerly been a general manager of a state-owned company, who hadbeen dismissed after the political changes in 1990. As a Hungarianresearcher of organisational changes during the early 1990s, it wasobvious that he would hold a different view on this issue. After theseminar we had a private discussion about our different views, but they did not get any closer. We concluded that our different historicalexperiences were so strongly built in our viewpoints that it would notbe possible to agree on a common interpretation of the findings.

Studies on foreign direct investment create another area where theresearcher’s subjectivity is a real issue. Working together with a foreignresearcher in analysing Dutch companies located in Hungary, itbecame clear that observers with different scientific and cultural back-grounds could perceive the transformation in different ways. Con-ducting interviews together, we heard the views of Dutch managers ontheir Hungarian subordinates. These interviewees often described theirHungarian partners as lacking initiative and communication skills.While my Dutch research colleague was convinced by the examplesgiven, I had doubts about whether the opinions expressed could besupported by empirical evidence. In my view, some of the casesdemonstrated a lack of mutual understanding and communication bythe Dutch business partner. The aims of the Dutch partner as the rep-resentative of the new owner were often not clearly communicated to the Hungarian employees, who were therefore afraid of forming their own opinion and preferred to take a defensive position until theforeign partner’s intentions became clearer. In other words, theirbehaviour was not so much influenced by lack of initiative as by the poor articulation of objectives by the foreign partner. Moreover,within the prevailing power balance, Hungarian employees did not feelable to say that they did not have enough guidance to take actionsbased on their own evaluation of the situation.

After conducting the interviews, my Dutch colleague and I evaluatedthe findings and tried to come to a common understanding of theinterview material. Discussion and evaluation of the different per-ceptions gave us the chance to consider our different cultural andempirical backgrounds and thereby come to a mutually acceptableinterpretation of the information provided by our interviewees (see thechapters by Alt and Lang, and Illes and Rees in this book).

Feed-back of information to members of organisations studied

A proper interpretation of organisational changes in transformingeconomies is a problematic issue. Individuals involved have different

Károly Balaton 107

interests and intentions and evaluate actions from different points ofview. According to the positivist research tradition, the researchershould take a neutral standpoint and not being influenced by theemotions and values of the organisational members. However it israther difficult to take such a standpoint in the practice of qualitativeorganisational research, because getting deep information during theinterviews demands the creation of personal relationships with inter-viewees. At the same time, the interviewer should retain a certain dis-tance in interpreting their responses. The picture formed about anorganisation might be strongly influenced by the perceptions of theresearcher, so there are strong arguments in favour of adopting a socialconstructivist perspective. Changes are interpreted in a different waydepending on the significance of the transformation period for theindividual concerned. Both the researcher and the respondent areinfluenced by these changes and their views are dependent on whatthey perceive as personal consequences.

In case study research, it is possible to ask company managers to readand approve the case study material, a method we have used extens-ively during our research of transforming organisations. Sending thecase studies for approval to the managers of organisations studiedoffered the chance to correct any mistakes or misunderstandings that occurred during the process of case study writing (Heller, 1969).However, the feedback may also have negative consequences for the content of the case study. In our experience, company managerstended to eliminate statements that gave a negative impression of theirorganisation, especially failures in managerial decision-making. In onecase, managers did not allow us to include the organisational chart in the case study, a decision we did not understand since they hadalready given us a verbal description of the organisational hierarchyand division of labour.

The value of qualitative and quantitative research methods

This chapter has so far dealt mainly with experiences related to qual-itative research methods. As previously mentioned, we consciouslystarted our research with qualitative methods in order to understandthe nature or organisational changes during the transformation period.The qualitative studies gave us useful information on relevant issuesand questions to be raised in our organisational analysis.

My colleagues and I have prepared 41 case studies on transformingHungarian organisations, which provided relevant information on organ-


isations belonging to different sectors and having different ownershipstructures. While qualitative methodologies are useful to discover char-acteristics of individual organisations and the processes of change, theydo not provide a vehicle for drawing statistically generalisable con-clusions. However, using quantitative techniques does not eliminatemethodological problems arising from respondent subjectivity.

We felt it was necessary to extend our research work with the use of quantitative methods to study and analyse a larger sample of organ-isations. The possibility was provided within the framework of a largerresearch project called ‘In Competition with the World’, initiated byAttila Chikán.2 The project covered broad areas of business activitiesand other factors connected to competitiveness. Our research wasconnected to the sub-theme ‘Management and Competitiveness’, inwhich we analysed strategies, organisational structures and managerialbehaviour.

The Competitiveness research project included two surveys of Hungarian enterprises, and we have plans to continue this quantitat-ive research. The first survey was conducted in 1996 and included 325 business organisations. The researchers prepared a relatively longquestionnaire and the survey was conducted with the help of traineduniversity students (Chikán et al., 2002). Thirteen hundred top man-agers from the selected companies answered the questions. The surveywas repeated in 1999 with 318 companies. The structure of the ques-tionnaire was nearly the same in order to optimise comparabilitybetween the two surveys. Data collected by the surveys were analysedby using different statistical methods like descriptive statistics, factorand cluster analysis.

Comparison of the company strategy clusters revealed that by 1999the ‘state connection orientation’ has disappeared as a cluster of strat-egies, suggesting a strategic shift towards more market-oriented ori-entations – especially the strategy clusters of sales orientation and ofproduct quality-technological level orientations. The continuing pres-ence of other clusters demonstrates, however, that many Hungarianfirms are still struggling with developing capabilities for successfulmarket orientation.

Longitudinal study and quantitative techniques

Transformation from centrally planned to market economy in formersocialist countries of Central-East Europe has been taking place over a long period of time. We have learned during the last 13 years that

Károly Balaton 109

fundamental changes in economies and business organisations are not possible within a short period of time, and that understanding the change process needs information on the sequence of events in thechange period.

Qualitative research techniques provide good opportunities for fol-lowing the changes in a small number of organisations, but we cannotarrive at statistically generalisable conclusions based on such smallsamples. In the case of quantitative surveys the process of transforma-tion might be captured by a longitudinal approach that repeats asimilar analysis every few years. The repeat surveys between 1996 and1999 gave us data sets from which we could compare the strategies andorganisational structures and analyse the changes between the twoyears. Although there were differences in the sample, it was possible toget relevant data on the direction of organisational changes. A possiblethird survey in the coming years could provide further evidence on theoutcomes of organisational transformation.

The validity of data from questionnaire surveys

In our long-term research design, the use of quantitative methodsbased on a questionnaire survey was planned to check whether datacollected from a small sample of companies were valid throughout alarger population of organisations. Questionnaire surveys always raisethe question of validity3 of data. In the case of postal questionnaires,the need to control for validity is extremely important, as the researchersdo not have information on the circumstances in which the questionsare answered. Due to this difficulty, we decided to use students tomanage the questionnaire survey. They were present when the ques-tions were answered and could provide information for managers incase there was uncertainty about the aim of the question. Despite suchresearch assistance one can never be sure about the validity of data col-lected. Therefore it is recommended to include questions that providemechanisms for checking the validity of data collected.

Our questionnaire survey included the analysis of strategic planningmethods used by companies. The questionnaire was designed in amatrix format, the rows listing a range of possible strategic methodsand the columns allowing respondents the chance to indicate theextent of their knowledge and usage of them. We enumerated eightpossible methods, one of which does not exist: SWOT-analysis, Scenarioanalysis, Porter’s industry analysis, Portfolio analysis, Value-chainanalysis, Value-added portfolio analysis, Technological portfolio ana-


lysis, and Group decision-making techniques. Value-added portfolioanalysis is a fictional method, included to discover whether companymanagers were able to spot it.

Company managers responded as follows to value-added portfolioanalysis:

• We have never heard of it: 30.9 %,• We know of it but do not use it: 48.5 %,• We have tried it but it proved to be inadequate: 10.3 %,• We use it occasionally: 5.9 %,• We use it regularly: 4.4 %.

It can be seen from the above answers that about 70 per cent of therespondents did not identify value-added portfolio analysis as a non-existent method. It appears that company managers preferred not toadmit that they had not heard of a method – named by a universityresearch group – suggesting that they were influenced by motives otherthan ‘telling the truth’. If this is the case, it is not clear how muchcredence we can give to their answers about the other methods. It ispossible that the managers’ desire to project a more positive pictureabout their strategic management knowledge is connected to theiraspirations of seeking legitimacy in a period of turbulent change andhigh uncertainty. In short, respondents tended to avoid answers thatmight lead to negative evaluations of their knowledge – and theirclaim to be modern managers.

Our qualitative interviews provide additional information to help usmake sense of the ‘false’ answers given about the use of inexistentstrategic methods. Hungarian companies only started to use strategicplanning as a standard management tool after the socio-politicalchanges. Managers invested in learning the new methods and acquireda basic understanding of them, but if their knowledge were not deepenough, they may have miscombined value adding and portfolio man-agement techniques.

Conclusions

Understanding organisational changes in a period from radical trans-formation is a complicated issue. As there is no historical precedent forsuch changes, organisational researchers are confronted with a com-plex problem of choosing from theoretical approaches and meth-odologies devised in and for other contexts. Our research examples

Károly Balaton 111

show that it is advisable not to limit your theoretical approach to asingle framework. Analysing organisational changes from differentpoints of view gives the advantage of being able to capture multiplefaces of change and to construct a more comprehensive view on whatis happening in organisations. As our research was influenced by fourconcepts related to organisational change (natural selection, learning,decision-making and institutional processes), by using them in parallelwe probably developed a fuller explanation of the nature of organisa-tional changes.

It was our understanding that changes at enterprise level could notbe studied separately from the macro-level economic, social and polit-ical transformation. The whole process of change was initiated by the radical political and economic transformation during the earlynineties. To analyse the interconnections between business firm leveland macro-level changes, co-evolution theory (Lewin et al., 1999)seemed to provide a relevant explanatory framework for drawingconclusions.

To study organisational changes under conditions of high un-certainty and lack of adequate previous knowledge, a qualitative casestudy methodology seemed to be an appropriate and useful approach.Qualitative methodology has advantages in discovering the processdynamics of changes and identifying cause and effect relationships. Itis not, however, applicable to studying large samples of organisationswith an aim of generating statistically generalisable conclusions, so wefound it necessary to combine qualitative and quantitative methodo-logies. It is our experience that the triangulation method (Jick, 1979)can usefully be applied in studies of transforming economies.

Notes

1. Collaborators in the research were M. Adorján, B. Galgóczi, F. Heller, P. Koopman, Cs. Makó and F. Tervnovszky.

2. Professor Chikán was at the time Head of the Business Economics Depart-ment at Budapest University of Economic Sciences.

3. We use the term validity here to describe the extent to which responses toquestionnaire items reflect the real practices of enterprises.





Child, J. and Czeglédy, A.P. (1996) ‘Managerial learning in the transformationof Eastern Europe: some key issues’, Organization Studies, 17(2), 167–179.

Clark, E. and Soulsby, A. (1999a) Organizational Change in Post-CommunistEurope: Management and Transformation in the Czech Republic (London:Routledge).

Denzin, N. and Lincoln, Y.S. (eds) (1994) Handbook of Qualitative Research(Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage).

Gummerson, E. (2000) Qualitative Methods in Management Research (2nd edition)(Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage).

Koopman, P.L. and Heller, F.A. (2000) ‘Decision-making and human factors inthe context of privatization and transformation’, Social Science Information,39(2), 289–316.

Kiezun, W. (1991) Management in Socialist Countries – USSR and Central Europe(Berlin: de Gruyter).

Lieb-Dóczy, E. (2001) Transition to Survival – Enterprise Restructuring in TwentyEast German and Hungarian companies, 1990–1997 (Aldershot: Ashgate).

Strauss, A.L. and Corbin, J. (1990) Basics of Qualitative Research. Grounded TheoryProcedures and Techniques (Newbury Park, CA: Sage).

Yin, R.K. (1989) Case Study Research: Design and Methods (Newbury Park, CA: Sage).

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7Transformation Research in EastGermany: Institutions, Knowledge and PowerRamona Alt and Rainhart Lang

Introduction

The hidden conflict

Twelve years after the reunification of Germany, one might expectthe transformation of the East German science system to be finished.This would include the resolution of the early conflicts arising, forexample, from the closing down of research institutions, massivestaff reductions of up to 60 per cent, dismissals of professors due toincompetence and political misconduct, and transfer of the institu-tional rules of the science system from West Germany. In the dom-inant discourse, this process has been described as the necessarymodernisation of the science system in East Germany (Kocka andMayntz, 1998; Mayntz, 1994a; 1994b; 1995; for an exception, seePasternack, 1996; 2001a; 2001b). The main focus of the modernisa-tion argument is on the ‘objective’ requirements of the transferredinstitutions and the logic of the system, as it functioned in pre-1990West Germany.

Despite some critical remarks (Alt, 1993; Ahbe et al., 1998; Bierwisch,1998; Campus and Karriere, 2002), most publications are aimed atlegitimising the realised changes. If power is mentioned at all, the argu-ment mainly follows a simple schema of the ‘good’ versus the ‘bad’,e.g. ‘innovative’ forces, supporting changes, or the ‘bad old cadres’.The ‘normal’ rules of science are seen as neutral and outside ideologicalor political discourse. Overall, the role of institutional rules and theirinfluence on research processes and outcomes (i.e. scientific know-ledge) has been at best underestimated, but probably neglected. Inparticular, the dominance of the new rules of science seems to gounchallenged in East Germany!

114

However, the following dispute at the University of Applied Sciencein Zwickau between East and West German professors gives rise to analternative conclusion. In a letter written by a West German professorof Economics published in Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung (February2002), he accused his East German colleagues of being former com-munist cadres or nomenklatura, who, while using the Western rhetoric,actually still cultivated the East German mentality and approach. Inaddition, he argued that they used the new rules of science to domi-nate political discourse and faculty policy. The East German Dean ofthe Faculty rejected the letter as using negative clichés about the NewGerman States. He also drew attention to the ‘rules of science’, ‘carefulselection procedures’ and ‘decision-making structures’.

It is interesting to note that both parties referred to ‘the rules ofscience’ to strengthen their own positions in the conflict. Contrary tothe general situation in the social sciences, including massive reduc-tions of East German staff in the East German universities, the EastGermans in this particular case probably have better chances to winthe conflict. But the conflict has still not yet been resolved. There issimilar conflict in disciplines such as natural science and engineering,where there was no fundamental turnover in academic staff in theearly 1990s. Nevertheless, the consequences of the conflict for the pro-duction of knowledge depend on the ways in which different actorsuse their power within the conflict situation. This example shows thatthe structural composition of the actors involved, the rules and theprocess itself have to be taken into account.

The purpose of this chapter

This chapter deals with the production of scientific knowledge abouttransformation by scientists and their institutions in East Germany.We argue that the results of transformation research in Central andEastern European (CEE) countries cannot be fully understood andevaluated if the structured process of scientific production is left out ofconsideration (Alt et al., 1996; 1997; Lang, 2000). This is not only aquestion of the research approaches and the paradigms behind theresearch. It also concerns the dominance of Western scholars andresearchers over the body of knowledge, through the control of themeans for research, of research groups, and the chances for publica-tion, including access to journals and questions of style. Since theseinfluences on the research process and their results have been widelyneglected in transformation research, they are at the centre of thiscontribution.

Ramona Alt and Rainhart Lang 115

The chapter aims to answer the following questions:

• How far is the research process at the level of research groupsinfluenced by the research institutions established in the transform-ing countries?

• To what extent are the results of transformation research influencedby the composition of research teams, with insiders and out-siders from East and West or from different professions? Does teamcomposition have an effect on the research process?

• What are the typical roles and strategies of the various local actors?What are the main conflicts in mixed research groups?

• What lessons can researchers in other CEE countries learn from the East German experiences? What kind of advice could be givento managers as users of the results of scientific research on thetransformation?

These questions will be answered with respect to general patterns ofthe production of scientific knowledge about the transformationprocess in East Germany. At the structural level of research groups, weconsider our own experiences from East-West research projects as wellas reported experiences from other projects. The chapter proceeds bydiscussing the literature on the production of scientific knowledge,before outlining the contours of an analytical framework and applyingit to the case of research into the transformation of East Germany. Wethen explore our personal experiences of working in mixed (West-EastGerman) research teams, examining the implications for the researchprocess and research outcomes. The chapter concludes by offeringadvice on overcoming the problems and realising the benefits of mixedresearch teams for understanding the complex issues of social andeconomic transformation.

Producing scientific knowledge: the critical role of institutions,actors, rules and social discourse

Following Giddens (1984), it is necessary to examine both structuresand actions to explain the settings and the processes, through whichscientific knowledge about change in transforming societies is pro-duced. Institutional analysis follows theories of institutional power,domination, and control, looking at the structure of the researchprocesses, the structural and cultural dominance of institutions andpowerful actors, and their control over rules and resources, including



agenda setting power and hegemony over scientific discourse. Thisapproach draws on ideas of Clegg (e.g. 1989), Foucault (e.g. 1970; 1972),Gramsci (1984) and Türk (1995).

In his fundamental writings, Foucault (1970; 1972; 1991; 1980)developed a concept of knowledge, focusing on how knowledge isproduced and fixed through organising practices such as managing the academic career, organising collaborative work, and selecting orexcluding colleagues1 (Illes and Rees in this book). Special scientificdiscourse – as a historically developed practice of good science – plays acrucial role in this process. Language is a very important element inthe constitution of a discourse. Ideology is not seen as outside science,but as embedded in the choices for example about objects, forms, ter-minology, and theoretical approaches to knowledge production. Thepractices, choices and procedures in turn influence the results, that is,the knowledge produced. This influence has to be seen as enabling aswell as limiting action (see Figure 7.1).

Foucault (1972; 1991) also analysed the different modes, techniquesand procedures that form a discourse and produce knowledge. Theseinclude systems of exclusion such as prohibitions and taboos, as well as procedures of control and the limitation of discourses as systems of classification, order and distribution (e.g. comment, repetition),leading to the doctrines and scientific rituals of the disciplines, theprinciple of economic behaviour. Also at the centre of his analysis arescientific disciplines, which are seen as systems of rules, including apermanent reproduction of the rules (see Figure 7.1). Finally, he

ActorsDiscourses

Scientificdisciplineswith specific modes,proceduresandtechniques

Figure 7.1 Enabling and limiting relations between discourses, actors anddisciplines


demonstrated the close connection between power and knowledge,especially through control over the process of knowledge production.In scientific institutions, ‘truth’, the product of knowledge production‘… is linked in a circular relation with power which produces and sus-tains it, and to effects of power which it induces and which extend it’(Foucault, 1980: 133). Knowledge production practices, their results(knowledge, truth) and power form specific knowledge/power regimes(Jones, 2000: 163).

Clegg (1989), Clegg and Dunkerley (1980) and Türk (1995) introducemechanisms of control into the analysis, emphasising the relationbetween societal institutions and organisations (e.g. universities,research centres) and the rules in and between these levels. ‘Circuits ofpower’ (Clegg, 1989: 214) are a useful way of understanding aspects ofsocial integration (e.g. rules fixing relations of meaning and mem-bership) and the social relations between the actors. Clegg also under-lined the relevance of ‘episodic agency power’ as part of the process ofaction, referring to the influence of the situation and the concreteprocess in which power is used in order to accomplish certain results.Depending on the actors’ abilities to actualise the power basis and toenact situational possibilities and constraints, the outcome is more orless open. Clegg (1989) also stresses the processes of reproduction andchange of rules and structures through action (Figure 7.2).

Türk (1995: 180ff.) focuses on the system of science, its special ideo-logy, symbols, power structures and mechanisms of marginalisation

ActorsDiscourses

Scientificdisciplineswith specific modes,proceduresandtechniques

Social relations between actors(dominance of actors or groups)

Figure 7.2 Disciplines, discourses, actors and actor relations

and exclusion. He addresses the influence of a positivist science andthe exclusion of institutions and laymen, as well as the externalinfluences of economic, political and educational systems. He identifiesmajor lines of contradiction between critical, emancipatory knowledge,the technological interests of capital, the affirmative interest of thestate and the technology of education and dogmatic knowledge, aswell as challenges to the system of science (Türk, 1995: 197).

In relation to the special case of reunification, Gramsci’s (1984) concept of cultural hegemony is very helpful. He demonstrates theimportance of non-coercive practices from civil society, which exercisecontrol through the dominance of the ruling class in science, culture,media and language, including processes of consent or the formationof cultural standards. Hegemony requires, among other things, theestablishment and reproduction of intellectual and moral leadership inthe society in order to control the main discourses.

In addition to the influence of institutional rules and practices andthe forms of structural and cultural control, it is important to under-stand the role of research action in the reproduction and change of thestructural patterns (Giddens, 1984). ‘Micropolitics’ offers an influentialconcept for examining intentional action and understanding howactors can make use of the room provided by the ‘enabling’ character-istics of structure. Politics, strategies and tactics of influence, as well astheir use by the various actors in the struggle for resources, are centralto these approaches (Crozier and Friedberg, 1979; Friedberg, 1995;Neuberger, 1995; Yukl and Falbe, 1990).

Researchers have identified the critical role of techniques such asrational argumentation, reference to higher authorities and generalrules, construction of coalitions, mobilisation of social networks, andthe control of special knowledge and of information channels (Crozierand Friedberg, 1979; Neuberger, 1995).

Our short discussion of the relevant literature leads to a number ofconclusions. First, scientific knowledge, in form of research outcomessuch as research reports, publications, reputation and influenced de-cisions, is produced by specialised actors in specialised institutions.Those institutions include those responsible for research itself, fundingand monitoring the research process, and publishing results. Second,the process of knowledge production and the dissemination of itsresults are therefore influenced by the established rules, procedures andtechniques of the scientific disciplines, the scientific and, more gener-ally, current social discourses, and the values and rules of the involvedinstitutions. Third, the process of scientific knowledge production


is not ‘neutral’. Power and ideology are embedded in the practices and the choices about objects, forms, terminology, and theoreticalapproaches concerning knowledge production and the compositionand power structure of the involved actors. Fourth, the process ofscientific knowledge production is controlled by not only externalforces, systems and institutions, but also the established system ofscience itself, through systems of classification, order and distribution,as well as by the dominant scientific culture, and the hegemony overthe discourses. Finally, the process of scientific knowledge productionincludes the reproduction and change of the existing knowledge/powerregimes through the intentional activities of actors, who use politics,strategies and tactics of influence.

Analysing power and dominance in scientific knowledge production

An analytical frame

Taking into account the above discussion, we draw on both insti-tutional and social action approaches to examine the production ofscientific knowledge about transformation. In order to include thechanging environmental context of scientific knowledge productionand diffusion, it is necessary to look at the different actors (insti-tutional actors, powerful people, decision makers and researchers) at dif-ferent levels (institutions vs. research teams) and dimensions (structurevs. action). This leads to the introduction of a dual approach to struc-ture and action at the macro- as well as the micro-level. Table 7.1shows these factors within an analytical framework.

Macro institutional analysis concerns the role of institutions involvedin the production, funding, monitoring, evaluating and disseminat-ing of scientific knowledge. The analytical framework (see Table 7.1)includes the objectives, tasks and structures of the institutions, as wellas the values, norms and standards of ‘good practice’ in science andresearch. For example, to what extent does transformation researchfocus on functionalist or interpretive analysis or on meta-discourses inthe relevant disciplines, like notions of ‘follow up-modernisation’(Habermas, 1990; Zapf, 1994)? Such analysis would refer to the estab-lished rules for research funding and for the evaluation of institutionsand research processes, including the language and rhetoric of applica-tion and the assessment criteria for research proposals. It would alsoconcern the criteria for evaluating research output, such as how new



knowledge is received by practitioners in industry and governmentagencies like the Treuhand,2 by policy makers and by the scientificcommunity in general. Altogether, the analysis has to investigate thestructural and cultural dominance of actors, or groups of actors, andtheir control over rules and resources, including their agenda settingpower and hegemony over scientific discourse.

Referring to important actors and their networks underlines the roleof social relations, e.g. the social capital possessed by the actors in bothsociety and the research setting. It links institutional analysis, with itsfocus on dominance, to the analysis of social action. Important actionsat the macro-level include processes of decision-making regarding the establishment of research priorities, the funding of projects andselection of outputs for publication.

At the micro-level, institutional analysis has to look at the structureof research teams as a result of selection practices and rules, as well as the special values, norms, standards and procedures, and local

Table 7.1 Double approach to the analysis of structure and action

Institutional/Structural Action analysisanalysis

Macro-level Institutions involved in Decision-making process inthe funding production the institutions by powerful and dissemination of actors on research priorities,scientific knowledge, projects, criteria for funding,e.g. universities, research monitoring, publishing, centres, funding, involved actors and monitoring or evaluation coalitions, politics of institutions, publishers, influencetheir values, norms, procedures, discourses,and their relevant networks

Micro-level Research projects, Research process, • Their local environment, • Use of resources, means,

objectives, local values, • Local handling of the norms, research standards, discourses,

• Composition of the • Co-operation and conflicts, research teams, e.g. East • Use of strategies and tactics vs. West, insider vs. of influenceoutsider, different professions, position of members,

• Local discourses

discourses of the involved institutions. At the centre of the microaction analysis are the strategies and tactics to gain control over theresearch process and its results, co-operation and conflict and speciallanguage games. This includes the control over the resources and theuncertainty of the research situation and outcomes.

The example of East Germany

Power and dominance in scientific knowledge production at the macro-level

Looking at the social science literature, it seems as if the process ofscientific knowledge production is not at the very centre of research.Nevertheless, there exist some reflexive articles as well as some quant-itative and qualitative research attempts to describe and partly explainthe transformation of the science system in East Germany, the transferof the institutional patterns from West Germany and the consequencesfor researchers and research processes.

Mayntz’s studies (1994a; 1994b; 1995; Mayntz et al., 1995; Kocka andMayntz, 1998) focus particularly on structure and transformation ofthe science system, which includes research institutions, industrialresearch units, universities and the Academy of Science institutes inthe German Democratic Republic (GDR). In addition, a number ofarticles in a special issue of the Berliner Journal der Soziologie reflectedthe situation of ‘transformed’ institutions (see especially Bertram, 1995).Many research activities in the field were carried out by Pasternack(1996; 2001a; 2001b), at the Wittenberg Institute of Higher EducationResearch, and through special research centres funded with joint East-West co-operation (e.g. Ahbe et al., 1998).

In relation to institutional structures, the results reflect a strongresearch attempt to analyse the societal transformation, which istaken to be a ‘unique social experiment’, a piece of ‘good luck’ forthe social sciences. Especially in the early 1990s, much money wasmade available for transformation research in the broadest sense.The German Research Foundation in particular, but also the Federalministries, played an important role as funding institutions. Withinthe New States, other foundations and ministries acted as fundingand monitoring institutions. The Science Council (Wissenschaftsrat)and the Rectors’ conference (Hochschulrektorenkonferenz) were veryinfluential in setting up criteria for the new East German institu-tional structure. The Commission for Research into Social andPolitical Change in the New Federal States (Kommission für densozialen und politischen Wandel in den neuen Bundesländern or KSPW)


played a special role, mediating between the funding institutions atthe federal level and universities, research institutes and singleresearchers. This commission established the biggest institutionallyfunded research project in social scientific transformation researchon East Germany.

According to the Wissenschaftsrat, KSPW was founded as a socialscience based, interdisciplinary project over five years from 1991 to1996. The tasks of KSPW were to analyse the transformation processesin East Germany and to support the development of social scienceresearch institutions in East Germany. Report groups had the controlover the output and West German professors headed all of them;indeed, only two of these professors worked in East Germany.

The published research output was impressive:

1. Expert Studies (KSPW’s own sources, ‘grey’ literature at the begin-ning of the research): 145 studies

2. Series (partial results, published by Westdeutscher Verlag Opladenor Akademie Verlag Berlin): 26 volumes

3. Main Reports (published by Westdeutscher Verlag Opladen): sixvolumes

4. Additional Reports (special aspects of the final results, published byWestdeutscher Verlag Opladen): 27 volumes

5. Independently published articles (final and partial results publishedin different journals)

The main research output (i.e. the reports and series) consisted of morethan 20,000 pages.

Although a number of researchers from East German institutes wereincluded in the publication of expert studies, series and additionalreports, in general university editors and authors dominated, withWest German universities being strongly represented. In the publica-tion of the results, Western actors dominated as editors and authors,and the more important the publication, the higher was the share ofWest German editors and authors. On the other hand, in the lessimportant and less well disseminated expert studies, a majority of EastGermans were involved from the start.

Finally, KSPW’s aim to develop East German social scientific insti-tutions seems to have failed, at least outside the universities. They hadbeen involved in the expert studies, but were increasingly excluded, as can be seen from the publication output. For example, the inde-pendent research institute, WISOC (Chemnitz), completed four expert



studies and was also involved in the publication of the results, but wasnever re-invited to apply for a longer-term project.

Publishing companies performed a notable but not decisive part inthe dissemination of scientific knowledge about transformation. Wecan highlight one important shift in this regard. While a broad spect-rum of publishers – including traditional East German firms likeAkademie-Verlag (Ost-)Berlin – were involved in the early years, withdiminishing interest in transformation, the numbers decreased lateron. The final reports from the larger research projects were publishedin West Germany, largely by one publisher, Westdeutscher VerlagOpladen.

As faculties and institutes were closed down and staff were dismissed,especially in social sciences, new faculties were founded and wholeinstitutions (e.g. the federal law on universities), or institutionalelements, laws, norms and rules were transferred from the WestGerman states. Additionally, professors and assistant professors wererecruited from West German universities to work in East German acad-emic institutions. Not surprisingly, Western institutions and theirnorms played the decisive role in the process of knowledge productionabout transformation, defining the ‘new rules of the research game’ (seeTable 7.2). The complete transfer of Western research institutions, theirstructure and institutional elements, was realised despite the recogni-tion that the West German system itself needed reform (see Czerwon,1997; Bierwisch, 1998; Campus and Karriere, 2002; Pasternack, 1996;2001a).

In addition to dominance by West German groups, especially in thesocial science faculties (e.g. Pasternack, 1996), researchers from WestGerman universities played a significant role in transformationresearch. Despite their shorter-term interest in transformation, theirinfluence within the research community and on the research outputswas impressive. In comparison, the participation and influence of inde-pendent research units in East Germany were much weaker (seeBertram, 1995; Czerwon, 1997). The independent research units werefounded after 1990, partly outsourced units from the universities. Thestaff often comprised researchers made available as a result of closingdown academic institutions during the dismantling (Abwicklung) ofsocial scientific university units. Therefore they had no connectionswith leading institutes and actors and had to learn the new rules.

Because of the dominant position of West German institutions andstaff with West German background and the relative exclusion or mar-ginalisation of East German institutions – especially non-university


institutes (see Pasternack, 2001b) and researchers – it became normalfor Western standards to be applied in the research process. Moreover,East German scientists from former GDR research institutes were notsuccessfully integrated into the new structures of mainly universitybased research, leading to a further decline in East German influenceover transformation research (Bierwisch, 1998: 506–507). The relativelyhigh involvement in the early 1990s of East German non-universityinstitutions and their co-operation with West German institutionsdiminished in the second half of the 1990s. In our view, this was theconsequence of the transformation of the science system in EastGermany towards the more competitive West German structure. In themid-1990s, the KSPW programme of research was terminated andknowledge about transformation was transferred to West German insti-tutions or the universities. The research agenda had moved on to othertopics.

Since Western researchers defined the research agenda, the typicaldiscourses on transformation mainly originated in the West. In par-ticular, the leading rhetorical theme of ‘follow-up modernisation’ –implying that East Germany had ‘pre-modern structures’ comparedwith the ‘modern’ structures in the West – served to legitimise the

Table 7.2 Old and new rules of research

Old rules New rules

Single plan of research funded by A lot of funding institutions with the state different programs and research

preferences

Decision criteria quite clear and not Different decision criteria with contradictory but politically particular political interests of different influenced groups

Lower influence of scientists and Role of research networks is highernetworks

More tenured positions of Fewer tenured positions of researchersresearchers

More long term contracts More short-time contracts

Less work in advance, most research Research projects need more work inprojects were ordered from the state advance (for application)

Application language: references to Application language references to political authorities were necessary important network authorities and

possible reviewers

transfer of the whole system of science and research. Two tendenciescould be observed here. First, institutions and researchers originatingfrom East Germany tried to adapt quickly to Western structures, con-forming to the transferred rules of practice in order to gain acceptance,employment and research funding. If they were at all successful, on the one hand they underwent a more adaptive learning process; on theother, the newly established research practices and discourses from the West remained virtually uncontested.

Second, a few institutions and researchers tried to set up an altern-ative research discourse to challenge the dominant theme of ‘necess-ary, follow up modernisation’ (Pasternack, 2001b: 130). After earlyattempts by Reißig (1994) and others in the independent East Germanresearch institute Berliner Institut für Soziologie und Sozialforschung,Pasternack founded the journal hochschule ost,3 which was mainlyaimed at giving a voice to East German researchers. Nevertheless theseinstitutes and journals had difficulties in becoming accepted withinthe scientific community. It is important to note that a small but grow-ing number of Western researchers also became increasingly critical.While concerned about the appropriateness of the ‘traditional’approaches like modernisation theory, they still tended to draw onestablished themes from Western scientific discourse to explain thetransformation (e.g. Wiesenthal, 1995; Windolf et al., 1999; seeLorentzen in this book).

In summary, despite the scarcity of critical literature, there is a clearpattern of dominance by Western institutions using Western stand-ards, language patterns, discourse structures and theoretical frames,and exercising control over the material and financial resources oftransformation research through their established funding and evalu-ation institutions. It is also evident that external factors, notably thepolitically necessary speed to transform the science system, helped tosupport and legitimise the transfer of established institutions and rules.

Power and dominance in scientific knowledge production at the micro-level

Experiences from different projects (Ahbe et al., 1998; Alt, 1993;Pasternack, 2001b) show that the macro-institutional frame has had astrong influence on research practices. Mainly due to the dominance ofWestern institutions and institutional patterns, recruitment proceduresand selection rules have tended to give preference to Western researchers.So, the composition of research groups in big universities or researchinstitutes has tended to become homogeneous, staffed wholly ormainly by West Germans. There may also be a difference in the


employment status of East German researchers, whose mainly short-term contracts may have an influence on the process and results ofresearch.

In East German institutions, salaries have tended to become moreand more similar to those in West Germany. Research project staff ingeneral were appointed on termed contracts, and the additional pay-ment that West Germans in East Germany received in the early years(Buschzulagen) was soon reduced. Because of high unemploymentamong social scientists in East Germany, the problem for East Germanresearchers has been more on their unfavourable contractual positioncompared to their Western colleagues (Bertram, 1995; Pasternack,1996). In these labour market conditions, small short-term projectsattracted young East German researchers, who accepted less favour-able contractual conditions, such as low salary. The special rules of theGerman Research Foundation to ensure employment of East Germanresearchers on transformation projects, and similar procedures of theKSPW, did not really lead to a change in the structure, because of thedependent position of East German researchers within this structuralsetting.

Our personal experiences also show that Western institutions havetended to contract Western researchers. For example, one of us wasinvolved in a research group that was formed in the early 1990s toexamine changes in working cultures at the shop floor level in EastGerman enterprises. A West German university institute with goodrelationships to funding institutions made a successful application andintended to hire the three West German scientists who were involvedin the proposal. Despite that, the German Research Foundation (DFG)requested that an East German researcher participate in order toinclude insider knowledge about East German enterprises. The institutewanted to employ a researcher without a PhD, because the Westernresearchers did not have one and they wanted to avoid the dominanceof one researcher. Nevertheless, the West German project teammembers were involved in the selection of the candidates from theEast. Contractual conditions (same contract duration, nearly equival-ent remuneration according to payment rules) were written to guaran-tee internal fairness. This example shows that these research groupswere not only put together in order to produce pioneering results. Inaddition to research experience, project managers also used politicalcriteria. For example, the institutions frequently tried to includeinfluential professors into the research groups, even if they had noprofessional experience of the topic.


Whether the scientific disciplines or the regions are adequately rep-resented in teams often depended on those who first proposed theproject and acquired the funds. The initiative for the project may haveproceeded from a single person, a small group or many participants,but the structure of power that developed strongly predisposed theeventual composition and organisation of the team. It is understand-able that the researchers who were appointed directly from the organ-ising chairs had a stronger informal position within the research group.Despite this, it was still possible for a new structure of influence toemerge through the exercise of competence with the research process.

While West Germans tended to dominate research groups in biguniversities or research institutions, within a number of small, mar-ginalised East German research institutions, research teams tended todevelop a homogeneous East German structure, with implications forgaining access to existing research networks. One researcher in anindependent East German institute observed:

No, we did not have real relations to (other) institutions, we dohave relations to a few people, who give us advice in the case ofapplications…So, we are not really well established as an insti-tute…since we are not a university institute…The staff in theministries, mainly from the West, normally have personal con-tacts to research institutes there, and they ask them… (Head of anindependent East German research institute).

As for the research process itself, there is much evidence that mixedEast German-West German research teams had hidden problems atcognitive (see Kocka and Mayntz, 1998), cultural and mentality levels(Ahbe et al., 1998; Pasternack, 2001b), as well as at the level of lan-guage and discourse. At the cognitive level, there were differences inknowledge about mainstream Western discourses as well as in researchvalues, practices and methods. Combined with differences in mentalityand language, this led on the one hand to learning opportunities forboth sides, but also to conflicts and misunderstandings. The languageissue could be best illustrated by the quotation from an East Germanresearcher with experiences in mixed teams. He asked another EastGerman, ‘have you learned to write [in a] West German [style] yet?’Because of this question she recognised that the language problem and the conflicts in her team were not uniquely her personal difficulty.Her West German colleagues had quickly classified her papers as‘curious’ – not in a social scientific sense (such as Sociology against


Business Studies) but in the form of an East-West stereotype (e.g. being‘typically East German’).

In the case of a specific East-West-research project, each actor tookon a different role: the East German researcher had her special insiderknowledge about East German enterprises as well as social networkswhich allowed easier access to firms at that time (see Hutchings andSteger in this book). Western researchers were more familiar with theexpected theories, methods (e.g. narrative interviews) and the speciallanguage of Western discourses. While the access of the East Germanresearcher to theories and methods was supported by the structure, at the same time the Western researchers tried to overcome their deficitin insider knowledge as quickly as possible, leading, in the EastGerman researcher’s opinion, to a tendency to develop superficialinterpretations. Conversely, the West German colleagues criticised theEast German researcher for proceeding too elaborately and circumstan-tially. Nevertheless, discussions about results within changing coali-tions gave room for a multi-perspective interpretation and led to soundand professionally respected results. In addition, a shared interest ingetting a follow up project increased the willingness to co-operatesuccessfully.

In mixed research teams, East German influence on the results wasweak. The traditional positivist requirement of collective consent onthe results does not pose a problem in separate homogenous groups.Indeed, the contrasting features of each homogeneous group’s pub-lications could contribute antithetically to argument within the other –East or West – discourse, or simply reinforce each group’s dominantdiscourse. However, in the case of heterogeneous groups, consent largelymeant the subordination of the minority opinion, which, in nearly allcases, was that of the more dependent East German researcher. Fromall the reports and publications of transformation research, not onepointed out different interpretations within the team of what waspresented as researched ‘facts’ (Alt et al., 1996).

In local discourses, the willingness to apply new research paradigmsor approaches has often been limited by the need to meet the expecta-tions of the funding institutions and the monitoring peers. For career-minded West German researchers in particular, it was critical to takethese external expectations into consideration. Finally, all participantsin such projects have been aware of the fact that the research projectcould only be continued if the results would be presented on time.This shared interest had a conflict-reducing impact (Alt, 1993; Ahbe et al., 1998).


Knowledge production in mixed teams

Experiencing mixed teams in transformation research

From our own experiences, mixed research teams proved to have manyadvantages, regarding both the conduct of interviews and the construc-tion of interpretations (see Illes and Rees in this book). The emotionalengagement of the East German researchers, affected by the daily lifein transformational settings, could be positively balanced by a moredistant observer position of West German researchers. By working insuch mixed teams, we became aware of the danger of a partial ‘blind-ness’. With the argument, ‘we also know that in East Germany (orWest Germany)’, some ‘facts’ were revealed as being the taken forgranted expectations of East German or West German researchers. Suchassertions of taken-for-granted assumptions in mixed teams couldprovoke protests from either the East or West German side, but inhomogeneous teams could serve to inhibit deeper consideration of anissue. Bringing such conflict over interpretation to a premature endcould result in researchers staying thoughtlessly within their ownframes of reference, reproducing their own East German or WestGerman background expectancies, rather than engaging openly andprofoundly with local cultural peculiarities. The more that the surfacestructures seem to be well-known, the deeper characteristics that canreveal peculiarities are likely to remain covered up.

For a possibly open-mindedly, self-reflexively and intersubjectivelycomprehensive interpretation (see Lorentzen’s chapter in this book),we found it useful to record and transcribe interviews with respond-ents. In our conflict-loaded discussions, we did not depend on ourvague memories and the few notes of the interview. With the historicalexperiences of the former GDR in our minds, we had worried abouthow respondents would react to interviews, especially when talking infront of a tape-recorder. But it turned out that they were very ready fordiscussions even if we used a tape-recorder, because we offered plaus-ible guarantees of anonymity and confidentiality (see Hutchings andNojonen in this book).

An intersubjectively comprehensive interpretation, in which differ-ent assumptions of the researchers are made visible, can hardly resolveproblems of analysis and evaluation, which result from the reportedmyths. Not only did the different statements of the respondents causelong discussions between researchers, but high levels of agreementbetween respondents also caused problems of analysis, because of theneed to warrant its truth-value. It turned out that the answers to a



questionnaire concerning enterprise data showed clear differenceswhen compared with the interview data. To us as researchers, the ex-perience of the changes was associated with a high readiness to con-struct collective myths. We therefore had to take into account how thetransformational processes touched the identity of the respondentsand whether this imposed on them a ‘compulsion of justification’. Theneed for self-justification and representation especially resulted fromreflection upon their own behaviour in the former GDR and from theirself-experienced deficits of legitimacy. Moreover, being interviewed bya West German carried with it a desire to overcome their assumed dis-regard or disrespect of an East German manager, as well as the wish tocorrect images presented in the media.4

The research group tried very hard to break down stereotypical ideasabout life in the former GDR. Without thinking that a complete under-standing was possible, we felt that constructing an intersubjectivelycontrolled analysis could help to avoid wrong interpretations. Themixed East-West-German composition of the team offered good op-portunities for such analysis, by encouraging consideration and dis-cussion of contrasting interpretations of interview findings. But, as aresult, a lot of conflicts had to be fought out.

Instead of the research team members from West Germany taking upthe expected ‘neutral’ researcher position, their personal assumptionsplayed a significant role in the perception of the research object.Furthermore, differences in mentality, professional understanding andpreferred methods, as well as in the knowledge of ‘transformation inEast Germany’, led to long lasting, and often fruitless discussions withinvarious and changing coalitions. Beyond different professional stand-ards, the different personal attitudes of the West German researcherstowards the market economy in general, and to West Germany in par-ticular, influenced the discussions about the transformation in the East.Because the research approach stayed more or less in the mainstream,despite some attempts by single researchers to sidetrack the research-based discussion, there was no real chance to develop more subtle andprobably contradictory interpretations in the eventual publications. Inthis case, the applied theories and methods tended to lead to a ‘sound’result. It was not considered to be ‘good science’ by Western actors toinclude minority views within a published report.

Advantages and disadvantages of mixed teams

Everything that has already been mentioned leads to the basic ques-tion: should different points of view be expressed in a research project

or is extensive homogeneity and consensus better? Our experiencesshow that, first of all, all basic assumptions, value judgements, andexperiences of the participants flow into the discourses that are builtinto the framework of the research project. As cognitive samples, theyfilter the information and shape the best imaginable procedures.

A heterogeneous research group opens discussion up to ideas that areoutside the collective norm and reduces the danger of omitting ideasfrom beyond the mainstream. Problems are likely to be analysed anddiscussed more intensively. The typical characteristics of groupthink,such as suppression and denial of inappropriate observations, are mostlikely to be reduced in mixed research groups. An increase of the dis-cussion period, a slowing down of the decision-making process, and atrend towards a higher conflict potential are consequences associatedwith the inclusion of multiple points of view. Diversity can quicklylead to communication difficulties, because everybody lives more orless in her/his own ‘world’ and a clash of different points of view ismore likely than finding a common solution. This can also result in anincrease in micro-political behaviour prompting the research group tobecome involved more with internal group-related problems thangetting on with the main research work.

Our experiences suggest that disadvantages arise above all whenthere is only token participation, in which team members contributeto the development of new ideas only when they meet the expecta-tions of the project authorities. This can create both personal frus-tration and micro-political conflicts, especially when individual effortsare ignored. There is the danger that only a minimum consensus willemerge and that micro-political activities in the team can break outagain at any time.

Since greater homogeneity of group composition usually reduces thetime it takes to speak the same ‘language’, it can quickly deal with themain topics. A serious disadvantage of a homogeneous research group,however, is connected with increased restriction of the range ofexpressed points of view and with subsequent problems concerningthe interpretation of observed transformational phenomena.

Proposals for research in other CEE countries

Proposals for research in mixed teams

Instead of rejecting heterogeneous research groups (and their ad-vantages) for the mentioned reasons, it seems better to find effective


ways to moderate their potential dysfunctions. To clear up mis-understandings in the team, it is useful to encourage all participants to reveal and discuss their personal viewpoints, their fundamentaltheoretical ideas as well as their preferred intellectual approaches. Thisrequires more time, a fact that has to be taken into consideration inmanaging the project.

Our experiences of including a neutral third person or a presenterhave been very positive. This person does not have to be involved con-stantly in the research process, but s/he needs to promote from time totime reflective thinking about the research process and its results. In ourtransformation projects, we had noticed that there were hardly anyserious obstacles with an odd number of participants in the researchteam. This was not a big surprise, since, in these circumstances, deci-sions are often made through the formation of power coalitions. But to ensure a fair inclusion of all participants, we have started tointegrate an additional tool – a neutral person – into the researchprocess. In concrete terms, this includes the use of supervision. Withthe help of the supervisor, we have deliberately inserted into theresearch process phases of reflection, during which we did not discussthe topic much, but tried, by using the presenter, to reveal the assump-tions and the interests of the group members. This action made it poss-ible to clear up some misunderstandings and give minorities a voice inthe group. However, this method was not sufficient to persuade all teammembers to express their assumptions and consciously reveal their per-sonal interests. In practice, we could promote a mutual understandingthrough more open communication, though we could not remove basicdifferences concerning the interests of the team members.

By taking these experiences into consideration, we have started to compose conflict-loaded teams. During a project on the post-unification destinies of former top managers in the ex-GDR, we deliberately composed the team with one researcher from East Ger-many, one from West Germany and one from Switzerland. During theproject, the Swiss researcher really was able to take the position of theneutral third person, we have been able to insert phases of reflectionand have used the method of supervision. In these ways, problems inmixed teams could be solved effectively and the influence of the EastGerman researcher could be increased without denying other opinions.

General lessons

The proposed analytical framework offers many opportunities for adeeper analysis of the process of scientific knowledge production,



and it could be usefully applied in a more general context. For trans-formation studies, however, it provides a necessary corrective, encour-aging greater awareness of less visible factors and their influence on theprocess and outcomes of scientific knowledge production.

As a consequence, within transformational settings, researchers – aswell as managers who want to use scientific results – need to adopt acritical approach to those involved in the production of the results,and to the reasons and circumstances under which the knowledge hasbeen produced. They should avoid taken for granted positions towardsthe presented results, especially if it meets their own expectations.Regarding research strategy, Jones’ (2000: 159) general advice to usereflexive fieldwork strategies is particularly important for transforma-tion research. This requires critical reflection of every step and decisionin the ongoing research process, because of the ethico-political charac-ter of the choices within the process (Jones, 2000: 173).

For research in other transformational settings, we can also learn fromthe experience of the East German case. Putting together a mixed groupof researchers – insiders and outsiders, strangers and indigenousresearchers, East and West, various disciplines – could help to avoid thepartial ‘blindness’, the mistakes, and misinterpretations of results, as wellas other research shortcomings. This means that differences must be usedas a resource, an opportunity and a hope. Within a reflexive strategy,tactics such as a change of perspectives and research supervision arehelpful (Ahbe et al., 1998: 93). A change of perspectives means that theresearcher is asked to look at the data and the results from the different oropposing position of his/her research partner (e.g. from the East or theWest) and to argue from that position. It also appears that giving teammembers the same formal position and status is a very important factor,as is encouraging open, local discourse. All interviews and interpretationscan benefit from being done in mixed groups, and, in the end, resultsshould be presented to reflect existing differences in interpretation,instead of presenting a superficial or contrived consensus of knowledge.

Within the context of transformation research, the institutional struc-ture must have the form and practices that support these processes andallow all researchers – but especially those from the inside – to contributetheir special perspectives to the emergent international discourse.

Notes

1. We focus on the process of knowledge production and structures ofdiscourse, rather than on the content. For information on typical topics,

paradigms, and discourses, see Alt et al. (1996), Alt et al. (1997) and Lang(2000).

2. The Treuhand was the state agency, which was responsible for privatisingthe state-owned property. For further readings, see MacLean et al. (2003).

3. The journal hochschule ost (‘College East’) renamed as hochschule (‘College’) isnow a journal of HoF Wittenberg – ‘Institut for University Research’ (Insitut fürHochschulforschung e.V.) at the Martin-Luther-Universität Halle-Wittenberg.

4. For example, Ahbe et al. (1998) report on the fact that the persons ques-tioned told different stories depending on whether they were questioned byan East German or West German researcher.


Ahbe, T., Kraus, W. and Mitzscherlich, B. (1998) ‘Ich sehe was, was Du nichtsiehst…’ Ost- West-Unterschiede im Prisma einer narrativen Identitäts-forschung’ (I see something you do not see… Differences between East and West Germany in the prism of a narrative identity investigation), in Lutz, B. (ed.) Subjekt im Transformationsprozeß – Spielball oder Akteur? (Subject inthe transformation process – commanded or acting?) (München/Mering: HamppVerlag), pp. 89–103.

Jones, D. (2000) ‘Knowledge Workers “R” Us: Academics, Practitioners, and“Specific Intellectuals”’, in Pritchard, C., Hull, R., Chumer, M. and Willmott,H. (eds.) Managing Knowledge. Critical Investigations of Work and Learning(London: Houndmills), pp. 158–75.

Kocka, J. and Mayntz, R. (eds) (1998) Wissenschaft und Wiedervereinigung (Scienceand Reunification) (Berlin: Akademie Verlag).

Mayntz, R., Schimank, U. and Weingart, P. (eds) (1995) Transformation mittel-und osteuropäischer Wissenschaftssysteme (Transformation of the Central andEastern European Science Systems) (Opladen: Leske+Budrich).

Pasternack, P. (2001) ‘Der ostdeutsche Transformationsfall. Hochschuler-neuerung als Komplexitätsreduktion’ (The Case of East German Trans-formation. Renewal of colleges as decrease of complexity), in Kehm, B.M. andPasternack, P. (eds) Hochschulentwicklung als Komplexitätsreduktion (Renewal ofcolleges as decrease of complexity) (Basel: Weinheim)


8Behind the Bamboo Curtain: Problems and Pitfalls in ResearchingAustralian Expatriates in ChinaKate Hutchings

Introduction

My research entrée into the People’s Republic of China was at thebeginning of 1999 when I undertook one month’s qualitative field-work involving interview-based research investigating the preparationof Australian expatriates working in China. Subsequent projects, havingsynergies with this initial research, were undertaken in late 2001 andearly 2002. In each case, I spent two weeks interviewing Australianexpatriates on their experiences with Chinese guanxi, which refers tointerpersonal connections that facilitate favours (while there is nodirect English translation, usually the term ‘networks’ is substituted).Throughout the duration of these projects, I visited China on twofurther occasions: for one month in January 2000 and for one monthin February 2001. In these two instances, I facilitated study tours toChina for undergraduate and postgraduate business students. Whilethese tours were instrumental in shaping my understanding of Chineseculture, the discussion contained herein relates specifically to my experiences in undertaking research in China.

The most valuable lesson I learned throughout my visits to Chinawas the absolute necessity to build networks if one is to achieve somedegree of ease in undertaking research. The ability to have achievedguanxi, built guanxi and, in some cases, exercised guanxi is essential todoing both business and research in China (see Luo, 2000; Yang, 2002;and Nojonen’s chapter in this book). I rapidly became aware that notonly was networking a ubiquitous part of daily life for Chinese, butthat the Australian expatriate community also had its own form ofguanxi. Building and maintaining it was essential if one wanted to doresearch with this group of people. Indeed, I discovered that gaining

136

access to expatriates and building their trust to elicit further informa-tion was dependent upon networking within this expatriate circle.

During my first foray into China, I was an outsider to the Australianexpatriate community. My initial efforts at undertaking researchthrough conventional methodological approaches were somewhatunsuccessful. I soon realised however, that exercising what might betermed my own guanxiwang (networks of others’ networks) helpedmove me along the path to becoming an insider. I undertook the firstresearch project with a PhD student who had lived in China for twoyears, spoke fluent Mandarin and was networked into the Australianexpatriate community. From this first visit and introduction to theAustralian expatriate community, I began to build up a network ofpotential interviewees. In my next two forays into China (January 2000and February 2001) to conduct study tours in which students had theopportunity to visit a number of Western factories, I was able to gainaccess to businesses through some of the contacts acquired during myfirst visit. During these study tours, I gained access to other Australianexpatriates and organisations and added them to my list of contacts.By the time I conducted further research projects in 2001 and 2002, I had developed quite a sizeable pool of potential Australian expatriateinterviewees.

In 2001, I was accompanied by a colleague who had not previouslyvisited China. Utilising my Australian expatriates’ form of guanxiwangas an effective snowballing technique, I was able to introduce my col-league to my networks. On this occasion my colleague, who had notpreviously met the expatriates involved, had the benefit of outsiderstatus. Our interviews were enhanced by having a team comprising oneresearcher with insider status and one researcher with outsider status(see Siu, 1996). It became apparent that as an outsider she had thebenefit of academic objectivity and distance from the research subjectsbut as an insider I had the benefit of access to, and established trustwith, interviewees.

The purpose of this chapter is to present my research experiences in interviewing Australian expatriates in China and to examine andanalyse the problems and pitfalls I faced in doing research in this societymoving from a centrally planned command economy to a market-drivensocialist economy. In essence, I explore the relationship between me asthe researcher and those that I researched and do so by examining threekey themes. The first theme is that the nature of individual expatriates(dual allegiance, hearts at home, or gone native) influenced the data Icollected. The second theme is that the development of insider status in

Kate Hutchings 137

the Australian expatriate community was crucial to facilitating my con-ducting of research. The third theme is that my being a female researcherimpacted upon the data I collected. The experiences related in thischapter provide some valuable insights for both researchers and interna-tional business practitioners who seek to operate in China and other tran-sitional societies. Moreover, my analysis of the advantages of utilisingunconventional methodological approaches provides some insights forthose researching in the developed world.

The chapter begins by defining the parameters of my research interms of the international strategic significance of China, the necessityfor expatriates to be cross-culturally prepared in order to maximise theadvantages of operating in this transitional economy, and my rationalefor researching Australian expatriates in China. This is followed by a section that details some of the obstacles I encountered in doingresearch in China, including that a conventional methodological ap-proach would not work in China, perceptions held of researchers andlack of availability of management, logistical difficulties, and the con-cerns that potential interviewees had about confidentiality. The nextsection introduces the first theme of insider status and considers theimportance of personal contacts in China, the relationship betweentrust and insider status, and the extent to which insider status allowedacademic distance or objectivity. The next section introduces thesecond theme of the impact of the type of expatriate on my research,and examines the relationship between insider status and expatriatetype. The final section introduces the third theme of the relationshipbetween being a female researcher and expatriate type.

Why research Australians in China?

My rationale for undertaking research in China arose from recognitionof the strategic importance of China to Australian businesses and thenecessity of those businesses to develop their international managers’China knowledge if they were to do business successfully in China. I decided to research Australian expatriates’ Chinese cultural know-ledge with a view to utilising the experiences of these expatriates andtheir businesses to inform other Australian organisations intending toenter the lucrative China market.

The international strategic importance of China

Since the announcement of China’s accession to the World TradeOrganisation and Beijing’s hosting of the 2008 Olympics, Chinese


political leaders have been anxious to show the world that they wereserious about being an international economic and political player.Moreover, the emergent legal system and management practices withinChina suggested that the Chinese government had taken seriously itsneed to adapt to international political, economic and social standards.This was necessary if they were to profit from rapid global expansion aswell as from its own penetration by increased numbers of multi-national corporations that had flocked to its massive labour andconsumer market.

China’s international significance in respect to world trade can betraced to the Opium Wars of 1840–1842. Since then, except for thebrief time period after 1948 when China closed its doors to the outsideworld, it has been on the internationalist track, especially since DengXiaoping’s Open Door Policy of 1978. Since that time, China has incre-mentally reformed its economic and political policy until the early1990s when Jiang Zemin pushed for almost complete conversion to a market economy (Chai, 1998; see also Blackman, 2000). Despitesome continued concerns about China’s humanitarian record andobstacles to its economic development, China has characterised itselfas a market-driven socialist economy, and has become a market of extreme strategic importance to many Western businesses, exem-plified by having commanded one of the highest rates of expatriateassignments (GMAC, 2002).

In 2002, China overtook the United States as the largest recipient offoreign direct investment (FDI) in the world, and of the transitioneconomies, it has become the largest, fastest growing and the mostheavily engaged in international investment (Child and Tse, 2001: 5).China is currently Australia’s third largest partner in two-way trade(DFAT, 2002), yet Australian business people have continued to bepoorly internationally ranked in terms of their cross-cultural skills(Hutchings et al., 2000).

The importance of cross-cultural awareness

It has been suggested that acculturation and adaptation (Bird et al.,1999; Hannerz, 1996), the need to make sense of and understandother cultures (Osland and Bird, 2000) and to adapt managerialstyles (Osman-Gani, 2000; Schneider and Barsoux , 1997), are essen-tial in ensuring intercultural effectiveness and avoiding interper-sonal blunders (Zakaria, 2000: 493). Moreover, the need to developcross-cultural skills in expatriates has been cited as being evengreater where the gap between cultures is very wide (Forster, 2000),

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or as Kaye and Taylor (1997) note of China, where culture shock (seeOberg, 1960) is marked.

Given the increased necessity for cultural preparation of Westernbusiness people being posted to nations like China, it could have beenexpected that cross-cultural management in China would have beenstudied extensively by researchers. In fact, though China has for hun-dreds of years been a highly interesting and highly utilised site forethnographic researchers, it has only recently been researched in themanagement literature (for People’s Republic of China (PRC))-focusedresearch, see Hutchings and Murray, 2002; Selmer, 2002; Tung andWorm, 2001). Significant research has been undertaken into Chinesecultural characteristics (Child, 1994; Hofstede, 2001; Redding, 1980),yet most of these articles have referred to the differences betweenChinese and Western cultures. Some of these authors have made refer-ence to methodological difficulties of researching in China, yet fewarticles have been specifically devoted to the problems and pitfallsinherent in researching in China (for comprehensive reviews, see Adleret al., 1989; Roy et al., 2001). Hence, there has been a clear rationale formore research into cross-cultural management issues in China and themethodological difficulties associated with researching such issues.

Why qualitative research on Australian expatriates?

In my research in China, I have deliberately elected to utilise semi-structured interviews (see Stake, 1994) with Australian expatriatesbecause of the specific difficulties I have been presented with in respectto language and interpretation. First, as I did not possess a workingknowledge of business Mandarin, I would have needed to rely upontranslators who may not have conveyed questions or responses accur-ately. This has been a particularly salient issue as concepts of manage-ment and industrial relations have differed quite markedly betweenChina and the West and achieving some common ground of under-standing has been fraught with difficulties. Second, even when trans-lations could have been relied upon for accuracy, Chinese attitudes toauthority, the need to preserve face and worries about confidentialityof research might have resulted in responses that were skewed infavour of management and hence may not have provided very usableinformation (see Roy et al., 2001). The examination of my experiencesin undertaking research in China contained herein refers to issues asso-ciated with interviewing Australian expatriates, and specific types ofexpatriates. However, prior to discussing these experiences, somediscussion is devoted to obstacles I encountered in doing research


in China – obstacles that often also prove problematic for theinternational business practitioner.

Obstacles to doing research in China

While the conventional methodological textbook approach has workedquite well in the majority of Western nations, my experience hasshown that it does not work well in China, even when the peoplebeing interviewed were Westerners. Researchers have suggested thattransition economies differ from Western contexts in a wide variety ofinstitutional aspects and potentially represent a serious challenge totheories developed in the West. As such, they present fascinatingresearch sites from which to refine existing theories and develop new ones (Luo and Peng, 1999). Certainly the transitional nature of China, like many other transition economies, proved itself suitable for adopting unconventional methodological approaches to research(see Geringer et al., 2002).

Why the conventional textbook approach did not work in China

Conventional textbooks such as De Laine (2000) and Sekaran (2003)have described how research problems ought to be overcome. Somespecialist texts have examined the specifics of doing comparative cross-cultural research (Usunier, 1998). Yet, these texts have usually takenlittle account of specific problems that need to be overcome in a nationlike China that possesses a range of logistical difficulties for getting tointerviews, and necessitates establishment of a relationship before thebusiness of interviewing commences. These are issues that Chinashares with most of the other transition economies (see, for instance,Balaton, in this book). Importantly, Michailova (2004) notes thatfieldwork research is not conducted in some ideal setting but rathertakes place within a certain set of organisational arrangements. Myexperiences certainly confirmed that fieldwork research in China wasvery much determined by not only organisational arrangements butalso national, cultural, logistic and historical conditions.

Perceived status of researchers and availability of management

Rynes et al. (2001: 340) suggest that ‘[o]bservers have long noted aconsiderable gap between organisational research findings and manage-ment practices’ and that there has been a pervasive gap between manage-ment and research. Managers typically have not used academic researchor academic research findings when developing their management

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practices. Moreover, when organisations have agreed to participate inacademic research projects, generally they have not been interested inperusing the results of survey/interview data made available to them bythe academics at the completion of the data collection phase or theproject overall. These issues indicate that managers have not seen thevalue of research, making it difficult to undertake research even in the developed world.

In an emerging economy like China, however, I found that otherissues also worked against the ability to undertake research. MostAustralian organisations have been fairly small by internationalstandards. Therefore, Australian expatriates working in China forAustralian organisations have usually been the only Australian repre-sentative in that subsidiary operation. Moreover, s/he has often beenthe only representative for the Australian organisation throughout Asiaand, hence, has generally spent considerable amounts of time flyingbetween several Asian offices. With the combination of demandingtime schedules of expatriates and the reticence of many organisationsto see the value of academic research, I found that gaining access toexpatriates to interview became very difficult.

Logistical difficulties

Though communication problems existed in the CEE until the begin-ning of the 1990s (see Lorentzen, in this book), a range of logisticalissues have continued to confront international managers and researcherson a daily basis in China. In addition to poor communications, Chinahas remained beset by indifferent technology, poor infrastructure,inadequate and inefficient transport systems, unwieldy bureaucracy,lack of basic amenities in rural areas, and a limited education of muchof the workforce (Lin, 2001; Wang and Fang, 2001; Zapalaska andEdwards, 2001). While poor communications and the inefficiency ofthe transport system posed some difficulties to me while doing myresearch, it was language that created my greatest logistical challenge.China’s long history of isolation from the West has meant that fewnon-professionals possess English language skills – something that Iquickly discovered when jumping into taxis and stating that I wantedto go to ‘X’. Moreover, I soon realised that the Chinese have a greatpropensity to change the names of English proper names, such as theHilton. In order to find my way to my intended destination for con-ducting interviews, it was necessary to ask someone to write down therequired address carefully in Chinese characters, which I could thenpresent to the taxi driver.


Concerns about confidentiality of responses

Another challenge I faced in conducting research in China was in con-vincing interviewees of the confidentiality of any data I collectedduring interviews. While the ‘culture of fear’ has diminished in China(and other transition economies) since the 1980s, the political regimecontinues to impose quite considerable constraints on what subjectsare considered acceptable for discussion (see Nojonen in this book).While there have been no instances of Westerners being detainedwithout trial for disclosing ‘state secrets’, some Western businesspeople continue to have concerns about comments attributed to them.The fact that the Communist leadership of this transition economy has kept a watchful eye on the activities of Westerners was affirmed to me when I posted home some background notes. When they finallyarrived at my office many weeks later, it was clear that the notes hadbeen examined.

In contrast to the usual interview setting in the developed world,some individuals were concerned about being interviewed in theiroffices and instead expressed a wish to meet informally elsewhere. Inmany cases, interviewees suggested conducting the interview in arestaurant, bar or coffee shop. These requests presented problems forme ethically in terms of being able to ensure confidentiality of the par-ticipants. Moreover, the background noise that was recorded on thetapes made it difficult for me to understand the dialogue when tran-scribing these tapes. However, I realised that these expatriates’ pre-ferred interview setting proved ideal for gleaning greater elaborationon some questions than was likely to have occurred within theconfines of the company premises. It seemed highly unlikely thatstereotyping comments such as ‘these people [the Chinese] are stupid,uncivilised, I cannot do anything with them, they just will not learn’would have been made in the company boardroom, or indeed, for thatmatter, to a researcher who was not of Anglo-Saxon extraction.

Whereas tape-recording interview notes has been considered derigueur for modern research, not all interviewees were prepared tohave their interview taped. While this meant that some of the rich-ness of data was lost, such consequences were minimised in researchprojects that I undertook in collaboration with a research partner. Inthese instances, one of us asked questions while the other focusedon taking notes. Nojonen (in this book) cites Tsang (1998) referringto having lunch with an interviewee when suddenly requested toerase, on the spot, a small part of the tape recording. This often hap-pened to me when tape-recording and, even when taking notes,

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interviewees occasionally asked me not to record a comment s/hehad just made.

Another difficulty in ensuring confidentiality resulted from thesnowballing technique (see Von Glinow et al., 2002) that I used toaccess interviewees. The fact that most of the interviewees knew whomelse I had interviewed meant that even when I used pseudonyms forindividuals and organisations in published results it was often clear toother interviewees to whom I had referred. This situation was exacer-bated by the fact that the Australian expatriate community in Chinawas relatively small and putting some biographical details in publishedfindings helped to narrow down the possibilities of who was who.

Despite these obstacles, I still believed that there needed to be a clearrationale for undertaking research on Australian expatriates in China.However, I soon discovered three key issues that impacted upon theresearch process and outcomes. These are the need to achieve insiderstatus, the type of expatriate interviewed, and my relationship as afemale researcher to interviewees. Moreover, these three issues wereinterrelated in that it was much easier to establish insider status withthose expatriates that were characterised as ‘hearts at home’ than thoseexpatriates that were characterised as ‘gone native’. Further, as a femaleresearcher I encountered much greater difficulties in researching the‘gone native’ expatriates than the ‘hearts at home’ or ‘dual allegiance’expatriates (described below). The interrelationship of the three themesis depicted in Figure 8.1.

Insider status

Having developed an initial research proposal and draft interviewquestions, I travelled to China in 1999 ready to interview a cohort ofAustralian expatriates about the cross-cultural preparation they hadreceived for working in China. However, I quickly faced a very real obs-tacle in the data collection phase in terms of gaining access to potentialinterviewees. Within a very short period of time I realised that theseinitial efforts at undertaking research via the conventional textbookapproach was not effective. I became aware that to meet my objective ofinterviewing Australian expatriates in China I would need to haveachieved insider status with the Australian expatriate community.

Experiences with the textbook approach to accessing interviewees

When I commenced my research in China I wrote directly to largeorganisations listed in Shanghai’s chamber of commerce database


of Western organisations and the Australian government’s trade com-mission’s database of Australian organisations in China. I contactedapproximately 100 organisations. As specified by my university’s ethicsdepartment, I included a copy of the interview questions, a ten-pageoutline of the project and its aims and significance, and several furtherpages assuring confidentiality and ethical clearance. That I managed toelicit only one (!) positive response from this initial mail shot wasdirectly linked to my lack of acquaintance with the intervieweessought. As in the developed world, the potential interviewees wereprobably also scared off by the dazzling array of documentationrequired by the ethics department!

When I received no response to the initial letters, I wrote to theorganisations a second time. I then faxed the same organisations andmanaged to attract a few extra potential interviewees. Faced with onlya few weeks before my scheduled visit, and needing to achieve asignificantly greater number of interviewees, I then decided to phonethe organisational representatives directly in China. I found this a veryfrustrating experience as in the vast majority of cases it was almost

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Insider status

Type of expatriate

Female researcher

Trust

Personal contacts

Gone native

Dual allegiance

Hearts at homeCollecting data in

interviews

Collecting data outside interviews

Impact of expatriate type on ease with which insider status was established to undertake researcheasymoderatedifficult

Impact of expatriate type on ease with which a female researcher was able to undertake researcheasymoderatedifficult

Figure 8.1 Insider status, expatriate type and researcher gender

impossible to get past the receptionist. When I asked to speak to Mr. X., the receptionist invariably asked me why I had called. I wouldthen proceed to explain the nature of my call. In most cases the recep-tionist would then just say, ‘No, he does not want to talk to you’, or‘No, he would not be interested in that’ – even though her (it wasalways a woman) grasp of English was rarely proficient enough to have understood the nature of my research. While I realised that thereceptionists’ role was to save her boss from unwanted disturbances (a normal blocking strategy utilised in China), I felt sure that had Ibeen given the opportunity to speak with the Australian manager thats/he may have been interested in discussing my research project. Giventhese ongoing problems I decided just to fly to China to determinehow I could fare from there. It was to prove a valuable lesson that both researchers and business people need to have acquired a thirdparty contact or introduction to conduct business in China, and othertransition economies (see Soulsby, in this book).

Once in China, I decided to call the same organisations again andascertain whether the receptionists would allow me to speak to theirbosses now that I had actually arrived in the country. Again, theresponse was usually no. Still determined, I decided to try cold canvass-ing by door knocking around the offices of Australian companies inShanghai. Once at the office I would again ask a receptionist if I couldsee her manager. The response was usually in the negative. After a fewinitial setbacks I decided that I would then ask if I could wait in thereception area. The receptionists generally did not have a problem withthis. So, I would wait in the office until I saw someone walk in thatspoke with an Australian accent. I would then say to the person inquestion, ‘Excuse me’, introduce myself, explain the nature of my visitand ask whether s/he would be prepared to participate in my research.Put on the spot, some expatriates did agree to be interviewed – someright then and there, others at another time. But this was far from an ideal situation as it caused considerable loss of face (mianzi) (seeButtery and Wang, 1999) for the company receptionist.

Recognising the importance of personal contacts

I also decided that I would interview some Australian expatriate friendsof my PhD student. I had some concerns about the methodologicalrigour of this approach, but realised that it was the only way to achievean adequate interview sample size and believed that this approachwould probably be acceptable for a pilot study. After all the effortsinvolved in trying to get those first few interviews, suddenly I had


found a strategy that really worked. Once I had contacted these firstfew people who agreed to be interviewed, I found that I quickly builtup a database of potential interviewees. At the end of an interview, Iwould ask the interviewee if s/he knew any other Australian expatriateswho might be prepared to be interviewed. Very often the intervieweeswould get out their mobile phone and look through their list offriends/acquaintances and give me several names of other Australiansworking in China. In some instances they would even phone someoneon the spot and ask him or her if s/he was prepared to speak to me. I would call later and say that I had spoken to so and so and that s/hehad given me their name. In almost all cases working through per-sonal contacts proved a successful approach. A common response of expatriates was along the lines of ‘Oh Johnno gave me your name – you’re a mate of Johnno – sure, no problem, I will have a chat to you – when would you like to come in and see me?’

While this approach did mean that I was forced to conduct inter-views with a particular subset of individuals (by nature of their closeassociations with each other), it did also suggest the importance of myinformal networks – activating personal contacts was really the mostefficient and effective way to access organisations. The elimination ofrandom sampling in favour of this strategy of ‘snowballing’ or‘convenience sampling’ did increase the potential for bias on my partas interviewer and for the individuals who provided contacts. However,an international team of researchers currently reporting best practice inInternational Human Resource Management (IHRM) (Von Glinow etal., 2002: 150) also used this strategy. Utilising this approach alsomeant that I gained entry to other meetings and informal functionswhere I could collect informal data and meet other interviewees – all ofwho added to a database that could be used in my subsequent researchprojects.

Achieving insider status

Much literature on China’s business culture refers to the importance of relationship building and achieving insider status (nei-wei) whenwishing to engage in research with local Chinese (see Siu, 1996). Myexperience also suggested that gaining access to expatriates in Chinarequired efforts at building relationships, accessing networks andbecoming an insider (for discussion of how the concepts compare andcontrast between the West and China, see Michailova and Worm,2003). The necessity of insider status is supported by Krug andBelschak (2001: 12), who argue that networking plays a central role for

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businesses wishing to gain access to partners or clients in China. Ifound that while individuals may have been prepared to be involved inmy research project once they were aware of its existence and content,just getting to this stage depended upon being introduced through athird party.

The link between trust and insider status

Associated with developing insider status is the building of a relation-ship based on trust. Several factors helped to build the trust of theinterviewees in my first research project and ensured that they wereprepared to be involved in subsequent research projects. First, I pro-mised confidentiality of their responses, their names and the names oftheir organisations. Second, I was prepared to undertake interviews at alocation decided by the expatriate. Third, I was prepared to accept anon-response to any questions deemed unacceptable or to terminatethe interview at any time the expatriate required. While points oneand three fell within the guidelines of conventional methodology,point two offered something to doing research in the developing and developed worlds, namely, that sometimes it was necessary to putaside my own research preferences to ensure the desired end result(successful interviews).

I also realised that it was easier to cultivate rapport with the femaleinterviewees and younger expatriates because of our shared characterist-ics. While my own position was that I should maintain the same acade-mic ‘distance’ from all interviewees, appearing empathetic to all andallowing them to believe that I was ‘on their side’ did not affect my aca-demic objectivity but did build trust. The approach I adopted was whatSteger (in this book) refers to as the Gulliver role type, although I accepthis argument that the researcher can never be a blank sheet.

The problem of insider status – did it allow academic distance?

Vinten (1994: 32) has suggested that there is an ‘inevitable trade-offbetween the observer’s privileged insider status and the reduced levelof… reliability that is achieved’. It could be argued that my data wereto some extent contaminated by the fact that the interviewees kneweach other. By the third day of fieldwork, when I phoned individualsto request interviews, the expatriates already knew my intentions. Forinstance, it was usual for a potential interviewee to comment along thelines of ‘Oh yes, I heard that there was an Australian chick [sic] in townlooking to talk to people about guanxi…sure I would be happy to havea chat with you’. Obviously it became quite difficult to maintain


confidentiality when each new interviewee was well aware of thosewho had been interviewed before him/her – a consequence of thetightness of the expatriate community. Moreover, on occasion, aninterviewee would ask me what a previous interviewee had said inresponse to a question (see also Soulsby, in this book). I managed toevade this by providing a very general response that could in no waycompromise my source.

In publishing my research, some compromises had to be made inrespect of methodological rigour and ethics, but in such publications Ihave also provided substantial justification for the strategies employed.I have attempted to address concerns about reliability of interview databy supplementing it with secondary data sources. While secondarydata published by the government in China (and other transitioneconomies) have been inaccurate, had poor reliability and lacked aproper basis for comparison with statistics used in other nations (Roy et al., 2001: 204), I have found usable data at the Australian govern-ment agencies in China.

Types of expatriates

Prior to conducting the research, I had expected that interviewingAustralians in China would pose no more difficulties than interviewingthem in Australia. From my first interviews, however, I soon realisedthat this was not so, and that accessing interviewees and conductinginterviews were somewhat problematic. The primary reason for thiswas that the interviewees did not all behave in the manner that Iwould have expected, namely as they could have been expected tobehave in an interview setting in Australia. Indeed, the individuals I interviewed throughout the course of my research projects fell intothree main types. These types have been categorised as ‘dual allegiance’expatriates, ‘hearts at home’ expatriates and ‘gone native’ expatriates(Black and Gregersen, 1992).

Identifying types of expatriates

Dual allegiance expatriates have been characterised as expatriates who are highly committed to both the local operation and head-quarters and are able to integrate the demands and objectives of bothforms of the organisation (Gregersen and Black, 1992). Due to theiradaptability and ability to understand, and elucidate differences andparallels between the Australian and Chinese contexts, dual allegianceexpatriates in China proved to be very valuable interviewees.

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The second type of expatriate, that Black and Gregersen (1992)referred to as ‘hearts at home’, are individuals that are highly commit-ted to the parent organisation but have little allegiance to the localoperation or the local nation’s culture, language, and business prac-tices. While these individuals have usually proved quite problematicfor their organisations because of their difficulties in personally adapt-ing and being sensitive towards the local workforce, expatriates of thistype proved relatively easy for me to research. While I needed to becognisant of these individuals’ inherent bias, they were easy to access(often being prepared to talk to someone familiar from home) and theyalso tended to feel most at ease in the interview situation.

The third type of interviewee is that which Black and Gregersen(1992) have referred to as ‘gone native’. These expatriates have usuallyformed a strong identification with, and attachment to, the hostnation’s culture, language, values, and business practices. From anorganisational perspective, they integrated well with the local work-force but were disadvantaged by having ‘lost touch’ with headquarters’practices, policies, and procedures. In terms of my research, these ex-patriates proved most problematic. They seemed to be the individualsleast likely to want to participate in my research – because they nolonger felt an attachment to the Australian context – and they wereoften the most difficult to interview in that they were no longer accus-tomed to utilising Australian business customs and interview protocol.

Insider status and expatriate types

Michailova (2004) has suggested that collecting data in a culturallyfamiliar environment (in my case, with fellow Australians) can beproblematic precisely because the researcher assumes s/he is safe onthese dimensions and tends to take for granted much more than sheshould. On the other hand, personal experience has also proved criticalto acquiring extra information. In my case, I found that the majority ofinterviewees (‘hearts at home’ and ‘dual allegiance’ expatriates) auto-matically felt at ease because they could relate more to me than theymight to an interviewer of another nationality. For instance, severalinterviewees asked me if I knew someone they knew who had studiedat my university. Nonetheless, it does need to be stated that the inter-personal style of the researcher does affect how research relationshipsare structured (see Illes and Rees, in this book). Certainly, I realised thateliciting information from research subjects did require some degree of role playing, even if it was only in terms of being empathetic to


the interviewee (a lesson that also has relevance to interviewing in thedeveloped world).

Whilst I found that most interviewees would ‘let down their guard’once fully immersed in the interview, particularly if they had friendswith whom I had already spoken, it became apparent that individualsof the ‘hearts at home’ persuasion were most amenable to being inter-viewed. They elaborated on interview questions and seemed veryinterested in discussing their problems in adjusting to China, as theyperceived me as having affinity with their difficulties because I was afellow Australian visiting China. Indeed, some of these ‘hearts at home’interviewees even criticised their colleagues that they regarded ashaving ‘sold out’ and ‘gone over to the Chinese side’ – the expatriateswho had gone native. While the ‘hearts at home’ expatriates may haveneeded to keep up appearances with their mates in China by giving theimpression that all was going smoothly (an Australian version of face –‘she will be right mate’), they were quite happy to get things off their chest with a neutral, third party. The insider status I had achievedwith the ‘hearts at home’ expatriates and to some extent the ‘dualallegiance’ expatriates, ensured more personal responses than the morefactual, strictly rational responses that Illes and Rees (in this book)identify as typical of Anglo-Saxon interviewees (and indeed also typicalof the my ‘gone native’ interviewees).

However, the type of expatriate did not just impact on the extent towhich I achieved insider status and the degree to which I could gatherinformation as a result of this insider status. The type of expatriate also influenced how I was received as a female researcher and this hadconsequences for the research I could undertake and the settings inwhich the research was undertaken.

Female researcher

Not all the expatriates that I interviewed in China followed Westerninterview protocol and this had particular significance for me as afemale researcher. While I had never previously encountered any dif-ferential treatment in my work life or indeed in undertaking research, Ifound that when interviewing some expatriates in China my genderdid became a point of difference. This was demonstrated in two mainways. First, some interviewees made comments to me that pointed outthe distinction between how I was viewed as a Western female andhow the local Chinese females were viewed (a distinction that wouldnot have been as dramatically noted by a male researcher). Second, I

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realised that the extent to which I could gather extra information innon-traditional interview settings would be hindered simply because ofthe fact that as a female researcher I felt very uncomfortable in thesesettings (although I do acknowledge that some male researchers mayalso feel such discomfort).

The impact of expatriate type on my reception as a female researcher

While the vast majority of interviewees were highly professional andtreated me with great respect as a researcher, some of the ‘gone native’expatriates dealt with the interview quite differently from Westernnorms. This related primarily to the fact that these individuals had soadapted to Chinese employment practices that they were no longerconversant with Western standards of interview protocol. Removedfrom a workplace and society that values equal employment practicesand anti-harassment legislation, some of these ‘gone native’ expatriatesseemed to have forgotten appropriate interview etiquette. The dif-ficulties I encountered were similar to those related to me by femaleexpatriate interviewees and serve as a warning to all internationalbusiness women planning to work in China!

In one particular interview, the interviewee constantly directed myattention to the ‘office girls’ and boasted about how useful it was tohave these young girls at his beck and call. He asked me whether Ithought it was wonderful in China, where there was no legislationagainst sexual harassment or firing women once they reach a certainage. In this instance I tried to steer the interview back to my researchquestions. Having failed to do so on several occasions, and the inter-viewee becoming more persistent in trying to goad me about the‘problem’ of Western women who always speak their minds, I decidedto terminate the interview.

In many more instances, ‘gone native’ interviewees would makesharp distinctions between me as a Western female and the localfemales, in treating me with complete respect and courtesy and as anequal while also showing complete contempt and lack of respect fortheir Chinese secretaries. However, I viewed the behaviour of denig-rating other women in my presence as being a form of insult to mealso. In one example, an expatriate who owned his own businessasked me to come to his office outside the city to conduct the inter-view. The office was also his place of residence and his secretary wasalso his de facto marriage partner, his interpreter and legal businesspartner (at this time, all small private businesses were required tohave a local business partner, even if in name only). This inter-


viewee’s partner was present throughout the interview. While per-fectly courteous towards me, he did not bother to introduce her asthough she was of no significance. Throughout the interview he satwith his back to her. Occasionally he would make a response to oneof my interview questions and turn to her and say, ‘Is that not right,Ling?’ and then when she would attempt to answer he would cut heroff mid-sentence.

While ‘gone native’ interviewees had probably always held suchsexist and/or racist attitudes, the fact remains that they could notexpress them openly while working in Australia, and in some cases thiswas given as their rationale for moving to China to work. Indeed, oneinterviewee went as far as to say to me that he would never return towork in Australia as it was ‘liberating’ living in a country that did nothave ‘all that equal employment opportunity stuff’. Such commentssuggest that the climate in China for Western expatriate females,including researchers, is not without its difficulties. This view was sup-ported by an Australian expatriate female: ‘I cannot wait to get back toAustralia where management will treat me as being as competent asany of the men and I do not have to tolerate the belittling attitude thatthese men (expats) have towards women, particularly the sexualobjectification that they have of women’.1

Collecting data in non-interview settings – potential problems forfemale researchers

Nojonen (in this book) suggests that some interviews may not be espe-cially useful but provide good opportunities to make contact withinterviewees afterwards and make other contacts that may prove muchmore useful. In particular, he refers to the value of attending banquetsand other social events for acquiring extra contacts and information(absolutely essential for business people wanting to transact businesswith the Chinese). Occasionally I too have been asked to go to ban-quets. I too found these useful for collecting extra information inform-ally. However, while Nojonen (in this book) refers to the benefits ofgleaning information over a pint of beer, as a female researcher I didnot feel terribly comfortable doing so. Fortunately, both Chinese andAustralian attendees at banquets were prepared to accept that, as afemale, I need not engage in the gambei (toasting) to the same extentas men. As a consequence, I found that I could actually benefit fromthe fact that many of the attendees were drunk and freer with informa-tion than normal. However, I did believe that the extra informationthat I gained in such non-interview settings was substantially less than

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a male researcher may have been able to acquire, simply because Icould not develop the same degree of camaraderie that a male mayhave been able to achieve.

On rare occasions, I was asked to go with expatriates to KaraokeTelevision (KTV) bars. While the KTV has no direct equivalent, itfalls somewhere between the geisha bars in Japan and the lapdancing bars in the Western world. As in the West, many of thewomen go beyond lap dancing/stripping to being available for pros-titution through separate negotiation. While the KTV bars may havebeen another venue for collecting information from expatriates, Ifelt affronted to have been asked to go to such a place. I did not feelcomfortable with playing the researcher role in this way (compareSteger’s ‘Roman’ role type in this book). When I said that I could notattend, the response was often ‘but don’t you want to experience thewhole of Chinese culture to inform your research’. In Australia, it iscustomary that men do not want women to know that they go tosuch bars, much less that they would take a woman with them – sothese individuals had certainly ‘gone native’. I did, however, realisethat I would need to decline these offers graciously, if I did not wantto risk losing the network of interviewees. Usually I did so by sayingthat I was not feeling well. However, I believe that I did lose oppor-tunities to gain more information and that a male researcher, whomay have felt more comfortable in a KTV bar, would have acquiredfurther research data in such an informal setting in which the ex-patriates had further ‘let down their guard’. While some of the‘hearts at home’ expatriates did not frequent the KTV bars, some ofthe ‘dual allegiance’ and most of the ‘gone native’ expatriates did and hence, the type of expatriate did impact on the extent ofinformation that I was able to access as a female researcher.

A final informal way in which data could be gathered was via socialorganisations such as the rugby and cricket clubs (which are also thearenas in which much headhunting for jobs takes place). A lot of theexpatriates’ spare time was spent socialising at the Australian BusinessClub. While it was not essential to participate in these activities, it wasa useful strategy adopted by business people wanting to build net-works. I realised that these venues could not be used for interviewing –indeed it would have made people feel quite uncomfortable if I hadpulled out my paper and pen and started making notes while peoplewere socialising! Yet, the informal commentary at these venues wasuseful to me in building up background impressions. It should benoted, however, that female researchers and business women that do


not feel at ease in undertaking copious drinking sessions at suchvenues are somewhat disadvantaged in not being able to make thecontacts necessary to undertake their work.

Conclusions

This chapter has addressed some of the methodological issues that Ifaced when undertaking research with Australian expatriates in thePeople’s Republic of China. Specifically, the chapter has explored therelationship between researcher and research subjects, and focused onthe interrelationship between the type of expatriate interviewed, theinsider status of the researcher, and being a female researcher. Despitethe fact that those I interviewed were Australians who should havebeen familiar with the conventions of Western research, I have demon-strated that the difficulties in conducting research were exacerbated byresearching in a transitional society. My argument suggests that thesechallenges may be faced by future researchers and internationalbusiness practitioners alike when operating in China.

Despite the rigours of fieldwork endeavours in China, I discoveredthat it is not without its rewards, and indeed undertaking research inChina taught me much about the need for researchers and businesspeople to be flexible and adaptive. For all the challenges presented by anation juggling a rapidly expanding capitalist economy with Confucianroots and a still coherent and powerful Communist Politburo andmilitary, researchers and business people should not be put off! Chinaalso provides a fascinating array of opportunities to explore divergentmethodological and business approaches.

Note

1. For discussion of the challenges for female expatriates in specific cultures, seeAdler (1987), Hofstede (1989) and Taylor and Napier (1996).


Adler, N.J. et al. (1989) ‘In search of appropriate methodology: from outside thepeople’s Republic of China looking in’, Journal of International Business Studies,20(1), 61–74.

Child, J. and Tse, D. (2001) ‘China’s transition and its implications for inter-national business’, Journal of International Business Studies, 32(1), 5–21.

Roy, A. et al. (2001) ‘Chinese puzzles and paradoxes: conducting businessresearch in China’, Journal of Business Research, 52, 203–10.

Kate Hutchings 155

Siu, Y.-M.N. (1996) ‘Getting in, getting on, getting out: the role of participantobservation research in a professional organisation’, Business Research Centre,Hong Kong Baptist University, Working Paper Series (Hong Kong: BusinessResearch Centre, Hong Kong Baptist University).

Usunier, J.-C. (1998) International and Cross-Cultural Management Research(London: Sage).


9Fieldwork in a Low-Trust (Post-)Communist SocietyMatti Nojonen

Introduction

Doing successful fieldwork is difficult (Atkinson, et al.). This chapterdiscusses the particular challenges involved in conducting non-authorised fieldwork on guanxi practices in Chinese organisations inthree different Chinese cities – Beijing, Shanghai and Qingdao. To getdata on a sensitive topic, I had to learn and practise the various rolesand skills necessary to establish my own guanxi connections. Thisinvolved gift-giving, befriending through banquets, socialising andKaraok with people from different background and regions. Gainingaccess and establishing trust are universal problems in conductingethnographic field studies. The greater the sensitivity of the researchtopic, the more is the challenge of gaining information from respond-ents. Furthermore, the actual interview process is a complex form ofsocial interaction taking place between the researcher and inter-viewees, involving a subtle interplay of roles and a reading of visibleand invisible signals that constitute a complex situation (Weinberg,2002).

Yet, most books on qualitative methodology for organisationalresearch are by nature normative, explaining how research ought to be conducted and how concrete methodological problems ought to besolved. These are cookbooks providing recipes for students entering thefield. The literature also assumes that the process of fieldwork is guidedby ‘Western rationality’ and proclaims that research is a goal-oriented,a directly rational process that follows a sequential logic (Andersen, et al., 1995).

In Western organisations there exist regulations and institutionalpractices – some transparent, some non-transparent – that restrict the

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researcher’s access to the field. In most cases, the Western scholar has apre-understanding of the field and therefore at least a rudimentarycomprehension of relevant rules, institutions and practices. However,the Chinese regulatory framework on fieldwork and the logic of how it is applied differ drastically from Western practices. The particularconditions of conducting fieldwork in China are consequently worthyof further discussion.

In this chapter and in my ethnographic research, I adopt Goffman’s(2002: 151–3) view of fieldwork, as comprising the whole process ofgetting an understanding of the observed social processes and rulesgoverning the phenomena, involving how to gain access, readingsignals, hints, gestures, body language, harnessing own physical,mental and linguistic skills in the process, understanding what theinformants say with particular events and narration, and specificexpressions. However, I had no education in ethnographic fieldwork,since I entered the field only after the Chinese authorities had forbid-den my quantitative research. Hence, the process was literally ‘learningby doing’, guided by intuition, self-criticism, and, naturally, lots ofmistakes.

This chapter first describes the hostile institutional environment ofcarrying out fieldwork in Chinese organisations and communities. Inthe following section, I illustrate the particular Chinese fieldwork con-ditions: regulatory framework, low-trust society, no tradition of polit-ically free academic sociology, and ‘culture of fear’. In the second part,I describe how I did my ethnographic fieldwork constrained by theseinstitutional and collectively shared socio-psychological conditions. AsI was interested in studying networking phenomena within andbetween Chinese organisations, this chapter concentrates on describ-ing fieldwork in Chinese organisations, thus excluding reference toforeign conducted fieldwork in international joint ventures (IJVs) orwholly owned foreign enterprises or any other institution in whichforeigners work.

Arbitrary and overlapping regulations and policies

The fieldwork environment in China differs greatly from free Westerndemocracies. Despite China being much more open, free and accessiblefor foreigners today, it is still governed by the Chinese CommunistParty and the regulatory framework for fieldwork remains ambiguousand non-transparent. Under the surface of openness, a host of regula-tions, some still non-transparent, and ambiguous practices govern both


qualitative and quantitative research in China. This reality makesjournalistic and academic fieldwork an adventure, with officials ham-pering the research process, and, in the worst cases, leading to deten-tion, arrest and expulsion from the country. In addition, people inChina share a collective socio-psychological mistrust and even fear oftalking openly to strangers (Yang, 1994).

The foreign researcher needs to be aware that Chinese citizens liveunder a confusing regulatory system. Aside from laws (falü), citizensand organisations have to consider many other types of official rule –including guiding, fang’an, jueding, tiaoli, guihua, xize, shixing guiding,zhanxing guiding, jueyi – controlling a wide range of their daily activ-ities. These rules are stipulated by various government agencies andministries at central and regional level and are not necessarily consist-ent with each other. Furthermore, it is important to note that, in manycases, it is neither the above-mentioned regulations nor the laws thatconstitute the most fundamental rules. In China, politics are incommand and overrule laws and regulations. However, the reality iseven more complicated, since it is common for local authorities tointerpret central policies differently, according to their personal orlocal interests. Furthermore, the control apparatus reacts to the polit-ical swings between periods of ‘rectification’ and relaxation (Baum,1994; Wang, 2001).

Foreign research fellows are directly subjected to Chinese regulationson foreign affairs (waishi jilü) that concern the activities of foreignjournalists and to ‘internal regulations’ (neibu guiding: see Fang, 1999).While these regulations lack clarity and transparency, two generalprinciples of enforcement can be detected.

One set of regulations concerning independent foreign-conductedquantitative research in China is straightforward – research is for-bidden. This regulation was implemented in late 1990s first as neibuguiding, but later became public. Now foreigners have to submit theirquantitative research proposals to the National Statistical Bureau (NSB)or to those state universities that have gained necessary NSB approval.In the process of handing over the fieldwork responsibility to NSB, the authorities evaluate not only the cost of the study but also feasibil-ity. Research topics considered sensitive are rejected. For universitiespossessing a licence for foreign-conducted quantitative research,judging the sensitivity of a project is complicated because there are noclear criteria to apply. To be on the safe side, Chinese academics haveto follow the practice of feng pai (wind style), that is, adjusting tochanges in political winds and acting accordingly.

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A second set of regulations regarding qualitative research is muchmore ambiguous, non-transparent and complex. On the one hand,Chinese authorities allow and even openly support foreign research thatis conducted in IJVs and wholly Western-owned organisations. Theexplosive growth of research on these organisations and the resultingimage of Chinese authorities not hampering or banning the fieldworkprocess reflect either the easy access to these forms of organisation orresearchers’ unwillingness to report the whole story. On the other hand,there is a different principle of enforcement for foreign-conducted qual-itative field studies in Chinese-run organisations and local societies. Theregulatory framework of the non-transparent internal regulations (neibuguiding) remains unclear, but is shaped by vague notions of ‘state secret’and political, economic or cultural sensitivity.

‘State secrets’ have a central role in defining fieldwork regulationsand are subject to wide interpretation. Information provided by theofficial state-run media, covering central and regional TV and radiobroadcasts, all newspapers, most magazines and journals, which areavailable everywhere, can, in a surreal way, become state secrets ifapproached by Western or local scholars or journalists. At a newsbriefing for the foreign correspondents, the Foreign Ministry spokes-man, Tang Guoqing, argued that ‘The law on [state] secrets has clearstipulations’. However, when asked to provide an example, Tang con-tinued ‘Clearly, I cannot answer on this occasion. The specifics cannotbe told because they are state secrets’ (WPFR, 2001).

There have been dozens of occasions when the ambiguous stipula-tion of ‘state secret’ has been used to hamper the work of foreignjournalists, leading to arrests, beatings and expulsions from China.Scholars, such as the Swedish Sinologist, Torbjörn Lodén in 1997, havealso been systematically followed and harassed by state organs. Inother cases, Chinese authorities have denied visas to or arrested foreignresearchers while conducting fieldwork. A US-based librarian, SongYongyi was detained with his wife on 7th August 1999 and eventually,on 24th December 1999, charged with ‘purchasing or illegally supply-ing intelligence for people outside the territory of China’. Song hadmade photocopies of newspaper articles in a public library. After pleasby more than 2,000 foreign scholars to President Jiang Zemin, Songreturned to the US in early 2000, but this has not prevented similarepisodes (www.scmp.com/jan/13/2000, WPFR, 2001).

The regulations on foreign affairs constrain communication and co-operation between foreigners and academics at top Chinese researchcentres, like the Chinese Academy of Social Science (CASS) in Beijing,


its provincial level organisations and even the key universities inChina. Academics working at these institutions should follow the regu-lations on foreign affairs, having to report any discussions with foreigncorrespondents or co-operating researchers to their superiors. Theseregulations also apply to ordinary people, as any action, includinginterviews with local or foreign journalists or research fellows, can beinterpreted as a violation against the system. Since the mid-1990s,several Chinese people have been arrested and convicted for talking toforeign journalists. Some have been detained without trial. Accordingto the World Press Freedom Review (1996–2001), one of the few invest-igative Chinese journalists was murdered and at least 27 were servingprison sentences. In all cases, the reporters had published or intendedto publish articles on using personal connections (guanxi) for privatebenefit, nepotism, corruption, embezzlement etc. In similar fashion,Chinese researchers are subjected to systematic control by CommunistParty organs and their articles are subject to tight censorship beforepublishing. Some authors circumvent this by publishing abroad or in Chinese samizdat publications. Several journals covering socio-economic issues, like the liberal Dongfang in 1998, have been closeddown due to ‘deviation from the official Party line’ or ‘spreading anti-government information’.

In order to clarify the ambiguous regulations on investigativeresearch, the central regime announced in 2001 a ‘Seven Nos’ list offorbidden topics. 1) Negate the leading positions of Marxism, MaoZedong Thought and Deng Xiaoping Theory; 2) Depart from theguiding principles, official line, or policies of the Communist Party; 3) Reveal state secrets, endanger state security, or harm national inter-ests; 4) Run counter to official policies regarding nationalities andreligion or undermine national unity and affect social stability; 5) Advocate murder, violence, obscenity, superstition, pseudo-science,erroneous political orientation and vulgarities; 6) Spread rumours, fab-ricate and disseminate false news, or interfere in the work of the partyand government; and 7) Violate Party propaganda, discipline or thestate publishing and advertising regulations. As all seven paragraphsare vaguely defined and highly political by nature, the regulatory prin-ciples remain ambiguous and provide much leeway for political inter-pretation. Still, these ‘Seven-Nos’ are just one more set of rulesgoverning fieldwork in China (WPFR, 2001).

The purpose of this regulatory framework is to restrict independentforeign research, except for letting foreigners rather freely enter foreignrun organisations in China. This regulatory framework forces foreign

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scholars to co-operate with local partners, who then have the difficulttask of judging the sensitivity of the research topic. The Party depart-ment of universities makes the final decision over the fieldwork inChinese organisations or societies. To acquire a green light for thefieldwork, a foreign researcher needs to find a local ‘supervisor’ whowill appoint an assistant to him/her. The ‘supervisor’ is responsible tothe authorities for the appropriate conduct and nature of the research,whereas the assistant helps on practical issues, like finding intervieweesand acting as an interpreter (Yang, 1994).

Entering the field with an assistant can easily complicate the inter-view process and even affect the reliability of the data collected. Awareof arbitrary and non-transparent regulations, respondents might bealerted by certain questions. Reliability becomes more problematicwhen the foreign research fellow, in the presence of a local assistant,raises issues that are personally or politically sensitive. On the otherhand, if the research topic is not sensitive, a trusting relationship withan assistant can become fruitful, as s/he can reveal and explain thesocial, cultural or institutional structures that provide the backgroundfor certain phenomena (see Soulsby in this book).

One possible way to circumvent the official procedure of applyingfor permission for fieldwork in Chinese organisations is to choose amore adventurous route – to do it by oneself. It is not uncommon forforeign researchers to conduct their research in Chinese societies bythemselves. One notable and daring example was the wide question-naire research on democracy and human rights, carried out in 1993 byHjellum, who, with his students, went alone to neighbourhoods, inter-viewed people and asked them to fill in the questionnaire in 1993(Hjellum, 1998).

It is more common to go through a close and trusted relationshipwith a local person, which can open up access to the field. However,since some topics can easily become about ‘state secrets’, both theresearcher and the local ‘friend’ can be skating on thin ice. It is knownthat ethnographers can harm research participants, who can feel‘anxiety, guilty, stress, guilt and damage their self-esteem’ (Murphyand Dingwall, 2001: 340) – particularly relevant in studying personallysensitive issues. In addition, the foreign researcher should be awarethat, in China, non-authorised fieldwork might lead to harsh legal,economic and social sanctions for all participants.

Beyond the regulatory framework, other particular structures affectthe research process. China, like former European communist states, isdescribed as a low-trust society. The genesis of low-trust in China can


be found in the traditional division between insiders and outsiders (nei-wai). Individuals tend to trust people of the same kinship andlocality and distrust people from outside their immediate social circles,i.e. strangers. This is naturally a challenge for the researchers who carryout interviews in such societies (Fukuyama, 1996; Whitley, 1999).

The social sciences have a short and politicised history in China. InChinese communism, which proclaims itself to be the most advancedpolitical system, there is no need or space for a science researchingsocial problems. Social science was first accepted into the Chinese uni-versity curriculum in the late 1980s, but, like all other sciences inChina, it does not enjoy political freedom. This is a universal problemcomplicating the fieldwork process in socialist countries or other dictatorships. In China, as ‘in Algeria the idea of objective academicsociology is largely meaningless’ (Mitchell, 1993: 38). In addition,Chinese people find it difficult to distinguish science from politics,since Marxism combines the two in a political science. Furthermore,people are not used to participating in sociological fieldwork studiesand, in many cases, distrust the purpose and objectivity of suchresearch (Fang, 1999).

In contemporary China, politics has remained in command and anyforms of social conduct and even language, the tool of thinking, havebeen a subject of political struggle (Liu, 1993; Schoenhals, 1992). Thesurreal and violent political history of China is encoded in the collect-ive memory of Chinese people. This collective encoding, whichMayfair Yang (1994) has called a ‘culture of fear’, can have directimpact on the process of collecting data. By definition, people who livein a culture of fear share an omnipresent feeling that they are guilty ofsomething, even though they have not committed any mistakes orcrimes (Yang, 1994: 22). Citizens, especially if Party members, can besubjected to ‘disciplinary punishments’ due to the ‘mistakes’ they havemade. Mistakes are not necessarily violating the laws of China, butmore deviations from Party line and policy.

During the course of the reforms since early 1980s, the collectivesense of a ‘culture of fear’ has been diminishing and people are increas-ingly open in talking to foreigners. Despite this openness, the ‘cultureof fear’ is still present in the collective mental encoding. Jiang Zemin’spolicy of ‘strike hard’, non-transparent rules, detention without courtdecisions and an omnipresent control apparatus do not only keep thememory alive, but also occasionally realise the fear among people. In fieldwork, the ‘culture of fear’ can still keep interviewees at bay and influence the researcher, making him/her rather paranoid. This is

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illustrated by Yang (1994), who, believing that she was being observedby the Chinese secret police, even destroyed her field notes.

Field study in non-friendly environment

Establishing contact

The non-friendly regulatory framework and the particular socio-psychological conditions described above affected my fieldwork. Undersuch fieldwork circumstances, imagination and flexibility becomeessential. George and Clegg (1997: 1017) describe their fieldworkexperiences in Sri Lanka: ‘In the field, one finds that it pays off to tryall possible ways to evince interest from respondents. Using a variety ofmethods gives better results than when one sticks to a script’. Hence,in conducting non-authorised interviews, finding interviewees and anappropriate place for the interview became challenges. During theinterviews, I learned to deploy different ‘networking mechanisms’,roles and skills in attempting to get data (see Hutchings and Stegerchapters in this book). Sometimes the learning was conscious but inmany cases it resulted from subconscious reactions to various signals,such as grunts, smiles, laughs and hesitation. However, the processlasted almost two years, had personal and economic costs and was fullof ethical pitfalls.

The non-transparent regulations had a devastating impact on myoriginal research plan in China. My initial intention was to carry outcase-based questionnaire research on business ethics in three Chinesecities; Beijing, Shanghai and Taipei (Taiwan). I designed, translated andtest-ran the questionnaire in Scandinavia in early 1996 and arrivedlater the same year in Shanghai on a scholarship to conduct myresearch among the local MBA students. At the University, I had anexcellent connection through which I began to pull the strings. Aftermore than six months of meetings, making applications, receivingrejections, reformulating my questionnaire and reapplying, I got ap-proval, only to be finally rejected the day before the questionnaire was to have been delivered. It became evident that my influentialconnection had withdrawn its support.

I was politely encouraged by my local supervisor to drop the wholeissue (i.e. it was prohibited) and carry out safer fieldwork in a localjoint venture instead. When I visited the Chinese University of HongKong in the spring of 1997, I found out that new non-transparentinternal regulations (neibu guiding) had forbidden foreigners from con-


ducting ‘uncontrolled’ research in Chinese society, and my researchhad become a victim. Instead of taking up the proposed change in mystudy, I decided to readjust my research question and quietly carry outan ethnographic field-study on how to establish and utilise guanxi in aChinese context. In the early stages, I did a few interviews in JVs andwholly owned Western enterprises, but these data were excluded frommy doctoral materials. I decided not to apply for permission for my ethnographic research and eventually managed to conduct 84informative interviews in three different Chinese cities – Shanghai,Beijing and Qingdao – during 1997–1998 and in the summer of 1999.

Carrying out non-authorised interviews affected the sample and thetimeframe of the research. I did not have approval from officials for myresearch and in China it is impossible to pick up the Yellow Pages andchoose one industry or a single company to arrange interviews on asensitive topic like guanxi. In entering Chinese organisations, I eithercreated my own direct connections or used intermediaries. Creatingmy own network of people was time consuming, and to build up thefinal sample I primarily relied on friends’ help as well as spontaneity,luck and coincidence. I grasped all available opportunities; I talked topeople at airports, discussed with co-passengers on planes and trainsand actively engaged with people in local communities. After each suc-cessful interview, I asked the interviewee whether s/he would bewilling to introduce friends for interview. It was a time and resourceconsuming process (see also Hutchings in this book).

Conducting non-authorised interviews involves finding a peacefulplace for interviewing, because, without university approval, I couldnot take interviewees back to the campus. Moreover, affected by theculture of fear, some interviewees felt uncomfortable when I madenotes while talking to them in public place. In the end, I conductedinterviews in small street restaurants, in their company’s conferencerooms or coffee shops. Because of the sheer size of Shanghai andBeijing, unlike in more compact Qingdao, I spent hours travelling inthe chaotic traffic to various districts, mostly commuting by taxi, as theinfrastructure of public transportation was poor (see also Hutchings inthis book).

In carrying out the fieldwork, I was aware that researchers doingnon-authorised work are in an even worse position than journalistswho have permission, however arbitrarily defined, to conduct theirwork. I was also aware of the harsh sentences that locals could get fortalking to foreign journalists – up to twelve years – and of the expul-sion of foreign journalists. On the one hand, I had to be discreet about

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my activities. On the other, it was essential to mingle with local peopleand discuss my research with them, without endangering my own ortheir position. Despite the risks, I became seriously concerned onlytwice, when people – one a taxi driver, the other a local student – whoshould not have known what I was doing, began to talk to me aboutmy research. Although I became scared and wondered whether thiswas a ‘warning’ or just a coincidence, none of my interviewees, as faras I know, got into trouble with the Chinese authorities. As a matter offact, here lies the strength of a totalitarian control system. When onedoes not know who is observing or when and how one is observed,one begins to suspect everyone, including oneself, which is a clearsymptom of the culture of fear. As Yang (1994) notes, conducting anon-authorised study in a dictatorial state under an arbitrary controlapparatus affects the researcher and the research process and prolongsthe fieldwork.

However, being plagued by the ‘culture of fear’ also has an importantpositive consequence. These startling experiences, whether real warn-ings or mere coincidences, made it easier for me to empathise withlocal people, and I got a taste of the bitter side of living under theculture of fear. Naturally these experiences slowed down my fieldworkfor a while.

The normal interview language was Mandarin Chinese, but I usedEnglish when the interviewee so preferred – usually we ended uptalking both Chinese and English. As Tsang (1998) has pointed out, it is of paramount importance to communicate in the respondent’slanguage, because the respondent may not be able to express his or herideas fully in a foreign language. Moreover, it is difficult to translatecertain indigenous concepts into foreign language.

The warm-up stage

Due to the nature of the research, I guaranteed confidentiality forinterviewees and anyone else mentioned during interviews. At thisearly stage, I followed a strict sequence of questions, which I wentthrough with the interviewees. The first few interviews in Shanghaiwere very informative and I became entrapped in this ‘successful’ inter-viewing script. However, as soon as I had interviewed my local friendswho trusted me, I had a succession of non-informative interviews withpeople whom I had not previously known and I became frustrated.

During this process, I experienced the ‘culture of fear’ and low-trustin concrete ways. At this early stage of learning to conduct interviews, Iused a tape-recorder. My first interviewees allowed me to tape-record


the interviews, though the interviewing process and atmospherechanged with people I did not know. Some of these interviewees tolddirectly that they did not want to be tape-recorded and others, whoinitially gave permission, stiffened and were visibly uncomfortablewhen the interview was tape-recorded. On one occasion, for instance, Iasked for permission to tape-record, but the interviewee declined myrequest. However, having left the tape-recorder on the table, after a few minutes of discussion the interviewee suddenly grabbed themachine and checked whether it was on. He was embarrassed when herealised that it was switched off. Needless to say, this interview wasruined. After this experience I did not carry the tape-recorder with meanymore.

Other researchers have had similar kinds of reaction. Tsang (1998:512) describes a tape-recording situation: ‘When we were having lunchtogether after the successful interview, he (the interviewee) suddenlyrequested me to erase, on the spot, a small part of the tape thatrecorded his comments about the people who were responsible forupholding the socialist ideology in state enterprises’. Chinese observerssuggest that this ‘no tape-recorder syndrome’ (Fang, 1999: 25; see alsoTsang, 1998) can be traced to political system in which most MainlandChinese are afraid of being caught and punished for what they havesaid.

After finding an interviewee, arranging a time and meeting placethrough a network of friends, i.e. intermediaries, or by coincidence, Ibegan the first stage by introducing my own background and thepurpose of the research, and emphasising the confidentiality of allinformation. Being aware of the importance that gifts have in creatingrelationships in China, I usually gave the interviewee a small inexpens-ive gift during the first minutes of the encounter. Gift-giving is perhapsthe most effective method of establishing and utilising guanxi (Yang,1994; Nojonen, 2002). These gifts were small items brought over fromFinland and, while giving the gift, I usually bridged the gap betweeninterviewee and myself by accompanying it with a small story behindthe gift. The gifts were mostly small functional items made of wood orreindeer horn, thus leading the discussion naturally to my personalbackground, coming from Finnish Lapland. In literally all interviews,deliberately identifying myself as a Finn helped to create a positiveresponse from interviewees. One possible explanation was that comingfrom a country with no imperial, other historical or contemporarypolitical links with China – a fact well known in China – was wellreceived. In my understanding, the deliberate projection of the role of

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‘being a Finn’ established a non-antagonistic political setting and thuslowered the level of distrust with interviewees.

While handing over the gift in a respectful manner, with two handsaccompanied with a bow of the head, I said ‘here I give you a smallrenqing’. The notion of renqing has three central meanings, referring to‘gift’, ‘human feeling’ and ‘favour’. This expression can be frequentlyheard in China and can be understood as ‘to give a gift’, ‘to give afavour’ or ‘to give a piece of human feeling’. The notion of renqing isthe central tool in establishing and utilising guanxi (Yang, 1994).

I did not wrap these small gifts for two reasons. First, in China it isnot necessary to wrap the kinds of small ‘business’ gifts given during afirst meeting. Second, by giving the gift unwrapped, I avoided the situ-ation where the interviewee, in accordance with Chinese customs,would open the gift only after the meeting, thus ruining the wholestrategy of gift-giving. Furthermore, the timing of gift-giving, namely,at the early stage of the interview, was deliberate, as I hoped to gener-ate a feeling of reciprocity, which might be realised in a good inter-view. Despite being aware that gift-giving is a respected traditionalChinese way of expressing respect for and gratitude to the other party,providing gifts caused me some ethical concern.

After this initial stage, I usually asked warm-up and backgroundquestions on the interviewees’ age, education and work experiences.This was done not only to gather necessary background informa-tion, but also to generate an atmosphere where the interviewee feltcomfortable in talking and noticing me taking notes.

Interplay of roles and tactics

After the warm-up stage, I moved on to the actual topic – guanxi. Asthe motivation, openness, nature and history of the relationshipbetween the interviewee and me always differed, this part of the inter-view always unfolded differently. At the early stage of my fieldwork Ifollowed a strict script, but I soon recognised that the best way ofacquiring data was to be flexible, innovative and self-reflective, therebyadjusting and improving my own roles, inputs and reactions.

I gradually recognised that in tackling the sensitive issue of guanxi,two different, but mutually supporting processes emerged – the appli-cation of different interview tactics and the intentional and sub-conscious changing of the roles that I played. I usually asked theinterviewees to elaborate on their daily working routines, and howthey tackled various issues with customers and officials. Some inter-viewees explored the actual guanxi processes in detail, whilst others


only touched upon it. In the latter case, I learned to deploy a tacticwhere, at the end of the interview, I asked for permission to gothrough the notes for possible further questions, knowing perfectlywhat I was going to ask. I did this by referring to certain issues thatthey had earlier mentioned. For example ‘By the way, you mentionedearlier this and that. As a foreigner, I don’t really understand what you meant. Could you explain it to me in more detail?’ Playing thisrole of ‘student of China’ and raising questions in this iterative and not aggressive manner were very suitable in interviewing Chineserespondents.

It was also important to read the situation to know when to stopmaking notes. Goffman (2002: 152) described this as ‘faking off-phasenote taking’, referring to the practice of not making notes when theresearcher is observing the informant. I learned this practice graduallyand it was very useful when the interviewee elaborated on a personallysensitive topic, or when the interviewee obviously felt constrained orpressured. It was better to put the notebook and pencil on the tableand listen carefully, and, if in a restaurant, pour tea or beer or offerfood to the interviewee, while listening. At the early stage of inter-viewing, I put many Chinese interviewees on alert and destroyed theinterview by my inability to read the situation as to when to stopmaking notes or by reacting too hastily to interesting topics theytouched upon.

In addition to iterative questioning, two other tactics matured intackling the sensitivity of the topic. The first step was to show theinterviewee that I knew something of the topic myself, thus movingfrom the role of ‘student of China’ to that of ‘savant’. At this stage Iusually cited traditional Chinese sayings, which describe the differencebetween the centrally led policies and local circumstances or idiomsdescribing guanxi practices. After I had revealed some knowledge ofguanxi practices, they apparently felt more comfortable talking aboutthe topic without fear of diminishing their personal or China’s col-lective dignity. Fang (1999) notes that in dealing with sensitive issues,Chinese nationals are not only concerned to protect their own dignity,but often take it as their personal responsibility to protect the dignityof China as a whole.

The following step – explaining to informants one or several guanxicases that I had come across during the fieldwork – can be construed tobe a move from the role of ‘savant’ to the role of ‘discussant’. In orderto help communication, I would normally emphasise the case visually,by drawing figures and organisation charts while describing the case

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(cf. Stiles, 1998: 191). This proved to be a powerful method of gaininginformation on a sensitive topic, often provoking great interest in theinterviewee, who would compare the case with his/her own experi-ences. On many occasions, the interviewees took the pen from myhand and began to draw and comment on the case. During thisprocess, it was natural to ask interviewees to explore their own experi-ences of guanxi. This practice was not only very effective in ‘re-tracking’ the interview, if needed, but also, in sharing knowledge, itgenerated trust between the interviewee and me. Goffman (2002: 152)notes that sharing ‘strategic secrets’ can be understood as an initialstage of ‘getting inside’ the observed society.

However, with some interviewees, these tactics were unfruitful. Iruined several interviews, especially during the early stage of thefieldwork, by approaching the issues too eagerly, not knowing when tostop making notes, or unsuccessfully managing changes between theroles of ‘student’, ‘savant’ and ‘discussant’. When I felt certain inter-views were less informative, but still potentially useful, I pretended atthe end of the interview that it had been very informative and, as acompensation for their time, asked the interviewees for dinner or abeer, hoping to acquire additional information. This action on the onehand created a sense of guilt and became an ethical problem for me,while on the other, in many cases it provided useful information ormore contacts.

Asking non-informative interviewees for dinner or a beer as a sign ofgratitude became a very common practice in Qingdao, where, com-pared to Beijing and Shanghai, locals seemed more distrustful of myresearch and less willing to provide information on the first encounter.In Qingdao, Fang’s (1999: 12–13) arguments that ‘the Chinese distrustof outsiders keeps many innocent foreign researchers … at bay’ and ‘itis not uncommon that researchers are suspected of spying’ were parti-cularly evident. Here, it was not uncommon to be confronted with thequestion: ‘Are you a spy or a journalist?’ It is not clear why this distrustwas apparent, though it might be related to the relative smallness ofthe city where people have fewer opportunities to meet Westernerswho speak Mandarin and are conducting ‘objective sociologicalresearch’. The presence in the city of the headquarters of the ChineseNorthern Navy may increase locals’ distrust, but it might also be linkedto my own inability.

In confronting this suspicion, I had to spend considerable timeexplaining and convincing people that I was not a spy, journalist orpolitician, but rather an independent scholar. In most cases, this was


done over a pint of beer and steaming local delicacies, an environmentthat stimulated free exchange of ideas.

Socialising in informal settings

I recognised that banqueting and other forms of socialising with inter-viewees were often the most fruitful ways of getting materials,although it took up my personal time and was financially expensive.Yet it was also the most fun. My experience supports Tsang’s (1998)and Hutchings’ (in this book) notions that informal, off the recordsettings provide researchers with more information than other situ-ations in China. This phase of interviewing had its own strengths,methodological challenges and roles.

After each informative or potentially informative interview, I wouldask the interviewee for lunch or dinner. I observed that this served twofunctions. On the one hand, at the banquets, the informants them-selves usually took up the research topic and elaborated on theirexperiences, feelings, and ideas of guanxi. On the other, banquetsserved as a springboard for new interviews as, in keeping with Chinesecustoms, they were occasions enjoyed within larger groups. Naturally,during the banquets, I learned more about the whole society andeventually made good friends with some of the interviewees.

Banqueting is the main social platform where agents establish their guanxi relationships in China (Yang 1994). At banquets, one canobserve different ‘networking rituals’, which were useful for mypurpose as well. During banquets, it was necessary not only to interactthrough the roles of ‘student’, ‘savant’ and ‘discussant’, but also tofollow the right etiquette in remembering to express gratitude to theinterviewee and apply local manners in befriending interviewees.Important bridging strategies were to express gratitude by giving smallspeeches, drinking toasts by raising the glass with two hands, offeringthe tastiest parts of dishes, toasting to ‘new friendship’ and, if onesmokes, sharing cigarettes.

However, during banquets, I recognised that the nature of inter-action differed according to age, gender and even region. With oldersuccessful businessmen, women, or state officials, I learned to apply amore orthodox and humble approach that, by giving them face,respected their higher social position. With younger male and femaleinterviewees, the atmosphere was less constrained and more straight-forward, although it was still important to comply with correct eti-quette. Depending on the nature of relationship I could graduallybalance the scale of social strata.

Matti Nojonen 171

I observed regional differences in the role of banqueting and socialis-ing with the interviewees. Compared with Beijing and Qingdao, ban-queting in Shanghai was less common and involved the least drinking.In Shanghai, businessmen were usually too busy to share more of their time with me, though they were more eager to learn aboutFinland and possible business opportunities there. There were also dif-ferences between Beijing and Qingdao. In Beijing, the purpose was tohave a good time and good food with friends. In Qingdao, more fre-quently than in other places, the purpose was to introduce a ‘newforeign’ friend who spoke Chinese, and, only after a certain time andtesting, did discussion move to other topics. During these occasions, Isometimes felt that the role of a clown was imposed on me.

In my experience, people with lower education were more interestedin heavy drinking and eating, while people with a university back-ground were more enthusiastic to discuss what I, as a scholar, thoughtabout China. These discussions – intellectual debates on the historyand fate of contemporary China – were the most interesting momentsof my fieldwork. During these occasions, we discussed Chinese andinternational politics in depth. The Chinese have a great aptitude totalk politics and, since the central government openly admitted socialproblems like corruption and criminality, it was possible to touch onsensitive topics as well. However, several interviewees were morecareful to point out the structural and political institutions behindthese social problems. In covering international politics, I tended to be in tune with the interviewees who criticised the increasing globalhegemony of the United States, thus generating common ground.

It is evident that polite gestures accompanied by good food andsome drinks set the tongues wagging, and interviewees usually neededno prompting to elaborate further on guanxi. Nevertheless, makingnotes during banquets was difficult and could destroy the relaxedatmosphere where ‘cigarettes and spirits bind people together’ (yanjiubu fenjia). As I could not make notes while socialising, I made them as soon as I returned to my place of residence. In addition, I followed the advice of one interviewee, who told me that, during long businessbanquets, he sometimes withdrew to the rest room to make quicknotes on important information.

Multi-person situations at banquets, over beer or Karaok were mostinformative, especially if I happened to know someone well, i.e. refer-ring to each other as friends. During these occasions, people providedmuch information and sometimes, they would recall happenings toeach other, rather than directly telling me. I did not endanger the


newly established friendships by making notes and recognised that, in befriending interviewees, it was also important to ‘talk friendship’. I noted that the requirements for friendship were sharing personal andprofessional information, respecting differences in opinions, beingcoherent and straightforward in expressing one’s ideas and havinggood time together.

An important form of socialising was Karaoke, which is extremelypopular in China. In Chinese Karaoke, customers rent private roomswhere they can gather together, sing and socialise without being dis-turbed. To be invited to Karaoke was not that frequent, but it was veryimportant. Eventually I made the effort to learn a Chinese Karaoksong. Singing this song generated much fun, probably because I am abad singer. However, it was a most efficient ‘ice-breaker’, breakingdown the last vestiges of me as a researcher. The audience found mysinging very amusing as the lyrics of this over-romantic hit-song by LinYilian is about a woman who fell in love with a man who does notreturn home (Aishang bu hui jia de ren).

In Karaok, where I could behave in a self-mocking way, I made a fewvaluable contacts and friendships. These few contacts were at thebeginning only interviewees, but after socialising at dinners and inKaraok, they became friends and acted as ‘tutors’ in my research.Together with these ‘tutors’, I went through several research-relatedissues, data and expressions that had been unclear for me (cf. Wank,1999).

Conclusions

This chapter illustrates how the hostile regulatory framework and the par-ticularities of the collective socio-psychological setting affected myfieldwork in Chinese organisations and societies. The regulatory frame-work on foreign conducted research in China is ambiguous. There arethree different regulatory frameworks controlling foreign conductedfieldwork in China: regulations on foreign affairs (waishi jilü), non-transparent internal regulations (neibu guiding) and the Seven Nos. Theseregulations are not clearly stipulated and, for instance, the idea of ‘statesecret’ remains a ‘state secret’. Furthermore, laws and the stipulations ofvarious ministries and provincial authorities regulate the activities ofChinese citizens and organisations. In addition, these regulations overlapand even contradict each other. Yet, the most important regulations inChina are political. Despite the efforts to improve the legal system,politics in China still overrule all laws and regulations.

Matti Nojonen 173

Notwithstanding the non-transparent regulations that forbid for-eigners to conduct free and uncontrolled research in China, there seemto be two different practices governing foreign-conducted qualitativefieldwork, whilst independent foreign quantitative research has to besubmitted to the National Statistical Bureau or its affiliates. Foreignersconducting qualitative research are provided with free access to IJVsand wholly foreign-owned organisations. On the other hand, foreign-ers who would like to conduct qualitative fieldwork in Chinese organ-isations or societies are treated differently. In their case, approval toenter the field is determined by the ambiguous definitions of statesecret or is based on other politically sensitive decisions. Hence, localinstitutions evaluate the projects and force foreigners to work togetherwith local institutions, which appoint a supervisor and an assistant. In addition, top Chinese research centres, like academies of socialsciences, are subjected to the waishi jilü regulations that require theirChinese staff to report any foreign co-operation to their superiors.Clearly this kind of regulatory environment differs substantially fromthat of an open Western democracy.

The internal non-transparent regulations affected my research, sincethe local university denied me approval. Instead, I carried out non-authorised fieldwork in three different Chinese cities on establishingand using guanxi in Chinese organisations. On entering the field, I wasfaced with particular socio-psychological structures and had to learnhow to conduct interviews on a sensitive topic in a low-trust society, to cope with the ‘culture of fear’ and to educate interviewees aboutpolitically free sociological research.

In order to find interviewees and tackle these socio-psychologicalconstraints, I had to learn to develop and practise various networkingskills (see also Hutchings in this book). These involved gift-giving,socialising at banquets and Karaok, processes during which I learned tomove between various roles and interview tactics. Gift-giving is one ofthe central networking practices in China. By giving a small presentfrom Finland, accompanied by a history of the present, I was able tobridge the gap between the insider and myself and generate a sense ofreciprocity.

As a researcher I usually received more valuable information afterinterviews, while socialising, i.e. befriending interviewees over food, apint of beer or in Karaok. During these occasions, it was important tolearn to act according to local etiquette. Furthermore, I recognised thatin talking and through gestures, one has to take into account not onlythe situation, but also interviewees’ social status, age, sex, and even


locality. With people from higher social strata or who were older, I hadto behave more humbly and traditionally to demonstrate respect forand give face to them. With younger interviewees, the atmosphereremained more relaxed. Banqueting with interviewees from Qingdaoand Beijing involved more alcohol than with Shanghainese, and like-wise more with men than women.

It is commonly known that interviewers end up developing a reper-toire of roles (De Laine, 2000; Steger in this book). In my fieldwork, pro-jecting the roles of ‘Finn’, ‘student of China’, ‘savant’, ‘discussant’ and‘entertainer’ were most useful in establishing an informative relationshipwith the interviewee. In addition, I employed different interview tacticsto accompany the various roles. The first was to ask iterative questionsand the next step was to illustrate by drawing various networkingpatterns. Depending on the situation and often driven by intuition, Ideployed various combinations of roles and tactics. Furthermore, Ilearned to know when not to make notes. Moving between these rolesand tactics was rather successful in tackling the sensitive research topicin a non-friendly environment. However, as each interview situation wasunique, the combination of successful tactics and roles also varied.

All ethnographic researchers share the challenges in interviewing,gaining access, establishing trust, switching roles and associated ethicalquestions. However, due to the particular socio-psychological con-ditions and the arbitrariness of regulations of China, much morecritical research needs to be done on how Chinese fieldwork conditions– uncertainty, lack of transparency and hostility – affect the researchprocess, the researcher and the informants. For successful interviewingin China, one needs to choose an appropriate place for interviewing,learn how to control one’s behaviour and read interviewees’ signals,hints, gestures and body language. Only then can an understanding begenerated of what the informants say or do not say within particularevents, narratives and specific expressions.

By revealing one’s own knowledge base gradually, rather than in theinitial phase of the interview, the interviewee seemed to gain moreconfidence to talk. This is consistent with psychological tests, whichprovide evidence that a person is better liked and trusted when he orshe discloses intimate or sensitive information later rather than earlierin a conversation. With Chinese respondents, it is advisable to begindiscussions in breadth and only gradually develop discussion in depthso as to penetrate the issue.

A better knowledge of the institutional structures and practices ofChinese state apparatus helps foreigners, both researchers and business

Matti Nojonen 175

practitioners, to prepare themselves for the emergence of possible prob-lems. Despite reforms, the Chinese institutional and legal environmentcan still be hostile. Rules, contracts and laws can be interpreted inaccordance with personal or local interests and the number of non-transparent internal regulations are unknown. It is time and resourceconsuming to go through all the red tape, though one way to speed upthe process or to circumvent possible bureaucratic problems is to estab-lish local connections and work through them. However, one needs tobe aware that this process may involve ethical or even legal problems.

These arguments about fieldwork regulations and practices may alsobe applicable in business negotiations. First of all, one should be aware,despite the glamorous facades of modernity in some parts of China,that under the glittering surface non-transparent regulations and prac-tices still govern the field of practice. Second, in business negotiations,as during interviews, it is impossible to change the other person’sbehaviour, so it is necessary to learn to adapt and change own behavi-our in order to gain information or reach a shared understanding.Third, the Chinese appreciate a business practice where discussionstarts off broadly and only gradually moves into details of business andmoneymaking.


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academic distance, 137, 138, 148–9access

physical access, 7, 9, 10, 12, 13, 15,34, 40, 45–7, 89–91, 100, 101,103, 128, 137, 142, 144–6, 157,158, 162, 164, 175

mental access, 47action analysis, 120, 122

see also social constructivism,Verstehen

adaptation, 31Albania, 24anxiety, 11, 37assumptions, 24–5, 150Australian expatriates, 136ff.

banquets, 153, 157, 171–3, 174blind-spots, 33, 70, 85, 93, 130, 134bricoleur, 12

capitalism, 20, 70case study, 39, 42, 54, 89, 95, 102,

108, 112comparative, 40, 102, 108–9intensive, 43

China, 6, 17–18, 136ff., 157ff.bureaucracy, 142, 176communications, 142culture, 17, 140, 141infrastructure, 142, 165international significance, 138–9

coevolution theory, 112cognitive psychology, 59COMECON, 97communism, 46, 70, 81Communist Party, 43, 46, 52, 106,

158, 161company strategy, 109complexity (of research setting), 20,

36, 37composition of research teams, see

research teamsconditioning, 59, 62, 63, 68, 70, 73

confidentiality, 53, 54, 130, 138,143–4, 148, 149, 166, 167

conflict in research teams, seeresearch teams

contacts (making), 10, 17, 34, 39, 42,47, 51, 55, 90, 138, 146, 153, 157,162, 164, 173

context, 40, 79, 82, 83ambiguity, 10, 45, 55, 157, 175high context, 9hostile (unfriendly), 18, 158, 164,

174, 175, 176contextual information, 49, 78contextualisation, 6, 8–10, 16, 42, 87

as methodological issue, 8, 24, 95,98, 111, 157

control, 25, 50ff.cooperation in research teams, see

research teamscoping strategies, 3, 11, 44, 55, 94corporate governance, 24creativity, 4, 11, 15, 17, 36, 91, 168critical distance, 5critical management research, 63, 134critical theory, 67, 68, 119cross-cultural communication, 68,

71–2, 77, 132, 133, 139–40cross-cultural cooperation, 36, 46–7,

58, 61, 63, 98, 104, 139–40cross-cultural preparation, 138, 139cross-cultural research team, see

research teamcultural difference (between

researchers), 24, 34, 57, 73–6, 98,107, 115, 129, 131

cultural distance, 9, 24, 34, 107, 140cultural informants, see informantscultural insider, see insidercultural outsider, see outsiderculture of fear, 9, 143, 158, 163, 165,

166Czech Republic, 9, 14, 39, 40Czechoslovakia, 40, 41, 48

191

Index

danger, 9data collection, 42, 43, 45, 78, 88–9,

103, 104, 144problems in transformation, 88see also transformationinformal occasions, 153–5, 170,

171–3Dewey, 61, 70, 73discipline (disciplinary power), 58,

117–8, 119dominance (domination), 15, 16–17,

58, 115, 116–20, 121, 125, 126downsizing, 105

East Germany, 7, 16, 19, 30, 115ff.,130–1

see also GDRElias, 70embeddedness, 42emotions, 2, 44–5, 55, 66, 69, 108, 130

emotional distance, 45, 108emotional frameworks, 63emotional labour, 26, 130emotional support, 11, 44

empathy, 92, 94, 95, 148, 150entry, see accessethics, 23, 55, 77, 134, 143, 144, 149,

164, 168, 175, 176ethnocentrism, 86ethnographer, 29, 30, 45, 162, 175ethnography, 18, 45, 139, 157, 165European Union (EU), 21, 104expatriates (as researchers), 33expatriates (as respondents), 12, 136,

149–53dual allegiance, 137, 149, 150gone native, 137, 150, 152, 153hearts at home, 137, 150, 151

expectations (personal), 25, 47experience

personal, 3, 7, 66, 107, 150theory of experience, 61

exploration (exploratory methods), 9,15, 16, 78, 87, 92, 94

face, 146, 171see also mianzi

fear, 11, 15, 64, 68, 71, 73, 76, 143,159

feedback (to respondents), 107–8female researchers, 60, 138, 144,

151–5feminism, 67field

dynamism, 25–6, 43–4, 89internal social structure, 12, 39, 53

fieldwork, 20, 43–4, 82, 164art of, 31, 91definition, 6, 158learning experiences through, 7, 70,

158, 164non-authorised, 17, 157, 162, 165preparation for, 44–5, 50–1problems in, 5, 43–5, 93–4, 141–4,

171flexibility

of mindset, 4, 11, 15, 36, 37, 44, 47,55, 95, 155, 164, 168

of research design, 46, 51, 78foreign ownership, 103, 158, 165Foucault, 58–9, 117friendship, 35, 74, 171, 172–3

gatekeepers, 15, 33, 40, 46, 47GDR, 22, 28, 122, 131gender, 17, 60, 138, 144, 151–5

see also female researchergeneralisability, 61, 109, 110, 112Germany, East, see East Germany,

GDRgifts, 167gift-giving, 157, 167–8, 174going native, 11, 31grounded theory, 94groupthink, 132guanxi, 10, 136, 149, 157, 161, 165,

167, 168, 169, 170, 172Gulliver (fieldwork role), 30, 148

hegemony, 58, 117, 119, 120heterogeneous research team, see

research teamshistory, 42, 70, 78, 82, 83, 142hostile environment, see contextHungary, 6, 15, 16, 35, 57, 61, 64, 68,

70, 78, 79, 80, 81, 90, 97ff.hunter-gatherer, 27–9hypothesis testing, 9

192 Index

ideal type, 27, 31identity, see researcherideology, 21–2, 117, 120imagination, 14, 164indigenous capability, 79individualism, 94inductive methods, 9, 87informants, 14, 40, 48–50, 51

controlling information, 51–2external cultural, 13, 15, 34, 35, 40,

48, 162internal cultural, 12, 15, 40, 49, 51,

52, 55, 146, 173innovation studies, 78ff.insider, 9, 10, 12, 17, 28, 116, 129,

134, 137, 138, 144–9, 151, 163,170, 174

institutional analysis, 16, 116macro, 120–1, 122–6micro, 121, 126–9

institutions of science, see researchinstitutions

intent (or intentionality), 61, 68, 76interpretation of data, 48, 89interpreters, 13, 15, 40, 48, 71

see also translatorsinterpretive repertoire, 63interpretive work, 24, 48, 94, 140

involvement of respondents, 35, 94intersubjectivity, 94, 130interviews, 36, 48, 52, 65, 66, 82, 93,

95, 104, 108, 111, 129, 130, 136,164–71, 175

as construction site for knowledge,91–4

keeping control, 49, 50–3in informal locations, 153–5, 165,

170, 171–3interviewee, see respondentinterview guide, 92interview tactics, 168, 175as social process, 52, 157semi-structured, 79, 93, 140switching roles, 168–71, 175unstructured, 102warm-up for, 166–8

intuition, 15, 17, 91, 158involvement, 7, 11, 14, 27iterative questioning, 169

joint venture, 35, 79, 95, 103, 158,164, 165, 174

Jung, 69–70

karaok, 157, 172, 173, 174Know-how project, 64knowledge production, 16, 17,

116–20, 122–32KTV bars, 154

labour process theory, 67language, 20, 32, 34–5, 61, 71, 117,

128, 132, 140, 166laws, see regulatory frameworklearning in fieldwork, 70, 158, 164

learning by doing, 17, 29, 158learning through experience, 7, 9,

36, 62, 69, 70, 91, 93, 128, 164learning from mistakes, 7, 17, 37,

58legacies, 21–2, 48, 87, 95legitimacy, 111, 114, 120, 125, 131longitudinal research, 40, 77, 105,

109–10low-trust, see trustluck, 88, 90, 165

macro level research, 88, 120–1membership roles, 14, 30, 31metaphor, 30, 37, 58, 77methodology

definition, 5‘Eastern’ norms, 22, 125inducting principles, 6Western norms, 6, 22, 125, 151

Mexico, 78, 91mianzi (face) 146, 171micro level research, 78, 95, 121,

126ff.micropolitics, 119, 120, 132mixed research teams, see research

teamsmodernisation, 114, 125, 126Moravia, 40myths, 131

naïveté, 42, 47, 50narrative, 58–61, 63, 77

as mode of cognition, 59

Index 193

narrative – continuednarrative interview, 129narrative self, 60narrator, 68

native’s viewpoint, 23native researcher, see researchernegotiated order (research setting as),

12nei wai, 147, 163neibu guiding, see regulatory

frameworknetworking, 88, 89, 90, 136, 146–7,

158, 161, 171, 174networks (see also contacts, friendship,

personal connections), 10, 12, 35,40, 47, 52, 87, 119, 121, 129,136ff., 147, 167, 171

Neumann, 70neutral third person (in mixed

groups), 133presenter, 133supervisor, 133, 134

nomenklatura managers, 52, 106, 115normal rules (of science), 114, 119,

120, 125notes

faking note making, 169making notes, 154, 170, 172

objectivity, 94, 106, 137, 138, 163open-endedness, 11, 94open-mindedness, 47, 92, 130outsider, 10, 17, 24, 39, 43, 47, 48,

55, 83, 116, 134, 137, 162–3see also strangernaïve outsider, 10, 48

paradigmatic (mode of cognition), 59,77

participant observer, 26, 36persona, 69–70personal connections, 17, 136, 157,

164see also contacts, guanxi, networks

personal experience methods, 3, 7,15, 61, 150

Poland, 7, 78, 81, 89, 90political processes in the field, 12, 15,

39, 56

politicsof method, 61, 62, 98, 134of science, 16–17, 119, 120

positivism, 12, 15, 16, 22, 23, 67, 106,108, 119, 129

post-communism, 2, 14, 39post-modernism, 63, 67post-socialism, 1, 9power, 59, 115, 128

circuits of, 118power distance, 34practitioners (relevance to), 4, 7, 9,

20, 46, 95, 98, 138, 140, 141, 152,153, 155, 175–6

preparation (for fieldwork), 44–5,50–1, 55

presenter, see neutral third personpre-transformation research, 99–101privatisation, 41, 42, 46, 97, 105psychological coping strategies, 11,

44

qualitative research methods, 7, 14,16, 20, 23, 31, 36, 92, 94, 102,108, 109, 122, 136, 140, 157

quantitative research methods, 7, 16,23, 36, 78, 84, 88, 91, 94, 98,109–11, 122, 158

questionnaire survey, 99, 108–11,131, 162

reflexivity, 4, 6, 14, 35, 36, 37, 57, 70,130, 134

regulatory framework (Western),157–8, 174

regulatory framework (China),158–64, 173, 174

on foreign affairs (waishi jilü), 159,160–1, 173, 174

non-transparent internalregulations (neibu guiding), 159,160, 164, 173, 174, 175

Seven Nos, 161, 173relational method of enquiry, 15, 58,

62, 71–3, 76reliability

of method, 61, 149of respondents, 51–2, 162

renqing, 168

194 Index

researchdissemination of findings, 16, 67,

115, 119, 123non-covert, 39personal aspects, 2qualitative, see qualitative research

methodsquantitative, see quantitative

research methodsresearch discourses, 17, 114, 125–6,

128, 129research institutions, 16, 58, 114, 116,

119, 134research interview, see interviewresearch outcomes, 3, 12, 25, 46, 54,

66, 116, 119, 123, 137research protocol, 50, 145research setting, 9, 17, 20, 25, 39

see also context, transformationresearch strategy, 27, 37, 87, 116, 134research teams (groups), 11, 17, 44,

115, 128–33composition of, 115, 126conflict in, 35, 107, 116, 128, 130,

133cooperation in, 36, 63, 104, 129cross-cultural teams, 35–6, 104,

116, 129mixed (heterogeneous), 16, 69, 98,

116, 128, 130–3research traditions (‘East’ and West),

22, 35, 46, 64–5, 115, 125, 157–8,163

researcherbehaviour, 14, 19, 37, 150, 157,

164, 168–71as bricoleur, 12as detective, 52, 88ethical stance of, 54, 55identity, 11, 14, 19, 37native, 33, 35, 68as object of study, 50ff., 55prior expectations of, 25, 26, 47,

130, 150as resource for respondent, 53roles of, see rolesrole switching, 168–71, 175subjective aspects, 7, 11, 25, 95, 98,

106–7

respondents,age of, 148, 171expatriates, see expatriatesfemale, 148, 171hiding information, 51–2, 55, 98,

100, 108, 111as internal informants, see

informantsinvolvement in interpretive work,

35, 50, 98, 107–8stereotypes of, 25, 143suspicion of research, 46types of, 17, 137

restructuring, 40, 41, 42roles (of qualitative researcher)

discussant, 169, 170, 171, 175dynamics of, 33entertainer, 175ethnographer, 29, 30Finn, 167–8, 175Gulliver, 30, 148hunter-gatherer, 27–9ideal types, 27–33Roman, 29–30, 154savant, 169, 170, 171, 175student of China, 169, 170, 171,

175role set (in field), 14–15, 40role taking, 26, 29, 33role triangle, 26–7Roman, 29–30, 154Romania, 29rules (conventions of science), 16,

114, 117, 119, 125, 157official (China), 158non-transparency (China), 158–9

Russia, 21, 22

scientific discourse, 16–17, 58, 114,117, 119–20, 125–6, 128

scientific knowledge production,16–17, 115, 118, 119, 122, 124,130–2, 133–4

scientific methodology(conventional), 57, 59, 65, 72,137, 138, 141, 157

masculine bias, 60and the paradigmatic mode, 60rigidity, 68, 72, 74

Index 195

selfnarrative self, 60presentation of, 26–33, 50self-identity, 26

self-reflection, 4, 14, 19, 43, 130, 168semi-structured interview, see interviewsensitivity (of topic), 157, 160, 162,

165, 168, 170Seven Nos, see regulatory framework

(China)shadow, 17, 58, 69–70, 76shadowing, 50–1signature, 62snowballing technique (convenience

sampling), 137, 144, 147social capital, 121social constructivism, 106, 108

see also action analysis, Verstehensocial structure of field, 12, 15, 39, 46,

53, 55, 137socialising, 18, 153–5, 157, 170, 171–3,

174Soviet bloc, 41Soviet Union, 2spontaneity, 11, 165state-owned enterprise (SOE), 40, 79,

85, 97state secret, 143, 160, 162, 173, 174state socialism, 9, 23, 100, 106stranger, 19, 24, 33, 46, 134, 163

see also outsiderstress, 11, 44, 45, 55, 65structure vs. action, 120–1subjectivity, 8, 9, 15, 25, 45, 58, 70,

94, 99, 106, 107subjects, see respondentssupervisor, see neutral third persons

tape-recording, 130, 143–4, 166–7theoretical saturation, 92theory construction, 10, 16, 25thick description, 24third party agents, 8, 10, 12, 13, 34,

46, 47, 146, 148see also external informants

time orientation (of project), 27transfer (of knowledge, institutions),

20, 35, 57, 62, 65, 86, 87, 92, 95,122, 124, 126

transformationas context, 7, 21, 37, 45, 55, 106,

112, 141, 158–64, 175–6Hungarian transformation, 97as follow-up modernisation, see

modernisationtransformation research, 116, 122,

125, 130, 134transforming societies

distinctiveness of, 2, 3, 10, 12,23–6, 43, 92, 101, 105, 109,122, 175

infrastructure, 87, 90, 142, 165translators, 13, 35, 48, 49, 140Treuhand, 121, 135triangulation, 16, 36, 87, 92, 99, 112trust

between researcher colleagues, 44,71, 73, 131, 162

gaining trust, 34, 55, 137, 138, 148,157, 170, 175

low trust, 17, 158, 159, 162, 166, 174truth, 23, 67, 118, 130tutors, 173

see also internal informants

validity, 35, 55, 59, 61, 110–11values, 24, 107Velvet Revolution, 40Verstehen, 10, 11, 16, 43, 47, 88, 158

see also action analysis, socialconstructivism

voice, 62, 67, 73

waishi jilü, see regulatory framework(China)

Western education, 21, 57, 65Western research principles, 6, 9, 16,

22, 46, 58, 86, 101–2, 115, 129,151, 157

Western research setting, see researchsetting

West German research institutions,114, 122, 125, 127

witness, 68, 73, 76writing

in the field, 45see also notes

as form of inquiry, 61, 62

196 Index