Common use of Obtaining informed consent Clause in Contracts

Obtaining informed consent. In addition to the problems encountered gaining access to Hoshūkō, I also encountered problems obtaining informed consent. In order to make my research ethical, I was required to obtain informed consent from the participants. This was particularly problematic because Hoshūkō is a cross-cultural context as Xxxxxxx (1984, p 147) states, ‘[t]he need for informed consent may present fieldworkers with acute difficulties in relation to cross-cultural contexts […]’. The first problem I encountered was that the head teacher was reluctant to sign the consent form. The reason for this unwillingness to sign a piece of paper could have been because in Japan a written signature is not commonly used for official documents as it is in Britain; it is customary to use a 63 I originally intended to observe a Year 3 middle school class, the oldest students at Hoshūkō, with students aged 14 to 15. stamp (xxxxx). In addition, the head teacher seemed to think that giving his word for me to conduct my research at Hoshūkō was enough and that a signature was unnecessary. A further problem was that the deputy head would not consent to me talking to the class teacher to explain my research intentions. He felt that it was his role rather than mine to speak to the teacher and to ask her for permission to observe the class, so he forwarded the information to her. The final problem was that I could not arrange a meeting after class with the young people and their parents in order to inform them about my research intentions and to obtain informed consent because the deputy head had several concerns about this. He thought that if the information was given out in class the parents might feel that the research was connected to the school in some way or they might complain to him if they disagreed with the observations (field notes, 30.01.2010). In other words, the deputy head teacher would seem to be worried that the research could damage the image of the school (Gobo, 2008, p. 122). In addition, the head teacher felt that he was the authority at Hoshūkō and not the parents so it was not necessary to ask for their permission. The dilemma I was faced with was should I arrogantly plough ahead with my ethical research agenda by imposing contemporary UK academia’s notion of ethics on Hoshūkō or should I conduct the research according to the head teacher’s terms. This dilemma highlighted the difficulty of resolving the clash in the UK between the (ethical) rule which is too general and the (research) situation which is particular (Gobo, 2008, p. 136). In this instance the situation was not only particular but culturally sensitive. Although I was researching a Japanese Saturday School that was in England, the fixed cultural institutional practices would seem to have been transposed from Japanese onto English soil. As far as I was aware adults involved in Hoshūkō were not Criminal Records Bureau (CRB64) checked as parents were free to volunteer without being checked. This point was also noted in the Ofsted Report (2008) of the Japanese full time day school. This non-compliance with recent English law suggests that business was being conducted in accordance with Japanese customs. The problem I seemed to be faced with was that the gatekeepers seemed to be applying Japanese understandings of ethical conduct whereas I was trying to impose King’s College’s understandings of ethical conduct, the two approaches being somewhat divergent. I felt that time and patience was needed in order to find a middle ground, which would be acceptable to all parties. 64 This is now referred to as Disclosure and Barring Service (DBS) (xxxxx://xxx.xxx.xx/disclosure-barring-service- check/overview Accessed: 19.02.2014). If I was to be successful, I realised that I had to take things slowly rather than just sticking rigidly to my own research agenda and risk becoming an ‘arrogant ethnographer’ (Agar, 1996, p. 91). I chose to conduct my research on the head teacher’s terms so that I could start observing classes. This was because negotiating access calls for “compromises” or “research bargains” with the gatekeepers who hold the key to entry into the social world of the young people (Xxxxxx, 2000, p. 83). Obtaining informed consent was obtained verbally, rather than demanding a signature, which would have resembled a pre-packaged approach to research rather than a ‘fluid and flexible’ (O’Reilly, 2005) ethnographic approach which is ‘not so nicely packaged’ (Agar, 1996, p. 108). I feel that in order to successfully conduct ethnographic research the people at Hoshūkō should not be thought of simply ‘in the clinical terms of informants and data’ (Xxxxx, 1984, p. 228) as: [T]he ethnographer’s success does not depend upon intellectual mastery, but upon the competence with which s/he can interact socially with the members of the field studied, and on the help provided by the informants. The latter is of crucial importance, for the [ethnographer] is a nuisance […]. We intrude upon people and require them to bear the burdens of our presence. Our intellectual task is to represent them fairly. Our moral responsibility is to approach them with humility and integrity. Our use of interviews and informants is not, therefore merely a matter of procedural and methodological principles. It should also be informed by these essentially humane values, for it is in their proper applications that there lies the special competence of ethnography [my word used to replace anthropology] to discover and describe other cultures (Xxxxx, 1984, pp. 228 - 229). I believe that my research was more reflexive and broader in scope as a result of the problems I encountered in pursuit of an ethnographic perspective within a qualitative framework.

Obtaining informed consent. In addition to the problems encountered gaining access to Hoshūkō, I also encountered problems obtaining informed consent. In order to make my research ethical, I was required to obtain informed consent from the participants. This was particularly problematic because Hoshūkō is a cross-cultural context as Xxxxxxx (1984, p 147) states, ‘[t]he need for informed consent may present fieldworkers with acute difficulties in relation to cross-cultural contexts […]’. The first problem I encountered was that the head teacher was reluctant to sign the consent form. The reason for this unwillingness to sign a piece of paper could have been because in Japan a written signature is not commonly used for official documents as it is in Britain; it is customary to use a 63 I originally intended to observe a Year 3 middle school class, the oldest students at Hoshūkō, with students aged 14 to 15. stamp (xxxxx). In addition, the head teacher seemed to think that giving his word for me to conduct my research at Hoshūkō was enough and that a signature was unnecessary. A further problem was that the deputy head would not consent to me talking to the class teacher to explain my research intentions. He felt that it was his role rather than mine to speak to the teacher and to ask her for permission to observe the class, so he forwarded the information to her. The final problem was that I could not arrange a meeting after class with the young people and their parents in order to inform them about my research intentions and to obtain informed consent because the deputy head had several concerns about this. He thought that if the information was given out in class the parents might feel that the research was connected to the school in some way or they might complain to him if they disagreed with the observations (field notes, 30.01.2010). In other words, the deputy head teacher would seem to be worried that the research could damage the image of the school (Gobo, 2008, p. 122). In addition, the head teacher felt that he was the authority at Hoshūkō and not the parents so it was not necessary to ask for their permission. The dilemma I was faced with was should I arrogantly plough ahead with my ethical research agenda by imposing contemporary UK academia’s notion of ethics on Hoshūkō or should I conduct the research according to the head teacher’s terms. This dilemma highlighted the difficulty of resolving the clash in the UK between the (ethical) rule which is too general and the (research) situation which is particular (Gobo, 2008, p. 136). In this instance the situation was not only particular but culturally sensitive. Although I was researching a Japanese Saturday School that was in England, the fixed cultural institutional practices would seem to have been transposed from Japanese onto English soil. As far as I was aware adults involved in Hoshūkō were not Criminal Records Bureau (CRB64) checked as parents were free to volunteer without being checked. This point was also noted in the Ofsted Report (2008) of the Japanese full time day school. This non-compliance with recent English law suggests that business was being conducted in accordance with Japanese customs. The problem I seemed to be faced with was that the gatekeepers seemed to be applying Japanese understandings of ethical conduct whereas I was trying to impose King’s College’s understandings of ethical conduct, the two approaches being somewhat divergent. I felt that time and patience was needed in order to find a middle ground, which would be acceptable to all parties. 64 This is now referred to as Disclosure and Barring Service (DBS) (xxxxx://xxx.xxx.xx/disclosure-barring-service- check/overview Accessed: 19.02.2014). If I was to be successful, I realised that I had to take things slowly rather than just sticking rigidly to my own research agenda and risk becoming an ‘arrogant ethnographer’ (Agar, 1996, p. 91). I chose to conduct my research on the head teacher’s terms so that I could start observing classes. This was because negotiating access calls for “compromises” or “research bargains” with the gatekeepers who hold the key to entry into the social world of the young people (Xxxxxx, 2000, p. 83). Obtaining informed consent was obtained verbally, rather than demanding a signature, which would have resembled a pre-packaged approach to research rather than a ‘fluid and flexible’ (O’ReillyX’Xxxxxx, 2005) ethnographic approach which is ‘not so nicely packaged’ (Agar, 1996, p. 108). I feel that in order to successfully conduct ethnographic research the people at Hoshūkō should not be thought of simply ‘in the clinical terms of informants and data’ (Xxxxx, 1984, p. 228) as: [T]he ethnographer’s success does not depend upon intellectual mastery, but upon the competence with which s/he can interact socially with the members of the field studied, and on the help provided by the informants. The latter is of crucial importance, for the [ethnographer] is a nuisance […]. We intrude upon people and require them to bear the burdens of our presence. Our intellectual task is to represent them fairly. Our moral responsibility is to approach them with humility and integrity. Our use of interviews and informants is not, therefore merely a matter of procedural and methodological principles. It should also be informed by these essentially humane values, for it is in their proper applications that there lies the special competence of ethnography [my word used to replace anthropology] to discover and describe other cultures (Xxxxx, 1984, pp. 228 - 229). I believe that my research was more reflexive and broader in scope as a result of the problems I encountered in pursuit of an ethnographic perspective within a qualitative framework.

Obtaining informed consent. In addition to the problems encountered gaining access to Hoshūkō, I also encountered problems obtaining informed consent. In order to make my research ethical, I was required to obtain informed consent from the participants. This was particularly problematic because Hoshūkō is a cross-cultural context as Xxxxxxx (1984, p 147) states, ‘[t]he need for informed consent may present fieldworkers with acute difficulties in relation to cross-cultural contexts […]’. The first problem I encountered was that the head teacher was reluctant to sign the consent form. The reason for this unwillingness to sign a piece of paper could have been because in Japan a written signature is not commonly used for official documents as it is in Britain; it is customary to use a 63 I originally intended to observe a Year 3 middle school class, the oldest students at Hoshūkō, with students aged 14 to 15. stamp (xxxxx). In addition, the head teacher seemed to think that giving his word for me to conduct my research at Hoshūkō was enough and that a signature was unnecessary. A further problem was that the deputy head would not consent to me talking to the class teacher to explain my research intentions. He felt that it was his role rather than mine to speak to the teacher and to ask her for permission to observe the class, so he forwarded the information to her. The final problem was that I could not arrange a meeting after class with the young people and their parents in order to inform them about my research intentions and to obtain informed consent because the deputy head had several concerns about this. He thought that if the information was given out in class the parents might feel that the research was connected to the school in some way or they might complain to him if they disagreed with the observations (field notes, 30.01.2010). In other words, the deputy head teacher would seem to be worried that the research could damage the image of the school (Gobo, 2008, p. 122). In addition, the head teacher felt that he was the authority at Hoshūkō and not the parents so it was not necessary to ask for their permission. The dilemma I was faced with was should I arrogantly plough ahead with my ethical research agenda by imposing contemporary UK academia’s notion of ethics on Hoshūkō or should I conduct the research according to the head teacher’s terms. This dilemma highlighted the difficulty of resolving the clash in the UK between the (ethical) rule which is too general and the (research) situation which is particular (Gobo, 2008, p. 136). In this instance the situation was not only particular but culturally sensitive. Although I was researching a Japanese Saturday School that was in England, the fixed cultural institutional practices would seem to have been transposed from Japanese onto English soil. As far as I was aware adults involved in Hoshūkō were not Criminal Records Bureau (CRB64) checked as parents were free to volunteer without being checked. This point was also noted in the Ofsted Report (2008) of the Japanese full time day school. This non-compliance with recent English law suggests that business was being conducted in accordance with Japanese customs. The problem I seemed to be faced with was that the gatekeepers seemed to be applying Japanese understandings of ethical conduct whereas I was trying to impose King’s College’s understandings of ethical conduct, the two approaches being somewhat divergent. I felt that time and patience was needed in order to find a middle ground, which would be acceptable to all parties. 64 This is now referred to as Disclosure and Barring Service (DBS) (xxxxx://xxx.xxx.xx/disclosure-barring-service- https://xxx.xxx.xx/disclosure-barring-service- check/overview Accessed: 19.02.2014). If I was to be successful, I realised that I had to take things slowly rather than just sticking rigidly to my own research agenda and risk becoming an ‘arrogant ethnographer’ (Agar, 1996, p. 91). I chose to conduct my research on the head teacher’s terms so that I could start observing classes. This was because negotiating access calls for “compromises” or “research bargains” with the gatekeepers who hold the key to entry into the social world of the young people (Xxxxxx, 2000, p. 83). Obtaining informed consent was obtained verbally, rather than demanding a signature, which would have resembled a pre-packaged approach to research rather than a ‘fluid and flexible’ (O’Reilly, 2005) ethnographic approach which is ‘not so nicely packaged’ (Agar, 1996, p. 108). I feel that in order to successfully conduct ethnographic research the people at Hoshūkō should not be thought of simply ‘in the clinical terms of informants and data’ (Xxxxx, 1984, p. 228) as: [T]he ethnographer’s success does not depend upon intellectual mastery, but upon the competence with which s/he can interact socially with the members of the field studied, and on the help provided by the informants. The latter is of crucial importance, for the [ethnographer] is a nuisance […]. We intrude upon people and require them to bear the burdens of our presence. Our intellectual task is to represent them fairly. Our moral responsibility is to approach them with humility and integrity. Our use of interviews and informants is not, therefore merely a matter of procedural and methodological principles. It should also be informed by these essentially humane values, for it is in their proper applications that there lies the special competence of ethnography [my word used to replace anthropology] to discover and describe other cultures (Xxxxx, 1984, pp. 228 - 229). I believe that my research was more reflexive and broader in scope as a result of the problems I encountered in pursuit of an ethnographic perspective within a qualitative framework.

Obtaining informed consent. In addition to the problems encountered gaining access to Hoshūkō, I also encountered problems obtaining informed consent. In order to make my research ethical, I was required to obtain informed consent from the participants. This was particularly problematic because Hoshūkō is a cross-cultural context as Xxxxxxx Akeroyd (1984, p 147) states, ‘[t]he need for informed consent may present fieldworkers with acute difficulties in relation to cross-cultural contexts […]’. The first problem I encountered was that the head teacher was reluctant to sign the consent form. The reason for this unwillingness to sign a piece of paper could have been because in Japan a written signature is not commonly used for official documents as it is in Britain; it is customary to use a 63 I originally intended to observe a Year 3 middle school class, the oldest students at Hoshūkō, with students aged 14 to 15. stamp (xxxxxhanko). In addition, the head teacher seemed to think that giving his word for me to conduct my research at Hoshūkō was enough and that a signature was unnecessary. A further problem was that the deputy head would not consent to me talking to the class teacher to explain my research intentions. He felt that it was his role rather than mine to speak to the teacher and to ask her for permission to observe the class, so he forwarded the information to her. The final problem was that I could not arrange a meeting after class with the young people and their parents in order to inform them about my research intentions and to obtain informed consent because the deputy head had several concerns about this. He thought that if the information was given out in class the parents might feel that the research was connected to the school in some way or they might complain to him if they disagreed with the observations (field notes, 30.01.2010). In other words, the deputy head teacher would seem to be worried that the research could damage the image of the school (Gobo, 2008, p. 122). In addition, the head teacher felt that he was the authority at Hoshūkō and not the parents so it was not necessary to ask for their permission. The dilemma I was faced with was should I arrogantly plough ahead with my ethical research agenda by imposing contemporary UK academia’s notion of ethics on Hoshūkō or should I conduct the research according to the head teacher’s terms. This dilemma highlighted the difficulty of resolving the clash in the UK between the (ethical) rule which is too general and the (research) situation which is particular (Gobo, 2008, p. 136). In this instance the situation was not only particular but culturally sensitive. Although I was researching a Japanese Saturday School that was in England, the fixed cultural institutional practices would seem to have been transposed from Japanese onto English soil. As far as I was aware adults involved in Hoshūkō were not Criminal Records Bureau (CRB64) checked as parents were free to volunteer without being checked. This point was also noted in the Ofsted Report (2008) of the Japanese full time day school. This non-compliance with recent English law suggests that business was being conducted in accordance with Japanese customs. The problem I seemed to be faced with was that the gatekeepers seemed to be applying Japanese understandings of ethical conduct whereas I was trying to impose King’s College’s understandings of ethical conduct, the two approaches being somewhat divergent. I felt that time and patience was needed in order to find a middle ground, which would be acceptable to all parties. 64 This is now referred to as Disclosure and Barring Service (DBS) (xxxxx://xxx.xxx.xx/disclosure-barring-service- https://www.gov.uk/disclosure-barring-service- check/overview Accessed: 19.02.2014). If I was to be successful, I realised that I had to take things slowly rather than just sticking rigidly to my own research agenda and risk becoming an ‘arrogant ethnographer’ (Agar, 1996, p. 91). I chose to conduct my research on the head teacher’s terms so that I could start observing classes. This was because negotiating access calls for “compromises” or “research bargains” with the gatekeepers who hold the key to entry into the social world of the young people (XxxxxxBrewer, 2000, p. 83). Obtaining informed consent was obtained verbally, rather than demanding a signature, which would have resembled a pre-packaged approach to research rather than a ‘fluid and flexible’ (O’Reilly, 2005) ethnographic approach which is ‘not so nicely packaged’ (Agar, 1996, p. 108). I feel that in order to successfully conduct ethnographic research the people at Hoshūkō should not be thought of simply ‘in the clinical terms of informants and data’ (XxxxxCohen, 1984, p. 228) as: [T]he ethnographer’s success does not depend upon intellectual mastery, but upon the competence with which s/he can interact socially with the members of the field studied, and on the help provided by the informants. The latter is of crucial importance, for the [ethnographer] is a nuisance […]. We intrude upon people and require them to bear the burdens of our presence. Our intellectual task is to represent them fairly. Our moral responsibility is to approach them with humility and integrity. Our use of interviews and informants is not, therefore merely a matter of procedural and methodological principles. It should also be informed by these essentially humane values, for it is in their proper applications that there lies the special competence of ethnography [my word used to replace anthropology] to discover and describe other cultures (XxxxxCohen, 1984, pp. 228 - 229). I believe that my research was more reflexive and broader in scope as a result of the problems I encountered in pursuit of an ethnographic perspective within a qualitative framework.