The practice of qualitative research, especially research on life history,
social problems, and interpersonal relationships, is guided by important
ethical principles and primary among these is our responsibility for our
informants. These principles all stem from our bond with them, a relationship
we initiate and for which we bear prime responsibility. Above all, we
must do them no harm. Our intention and our hope, of course, is to do good.
We choose to study what we think are important issues, things that matter
to us and to others, and we want our work to make a difference in the lives
of others and perhaps even to create social change in a particular arena. But
our primary responsibility is always to our informants. We work hard to
engage their informed consent to be part of our studies, and we’re obligated
to maintain an ongoing negotiation as the work unfolds. We are committed
to give voice to their experience as fully and accurately as possible, and we
make efforts to partner with them, in a meaningful way, in the construction
of new understandings through our research. These are never easy goals to
achieve, and ethical dilemmas often arise, dilemmas that often cannot be
anticipated at the design stage. One we want to address in this article is the
sometimes problematic perception of truth. We are not talking about epistemological
issues here—our concern is not with the nature of truth itself.
Simply put, we learn things through our inquiries, and there are times when
what we learn can have consequences for our informants. Is the truth
always beneficial? No. Can it also be harmful? Yes. Furthermore, multiple
conceptions of truth or “right” may, at times, come into direct conflict.
When these problems occur within one of our studies, what is the best
course of action that will honor our profound commitment to the well-being
of our informants? In such situations, we find ourselves confronted with an
ethical dilemma, that is to say, a problem of conscience.