I have been conducting fieldwork for 20 years, mostly in low- and middle-income countries. My research has taken place under the auspices of universities in three countries and, so far, the worst thing that has happened to me was a heavy load of intestinal parasites that wiped me out for a week.
This happened in a country that I can’t name here because I am writing anonymously. I am doing this to protect myself from institutional and bureaucratic hassles related to my future research. I am also a woman. Theoretically, that should not make any difference. In practical terms, it matters a great deal.
I am grateful that parasites are the worst thing I have had to deal with. The countries I work in are the kind where drugs and arms dealers are not shy about making themselves known and where the police forces brag about the size of their guns.
The universities conduct risk assessments of my research proposals, of course. The ones that involve human participants undergo extensive scrutiny from ethical advisory boards before fieldwork starts. And, in my area at least, we create local advisory boards composed of members of the community, to maximise goodwill and minimise culture shock. It’s a time-consuming process that requires a lot of work, but, on the whole, we don’t complain. The better a study is refined and questioned beforehand, the more successful and safe it is likely to be.
And so I welcomed my university’s announcement that it was introducing additional procedures to protect researchers in the field. It didn’t take long to realise that these innovations didn’t actually make us any safer – and could seriously hamper our work.
Two colleagues of mine, let’s call them John and Mary, recently made plans to travel to a high-risk country. Both have been conducting long-term research there, they have both lived in the country, and usually return once a year. To maximise their time, they decided to visit different sites for part of this trip and would therefore stay in different hotels. John’s plans were approved immediately. Mary’s were rejected.
When asked about the gender disparity, the administrative team replied that they needed to protect female researchers – for insurance purposes.
Mary was asked to sign a document stating that she would return to the hotel before dark every day. John was not. Mary was also required to book her taxi between the airport and the hotel through a designated university travel agency. She was not allowed to make the booking in the usual way, which had always been affordable, reliable, and safe. The taxi booked by the university travel agent was more expensive and, on the day, it never showed up. She eventually had to take one of the taxis parked outside the airport which, in that particular country, is risky.
I have experienced similar issues. I recently travelled to a similarly dangerous country and was advised by my local colleagues to stay at a specific hotel, in a safe area of the town. According to them – the people with insight and local knowledge – that hotel would be ideal in terms of mobility and safety. But the daily rate was over the limit stipulated by the university and my request was denied. It took me a full morning of phone calls to convince the finance office that this was the safest option.
I don’t deny that we live in a world where basic safety is challenged every day. I know that a great deal of fieldwork happens in countries that are rife with instability and a huge variety of troubles. But we, the researchers (of both genders), know more about these dangers than the administration staff. And that’s because, we, the researchers, are the ones who keep the connections open, the ones who maintain contact and nurture networks in the field on a daily basis. Our research wouldn’t happen otherwise.
I know that the people behind this bureaucracy are not evil. I’m sure they don’t mean to be biased against female researchers and I don’t think they realise how much damage they can do to our research. But they need to realise that the solution is not to wrap us up in red tape.
The steps forward are many, and they will require efforts at numerous levels of power. Effective training in unconscious bias is paramount. Initiatives such as the Athena Swan Charter should be prioritised in terms of resources. Country-specific experts should be consulted before administrative decisions are made in the name of protecting female staff.
Women need to be empowered to do the research that matters, where it matters – and not be hampered by inappropriate, restrictive rules.
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